Who was it? It was too dark to tell. The man had seemed about six feet tall, which wasn’t helpful. That pretty much described every male on the team except for Jorge.
Zane bit his lower lip as he pondered what to do next. He thought about going back to his tent, but his instincts told him to find out where this person was going. At the very least, the whole thing seemed bizarre. After waiting a few more seconds, Zane rose and returned to the trail. Once there, he paused and listened. He could still hear footsteps, but they were fading quickly. Whoever it was, they were in a hurry.
Suddenly, the beam of a flashlight appeared in the distance. Zane’s pulse quickened. There could be only one reason the man had waited to turn on his flashlight. Clearly he didn’t want to be seen by the others back at camp.
Zane picked up his speed, his senses on high alert. He could see the man better now. Something about him seemed familiar. Perhaps it was his gait. Perhaps it was the way he held his shoulders.
After rounding a bend in the trail, Zane’s foot came down squarely on a stick, snapping it loudly. He cringed and looked up. The man stopped and pivoted, swinging his flashlight around in the process. Zane stepped quickly behind a tree, placing his back against the trunk. The flashlight’s beam illuminated the section of the trail where Zane had just been standing. If he had waited a second longer, he would’ve been seen.
Moments later, the sound of footsteps reached his ears. The man was coming back. Zane pressed against the tree and placed a hand on his Glock. Finally, the footsteps came to a halt. The man was so close now that Zane could hear the movement of his arms as he waved the flashlight around. The beam soon shone on both sides of the tree where Zane was hidden. He squeezed his arms in as tightly as possible, fearful that some of his clothes might be showing.
A moment later, the beam swept away and the area was plunged into darkness. Zane counted off thirty seconds then stepped back onto the trail. To his relief, the light was already fading into the distance.
Zane began following the man once again, this time keeping more distance between them. He wouldn’t be able to identify him this far back, but the additional space would provide some measure of safety.
“Who are you?” Zane whispered.
Eventually the path began to descend sharply into a ravine. The man slowed his pace, and Zane followed suit. Not only did he want to stay at a distance, but the path was also more slippery here. One bad step might send him hurtling down the slope.
Upon reaching the bottom, the man extinguished his light. Had he reached his destination? Or did he realize he was being followed? Not willing to take any chances, Zane hunched down and crept into a cluster of bushes on the right side of the trail. The thought of stepping on a coiled bushmaster sent a cold chill down his spine, but at this point, he had no choice. He couldn’t risk exposing himself if the man doubled back.
Once he was safely hidden, he looked down into the ravine. A loud chorus of croaks and barks greeted him. Frogs. There must be a body of water close by. Zane stared intently toward the bottom of the ravine and was eventually able to make out the surface of a small pond.
Suddenly, a light flashed three times on the far shore. It seemed like some sort of signal. Seconds later, another light flashed three times from where the man had been standing. The hairs on Zane’s neck stood on end. He could no longer deny the hypothesis that had already formed in his mind minutes earlier: he was witnessing a clandestine rendezvous, and it likely involved someone from his team.
About a minute later, the sound of muffled voices carried up the hill. Despite trying, Zane couldn’t make out any individual words. The chorus of frogs was too loud and the distance too great. But what if he were able to get closer? He rose a bit and examined the area below him. Just beyond the cluster of bushes, the ground seemed to be relatively clear. If he could just get down there, he might be able to pick up a few snippets of the conversation.
Slowly, Zane stepped out of the bushes and crept down the slope. He was walking through leaf litter, but the steady drone of noise from the pond cloaked the sound. About ten yards out, he stepped on a thin layer of leaves strewn across a patch of mud. His feet went out from under him, and he tumbled several times before finally coming to a stop.
There could be no doubt the sound had carried to the men below. That was confirmed seconds later when four flashlight beams panned back and forth across the hill. Zane slithered over to some bushes and lay flat against the ground. Several of the beams passed directly overhead but didn’t stop. About a minute later, the ravine went dark again.
Zane lay there for a moment to make sure the light didn’t return then rose up on one knee. Now that he was clear of the ground, he could hear the men talking again. Their conversation was a bit clearer now, but he still couldn’t figure out what they were saying.
At this point, he didn’t dare try to get any closer. More noise would undoubtedly bring the men over for a thorough search. He might be able to slip away, but it wasn’t worth the risk. He would be outnumbered and outgunned. All he could do now was wait.
After some time had passed, Zane noticed the men had grown silent. The only sound in the ravine came from the raft of frogs sitting along the pond’s edge. Apparently the meeting had ended.
Zane rose up on the balls of his feet. It was imperative that he get back to camp and hide somewhere along the path. Once there, it would be easy to identify the mystery man when he returned. The only question would be whether or not to confront him immediately. That would likely depend on who it was.
As Zane stood to leave, he heard footsteps coming up the hill. He’d waited too long. Seconds later, a distant shadow passed by and continued up the hill. When the man neared the top, he turned on his flashlight and disappeared over the crest.
If I can’t wait for you, at least I’ll follow you back.
Zane had only taken one step when he grunted in pain. Somehow he’d twisted his ankle in the fall. It wasn’t a bad sprain, but it was enough to prevent him from moving with speed.
He bent over and grabbed his knees, letting out a long sigh of frustration.
After remaining still for a full minute, he slowly rose and hobbled back toward the path.
As he turned and made his way up the hill, two things weighed heavily on his mind: The group had a mole. And he might never know who it was.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Jorge pulled the cigar out of his mouth. “You’re sure it was someone from our team, amigo?”
The group had been marching again since dawn, and Zane had just spent the last few minutes describing everything that had taken place the night before, including his theory that there was a mole in their midst.
“I have zero doubt that it was one of ours,” Zane replied.
“What makes you so sure?”
“For starters, he came out through the opening in our motion-sensor perimeter.”
Jorge nodded, then his eyes narrowed. “Unless they watched your men setting it up.”
“You’d have to get awfully close to know that.”
The two men began walking again.
“You said that you couldn’t tell who the person was,” Jorge said. “Could you tell anything about them?”
“Nothing other than it was a man who was about six feet tall,” Zane said.
“Which is obviously why you were comfortable coming to me,” Jorge said with a laugh.
“You said that, not me.” Zane slapped the Brazilian on the back.
“If a certain soldado wasn’t already dead, I might have already made a guess,” Jorge said.