Show No Fear - By Marliss Melton Page 0,31

hopefulness faded.

“No signal,” Lucy guessed.

“No,” he corroborated.

“So if it’s not Incan, what is it? Cecaot-Jicobo,” she added, making a face at her poor pronunciation of a second camp.

“I think it’s an encryption,” he said shortly.

She glanced at him sharply. “Really?” she asked, intrigued. Looking back at the names, she tried to see a pattern in the strange words but couldn’t. “I wonder if that’s the river we crossed,” she mused, noting the drawing of a waterfall.

“You can’t make that assumption. There’s water all over this mountain,” Gus refuted, angling the phone in the chance of getting a signal.

“How come this camp’s not named?” she wondered, pointing to an X near the top of the mountain.

“I don’t know,” said Gus, giving up on getting a signal. “Maybe that’s the radio station.” He accessed the phone’s internal camera. “Hold the map against the trunk so I can get some clear shots.”

“How can we upload pictures without a signal?” she asked, holding the map against the tree.

“We can’t. The pictures won’t go anywhere till we can get coverage.”

“Do you think they’re worried that we haven’t checked in?” she asked as he snapped off several close-ups. She was getting anxious. Their assignment wasn’t exactly going according to plan.

“As long as they have us on radar and we’re moving around, they won’t worry,” he assured her, stepping back. “Fold that up for me, will you?” he asked, bending to put the phone away.

“When are you going to shred it?” she asked, folding it the way he had.

“Not until I know the JIC got the pictures. I may have to break the code myself.”

Remembering how incredibly smart he was, Lucy gave him a nudge. “You can do it,” she said with confidence.

“Thanks,” he said, quirking her a smile as he struck the heel of his boot, shutting it. “We’d better get back before we’re missed.”

When a shout came out of the jungle hours later, Lucy’s first reaction was relief. She hadn’t agreed to this assignment just to sit around and wait for something to happen. The morning had been a lesson in boredom. At last, there came a distraction.

But the rebels responded with alarm. The youth manning the machine gun let loose a stream of bullets that sent leaves and bark flying. Lucy hit the dirt, just in case.

Buitre flew at the youth, shaking his fists in the air and roaring for him to stop.

One minute Gus was playing cards with Carlos and Bellini in the shade of the orange tree. The next he was hauling Lucy off the ground and pulling her behind the brick hooch, where he pinned her between the wall and his bigger body.

A taut quiet fell over the camp. Even the chickens seemed to listen. As Gus peered cautiously around the corner, Lucy eyed the pulse in his powerful neck. Having a partner wasn’t all that bad, she reflected. This defensive positioning wasn’t necessary in her opinion, but it was fun dodging bullets together.

“Who is it?” she asked, reading puzzlement in his golden-brown eyes.

“I don’t know.” He loosened his grip so she could see what he was looking at.

A band of men in solid green fatigues led four mules into the clearing.

“I hope that’s food,” said Lucy, eying the sacks on their backs.

“Check out their uniforms,” urged Gus. “Those aren’t FARC.”

“Then who are they?”

“I don’t know. ELN, maybe?” Colombia’s National Liberation Army was a notorious rebel faction, smaller than the FARC but equally ruthless.

They watched as Buitre waved his own soldiers over to take the sacks and carry them to the kitchen lean-to that housed the cooking utensils.

“Why doesn’t he just bring the mules over?” Lucy asked.

“Good question. Maybe he doesn’t want us rubbing elbows with those guys. Let’s see what happens when we wander closer,” he proposed, grabbing her hand.

Together they walked toward the newcomers.

They hadn’t made it past the fire pit when David stepped into their path. “Stay back,” he warned as he lowered a sack marked “Frijoles Negros” onto the growing pile inside the lean-to. Black beans.

“Perhaps we can help,” Gus inquired. “I can carry two at once.”

Rebels ran back and forth, huffing and puffing under their fifty-pound sacks.

But David just shook his head. “No,” he insisted. “Stay over here.”

“Who are they?” Lucy called as David turned away. “Are they ELN?”

With a resolute set to his shoulders, the youth ignored her and plodded back to the mules.

In minutes, the foodstuffs were all unloaded and the little entourage turned and melted into the forest, leaving Gus and Lucy with