speak for him? How far away was Rebel Central? Was Rojas hiding something he didn’t want the UN team to see?
As they went to hang their hammocks on the pegs, she peered through the smudged pane of a window and realized only Estéban and Manuel had been left to guard the UN team. The rest had departed with Buitre.
Catching Gus’s eye, she ascertained that he had noticed the sudden laxness in security. Giving Dumb and Dumber the slip in order to get a peek at Rebel Central was a distinct possibility.
“Only two more days,” Gus murmured. Seeing her shiver, he drew her into his arms to warm her with his body heat.
Accepting his embrace, Lucy envisioned the exchange going off without a hitch. She pictured her and Gus on a helicopter, sailing up and over the lush jungle canopy, returning to civilization, to the life she’d led before the mission.
Why, she wondered, did envisioning the best-case scenario leave her feeling cheated? Why the emptiness, the sense that her potential hadn’t been fully realized?
Perhaps it had to do with the fact that only one of the hostages would be coming home alive. The job would be a moderate success at best, denying her a full sense of accomplishment.
God forbid this nagging emptiness had anything to do with Gus. There wasn’t room for tenderness on the battleground against terror. She was wasting her time thinking maybe there was. This assignment was a onetime deal, an opportunity to relive a simpler era when loving Gus was all that mattered. She wasn’t the same girl she was back then. Of course, she had feelings for him. But feelings didn’t count when the world was falling apart.
COMMANDER ROJAS USED a forty-foot watchtower as his headquarters. The structure afforded him an inspiring view of La Montaña. Up here, where the air was moist and sweet and highly oxygenated, he enjoyed a sense of loftiness and security. Using shortwave radio only for emergencies, he had managed to elude both the Colombian army and the CIA.
Until now. Deputy Buitre’s testimony made Rojas’s blood run cold. “You are certain you have overheard them speaking English?” he inquired, his voice gruff with disappointment.
“Yes, sir,” insisted the scarred soldier.
Deputy Buitre had been a rebel since his teens. His experience made him an asset to the FARC. He had no reason to make up lies. Nor did the Venezuelan captain, for that matter.
“Bring Captain Vargas to me,” Rojas decided. “I wish to hear his testimony in person.”
“I will, Commander,” the deputy promised. “Immediately.”
Commander Marquez, standing next to the deputy, wrung his hands together, waiting for a moment to chime in. “Commander,” he cautioned, “even if there are spies within the UN team, we cannot harm them. The world would consider us barbarians,” he insisted.
Rojas sat back, crossed his arms, and thought. Marquez was right, of course. If he seized any one of the UN peacekeepers, it would appear to outsiders that the rebels acted with unwarranted hostility toward a neutral entity.
On the other hand, if the couple were spies for the CIA, then letting them go could spell ruin for the rebels, depending on how much they had discovered during their stay on La Montaña.
Did they know of the FARC’s plans for resurgence?
Could they lead the enemy to the FARC’s hidden camps?
Twirling a pen between his thumb and forefinger, he turned his head to survey the canopy, which was topped by a thin mist. As he drew a breath of oxygen-rich air, a plan began to form in his head.
“You are right,” he said to Marquez. “We cannot harm them.”
Disappointment seized the planes of Buitre’s face, and Rojas realized here was a man who enjoyed inflicting pain on others. Nor was he bright enough to realize what his leader had in mind. Putting his weight on his elbows, he leaned forward to enlighten the deputy. “Tragically, in the jungle, there are many accidents that may befall an individual. Especially,” he added, bringing a glint of comprehension to Buitre’s eyes, “when there is a war underway.”
SPRAWLED ON A CARPET OF WET MOSS, Lucy peered over a rocky ledge at Front Commander Rojas’s compound. “It’s bigger than I thought,” she admitted to Gus, her heart thumping in the wake of their sprint through the jungle, her blood thrumming with excitement.
They hadn’t had to trick Dumb and Dumber, after all. Estéban and Manuel had simply dropped off to sleep by the fire inside the casita, and Lucy and Gus had excused themselves, supposedly to heed