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Cage paced, incessantly cursing and mouthing epithets about Monterico in general and their guards in particular. Jenny's light hair and green eyes were a novelty in this country, where most of the populace was of Latin descent. Cage was aware of that even if she wasn't. Every time one of the cocky soldiers cast a speculative glance in her direction, Cage's eyes narrowed dangerously.
The guards weren't aware that he was fluent in Spanish and when one guffawed a crude remark about Jenny to his buddy, Cage went storming toward the soldier, his hands bailed into fists. Mr. Whithers grabbed him by the sleeve.
"For godsake, man, don't do anything stupid. Otherwise we might have three bodies to ship home to your parents."
Whithers was right, of course, and Cage belligerently returned to his seat on the couch. He clasped Jenny's hand hard. "Don't leave my sight for an instant, for any reason."
Just as the sun was sinking over the top of the dense jungle in the distance, a large military truck rumbled up the street and wheezed to a halt outside the government building. The driver and his cohorts came out of it leisurely, lighting up cigarettes, joking among themselves, stretching after what must have been a long, dusty ride. The one with the biggest belly and highest rank waddled into the commander's office.
"This must be it," Mr. Whithers said hopefully.
He was right. The commander came out of his office, waving a sheaf of papers, beckoning them to follow him outside. The canvas flaps at the back of the truck were flung aside and the commander heaved himself up. Whithers followed. Then Cage.
"No," he s
aid to Jenny, when she placed her foot on the tailgate.
"But, Cage—"
"No," he repeated firmly.
Inside the truck there were four caskets. Hal was in the third one they opened. Jenny knew by the expression on Cage's face when the top was pried off. As though someone had stamped a new expression on his face, it changed drastically. He squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced, baring his teeth. Whithers asked him a brief question and he nodded.
When his eyes opened, they roved the interior of the truck as though he couldn't bring himself to look down at his brother again. But eventually he did. And his face softened and tears sprang into his eyes. He extended his hand and lovingly touched his brother's face.
Then the commander issued a curt order in rapid Spanish and the casket was resealed. Cage and Whithers were prodded out of the truck and four soldiers were ordered up into it to lift the coffin out.
The moment Cage jumped out of the truck, he put his arms around Jenny. Until then, she hadn't realized she was crying. "Get us out of here," he said to Whithers, who hovered nearby. "Have them take the coffin to the airport and let's leave immediately."
Whithers rushed off to do Cage's bidding. Placing a finger beneath her chin, Cage lifted Jenny's head. "Are you all right?"
"Was he … is his face…"
"No," he said smiling gently and brushing back her hair. "He looks untouched, like he's sleeping. Incredibly young. Very peaceful."
She heaved a sob and buried her face in the collar of his shirt. He bent his head down low over hers and held her close. His hands smoothed her back. Despite her confused feelings for Hal, he was like a brother. She had lived with them long enough to feel that kind of kinship with him. Cage knew what she was suffering. He felt like a part of himself was in that casket.
Whithers cleared his throat loudly and uncomfortably. "Uh, Mr. Hendren." When Cage lifted his head and looked at him, he said hurriedly, "They're taking your brother's body to the airport now." He indicated a rickety pickup truck that was jostling its cargo as it lumbered up a hill, its gears grinding.
"Good. I want to get Jenny the hell out of here. We can be in Mexico City by—"
"There's, uh, a problem."
Cage was already in motion. He stopped and wheeled around, bringing Jenny, who he had by the arm, with him. "What kind of problem?" he asked with a glower.
Whithers shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then back again. "They won't let a plane take off after dark."
"What?!" Cage exploded. The sun had set by now. The dusk was impenetrable, the way only a tropical dusk can be.
"Security precautions," Whithers explained. "They won't turn on the landing strip lights after nightfall. If you'll recall, the runways were camouflaged when we landed today."
"Yeah, yeah, I remember," Cage said irritably, raking a hand through his hair. "When can we leave?"
"First thing in the morning."
"If we don't, I'm going to raise hell. I can fight dirty, too, by God. They've yet to meet a guerrilla fighter meaner than me." His warning carried with it jabbing thrusts of his index finger. "And if they think I'm going to subject Jenny to a night in that bank building, they're wrong!"
"No, no, that won't be necessary. They've made arrangements with a local hotel for us to spend the night."
