Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

D aylight was just beginning to wane on yet another impossibly long and uneventful day when the door of the casita flew open, admitting a large moth that fluttered in as David poked his head in. “Someone is coming!” he said with a smile.

Maggie watched Jake step out of his hammock so he could look out the nearest screen at the mellowing landscape. “It’s Boris and a few of the FARC. He’s back!”

Anticipation and dismay warred within Maggie. She forced herself to get up, ignoring the discomfort that pinched her hip every time she moved. The lead negotiator had been gone for thirty-six hours. She’d been thinking about Jake’s suggestion of a date for the last twenty-four, and she was no closer to a decision.

By the time Boris appeared at the door, Esme had scraped together what was left of their last meal into a bowl for him. Noting the German’s satisfied smile, Maggie’s emotions wheeled. It was obvious he had met with success.

“I have much to tell you.” Stamping the mud off his feet, he crossed the threshold, leaving the door open behind him as a gesture of politeness.

Peering past him, Maggie glimpsed only Gallo and two of the hardened rebels from Ki-kirr-zikis. Marquez must have gone elsewhere with the rest of the rebels. She was glad when they remained outside, giving the team a modicum of privacy.

“Is it done?” Bellini demanded as Boris unbuttoned his jacket.

Esme rounded on the Italian. “Give the man a chance to sit and eat, Leo. We saved you some food just in case you came back, Boris. Here, rest.” She gestured to one of the two chairs.

With a weary sigh, Boris sank onto the chair closest to the hearth’s embers, then dug into his dinner with gusto.

Maggie gnawed on the inside of her lip as she waited for Boris’s news. Would she and Jake be parting ways in a matter of days? Hours?

When Gallo stepped up to the still-open door, Boris stopped chewing, cutting him an uncomfortable glance. The entire team regarded Gallo with mistrust as he lounged against the doorjamb, a ceramic jug in one hand.

Charles broke the awkward silence. “What’s the news on Se?or Arias?”

Boris pawed his bowl. “Last I saw him was in the little town we went to, El Olvido.”

The Oblivion , Maggie translated with a shiver of premonition.

“He was left with the local healer there, who was given instructions to call his family. I imagine he is home by now. Thank you, Esme.” Handing her the empty bowl, he took the cup of water she held out to him and drained it.

Esme’s face shone with hope in the dimming light. “Does that mean we’ll be heading home ourselves, soon?”

“Yes, yes.” Boris cut another uncomfortable glance at the door. “The process is underway.”

Maggie sought Jake’s gaze, drawing his attention to the doorway. Why was Gallo just lounging there, holding that jug? And what did his peculiar smile signify?

Perhaps sensing her disquiet, Jake stepped closer, looped an arm around her waist, and pulled her against him in what was blatantly a primal claim?—one that Maggie didn’t mind at all in this instance…or perhaps, ever.

Boris, lowering his voice, described his activities in the last two days.

“We traveled by ATV down the mountain to the small town I mentioned, El Olvido. There, I met a woman who gave me her cell phone to use, as it had Wi-Fi access. She took me to see a lawyer who is sympathetic to the FARC. With the lawyer present, making everything legal, I took a picture of Jay Barnes’s request for his ransom to be paid?—someone must have asked him to write it?—and I sent it via email to the insurance company. The lawyer followed up with an email of his own, giving the company a routing and account number I wasn’t privy to.”

The kiss Jake pressed to Maggie’s temple distracted her briefly?—another memory to be filed away for later.

“Next, I made calls to my contact in the Colombian Army and arranged for the five FARC prisoners to be released. Then, I contacted the Red Cross and begged them to deliver the prisoners to the location specified by Rojas. All I had were the longitude and latitude to give them, but I believe it’s in a valley on the east side of El Castillo. With all of that done, Gallo brought me back here while Marquez went to collect Jay Barnes, the body of his colleague, and the three JUNGLA. If all goes as it should, the Red Cross will fly us out and back to Bogotá tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Dismay steamrolled Maggie. She couldn’t wrap her head around it.

“Morning or afternoon?” Bellini asked.

“Oh, afternoon. We’ll have to travel to the valley first.”

Stunned silence followed Boris’s announcement.

Esme broke it. “Oh, you have done well, Boris!”

Cynicism kept Maggie from offering her congratulations. What about the red tape Boris had mentioned earlier? A whole host of things could go wrong, causing the entire plan to unravel.

Boris shrugged off Esme’s praise while looking pleased. “Not I. All of us have done well.”

“Then, you must celebrate.” Gallo’s declaration shattered the bonding moment as he swaggered toward the group with his jug extended. He thrust it at the team lead. “A gift from General Rojas.”

Maggie pictured Rojas, Gallo, and Marquez all chumming in the camouflaged tower?—saying what, exactly?

“Thank you.” Ever polite, the German came to his feet and took the jug, though his tone was far from enthusiastic. “What is this exactly?”

“Chicha.” Gallo’s broad smile shimmered in the twilight gloom.

Maggie had heard of it, but only Charles knew what it was. “It’s fermented cassava.”

Gallo gestured for Boris to take a swig. “Try it. It’s better than agua panela .”

Never one to offend a host and likely still thirsty from his travels, Boris removed the cork and took an obliging sip. He swallowed, wheezed, and cleared his throat. “Not bad. A little like English cider. Thank you, Mondo Gallo.”

Gallo gestured for Boris to pass the jug around. “Everyone must try it.”

Maggie considered the offer with suspicion. After being poisoned by Gallo the other day, she didn’t trust him not to kill them all, especially if arrangements for payment and the release of the five FARC soldiers were a done deal.

To her astonishment, Jake accepted the jug from Boris and took a hearty swig. How could he be so certain it wasn’t laced with something toxic? He wiped his mouth with alacrity before passing it to her.

With all eyes on her, Maggie took a wary sip. Liquor seared her throat and left a sour-sweet taste on her tongue. Chicha wasn’t half bad, though. Maybe it would numb the constant ache in her hip?

The others followed her example, all but Esme who declined. “No, no, I don’t touch liquor.”

“Drink,” the mondo insisted.

With a sniff of disapproval, Esme left the group and went to lie in her hammock.

Bellini took the jug from Charles and held it up. “A toast to Se?or Arias.” Tipping it back, he swallowed down enough for him and Esme both.

All at once, the room seemed to shift. Maggie swayed against Jake, who cut her a sharp glance. Wow, chicha had to be a hundred proof, at least.

Bellini passed the jug back to Boris, who repeated the toast. “To Se?or Arias.” His eyes reflected the embers in the fireplace.

Jake took the jug next, taking another long draught.

In the belief that her hip pain was subsiding, Maggie did the same. She passed it on to Charles, who returned it to Bellini. That man spilled some on his face and giggled.

Without warning, Jake staggered. His grip on Maggie tightened, and they both fell against the cinder-block column that helped support the roof.

Gallo roared with laughter. The room’s shadows turned his face into a grotesque mask.

“Sorry.” Jake’s speech slurred as he apologized to her, but Maggie wasn’t even remotely hurt, as he’d kept his weight from crushing her.

“Jacques has no tolerance,” she explained. Yet not once had he behaved like this in France when they’d drunk their fair share of wine, which meant he was faking it. Escorting him to his hammock, she held it still for him to climb into it. Even so, he rolled off the other side, falling onto the floor.

Gallo roared with laughter. Setting her teeth, Maggie helped Jake up.

“We should all retire.”

Bless Charles for drawing a line in the sand. “The sun is almost down.” He crossed to the hearth to extinguish the embers.

As the team members withdrew from him, Gallo sent them one last smirk before turning and walking out the door, pulling it shut behind him. Darkness descended with startling speed.

The instant Gallo was gone, Jake rolled smoothly into his hammock, even as he held onto her hands.

Boris’s voice floated toward them. “Gallo meant no harm, I’m sure.”

Maggie laughed at the na?ve comment. “Are you? I’m not.”

Charles deflected everyone’s attention to Jake. “Are you okay there, Jacques?”

Jake’s reply was a soft snore.

Maggie answered for him. “He’s asleep already.” Yet, even as she spoke, her sleeping prince lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a sweet kiss in the center of her palm. Poignant emotion lanced Maggie’s heart.

His soft whisper just reached her ears. “ Je’taime, Lena.” I love you .

The words stole her breath. He had said them often, twelve years ago, back in Paris, his blue eyes bright with emotion. She had never replied in kind, for fear of raising his hopes.

I love you, too, Jake .

She stood over him now, awash with tenderness and yearning, as well as anticipatory grief. As she’d done twelve years ago, she would soak her pillow with tears. Unable to sleep without him, she would prowl around her shared apartment, and when sleep still didn’t come, she would run, and run, and run, but the ache would never go away.

Twelve years ago, the choice between Jake and her career had been black and white. Since her early teens, her father had put ideas into her head about the importance of protecting democracy and about the advantage she had being a native Spanish speaker, attractive, and smart. She could make the world a better place.

“Look what happened to Venezuela , ” he would say. “ That’s what happens when democracy breaks down. Tyrants like Maduro seize the reins of power and refuse to relinquish it .”

She’d heeded her father’s words until they formed the foundation of her own ideology: Maggie was here for the United States of America, not for herself, not for Jake. Yet, look where that had gotten her? She’d been so traumatized by her experience in Morocco that she wasn’t the same woman. It was only with Jake that she could be herself. That she could sleep without nightmares. But given their careers, they could never be together. One or the other would be away on an assignment. It would never be as it was now.

Still holding his hand, she envisioned the next twenty-four hours. If the exchange went off without a hitch, then this might be her last night in Jake’s company. Yet, she couldn’t even lie next to him, not in a hammock.

She did the next best thing. Without releasing his hand, she sank into her hammock, wincing with pain as her hip rubbed against the stretchy fibers. She would hold on to his hand for as long as possible, keeping their fingers entwined. She missed him already.

Her father’s advice on the day she’d graduated from CIA training echoed in her head. “Anyone can fall in love, Maggie. But if love means surrendering all that you’ve worked for and even what you believe in, then who needs it? A strong woman doesn’t need a man to feel whole.”

Wallowing in loss, Maggie blinked back tears. Clearly, I’m not as strong as I used to be.

The descent to the valley on the eastern edge of El Castillo took place on ATVs. Jake held fast to Lena as their ATV, driven by a rebel they’d just met, bumped and fishtailed down the winding, rutted track.

Fortunately, Lena’s hold on the driver was as tenacious as she was, and they didn’t fall off. When they zipped past a familiar rocky outcrop, she let go of the man long enough to point out the landmark to Jake. Yep, he’d seen it before, too, which meant the rebels were driving them in circles, trying to confuse them. No doubt, they feared the JUNGLA would seek to debrief the UN team once they returned to civilization.

At least, the peacekeepers couldn’t have asked for better weather for traveling. Patches of blue sky flashed here and there where the canopy thinned. Birds with vivid green, red, and blue feathers startled away at the roar of their ATVs. The air streaming past them was crisp and cool, smelling of freshly washed leaves. But when Maggie pointed out a pile of crates hastily concealed by cut branches, it was a grim reminder that the only thing about to come of the FARC’s rebellion was death and destruction. He hoped the teen rebels he’d befriended wouldn’t be traumatized?—or worse, be maimed or killed.

The path forked as it had before, and, this time, their driver broke left, following Gallo and two other rebel drivers, each of whom carried two peacekeepers apiece, while David and his squad all rode an ATV of their own. Several hundred meters later, their convoy slowed to a stop, right there on the trail.

Confused by the sudden stop in the middle of the wilderness, Jake didn’t know the reason for it until the ATVs cut their engines. The sound of rushing water made it evident there would be a river crossing, one that Boris hadn’t seen before, given his look of confusion. Clearly, this wasn’t the way to El Olvido.

In a silent procession, they walked until the trees cleared, exposing the view.

Lena grabbed Jake’s hand in what was probably a knee-jerk reaction. A gushing river, about fifty yards wide, had carved a deep divide into the side of the mountain. It swilled toward the valley, churning up mud and tearing away bushes and small trees, which rode away on its foaming surface.

At the sight of the rope bridge that would take them across the gorge, the team members groaned in unison as Jake squeezed Maggie’s hand reassuringly. At least they wouldn’t be crossing via a wooden box on cables. Yet the bridge itself was narrow, built with fraying rope and rickety planks, clearly designed to be crossed single file. A fine mist rising from the water dampened both the ropes and the boards, making them slippery and subject to decay.

No way had the crates they’d glimpsed earlier been carried across this bridge. So, why bring the team this way when a safer route obviously existed? Either Gallo got his jollies out of scaring his guests, or the FARC didn’t want them running into the Venezuelans bringing weapons in. That had to be the reason.

“Not to worry.” Boris kept a reassuring grasp on Esme’s arm. “Just picture the helicopter waiting for us on the other side.”

Esme, pale with fear, managed to nod.

“Only two people on the bridge at a time.” Gallo turned at the head of the line to issue instructions. He pointed at Jake. “You go last.”

Oh? Why was that?

Lena glanced at him sharply, her expression taut. He sent her a wink. I got this.

The worry that creased her forehead testified to her feelings for him, though she’d yet to accept his suggestion that they continue seeing each other when life went back to normal. She had to say, yes. Jake clung to his optimism. Despite her silence last night when he told her he loved her, he could tell she loved him back. The magic they’d discovered in each other as young adults was just as powerful, if not more so, as it had been twelve years ago.

Inclining his mouth to her ear, he offered her advice. “Hold the railings on both sides and walk across quickly. Try not to leave the bridge shaking.” The oscillations would get worse with every person crossing. That had to be why Gallo wanted him to go last?—he was obviously the strongest.

The mondo sent David and his three underlings across first. The squad made it look easy, striding casually across the flimsy bridge like they did it every day. Charles and Bellini were sent across next. Heavier set than Charles, Bellini caused the bridge to ripple under his weight, but the planks held, suggesting the rest of them would have no issues.

It was up to Boris to coax Esme across the rickety suspension. She went before him, wailing with every step and racing the last twenty yards to arrive on solid ground.

The two older rebels who’d come back from Ki-kirr-zikis with Gallo went next. Only Lena, Gallo, and Jake remained.

His intuition for trouble niggled. “Let Lena go before you,” he demanded, watching the mondo ’s reaction carefully.

That man gave a careless shrug. “Siga, usted,” he said to Lena, using the formal imperative to show respect. Go ahead .

To Jake’s delight, she went on tiptoe first and pressed a fervent kiss against his lips. The worry in her emerald eyes was unmistakable.

“Hey.” He gripped her arms firmly. “I’ll be right behind you.”

As Gallo urged her to hurry, she backed away from Jake, drew a deep breath, and stepped bravely onto the slightly undulating bridge. With his chest tight, Jake watched her power her way across. As a result of her caloric deprivation, she’d lost some of her athleticism?—not to mention her infected incision left her with a slight limp. Would she even have the strength to get across? God, please . If anything happened, Jake would be hard-pressed to help.

When she was two-thirds of the way across, Gallo proceeded to go next. With suspicion tightening his forehead, Jake watched the mondo ’s every move. But he followed Lena without incident, and soon, she stood on the opposite shore waving back at him.

What a relief! Now it was Jake’s turn.

He stepped out cautiously, still wary of a trap. If Gallo thought he was going to shake Jake off this bridge, he had another thing coming. Jake had traversed obstacle courses far more challenging than this, without incident.

The bridge oscillated gently, a consequence of those who’d crossed before him. Jake sought to absorb the bridge’s energy rather than fight it. Dividing his attention between his immediate environment and Gallo, who approached the opposite shore, he saw the mondo pause and look back. The man rested both of his hands on a post as he did so. His fingers curled over the knob at the top, pulling a piece of rope over it before he proceeded forward and stepped ashore.

A shudder whipped along the length of the bridge, catching Jake off guard. The rope under his right hand went suddenly slack. He released it, groping for the left railing, while the slats beneath his feet began to tilt. The rubber of Jake’s boots squealed as he slipped.

Mallacht air! Clinging to the left railing, he kept himself from plummeting into the boiling water. Anyone else would have dropped straight in.

Lena’s bloodcurdling scream reached his ears. Over the rushing river below him, Jake could hear his teammates shouting in consternation. A glimpse in their direction showed Charles fighting with all his might to keep Lena from clawing her way onto the distressed bridge to help him. Only once before had Jake seen that look of pure terror on her face. She does love me.

Still in shock, he encountered Gallo’s gloating stare and knew. The man was dumping him intentionally. He should have heeded his dream and taken Lena away from El Castillo while he’d had the chance.

Gathering his wits, Jake assessed his options. He would slide his hands along this one railing and make his way to shore. With his powerful grip, he stood a good chance of making it. Eyes focused on Lena, he relaxed his right hand just enough to slide it a foot in her direction, then repeated the movement with his left hand.

Seeing Gallo head back in his direction, presumably to rescue him, dismayed him. “Get back,” he yelled in Spanish, but the determined glint in the mondo ’s eyes made it evident he intended to finish Jake off.

And now that Jake was closer, he could see the apparatus like the one Gallo had already dismantled. The left post, just like the right, had a knob of wood at the top, with rope looped under it. If Gallo slipped the loop over the knot, the railing Jake still clung to would go slack, just as the other one had. In hindsight, this bridge was obviously designed to dump enemy forces, like the JUNGLA, into the river.

Gallo, extending one hand to Jake, made it look like he was helping, but, in fact, he was prying the loop over the knob with his other hand.

Jake made a quick decision. Before the railing could give way, he released it, dropping onto his stomach atop the wobbling planks while wrapping his arms and thighs around them. A wet mist coated him as the bridge swayed, like those trick ladders at amusement parks designed to challenge nimble children. He shifted his objective toward survival.

What were the odds he would live if he fell into the river?

Another glance toward shore showed the peacekeepers looking on in helpless horror. Lena squirmed and wriggled and shrieked in her determination to get to Jake, but Charles?—bless the man?—kept her from joining Jake in peril.

Mondo Gallo, on the other hand, grinned with malice, telling Jake that even if he could save himself, the mondo would probably shoot him out of sheer frustration. The man was convinced Jacques and Madeleine were a threat to the FARC, which meant Lena was his next target.

Not if I can help it.

At this moment, there were only two things Jake could do. One, he could make his way toward Gallo, pretend to seize his hand for help, then rip the mondo off the bridge and into the river?—only his minions would probably kill Jake for doing that. But option two was even less appealing. He could let himself fall off this flimsy crossing into the raging river below him and hope that he survived.

With a loud squeak, the nail holding down the board under Jake’s left arm tore from the track, making up his mind for him. He groped for a different board, but the movement jarred his tentative balance. Gravity jerked him loose off the bridge, and all he could do was align his body so he wouldn’t snap his spine when he hit the water.

With Lena’s heartrending scream in his ears, he plummeted toward the river, arms tight to his side, breaking the impact with his boots.

Water slammed up Jake’s nostrils and closed over his head. With the force of a collision, the current engulfed him and dragged him downstream at a sobering clip.

To protect his limbs, he curled into a ball. He could see nothing underwater but shades of dark brown. A log clipped the side of his head, leaving his ears ringing. His shoulder slammed into a boulder before he glanced off it. The branches of a submerged tree raked over him.

Desperate for air, Jake clawed for the surface and discovered his boots were too heavy to swim in. As they were filling with water, the sat phone in his heel was doomed. He wouldn’t be calling the JIC anytime soon.

But if he shucked the boots, he’d at least get to breathe. Breathing would be nice.

Sluicing along underwater, Jake struggled to untie the laces. By the time he tugged off one boot, then the other, his lungs and nasal passages were burning. He tore off his jacket next, using it like a parachute to slow him down. At last, he shook it off and strained for the surface.

When his head broke free, he gasped in the smallest bit of air before the current yanked him under again. But he’d glimpsed his surroundings long enough to determine where the shoreline was. He struck out in that direction while fighting to surface again and sucking in another breath of air. If he could just find something buoyant to hold on to . God, please!

A log floating on the surface caught his eye. He groped for it, threw an arm around it, and then held on while recovering from his oxygen deprivation. Once he found the strength to swim, he started kicking for the shore.

Zen Suzuki relaxed from a full-bodied stretch and looked back at the red and blue dots on the screen in front of him. They weren’t together anymore. In fact, the red dot was moving away from the blue one at a puzzling clip. “What the heck? Sir, you need to see this!”

Leaving his computer, Lobo came to stand behind Zen’s shoulder. “Is there a road there? What’s the terrain look like?”

Zen tapped a key, superimposing a topographical map over the image supplied only by coordinates and altitude. He blinked at what he saw. “Oh, he’s on a river. Did he get on a boat?”

“Not unless he’s whitewater rafting. Look how fast he’s moving.”

Silence fell between them as they watched the red dot travel farther and farther from the blue dot. Moving through water that fast without a helmet or life vest was a death sentence.

Lobo crossed to the nearest landline phone. “I’m calling the station chief.”

Zen inclined his face closer to the monitor. “Sir, he’s slowing down.”

Lobo retraced his steps. “Can you zoom in at all?”

“Maybe a little.” Zen toggled the appropriate key and stared. “Looks like he’s headed for the shore.”

Sure enough. The red dot was approaching the east bank. He and Lobo held a collective breath, waiting for a sign of life. “Come on. Move for us, sir.”

The red dot gave a jerk, moving less than a millimeter, but it definitely moved.

“He’s alive.” Lobo sounded certain as he headed for the phone to contact Whiteside.

Zen listened with half an ear, curious to know what the CIA station chief recommended. When Lobo hung up and turned around, he wore a scowl on his face.

Zen braced himself. The muscles in Lobo’s jaw were jumping. “What’d he say?”

“He wants us to wait an hour for Jake to contact us.”

“Uh…I hate to point out the obvious, sir, but if the sat phone went down the river with the lieutenant, he won’t be calling anybody.”

“I know.” Lobo thought for a moment. “Call in Harmony and Bambino. We’re going to move on this.”

Zen blinked. “Against the station chief’s wishes?”

Lobo turned toward the phone again, likely to set up transportation. “He’ll thank me when it’s over.”

The scream that erupted from Maggie’s throat had raised gooseflesh on her own body. Something had snapped inside her as she watched Jake plummet into the river. Gallo had knelt on the end of the bridge holding out his hand, but she remembered him telling Jake to cross the bridge last. Why? Because he’d planned to dismantle the bridge and dump Jake in it.

“You monster!” The instinct to draw a weapon had Maggie reaching in her boot for the dagger she’d been hiding. Working it free, she curled it into her palm and charged the mondo just as he was starting to rise. She would drive it between his ribs and fling him into the river to die with Jake.

But Charles, who kept his arms around her waist, held her fast. “No, Madeleine!”

“Let me go!” She fought him, calling on every ounce of her strength, completely overwrought . Jake was gone! The thought utterly wrecked her.

“Lena, calm yourself!” It was all Charles could do to contain her. Boris and Esme gaped at her, as did Gallo’s soldiers, too stunned by Jake’s horrifying end to react.

Bellini stepped in to help Charles, wrestling the blade from Maggie’s grasp. “Where did you get this?”

Charles hushed him, “Hide it!”

Now Gallo was striding toward them. Bellini swiftly hid the knife behind his back, but the other rebels, including David’s squad, had taken note.

Gallo approached Maggie just as she expended her last ounce of energy. Still caught in Charles’s unbreakable hold, she returned Gallo’s impassive stare.

“Lo mataste.” You killed him . Her accusation emerged in a scratchy voice, scarcely audible above the rushing river.

“Did you not see?” He gestured to the broken bridge. “I tried to help him.”

“Liar.”

His lips twisted into a dark, brief smile. “You are the liar.” With those ominous words, he raised his voice to address the other peacekeepers as well as his own soldiers. “This was an unfortunate accident. Most unfortunate. But we must march on, or we will be late to the landing field.”

For a moment, no one moved. Through her shock and devastation, Maggie heard David protesting, “But, Mondo , shouldn’t we search for Jacques downstream, in case he survived?”

Glancing at the other’s faces, Gallo shrugged. “Of course. Go search for him, David.”

Hanging in Charles’s grip, Maggie processed Gallo’s words belatedly and jerked her head up. “I’m going, too.”

“No, Madeleine.” Boris frowned at her, whether with pity or suspicion, she couldn’t tell. “I am responsible for the team, and I say we stay together.”

David came toward her, his gaze sympathetic. “I will look for him, Se?ora. Pray he is well.”

“Ruiz.” Mondo jerked his chin at one of the hardened rebels. “Go with David. When you’re done looking, join us at the red-roofed building.” Putting his mouth close to Ruiz’s ear, he murmured instructions no one else could hear.

Ruiz’s curt nod left Maggie suspecting Gallo had just given him orders to shoot Jake if he wasn’t dead already.

As Ruiz and David started downriver, Charles turned her gently around. “Let’s go, Madeleine. Come with me.” Keeping one arm firmly around her shoulders, he propelled her forward.

Their trek continued. Encased in shock, Maggie scarcely noticed her environment. All she could see was Jake slipping off the wooden slats and plummeting into the river.

Blindly, she followed Charles’s lead down a trail that wound toward the base of El Castillo . The microchip, jarring her hip with every step, was a reminder that at least the JIC still had her on their radar?—Jake, too, for that matter. They could see they were separated. They were bound to respond.

Please hurry!