Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

M aggie cocked her ear toward a sound in the distance. She caught Jake’s eye. “Tu entends ca?” Do you hear that?

His gaze lingered on her upturned face. “Oui. Je suis impatient.”

The sound grew from a hiss in the distance to a gushing enticement to hurry.

Bursting onto a clearing, they all chorused their appreciation of the twenty-foot cataract spilling over the cliff in front of them and thundering into a basin the size of a backyard swimming pool before tumbling over a series of smaller rapids that disappeared downhill into the verdant wilderness.

Was this the waterfall drawn on the map?

Bellini dropped the bucket, racing with Boris to see who could undress the fastest.

Sitting on a boulder, Maggie untied her boots. With her eyes on the men, she pushed the dagger she still carried out of sight as she pulled her foot out. Realizing Jake had the map in his pants pocket, along with their passports, she glanced over to find him contemplating whether to strip his pants off.

“Just take them off,” Maggie told him in French. If Esme took umbrage with him stripping, she could look away. As for herself, Maggie’s clothing needed a bath as much as she did.

Leaving her boots beside the boulder, she waded into the shallows in her socks, fully dressed. Esme, led by her example, did likewise. They both gasped as bone-chilling water lapped at their feet.

“Are you going in all the way?” The Turkish woman didn’t seem too interested.

“You bet I am. The secret is to jump in all at once.”

Demonstrating, Maggie performed a shallow dive. The shock of the water startled her at first, but as it cooled the myriad bug bites on her body, she remained underwater, enjoying her solitude. The thunder of the falls muffled the exclamations of the others as they waded in. Hanging on to a root at the bottom, Maggie looked around. It was nice to be alone for a second.

A sudden disturbance had her looking up. A figure flashed toward her disturbing her peace, and a powerful forearm hooked around her waist before hauling her abruptly to the surface.

Jake’s worried face was the first thing she saw as she sucked in a breath of air.

“You okay?” Water spiked his eyelashes.

“Um, oui .” She glanced self-consciously toward the others. “Désolé si je t’ai fait peur.” Sorry if I scared you.

“I thought you hit your head or something.” His powerful kicks kept them both afloat and away from the current that had tried to carry her downstream. “You never came back up.”

“No. I just…wanted some time to myself.” Glancing self-consciously toward shore, she spotted Chucho picking up one of Jake’s boots. At her soft gasp, Jake turned his head and stiffened.

“ Mira, Estéban.” Chucho held up the boot for his friend to see. “Look at the size of Jacques’s feet.” He lobbed the boot at Estéban, who held it up and hooted.

He was holding the right boot, too, the one with the sat phone in it.

“Déjalo.” Leave it . Jake managed to keep his tone mild. Towing Maggie behind him, he headed toward the shallows to intervene.

Estéban ignored him for the time being, examining the boot in his hands and clearly marveling at the quality. “You must be rich, se?or.”

Seeing the frown on Jake’s face, the young man panicked and tossed the boot at him awkwardly. Jake, staying true to his cover, went to catch it and missed.

With a splash, the boot landed in the shallows by Charles’s feet. That man plucked it immediately out of the water, freeing Maggie to breathe again. Surely, the phone hadn’t gotten wet with less than a second of immersion.

Charles frowned up at David as he returned Jake’s boot to him. “Who is in charge here? Do you want your guests to get jungle rot?”

“No, se?or.” David cast an apologetic glance at Jake before stalking toward Chucho and Estéban to admonish them.

As Jake went to put the boot back with its mate, Maggie’s gaze fell to his streaming wet pants. He hadn’t taken them off before jumping in to save her. If the map and the passports were still in his pocket, as she suspected they were, they might be ruined now.

The flat look he sent her as he went to wring the water from his pantlegs said it all. He’d opted to save her when she hadn’t needed saving, over keeping their IDs and the map dry.

At least they had pictures of the map on the sat phone. If they could just get the stupid phone to work, they could get the JIC’s help in decrypting it.

But the passports? It could take weeks to get new ones made. She drew a tight breath. Anything could go wrong out here, and she’d never see it coming.

Maggie stood at the entrance to their cubicle watching with bated breath as Jake tried the sat phone again, this time in the middle of camp, just after supper.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. And here, in their cubicle, they enjoyed a modicum of privacy?—not that it was private enough to hold a conversation. All Jake could do was upload the pictures of the map to the JIC, assuming it worked where the trees had been cleared. Apart from the beep the phone emitted when it powered up, what could possibly go wrong?

Even so, Maggie’s heart raced as Jake nodded in her direction. Wish me luck , said his blue eyes before he burrowed under their blanket, using it to muffle both the beep and the phone’s glow.

Maggie bit her lip while glancing down the hall toward the entryway. They had retired to the bungalow early, feigning weariness. Hopefully, nobody else got the same idea.

Looking back at Jake, she witnessed the simultaneous beep and glow and shifted to block the latter, though surely it wasn’t dark enough for someone outside to notice a faint luminescence through the bamboo blinds. Someone might have been close enough to hear that weird beep, though.

Ten seconds elapsed. Maggie realized she was holding her breath and slowly let it out. No one had come running yet. Everything was fine. Was Jake getting through?

In the next instant, the glow disappeared, and Jake pulled the blanket off his head, leaving his hair ruffled. He sent her a small smile. Not only did he look adorable with his hair ruffled, but that sexy, confident smile rocked her back on her heels even as desire tugged at her. She had to restrain herself from tackling him onto the mat for a victory kiss.

Only things wouldn’t end with a kiss if she had her way. Sending Jake a brisk nod and a thumbs-up, Maggie turned her back on him, hurrying back outside to join the others telling stories by the fire. It was either that or giving in to her feelings.

I’m still in love with him.

The acknowledgment came as no surprise. Honestly, had she ever stopped loving him? Probably not. But grown-up Jake was like young Jake to the tenth power squared?—and so appealing to her that even her teeth ached. On top of that, he was thoughtful, concerned, easygoing, and protective. In his company, her PTS was slipping away. But the only reason was because of Jake. He was the antidote to her fears.

Doubts assailed Maggie as she seated herself among the group of peacekeepers while willing Jake to stay away and give her space to breathe.

She’d thought she was getting past her post-traumatic stress. Fighting fire with fire was working. The more she overcame various dangers, the more confident she grew. But her confidence, she realized now, was an illusion.

And that spelled ruin for her. For when this assignment was over and she went back to her life, with no Jake around to give her courage, she would fall apart all over again.

Oh, help. I’m toast.

Jake scrubbed a hand over his six-day beard and sighed. He’d broken the encryption?—at least, he believed he’d broken it, thanks to a thought that had occurred to him the prior evening when he’d sent the JIC the photos of the map. The phone’s coordinates had blinked on at the top of the display, giving him an idea. All he needed was the JIC to confirm his hypothesis.

But to do that, he needed to talk to them, not just text, and talking in the bungalow was out of the question. For one thing, anyone walking by the building might overhear him. For another, Ixtabel and Maife had raised all the interior and exterior blinds to sweep the building and beat the mats and blankets, getting rid of any vermin. Lena was pitching in, broom in hand. Hearing her encourage the girls to sing, Jake lost his train of thoughts as he eavesdropped.

Lena had a knack for developing assets. And even in the frumpy jacket she was forced to wear, with her long raven hair in a ponytail and not a speck of makeup on her face, he couldn’t take his eyes off her as she plied her broom gracefully. When she bestowed one of her rare smiles on Maife, Jake’s chest ached. He’d never loved and admired her more. Regardless of his initial reservations and the challenges of this setting, being with Lena was making this assignment one of his best and most rewarding, to date.

Catching himself off task, Jake continued his brainstorming. Where on this mountain could he find privacy and a cleared canopy at the same time?

The officers’ quarters was way too risky, especially after Lena’s close call the other morning. His gaze continued to roam. Too many kids cycled through the lean-to that housed them. That decrepit shed way on the other side of the camp had bats and hornets in it. He kept searching only to reconsider the shed a second later.

Well, why not? Because hornets in equatorial regions carried stingers with twice the venom as those in North America, that was why. And the bats were bound to be vampire bats whose spit contained an anticoagulant that kept blood from clotting. By day, though, they usually slept. And Jake could handle a hornet sting or two if it meant getting through to the JIC.

It couldn’t be any worse than Hell Week at SEAL BUD/S training or the waterboarding training they’d put him through at The Farm. With a deep breath of resolve, Jake rose from the stump by the firepit, wondering the best way to get himself into trouble.

Guilt pricked him as he glanced back at Lena. How many times had he lectured her on the importance of keeping her partner in the loop? In this case, though, telling her would put her in harm’s way, as she would insist on getting into trouble with him. Since his first job was to protect her, not let her risk her life along with his, he had to keep this plan to himself.

Sorry, Beautiful.

Crossing the camp slowly, he hunted for the best way to vex the mondo without going too far and being shot by the man. Gallo stood in the field by the bull’s-eyes, surrounded by the eight young male rebels. As Jake drew close enough to see what they were doing, he realized Gallo was teaching the boys how to bury mines. Talk about a sorry education.

Feeling Lena’s eyes track his progress, he cast her a reassuring smile and a wave. Better come up with a plan quickly, Iron Man, because it won’t take Lena long to put two and two together.

A solution presented itself in the form of the antique AK-47 Chucho had left propped against the trunk of a tree, in lieu of carrying it on his shoulder. Meandering toward the tree, Jake watched Gallo, who was down on one knee, take a mine from a box?—hopefully a dud. He handed it to a boy Jake didn’t know yet, ordering him to put it in the ground and cover it up.

Where were the FARC getting these mines, anyway?

Arriving at the tree, Jake reached casually for the eighties-era rifle and then picked it up. As he turned it over with the air of a man who’d never held one before, he sensed Lena’s riveted stare from clear across the camp. Better act fast.

Hearing a rustle overhead, Jake made eye contact with a long-haired spider monkey peeking down at him. He said in French, “I would move if I were you.” With a final glance at Gallo, who’d caught sight of him, Jake surreptitiously thumbed off the safety before firing straight up into the tree and missing the monkey by a mile.

Crack-crack! Bullets strafed the branches, raining down leaves and splinters.

“?Estúpido!” Gallo sprang to his feet and stormed Jake while whipping the pistol from his holster. “Drop the weapon!” He thrust his pistol into Jake’s face while calling him a string of unflattering names.

Feigning chagrin, Jake placed the rifle carefully back against the tree, leaving its safety off and hoping Chucho promptly reset it.

Lena and Boris Mayer were racing toward him, but not before Gallo transferred his pistol into his left hand and pulled back his right fist. Jake could have sidestepped Mondo’s wild swing, only he wasn’t supposed to see it coming.

Ouch, that actually hurt. Putting on an expression of wounded innocence, Jake pressed the back of his hand to his swelling lip. But it wasn’t over yet. Gallo swung him around, shoved him face-first against the rough tree trunk, and thrust the point of his gun between his ribs. “You idiot!” he raged in Spanish. “Were you trying to kill my soldiers?”

“No, no!” Jake fretted that he may have overshot his goal. In mangled Spanish, he explained his intent. “I-I-I pretended to shoot the monkey and the arma went off.”

Lena’s feisty tone cut into the conversation. “He wasn’t even aiming at your soldiers, Mondo. It was an accident. Leave him alone.” She tried pulling Jake away from Gallo, who rounded on her.

“ ?Accidente? There is no room for accidentes in this camp. He could have killed someone. He must be punished!”

“Comandante.” Boris stepped between Lena and Gallo, addressing the mondo by a title calculated to flatter him. “Please excuse Jacques. He knows nothing of weapons, and his eyesight is poor. I’m sure he meant no harm.”

“You are sure?” Gallo turned back to Lena and Jake. “Well, I am not. I have watched these two. They are not like the others.”

His comment struck Boris dumb. He divided a troubled look between the French couple.

Lena propped her hands on her hips and scoffed. “Are you scared of peacekeepers, Mondo?”

She seemed determined to get into trouble with Jake.

“Let it go, Lena.” Speaking in French, Jake tried to convey his intent with his eyes. “I made a mistake, and I’ll accept the punishment. Just stay out of it.”

“Stay out of it?” Her passionate nature got the better of her. “You’re my husband, and you want me to stay out of it?”

Jake winced as her tone alone demanded, “Whatever happened to teamwork, buddy?”

Boris placed a large hand on Lena’s shoulder. “I am sure when Commander Marquez arrives, he’ll resolve the matter at once. He should be here today.”

Gallo very deliberately released the safety on his pistol, causing all three of them to fall silent. Lena tried to step between him and Jake.

“Back up!” Gallo snarled, and Boris hauled her to safety.

Fisting the back of Jake’s jacket, Gallo prodded him into a walk. “You will wait in the shed until el comandante returns.”

Lena’s expression didn’t alter one iota, save for a faint thinning of her lips, but Jake knew by her sudden silence she realized what he was up to.

He was going to sacrifice himself to make a phone call.

The villainous hornets had stingers the size of hypodermic needles.

“Ouch!” Jake slapped the insect stabbing the back of his neck and focused his efforts on keeping the intermittent signal. So long as he stood below the hole in the tin roof, straddling a puddle of fetid water, the signal was strong enough.

Holding down number seven, he speed-dialed the JIC, while praying no one had overheard the beep and that the call went through. Surely only Lena, who hovered nearby, was close enough to hear either.

Bambino’s deep voice, laced with his Philadelphia accent, was a balm to Jake’s ears. “This is Spiderman in the Hall of Justice, over.”

“Iron Man here.” Afraid the call might drop, Jake wasted no time getting straight to the point. “Did you get the images I uploaded last evening?”

“Roger that, Iron Man. We’ve been lookin’ at ’em all day. What took you so long to check in?”

“Technical issues with the equipment. Listen, the place names are encrypted, and I think I know how.”

“Just a minute. I’m gonna put you on speaker so the rest of us can hear.”

The speaker gave a click and Lobo’s deep voice asked, “What’s your idea, Iron Man?”

Jake pricked his ears to any sounds outside the shed, heard nothing, and proceeded. “Look at my global positioning right now. Convert my latitude, longitude, minutes, and seconds to decimal form. You follow me so far?”

He waited for confirmation before proceeding. “Now, convert those numbers to letters and you get C for the first letter, E for the second. See a camp that starts with those letters? It’s Cecaot-Jicobo. ”

“Hooyah!” Harm cheered Jake’s success.

Lobo’s response was tamer. “Sounds promising.”

“And the O in Cecaot is probably a decimal.”

“Good work, Iron Man. We’ll play around with this and let you know via a text if you’re right. Still no name on the third camp?”

“That’s correct. That may be where the hostages are kept, I don’t know.”

“How are negotiations going?”

“We’re awaiting proof of life for one of two targets. Texas appears to be alive, but there’s some doubt about South Carolina. The team lead requested radio communication with the two, which would tell us right away if they’re both alive. I think we’ll find out today if that request is accepted. Ow!”

With his grandpa’s favorite Celtic swear, Jake squashed the wasp stinging his temple. After brushing it off him, he teased out the stinger still lodged in his scalp. “Hey, before I forget, I think the top brass here has my watch. If my theory on the encryption is right, the watch’s coordinates should match one of the camp’s names, the one starting with K , I think.”

“We’ll work on it and let you know via text,” Lobo assured him.

Harm asked with a smile in his voice, “How’s the missus doing?”

The reference to Lena eased the stinging in Jake’s temple. If only she were his missus. “She’s alive and kicking.” Which was how he intended her to stay.

“We were starting to worry when we didn’t hear from you,” Harm added.

“Yeah, well, the comms don’t work under the dense canopy. Can you see our trackers, at least?”

“Perfectly. We figured the phone had problems.”

“Yeah, you may not hear from me for a while, but I’ll look for your text and send one back if I can.”

“Roger that,” Lobo answered. “Take care out there.”

“Over and out.” Jake forced himself to hang up. He would’ve preferred to keep talking?—anything to distract himself from the hellish pit he was in. But the longer he talked, the more likely he was to get caught.

With the call complete, he put his phone carefully back into his boot, balancing on one leg as there was nothing to hold on to. Once his boot was securely tied, he went to stand where he wouldn’t draw so much ire from the hornets. A rat scuttled under his heel, emitting a squeak.

Jerking the collar of his jacket higher, Jake eyed the vampire bats dangling unperturbed under the eaves. He would pretend he was one of them, putting himself into a deep meditative state while praying for the stamina to endure this.

“Madeleine, wait.” Boris grabbed the back of Lena’s jacket as she made to push off the bungalow platform.

A shout had just come from the forest, preceding Marquez and the Argentine, who’d finally arrived, hours later than expected. Up to then, when she wasn’t circling the shed, calling to Jake to check on him, she was seething on the narrow deck of the bungalow, sweating in the humid heat, tormented by a flesh-eating fly.

Determined to be the first person to talk to Marquez, Maggie ignored the German’s advice. Jake was her partner. And even though Jake had assured her several times that he was fine, her imagination spawned visions of his demise in there. She’d realized why he’d gotten into trouble, but even if he’d succeeded in having a full-blown conversation with his teammates, she was going to deck him when he emerged. He should’ve cleared his move with her first! That’s what partners did.

Without having to try hard, she behaved exactly as any distraught wife would in her situation, shedding tears of frustration that looked to others like tears of worry for her beloved Jacques.

Jake had gone too far this time. What if the hornets in the shed were deadly? What if a few too many stings led to toxicity? He could die in there trying to make a stupid phone call, and what would happen when the FARC leaders opened the shed and found a sat phone in his hand, huh? They would kill her next, that’s what.

The post-traumatic stress she was just beginning to vanquish returned with a double dose. Battling a panic attack, she hurried toward Marquez, furious when Gallo ran right past her, getting to his commander first. Gesturing grandly, he relayed the story of Jacques nearly shooting the rebels with their own rifle. It was all Maggie could do not to call the mondo a liar. She dragged air into her tight lungs and ordered herself to wait her turn.

Marquez was shooting a thoughtful frown in her direction, causing Maggie’s stomach to cramp. Surely, he didn’t believe the mild-mannered Frenchman had intended any harm. He listened at length, then raised a hand to stem the rant still coming out of Gallo’s mouth.

“Release the man.”

Maggie had just opened her mouth to speak. It remained hanging open.

Boris, who’d caught up to her, cast her an encouraging smile. “I told you.”

“But, Comandante ?—” Gallo protested.

“I said, release him.” Lowering his voice, he added something else that put a cold, resigned look on Gallo’s face.

As that man swiveled toward the shed with the key needed to unlock the shed, Maggie shook off Boris’s restraining hand and raced after him, hoping to reach Jake first?—just in case he’d passed out with the phone in his hand. But, with a murderous expression, Gallo waved her back and released the lock before he swung the crooked door open.

As Jake stumbled out, blinking against the hazy sunlight, the desire to deck him disintegrated. A lump on the side of his head disfigured the shape of his skull. Another puffed out just below one eye. His neck was swollen and red.

“Oh, Jacques!” Her dismay was utterly genuine. “Somebody, get me a wet cloth, please.” She eyed the welt on his temple with concern. Could the venom get into his brain?

“Je vais bien.” I’m okay . But he weaved on his feet, prompting her to throw her arms around his sturdy frame.

“Did you get through?” she asked beneath her breath.

His nod was so faint no one else would have noticed, but Lena did, marveling at his courage and wanting, illogically, to sock him again.

“Come sit down,” she urged. With Esme off looking for a wet cloth and the other peacekeepers offering moral support, Maggie led Jake across the field to the tree stumps. “Right here. Sit.”

Jake collapsed on a stump, alarming her when he swayed so far, he nearly fell off the other side. Maggie tackled the buttons of his jacket, parting them to search for more hornet stings but not finding any. At last, Esme ran up to her with her personal wooden bowl and rag. They each kept one in their cubicles to maintain a modicum of hygiene.

Lamenting the filthy rag, Maggie nonetheless dipped it in the cool water before applying it to the welt on Jake’s cheek first, as that was the most obvious.

As she fussed over him, concerned by his silence, she was conscious of the Argentine seating himself wearily on the stump next to them. In her frazzled state, she hadn’t even noticed the man until then.

Boris was the first to greet him. “Welcome back, se?or. What news, my friend?”

Arias looked toward Marquez for permission to speak. At the commander’s nod, he drew a deep breath. “Rojas has agreed to let you speak with the hostages via radio.”

Jake’s head came up, letting Lena know he wasn’t so far gone he’d missed the significance of the Argentine’s words.

“When?” Boris sounded as pleased and excited as Maggie was.

“Ahora.” Now . Marquez marched up to them while holding out his handheld radio. “Only, do it out here where there is better reception.”

Boris gestured for the others to step close to him.

Glad not to have to move Jake, Maggie placed a hand on his shoulder while Marquez switched on his radio, held down the button on the side, and spoke into it. “Habla.”

When a voice responded, the commander handed Arias the device and walked away.

Maggie’s blood began to thrum at the prospect of hearing her former colleague’s voices. She would need to keep quiet, on the off chance they recognized her voice and blew her cover.

“Hello?” Arias began the conversation tentatively, in English.

“Yes, hello!”

The familiar tenor of Jay Barnes’s voice hit Maggie like a blow to the solar plexus. His normally robust voice sounded weak, but the prospect of getting to go home clearly excited him.

Boris, who sat next to Arias, leaned toward the radio, speaking in English with just the faintest German accent. “This is Boris Mayer from the United Nations Department of Peace Operations. We are currently situated on El Castillo negotiating for your release.”

“Oh, thank God.” Jay’s voice cracked with emotion. “Please, I appreciate whatever you can do to help.”

“I appreciate,” he’d said, not we .

Jake lifted his head to catch Maggie’s eye. He’d picked up on the telling pronoun, too.

“How is your health, Mr. Barnes?”

“Fine. I’m weak, but my health is…it’s okay.”

“You make no mention of your companion,” Boris pointed out.

“Oh, he’s…he’s here. He’s not doing so well, though.”

“Is he ill, Mr. Barnes?”

“Yes, yes, he’s terribly ill. Cranial malaria, I think.”

Maggie fought to keep her dismay from showing. Cranial malaria was deadly. The thick emotion in Jay’s voice made her own throat close. She fought to keep her expression neutral. As far as the present company was concerned, she didn’t know much English, so why would she be moved to tears?

Boris asked Jay, “Can Mr. Howitz speak? We need to know he’s alive.”

“Uh, yeah. I’ll hold the radio for him.”

“Hello? Mr. Howitz?” Boris called.

An unintelligible grunt followed.

“Are you Mike Howitz?”

Every team member leaned in, hoping to hear Mike’s reply.

“Yes,” rasped a voice.

Maggie cocked her head and frowned down at Jake. It didn’t sound like Mike.

“Mr. Howitz, my name is Boris Mayer, from the United Nations. Can you tell me where you’re from?”

“Charleston, South Carolina.”

Boris brightened. “Yes, can you tell me the date of your son’s birthday?”

A muffled whisper followed the question.

“Mr. Howitz?”

“Mikey.” The man on the other end struggled for breath.

“Yes, when is Mikey’s birthday?”

A long pause ensued. Either the man was too ill to remember or?—“The last day of April.”

Boris raised an eyebrow at Maggie for getting the date wrong. She stiffened, certain the boy’s birthday was in May.

“Have any doctors tried to treat you, Mr. Howitz?” Boris sounded gravely concerned.

“They gave me pills.”

Maggie snapped her eyes shut, hiding her sudden devastation. Whoever this was impersonating Howitz, he wasn’t a native English speaker. He’d pronounced pills as peels , which meant Mike was either too sick to speak or he was already gone.

Charles stood suddenly, pointing at the radio. “That man is not American.”

Boris nodded shortly, letting Maggie know he had heard. “Thank you, Mr. Howitz. May I speak again with Mr. Barnes?”

“Basta,” growled a voice presumably belonging to their jail keeper. “Your time is up.”

As the radio in Arias’s hand emitted a low hiss, the Argentine flipped off the power switch and raised a weary gaze at the team.

Boris hung his head and pondered a moment. “I’m afraid,” he articulated slowly, “we may assume Michael Howitz is dead or too ill to speak.”

Even though she’d come to the same conclusion, Maggie felt a cold wave of shock roll through her. When she’d worked with him, Mike had been the life of the office, always firing off jokes, the first to offer a helping hand. He hadn’t deserved to die on a remote mountain, being held against his will.

She pictured his son, who’d only been eight when she’d met him, a younger version of his father, all freckles and blue eyes, and her throat constricted. She leveled a glare at Arias.

“Did you already know Mike was dead?”

Jake reached over and squeezed her thigh in warning.

Arias spread his hands. “How could I? They tell me nothing. I travel from here to a camp on the other side of the mountain bearing offers to Rojas and counteroffers to you, nothing more.”

Charles asked the question that jumped into Maggie’s head. “Have you seen Rojas’s camp, then? Where is it?”

“No, no. We meet at a small brick dwelling, not at his camp. Like I said, I know nothing, only that I am tired.”

Charles persisted. “But surely you have an idea by now where the hostages are being kept?”

Arias darted anxious glances about the camp. Marquez had moved too far away to hear them. There were no other rebels about. He pitched his voice lower, speaking only to those in the circle. “I’ve heard rebels whispering of a place called Arriba , up there.”

The X on the map that had no name! It had to be. Meeting Jake’s upward glance, she knew he thought the same thing.

Bellini scraped a hand over the black whiskers on his cheek. “How does the death of one of the hostages change our situation?”

“Well, it gives us the advantage, I believe.” Boris turned a compassionate gaze on the Argentine. “I understand that you are weary, Se?or Arias, and I’m sorry. But the only way to put an end to this process is to press on.”

“I know.” Arias nodded, fully resigned.

“Please get word to General Rojas that because we have no proof of life for Mr. Howitz, we will not secure the money for his ransom. Moreover, because Jay Barnes is ill, we can only give half the requested sum for his safe return, two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. We will, however, arrange for the release of the five rebels captured at Calamar, but only in exchange for the three JUNGLA held by the FARC here.”

Maggie wanted to protest that Mike Howitz’s family would want his body back, dead or alive. Leery of sticking her head out, she bit back the words, relieved when Esme chimed in.

“We cannot leave Mike Howitz’s body here.” Her dark eyes flashed with affront. “His family must have closure.”

“That’s true.” Boris rubbed his palms together, thinking. He nodded at Arias. “We will offer ten thousand dollars more for the return of Howitz’s body.”

Arias rubbed his eyes, then repeated Boris’s counteroffer to make sure he had it right. “Very well. I will convey this to Rojas at our next meeting.”

Maggie blew out a grounding breath. At this slow pace, negotiations could take forever, and their phone’s first battery was about to die. The UN team, according to the terms of their visit, was only here for another week. Jay needed medical attention and could die in the meantime, the way Mike had. Yet he was doomed, just as they were, to wait for Arias to make another long march to the other side of the mountain, only to return with Rojas’s counteroffer to their counteroffer, which would then require them to make yet another offer. Maggie, in the meantime, was going to lose it. If only Rojas would use a radio like everyone else.

Dark clouds of emotion descended on Maggie so suddenly and ferociously that she needed to remove herself from the group before they witnessed a meltdown and wondered at the reason for it. Only, she couldn’t leave Jake in the state he was in. Where could she take him?

A glance at the bungalow brought an immediate surge of protest. Not enough privacy. She had to get away from here. A glance at David reminded her of their visit to the falls?—that was it! The falls! If she could dive into the cooling water, she would feel better. Jake could also benefit.

“?Comandante?” She dared to address Marquez as he approached them to reclaim his radio.

His eyes, buried within the leathery folds of his skin, focused on her. “?Sí?”

“My husband is suffering from the stings of many hornets. Please allow David to take us to the cascada for an hour. Jacques needs the cold water.”

The eyes of the other peacekeepers had rounded at her temerity but then lowered to Jake, who swayed intentionally on his stump, looking worse off than he hopefully was.

Marquez grunted, looked around, and caught David’s attention before waving him over. “Take the French couple to the waterfall, but keep an eye on them.”

“Sí, Comandante.” With a respectful nod, David crossed toward Jake, his brow furrowing as he studied his welts. “Can you walk, se?or?”

Maggie grabbed Jake’s arm, eager to leave before the others requested to go with them. “You take one side, David, and I’ll take the other.”

Together, they hoisted Jake off his seat and started across the camp toward the path that would lead them to the waterfall.