to stay ahead of his pursuers until the rains came and reduced the effectiveness of the dogs. Probably doable as long as the handlers kept hold of them. If they got close enough to release them, though, things were going to get exciting.
He notched his pace upward to the very edge of what the surface would safely allow. The idea that Esparza would live up to his word on the ten minutes seemed a little far-fetched.
After six minutes of running, he activated the screen on his watch to check his position with regard to the stream. In the end, it turned out to be unnecessary. The water from recent rains had swollen it to the point that it had washed out part of the road. Rapp slid down an embankment into the muddy creek, alternating between it and the banks, depending on which maximized his speed. After about a hundred yards he heard the distant whine of the dirt bikes starting up. The timer on his watch read eight minutes and four seconds. Frankly, a minute longer than Rapp had figured. Apparently, that was what passed for honor among thieves.
If they weren’t complete morons, it would take only about three minutes before they found the place where he’d ducked into the jungle. At the pace he’d set, his footprints were clearly visible, though it would be impossible to determine whether he’d headed upstream or downstream. Best bet, the dirt bikers would radio it in and split up to chase. The dogs would be put in vehicles and driven to the place where Rapp had abandoned the road. So call it another five before he had an organized chase coming up behind him.
Not surprisingly, the microscopic topographical map hadn’t provided a very accurate picture of the terrain. Instead of narrowing into a tiny scar cut through the jungle, the stream kept getting wider, deeper, and more powerful. Cascades that were half waterfall and half mudslide fed it from the canyon walls, making it increasingly hard for Rapp to keep his footing.
Overhead, the clouds were building, but at a pace that was slower than he’d hoped. The rain he was counting on to save his ass from the dogs seemed a long way off.
When the pack become audible again, they were going nuts. The question now was, would their handlers try to keep them under control or would they let them run?
The answer came about a minute later when the sound of their barking suddenly diminished. They were no longer straining against their handlers. They were loose.
The jungle at the edges of the now thirty-foot-wide river was too dense for a human to move through, but the dogs would manage it pretty well. Rapp abandoned the shallow water on the right bank and went for the deeper center. He selected a thick, leafy tree from the floating debris and tangled himself it in. A branch behind his head kept his nose and mouth out of the water while the rest of him floated along beneath the surface.
Because he’d traveled mostly in the water, the dogs wouldn’t have much to work with. They’d have to move along both banks, trying to pick up a scent. As long as the river kept moving and he stayed submerged, he’d probably be all right.
Probably.
After an hour of floating along at a less than thrilling three or four knots, the situation started to deteriorate. On the positive side, his femur wasn’t yet a dog toy. On the negative side, it was potentially a few seconds from becoming one.
There were two pit bulls on the east bank, staying roughly even with him. They seemed to sense that their prey was close but hadn’t yet focused on the tree he was hidden beneath. A Doberman was on the opposite bank, hanging a bit farther back with its handler alongside. Two soldiers were visible in the shallow water to the west, scanning the dense jungle around them with assault rifles gripped tight.
One got a call on his radio and he spoke into it for a few seconds. His words were unintelligible, but his tone and gestures weren’t hard to decipher. They figured Rapp was in the river because the dogs couldn’t pick up his scent, but they had no idea where. The response was also audible, a static-ridden jumble of anger and frustration from Carlos Esparza. He wouldn’t be too worried yet, but he’d be looking up at the same darkening clouds as Rapp was.