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“Look,” I say, pointing forward. “This isn’t natural. See the straight lines and regularity of the mounds?”
I can’t believe it! It’s like staring at a monochromatic-green plastic of a city grid. There are roads, canals, and moats around all the principal structures, and the river we followed must be an artificial stream; it encloses and encircles the city. All the important buildings face east, toward the rising sun, as was often the case in local ancient cultures. The temple we came out of does, and so do the other vine-covered mounds—which are probably the city’s religious and government buildings.
At the city’s edge, forts and walls line the perimeter, and underneath the vegetation, I can see sparkles of gold in the dawn’s light. An entire city of gold—and I don’t care if it’s just a layer of paint. Once cleaned of the weeds, this will be the most magnificent historical site in the world.
Winter steps next to me. “It’s really something, huh? Pity you drowned my camera. This would’ve been a beautiful picture.”
Is she seriously blaming me for the camera? It’s not like I tried to fall into the river. “Sorry if I was busy trying to save both our lives,” I snap.
She nudges me gently with her elbow. “I was kidding.”
“Oh.”
Winter runs her fingers between her wet locks, distracting me from my irritation. “What’s the plan now?” she asks. “Where do you reckon Smith’s at?”
“Judging from the sun’s position, we must’ve been trapped in the temple for about twelve hours. I bet Smith used this time to move the boxes out of the building, but he can’t carry the booty away by himself. He must plan to use the mule, and Somchai took it back to base camp. If we’re lucky, he’s waiting at the temporary camp for them to return.”
“And then what?” Winter asks. “He single-handedly takes everyone out and escapes?”
“Nah, Carter or Montgomery will be in the group, and those two do everything Smith tells them. They’re professional fighters with weapons, and even if they’re outnumbered, they can overpower the others in a blink.”
“Okay, then we need to take Smith out before they arrive.”
“Why?”
“Because he thinks we’re still trapped in the temple. With the element of surprise, we might stand a chance against one armed ex-Delta Force, but there’s no way we can take down two. Surprise or not.”
“And how do you plan to take out Smith?”
“Easy. We steal his rifle.”
“Sorry, but that would be useless; I can’t shoot.”
Winter flashes me a wicked smile and slowly walks toward me. “You may not, Doctor.” She stops a foot away from me and gently pokes me in the chest. Then, with a wink, she adds, “But I sure can.”
* * *
One hour later, we’ve circled our way back to the front of the temple and have eyes on our temporary camp. The place is absolutely still, which hopefully means Smith is still asleep in his tent. But his M16 is nowhere to be seen.
“No rifle,” I whisper.
“Well,” Winter whispers back, “if I were a crook sleeping alone in the jungle, I’d take the big guns to bed with me.”
“So what do we do?”
“Cover me,” she says. “I’ll sneak inside his tent and steal it.”
“And how am I supposed to cover you?”
“I don’t know.” Winter shrugs. “Grab a shovel. If Sleeping Beauty wakes up, smash it on his head, I don’t care. He had it coming.”
Gingerly, careful not to make too much noise, we approach Smith’s tent. But when Winter pulls the flap open, the inside is empty. Well, not exactly empty. The rifle is there, but Smith isn’t.
With a quick precision that’s half hot, half scary, Winter grabs Smith’s M16, checks it for ammunition, and then cocks it over her shoulder. A rustling sound coming from behind makes us turn, and before I’ve had time to realize what’s happening, Winter bursts through the tent flap, trains the rifle on Smith, and shouts, “Stop right there! Hands up where I can see them.”
At the edge of the jungle, Smith, probably back from taking a leak, freezes with his hands in the air. His ever-present leer is not one bit dimmed by suddenly finding himself on the wrong side of the weapon.
“Come on, Barbie,” the soldier snickers. “We both know that rifle is useless in those pretty hands of yours—”
