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“That’s why our names and backgrounds are known only to ourselves,” said the pilot of Viper Two.
“And we all swear an oath of secrecy when we join the force.”
The gunner of Viper One looked at Remi, and said, “So is this beautiful woman the reason you left the force?”
Sam smiled with a twinkle in his eye. “That goes without saying.” He gave her an affectionate squeeze around the waist. “Sorry, I can’t give you her name.”
The villagers were cautiously returning to the village. They had an expression of disbelief at seeing the Apache Longbows, the wreckage of the Mi-8 Hip, and their village completely intact. Father Gomez and Dr. Huerta stood in awe.
Viper Two’s gunner nodded at the growing crowd, and said, “I think it’s time for us to fold our tents and silently steal off into the sunset.”
“Thank you,” said Sam as he shook their hands. “You saved the lives of over two hundred men, women, and children, and shut down one of Central America’s biggest drug operations.”
“Don’t wait so long for the next tournament,” said Viper One with a salute.
“Don’t change your phone number,” Sam said, holding Remi’s hand and giving her a kiss on the cheek. She looked squarely into his eyes, and said, “You told me you were with the CIA when we met.”
Sam merely shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
THE ROAD TO THE ESTANCIA GUERRERO
Ruiz sat in the cab of a truck beside Russell. “I feel like I fell out of an airplane,” he said. “My shoulder hurts from firing full auto at nothing. My knee feels like it’s broken from falling in that ditch. I can’t believe this.”
Russell kept his eyes on the road ahead. “Consider yourself lucky we snatched a pickup truck from a tobacco farmer. This is really a setback. And we lost ninety men or more who belonged to Diego San Martin. I’ll tell you something else. We’ve got to fix it before San Martin knows or get out of the country fast.”
Ruiz stared at him. “We’re done, man. It’s suicide to go in that town.”
A half hour later, they reached the Estancia Guerrero. As they pulled up the long gravel drive to the space by the countinghouse, Russell saw Sarah Allersby, sitting behind a lighted window. She saw their truck and ran out to meet them.
“Where are they?” she asked. “The helicopters never returned, nor any of the trucks.”
Russell looked down at her through his cab window. “As it turned out, we couldn’t just drive up there and load them on the trucks. When we got there, we were ambushed. We lost most of the men, and what few survived were captured.”
“Lost? You lost a hundred men to a bunch of ignorant peasants,” she said. “How could you do this to me?”
Russell and Ruiz looked at each other and climbed stiffly out of the truck. Ruiz leaned against it while Russell stood in front of Sarah Allersby. “Miss Allersby, I apologize. We were defeated. Not by the villagers but by two mysterious black, unmarked helicopters that blew apart our helicopters, the armored cars, and all the trucks.”
Sarah Allersby felt the heat of Russell’s rage building. It frightened her a little. She was too intelligent not to foresee what could happen next.
Russell said, “I think we’ve come to the end of our usefulness here. We’ll be leaving in a few minutes. I wish you luck.” He turned away.
“Wait,” she said. “I’m sorry, Russell, I didn’t mean to be sharp with you. Please don’t be upset. I know I was being insensitive, and I know things seem bad right now, but we can save this.”
Russell and Ruiz stared at her.
She said, “Those are men we borrowed from Diego San Martin. If you both leave and that’s all I have to tell him, he’ll kill me. And then he’ll have people find you and kill you. Don’t you know he’s a drug smuggler? He has connections and buyers in the United States and Europe. We don’t have much choice but to salvage this situation so we can give him some good news along with the bad. We can’t give up now.”
“We can’t save a disaster.”
“I’ll double your pay. I’ll also give you a percentage of the money I make on the artifacts from that place. The codex makes it look like a fortress and says that refugees from a city retreated there for a last stand. If they did that, they wouldn’t have left their treasures behind to their enemies. It’s going to be a huge find.”
“Miss Allersby,” said Russell, “people died today. If the police are brought in, anybody involved could be charged with murder. Not only were we the leaders but we’re foreigners.”
“We also don’t know where our attackers came from,” added Ruiz.
THE ROAD TO GUATEMALA CITY
Two days later, Russell and Ruiz were apprehended and shackled to the bench seat of the army truck as it rattled along the road toward Guatemala City. Russell kept up a low monologue in Ruiz’s right ear. “It’s good that they’re taking us right to the capital. I don’t want to rot in some provincial jail for six months while the prosecutors take their time getting there and arranging for a trial. If we’re in Guatemala City, Sarah can bail us out before we’ve spent a night—or two nights anyway. And then she’ll make the charges go away. That’s what has to happen now. If we go to trial as the masterminds of this fiasco she dreamed up, we’re going to need a miracle to see the light of day again.”
