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I chuckled. “I’d rather not see a snake. You can handle them if we do.”
Wyatt’s grin got bigger, and he tapped his rifle. “Deal.”
I nodded. “As long as it’s animals we’re dealing with, we’ll be fine.”
After a short stop in Bogota, Columbia where we picked up Charlie, we took off again and finally touched down at Aeroporto Internacional de Tabatinga, a remote airfield in Brazil, near the Colombian border.
I stepped off the plane, and the heat and humidity hit me like a brick wall.
“Welcome to the Amazon.” Charlie beamed, showing off his gold tooth. “Chopper's over there. She’s all yours.”
He pointed to a dull black bird in the distance which had paint missing and a few dings in the sides.
“Jesus. Are you sure that thing can fly?” I groaned.
“Fly’s better than that pussy-ass jet you flew in on. Trust me.” He grinned wider.
As we strode toward the chopper, I pointed at a strip of silver tape near the door. “Is that gaffer tape?”
“Ah, yeah, but don’t worry about that. Just a small hole, that’s all.”
“A bullet hole, by chance?” I cocked my head at him.
“How’d you guess?” He slapped my back, grinning like he’d won a bet.
“As long as it does the job, we don’t care what it looks like, do we, Hunter?” Booker eyeballed me.
“Nope. That’s our only criteria.”
“Good work, Charlie.” Booker shook Charlie’s hand. “We owe you, man.”
“You bet your asses you do. These guys drive a hard bargain.”
Booker winced.
“Don’t worry. Hank sorted it for me.” Charlie winked.
“Thank Christ for Hank,” I said.
“I’ll second that.” Booker grabbed his bag. “Let's gear up and get moving.”
At one time, the military-style chopper Charlie had arranged would have been a beast of a machine with sleek lines and an intimidating presence. The MH-6 Little Bird compact helicopter was designed for speed and agility and was perfect for taking us into the dense jungle terrain. But this one had seen some action. The outside was dinged up and had its share of scrapes, and the inside had been stripped of all luxuries like seats and was rugged as all hell.
“Chopper looks fine to me,” Booker said as we loaded our equipment onto the chopper.
Booker was right. We didn’t need luxury. We just needed transport.
“I know you think I’m a miracle worker,” Charlie said, “but I didn’t have a choice. You got lucky, that’s all.”
I groaned. “Lucky will be getting to Layla in time.”
“We’re onto it, Hunter. Keep your cool,” Booker said.
I tossed my bag into the chopper. “We’re taking too fucking long.”
“Then let's get you boys on your way.” Charlie pulled Booker aside for a conversation Wyatt and I couldn’t hear.
Booker climbed into the pilot seat and as Wyatt and I jumped aboard, the roar of the engines drowned out all other sounds. Despite my gnawing worry, a familiar rush of adrenaline coursed through my veins. It felt good to be getting into the action again.
