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“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Sam considered this. “Looks like Charlie King’s got himself some partners. One bit of good news, though.”
“What?”
“He wasn’t carrying night-vision binoculars. Now all we have to worry about is bumping into one of them in the dark.”
“Ever the optimist,” Remi replied.
They continued to watch and wait, not only for the last of the men and equipment to make their way up the ramp and out of sight but also for any signs of further patrols.
An hour after night had fully fallen, they decided it was safe to move. Having decided against bringing rope of their own, they tried the organic approach and spent ten minutes quietly rummaging about the forest floor until they found a vine long enough and strong enough for their needs. After securing one end to a nearby tree trunk, Sam dropped the coil over the side into the pit.
“We’ll have a drop of about eight feet.”
“I knew my paratrooper training would come in handy someday,” Remi replied. “Give me a hand.”
Before Sam could protest, Remi was wriggling sideways, sliding her lower body over the edge. He grasped her right hand as she clamped onto the vine with her left.
“See you
at the bottom,” she said with a smile and dropped from sight. Sam watched her descend to the bottom of the vine, where she let go, hit the ground, and performed a shoulder roll that brought her back to her knees.
“Show-off,” Sam muttered, then went over the side. He was beside her a few moments later, having performed his own roll, though not as gracefully as his wife. “You’ve been practicing,” he told her.
“Pilates,” she replied. “And ballet.”
“You never did ballet.”
“I did as a little girl.”
Sam grumbled and she gave him a conciliatory kiss on the cheek. “Where to?” she asked.
Sam pointed to the nearest tunnel entrance fifty yards to their left. Hunched over, they dashed along the pit’s earthen side and followed it to the entrance. They crouched just inside.
“I’ll have a peek,” Remi said, then slipped inside.
A few minutes later she reappeared beside him. “They’re working on a few specimens, but nothing earth-shattering.”
“Moving on,” Sam replied.
They sprinted to the next tunnel and repeated the drill, with similar results, then moved on to the third tunnel. They were ten feet from the entrance when, on the far end of the pit, a trio of pole-mounted klieg lights glowed to life, casting half the pit in stark, white light.
“Fast!” Sam said. “Inside!”
They skidded to a halt inside the entrance and dropped to their bellies. “Did they spot us?” Remi whispered.
“If they had, we’d be taking fire right now,” Sam replied. “I think. One way or another, we’ll know shortly.”
They waited, breaths held, half expecting to hear the pounding of footsteps approaching or the crack of gunshots, but neither happened. Instead, from the ramp area they heard a woman’s voice shout something, a barked command.
“Did you catch that?” Sam asked. “Is it Chinese?”
Remi nodded. “I missed most of it. Something like ‘Bring him,’ I think.”
They crawled forward a few inches until they could see around the corner of the entrance. A group of two dozen or so workers were walking down the ramp flanked by four guards. At the head of the column was a small female figure in a black jumpsuit. Once the group reached the bottom of the pit, the guards herded the workers into a line facing in the direction of Sam and Remi’s hiding spot. The woman continued walking.
