“But what if something happens to you?”
He reached into his coat pocket and handed her his sat-phone. “If you hear anything… gunshots, shouting, anything at all, then you grab Motzi and beat feet as fast as you can to his village. Once you’re there, call the camp and have them send the cavalry as fast as they can.”
She reluctantly took the phone. “Okay, boss man. I’ll do this your way, but only because the stakes for the rest of the world are so high and they are counting on us to get a cure for this plague.”
“But,” she added, arching a brow, “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
He smiled and leaned forward, kissing her tenderly on the lips. “Good, that means you’ll be so glad to see me when I get back that you’ll jump into my arms and cover me with kisses.”
She leaned back and punched him in the arm. “In your dreams, Buster. But if you don’t come back, I promise I will kick your bony ass next time I see you.”
“Bony?” he asked, wrinkling his forehead. “I always thought my ass was one of my better features,” he mumbled as he eased back out of her tent.”
Bear had not survived fifteen years in the Marine Corps and another seven as a hired gun by being unobservant or stupid. He’d sent Jinx up ahead of their team to keep an eye on the camp of their prey. Jinx, being the smallest of the group, was the only man Bear trusted to be able to slip through the dense jungle undergrowth without sounding like a bull in the brush.
About two hours later Jinx signaled Bear on their handheld radios. “Hey, boss man,” came the whispered voice.
Bear keyed his own radio. “Yeah?”
“Something’s wrong here.”
“Elaborate.”
“You know how every night so far they’ve made their tents, built a fire to cook on, and then kept the fire going to keep bugs and animals at bay?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, tonight there was no fire. They ate cold sandwiches and then went to their tents without lighting a fire at all.”
Bear thought for a moment and then cursed softly to himself. “Damn, they’re on to us,” he murmured into the radio.
“How?” Jinx asked. “We’ve been damn careful to stay well back and keep our noise to a minimum.”
Bear was perplexed. He had no idea how the group ahead had sensed they were being followed. He stood up, scratching his head, looking around the camp for some clue as to how they’d betrayed their position.
Then he saw it. A small plume of smoke from their low campfire was curling up into the night air and bending toward the trail that led to the group ahead of them.
He keyed his radio. “Jinx, can you smell anything?”
“What…?” Jinx asked, and then he paused, sniffing.
“Damn, Boss. I can smell our fire. It smells like a damn barbeque.”
Bear nodded, trying to think what the group would do now. He doubted they’d try to come back after them. Hell, even though they were carrying Armalites, they were doctors and academics, not soldiers. They’d probably just huddle in their tents, terrified of what the smoke might mean. Most likely they’d think they were dealing with narco-traffickers or other Indio natives.
“Hey Boss,” Jinx whispered again.
“Yeah?”
“The main man is slipping out of the lady’s tent with his rifle and he’s sneaking back down the trail right at you.”
Bear chuckled. So much for assumptions. Evidently the doctor had more balls than he’d given him credit for.
“Stay put, Jinx, and make sure nothing else goes wrong.”
Bear whirled around and gave a low whistle, their signal for immediate battle stations. His men came immediately awake, their hands on their weapons. “Hustle up!” Bear urged in a low voice. “We’ve been compromised. We’ve got to clear camp fast and make it like we were never here.”
“How long’ve we got?” Hoss asked as he scrambled to his feet.
“Probably about twenty minutes,” Bear answered. He figured they were about three miles back of the group ahead, and he didn’t think the doc could cover that in less than half an hour without using a flashlight.
“Soon as we’ve packed up and policed the camp, melt into the brush and hunker down. I don’t think the man will search very far off the trail.”
Blade pulled his long knife out of his scabbard. “Why don’t you let me take the bastard out?” he asked with a wicked grin.
Bear sighed. “Why don’t you shut up and follow my orders… unless you think you’re ready to assume command of the unit?” Bear snarled menacingly.
The smile faded from Blade’s lips. “Someday you’re gonna go too far, boss,” he growled.
“Yeah? Well, until then, or until you think you can take me, get your ass in gear and get this place scrubbed down tight.”
Mason inched his way down the trail, making as little noise as he could. There was a half moon, which gave off just enough light for him to keep from wandering off the trail into the jungle and getting lost.
He backtracked for over an hour and found nothing to indicate anyone was following them. At one point he thought he could pick up a faint whiff of wood smoke, but he found no evidence of a campfire or of any disturbance in the surrounding bush to show a camp had been made.
Finally he sighed and straightened up, easing the cramped muscles in his back from walking crouched over for the past hour and a half. He looked around, shaking his head. “Guess I was just being paranoid,” he mumbled to himself.
He put the rifle strap over his shoulder, snapped on his flashlight, and walked back up the trail toward their camp. As he whistled softly in the darkness, he was unaware of the eyes that watched him from nearby bushes and of fingers on triggers in case he saw them.
Chapter 28
By the time they reached the outskirts of Motzi’s village, Mason and Lauren were exhausted, while Motzi looked as fresh as if he’d just stepped out for a short hike in the woods.
As soon as he saw some of his young friends up ahead, Motzi began to yell and wave and run toward them.
The boys gathered around him, slapping him on the back and asking questions about what it was like working with the Americanos up north.
They quickly became silent when they noticed Mason and Lauren straggling up the path to the village, looking as if they’d been dragged through the jungle instead of walking through it.
As Mason and Lauren approached, a small, dark man waved the children aside and stooped to embrace Motzi, grinning from ear to ear.
Motzi looked toward Mason and Lauren and began speaking rapid-fire Nahuatl, explaining who the man and woman were.
After a moment, the man looked up at them and smiled. In broken English, he said, “My son say you friends. He say you help him many time. I am Fernando… his father.”
Lauren smiled back as she pulled twigs and leaves out of her tangled hair. “Yes, Guatemotzi is our friend, Fernando. He brought us here to meet a curandera to see if she could help us.”
Fernando’s forehead wrinkled and he glanced at his son, who quickly began to explain to him in Nahuatl about the plague that was killing millions of people across the world and how it was caused by the “bleeding sickness” that used to kill newcomers to their village.
Fernando nodded gravely and motioned for Mason and Lauren to follow him. He turned and walked toward the far end of the village where a grass-roofed shack stood off by itself. The front of the shack had colorful designs and pictographs painted on the walls in different colored clays.
There was a post stuck in the ground in front of the shack. It had a small, black cast-iron bell affixed to the top.