She stared at the items on the floor for a long time before turning back around to face her hosts. “And we’re hoping to find this monkey Luke was working with… for what, exactly?”
“Anything,” Blanco answered, in a deep voice. “Whoever did this covered their tracks well. We’re hoping the capuchin can give us a clue as to who it was. A uniform, an insignia, anything. We have a number of pictures we can show him. We’re hoping he can pick something out. At this point, it’s the only option we have left.”
DeeAnn shook her head. This was feeling more impossible by the minute. She stopped when she spotted a picture frame lying face down on the floor. She reached down to pick it up and turned it over. The photo hit her immediately. It was a picture of her and Luke, many years earlier, on the beach standing knee-high in the water. They were both laughing.
Tears began to well up in her eyes. She blinked hard, chasing them away. With a quick wipe from the back of her hand, DeeAnn looked back at Alves and Blanco. “So do you have any video or audio footage of this monkey Dexter?”
29
Chris found Alison, standing once again on the bow. She was eating a sandwich and watching the water as the boat drifted in place. The gentle swells of late afternoon sun reflected brightly off the water. Dirk and Sally had left to hunt for food, leaving them all with some down time.
“Ali!” Chris walked forward, keeping close to the stanchions.
She turned to see him approaching with the satellite phone in his hand. “Who is it?”
Chris smiled. “Guess.”
She held it to her ear and answered. “Hello?”
“Hello, beautiful.”
Alison grinned. “Well, hi there.”
“How are things going? I presume you’re at sea since your cell phone didn’t pick up.”
“We sure are. We’re over seventy miles out already, almost within sight of St. Kitts. And you’re very sweet for remembering. What are you up to?”
Clay looked at Caesare, who was downing a piece of pizza. “Just watching Steve eat,” he joked. In reality they were less than a mile from the abandoned building they’d spent much of the night atop and were about to head back to it.
“You poor thing,” Alison teased. She had seen Caesare’s voracious appetite in action.
“Everything going all right?”
“Yes! Dirk and Sally are out finding dinner, and Kelly is taking a nap, getting ready for the first watch. It sounds like we’ll be there tomorrow.”
“I bet you’re busting with excitement.”
“I am.” She turned back out toward the water. “I really am. It’s more than I could have ever hoped for, John.” She paused. “I kinda wish you were here with me.”
“So do I.” His baritone voice said through the speaker. “It’s just bad timing, I’m afraid.”
“I know. I’m not mad. I just…” She struggled for a moment and decided to change the subject. “Wait, I haven’t told you about DeeAnn!”
“Told me what?”
Alison spent the next ten minutes telling Clay about the visit from Alves and his assistant, the news about DeeAnn’s friend, and her decision to take Dulce back with them. When she was finished, Clay remained quiet, thinking.
“What’s the guy’s name again?”
“Mateus Alves. Have you heard of him?”
“Can’t say that I have, but that certainly doesn’t mean anything.”
“Lee and Juan both checked him out. And considering their snooping skills, he looks pretty trustworthy.”
Clay was still thinking. “Can Dulce really communicate with another primate species?”
Alison shrugged. “We’re not sure, but DeeAnn seemed to think it was possible. She said the way they communicate is very similar. Honestly though, I think she would have gone either way. I probably would have too.”
“Have you heard from her since she left?” Clay was again looking at Caesare who had picked up on the topic of their conversation and was now listening intently.
“Yes. She called last night. They arrived safe and sound. And the new vest seems to be working well. With any luck, they’ll find something out about her friend quickly.”
“You don’t sound hopeful.”
Alison sighed. She wanted to be hopeful, but all things considered, the odds were against them. Even if Dulce could find and talk to the smaller monkey, she couldn’t imagine what he might tell them that would make a difference. She wanted to believe DeeAnn’s friend was alive, but from the circumstances described by Alves, it sounded doubtful. “You know me,” she told Clay. “Prepare for the worst but hope for the best.”
Clay smiled on the other end. “You’re very wise, Alison Shaw.” He glanced at his watch. “I should probably go. Steve and I have some things to do before it gets too late. Stay safe. I’ll try to call you again soon.”
“Okay. Thanks for calling. You be safe too.”
“I will.”
Clay ended the call and powered off the phone, dropping it into a side pocket on his bag.
Caesare was still watching with raised eyebrows. “What’s up with Dulce and DeeAnn?”
“It appears they’ve gone on a trip.”
“Trip? To where?”
Clay zipped the side pocket closed and slung the bag over his shoulder. “Let’s head out. I’ll fill you in on the way.”
Caesare nodded and picked up his own bag. They had a relatively short window in which to reach their target before dark. Once there, they would have to change back into their black fatigues and hightail it up the hill to get into position.
Just as they had the night before, the loud trucks angled slowly down the narrow road toward the bottom of the mountain. Even in first gear, the giant vehicles strained under their own weight, causing the transmissions to moan under protest. The bright headlights of the Typhoons eventually passed over a section of dense jungle where Clay and Caesare were lying quietly on their stomachs, waiting.
Talking to Langford earlier, he impressed upon them that the brass needed to know what was in those trucks as soon as possible, which meant they were going to have to improvise, and fast.
As the first truck passed, Caesare remained motionless, propped up onto his elbows in an overlook position with an M4 carbine tucked tightly into his shoulder. He pointed downhill into an open area, where he could give Clay emergency cover if needed.
A little further uphill from Caesare, Clay was squatting, waiting. The plan was simple, or at least as simple as they could come up with, given the time crunch. Caesare was also a better shot and Clay a faster runner, which was why Caesare was the one providing cover.
When the last truck rumbled past, Clay immediately leapt from his position and scampered up a small embankment. Within half a dozen steps, he was onto the road and in full sprint. Clay tore down the steep hill, chasing the truck’s dark outline. He stumbled over the uneven ground, almost losing his balance. He recovered and quickened his pace, reaching out for the rear of the huge bouncing vehicle.
Clay’s hand was just inches from one of the back handles when the grade changed and the truck abruptly sped up. He stumbled again and pushed harder. His boot dropped into a small hole, slightly twisting his ankle and causing him to fall onto a knee, just as he seized one of the large stainless steel handles. The ground raced beneath him, dragging Clay behind the truck as he managed to get another grip on the handle and lifted off both knees. He pulled himself up, hand over hand, until only his feet were dragging. Clay finally propped one, then both knees, up onto the bumper.