direction. They were spreading out, making it harder for himself and Kit to cover them all.
They weren’t advancing, though. For now, that was what mattered: it would buy Nina and the others the time they needed to reach the trucks.
‘Kit!’ he called. The Interpol officer dropped low and backed up to pass him. He readied his weapon—
Two more soldiers rushed out of the gate. Eddie fired again. Somebody yelled, but more in surprise than pain – a very narrow miss, perhaps even a grazing impact. A good scare would make him more reluctant to put his head up.
But there were still at least four other men to deal with. He released another round to encourage them to stay down – then jerked into cover himself as a soldier in the trench opened fire on full auto. Chunks of shredded wood exploded from the trunk.
Kit was in position behind another tree. Eddie fired a single shot, then ducked and hurried to overtake him. The Indian unleashed more bullets, hitting nothing but soil and wood, then moved back as Eddie took up the cover fire.
The man at the gate reappeared. Eddie aimed at him – then snapped his gun round as he saw a soldier rise and rush out of the trench. Two pulls of the trigger, and the man tumbled into the dirt, shrieking in Spanish.
If the soldiers were professionals, some would break off to help the wounded man . . .
Money was their motivation. The screams continued as the gunfire intensified, the angry Venezuelans advancing. Eddie fired again as another man ran for a tree, but a spray of bullets from two others chewed into his cover and forced him back behind it.
But he and Kit had done their job. The others would be almost at the Jeeps by now. He registered that the helicopter was still circling somewhere behind him, but ignored it. Time to go.
‘Give me cover, then run!’ he called to Kit, who fired again. Eddie bent low and scurried from the tree – then, when he was level with his friend, broke into a sprint. Kit fired a last burst before following. AKs chattered behind them as they ran.
Valero’s injuries were slowing him, the Venezuelan clutching his ribs as his run became a faltering plod. Nina moved alongside him. ‘Leonard, help me carry him!’
‘No, keep going,’ Valero wheezed as Osterhagen hurried over. ‘We’re almost there – go on!’
Nina took his weight on one side, the German supporting him on the other. ‘No, we stick together,’ she insisted.
Another expedition member didn’t share that view. Cuff broke from the group and raced up the earthen bank ahead. ‘Day, wait!’ cried Loretta.
‘If he takes one of the trucks on his own,’ Nina growled, ‘he’ll need more than a dentist when I’m done with him.’
‘I’ll help,’ Macy added.
‘He wouldn’t do that,’ Osterhagen assured her. ‘I think . . . ’
Macy ran to catch Cuff as they brought Valero up the slope. At the top, Nina spotted a flash of red through the greenery – one of the Land Cruisers. Osterhagen saw it too, and they guided the winded man towards it.
Cuff reached the nearest 4×4, yanking open the driver’s door. Nina expected him to jump in, but instead he stood unmoving. ‘Start it up!’ Macy yelled to him as she reached the vehicle. ‘Come on, get—’
She too froze, suddenly silent.
Nina realised that something was horribly wrong, but it was too late to do anything about it – they were only a couple of dozen yards from the trucks with nowhere to run, nowhere to take cover.
Macy looked back, frightened. Nina now knew why.
Someone was in the Land Cruiser. But how—
The helicopter. She hadn’t paid it any attention, distracted by the gunfire. Now, though, she knew what it had been doing. The only way to leave Paititi was along the logging track, and it had dropped more troops ahead to catch them in a pincer.
Figures emerged from behind trees and bushes, weapons aimed at the archaeologists and their guide. Loretta screamed. One soldier pointed at Valero, then gestured towards the ground. With a faint moan of defeat, Valero dropped his gun.
The man in the Land Cruiser emerged, Cuff stepping back in fear. Tall, late forties, tending towards the spread of middle age but still intimidatingly powerful. An officer, his crisp and clean uniform contrasting with the sweaty fatigues of his men. He regarded Nina and her companions coldly from behind a pair of aviator sunglasses. ‘Who are you,’ he said in