Caesare and Anderson immediately pushed the others to the ground and raised their own heads, searching. “Where’d he go?!”
“I don’t see him.”
Their question was answered when the small capuchin erupted from the bush in front of him and hit Anderson square in the chest. The SEAL scrambled to grab him, but Dexter jumped free and continued running.
“Dammit!” Anderson had stood up to chase after the monkey when several bullets tore through the nearby plants and ricocheted off the outcropping behind them.
“Down!”
Anderson dropped back to the ground while Caesare watched Dexter disappear into the darkness.
“Get Juan out of here! We’re going after that monkey!”
Anderson scurried back to Juan. “Come with me.”
Juan nodded as best he could with his chin still on the dirt.
Next to him, Caesare grabbed DeeAnn and Dulce.
“Stay low!”
With that, he lifted his rifle in front of his chest and pushed them forward into a crouched run.
78
“MOVE IN! MOVE IN!” Lieutenant Sosa screamed over the gunfire.
His men were now running forward, fanning out from the mouth of the small pass as Becca scrambled up a small incline behind them to see what was happening. From several feet up, she could see flashlights combing through a small camp with two vehicles. She gasped when she spotted captured capuchins on the back of the truck. Further away, several men used their lights to pursue something or someone into the foliage.
To her left, there was more shooting and yelling near the base of the ridge.
She jumped down and yelled, running toward the camp. “Hurry!”
Along the ridge, Juan Diaz nearly froze under the onslaught of gunfire until Anderson forced him forward. When his head rose too much, Anderson reached forward and slapped it back down. “Low!”
Keeping on their hands and knees, they scrambled up the incline to a pair of large rocks, where they hid. Anderson twisted back around and peered into the darkness. “Shit. They’re coming.” There was no other cover for another twenty yards, far too long to be exposed.
“You see those rocks up ahead?”
“Yeah.”
“When I tell you, you run like hell and get behind them. Off your knees but stay as low as you can. And when I say run, I mean run.”
“Okay.”
“We need that cover.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be right behind you. First, I gotta slow these guys down.” He glanced back again. “Okay, you ready?”
“Not really.”
“Good. Here we go. On the count of three. One… two… three!”
All at once, Juan sprung to his feet and moved as fast as he could with his head down. He kept his focus on the rocks, reflecting brightly in the moonlight, and hoped there was nothing in the way to trip him.
When Sosa’s men reached the rocks, they approached cautiously from both sides, guns ready. The spot was empty.
Caesare paused when he heard the distinct sound of Anderson’s HK416 echoing off the walls of the ridge. A dozen shots were heard before the HK fell silent. Then another burst.
He continued moving. More shots from the Brazilians, followed by silence, told him Anderson was reloading.
Several rounds ricocheted near Caesare and he ducked lower. “Get down!” He growled and stepped behind a wide tree trunk to return fire.
He spotted two silhouettes and fired four more rounds. Both shapes disappeared.
“Stay close to me.”
When there was no answer, Caesare spun around to find DeeAnn and Dulce both gone.
“Damn it!”
Farther to the north, Corso watched more men descend across the dirt road while Tiewater knelt behind him, wiring several sets of blasting caps as fast as he could. He twisted the blue and yellow wires into small groups and then connected them to their own timing wires.
Anderson’s voice came over their radio between shots. “I could use that diversion!”
“We’re working on it,” Tiewater said. He moved his fingers faster. When finished he double-checked his work, tracing the wires out with his fingertips.
“Good?”
He nodded to Corso. “Good.” He set the timer and dropped the first set. Tiewater then turned to see Corso disappear into the brush, dropping a second set before running in the opposite direction and letting another one go every hundred feet.
“Here we go…” Tiewater called into his microphone. He waited for Anderson to stop firing, then set off the first round of caps.
From that distance, they sounded exactly like gunfire.
Sosa and his men stopped and turned toward the sound of shots farther to their right. The blood drained from the lieutenant’s face.
“Crossfire! Move back, move back!”
A crossfire was almost impossible to defend against, and his men were now too far out. He had only minutes to pull them back and regroup.
“MOVE BACK!” he yelled again.
It was then that two of his men fell to the ground.
Higher on the ridge, Juan threw himself behind the next cluster of rocks. He waited several seconds for Anderson. When he didn’t show, Juan took a deep breath and continued into the darkness.
Almost a hundred yards behind Juan, Anderson grunted and fell to a knee. He gritted his teeth and tried to speak.
“I’m hit!”
He pulled back his jacket and found the wound, just below his left rib cage. A ricochet.
Anderson lost his balance and twisted down onto both knees. He touched the wound, then withdrew his hand. It was covered in blood.
“Shit.”
He was bleeding too fast.
“Where are you?!” Caesare called into his ear.
He tried to catch his breath. “On the other side of the camp. Maybe fifty yards.” He turned and tried to look up the hill before inhaling again. “Juan is trying to get back-”
He stopped again, suddenly overwhelmed by the searing pain in his stomach and back. He struggled to stay on his knees.
“I’m down,” Anderson repeated in a softer voice as he sank to the ground. “I’m down…”
On the opposite side of the pass, near the top of the ridge, Juan reached their base. And in the darkness, he collapsed with relief onto his knees. He fought to catch his breath.
He never noticed the Brazilian soldiers waiting for him.
79
Slowly, John Clay’s eyes opened to find himself kneeling on a cold concrete floor. His arms were outstretched, each tied with a rope, keeping his upper body suspended from something above.
It was the pain in his shoulders that forcibly pulled him back into consciousness. He had no idea how long they had been supporting most of his weight. He rose on his knees, attempting to alleviate the searing agony, and blinked several times to clear his vision.
The place appeared to be a warehouse with concrete walls, matching floor, and wide overhead beams supporting a long metal roof.
He noticed a figure slumped on the floor against a nearby wall. It wasn’t until Clay was finally able to focus that he recognized the body of Jin Tang, the man who’d helped him from Hong Kong. Tang’s dark eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling, while a thick line of blood dried on his face. Both of his feet appeared to be twisted in the wrong directions.
A young Chinese soldier stepped into view and noticed Clay’s open eyes, then he promptly shouted to someone behind him. A few moments later, the image of Li Qin stepped in front of Clay and peered at him curiously.