The farmer said he would have been home sooner, but he took the opportunity to visit his brother who lived near the village. Oh, yes, he said after a long description of his family reunion, he had talked to the priest, who no longer had the radio. Trout's heart fell. Then rose again a minute later when the farmer said the priest used a cell phone that he kept for emergencies, mostly medical. The priest had called for help and asked the farmer to relay the following message, which he wrote on sheet of paper: "Tell the men in the helicopter that someone will be sent to find them."
With rescue imminent Trout was even more impatient. He paced the edge of the cornfield, frequently glancing at the cloudless blue sky. Before long he heard a faint roughrough sound. He cocked his ear. The noise became louder until he could actually feel the vibration of whiplashed air.
A Huey painted in greenish brown flashed into view above the trees with another right behind it. Trout waved his arms. The helicopters made a tight circle around the field, then touched down at the perimeter of the corn rows. The doors opened even before the rotors stopped, and men dressed in camouflage Uniforms spilled from the choppers. Morales, the pilot, and the farmer and his family went to greet the new arrivals. There were six of them, including a captain in the lead helicopter and a medical technician in the second. The med tech examined everyone and gave them clean bills of health except for superficial injuries.
Trout and Morales went to the downed helicopter, but Ruiz was gone. The chiclero had squirmed out of his hastily tied bonds. After a quick parley they decided against a time-consuming search. Trout would have liked to see if Ruiz had more information to offer, although from what the chiclero recounted he was at the bottom of the smuggling totem pole. Looking at the escape optimistically, maybe Ruiz would be eaten by a jaguar. He would pity the jaguar. They thanked the farmer and his family for their hospitality and got into the Hueys. Within minutes they were skimming a few hundred yards over the treetops.
Less than an hour later they set down at an army base. The captain said the base had been established near Chiapas at the time of the Indian uprising a year earlier. The captain asked if they would like food and a bath and a change of clothes. A shower could wait. Trout had other priorities. He asked to use a phone.
Austin was in his office at NUMA headquarters examining the photos Zavala had taken in Halcon s underground garage when the phone rang. Zavala had just described the trip to Halcon's complex and the bloody ball game, and Austin was bringing him up to speed on his Nantucket encounter with Angelo Donatelli. A broad smile crossed his face when he heard Trout's voice. "Paul, good to hear from you. Joe and I were talking about you a few minutes ago. Did you find Gamay?"
"Yes and no." Trout told Austin about the near miss on the river, the helicopter crash and rescue.
"What do you want to do, Paul?" Austin said quietly.
A heavy sigh came from Trout's end of the line. "I hate to let you down, Kurt, but I can't come back. Not until I find Gamay"
Austin had already made his decision. "You don't have to come back. We'll come down to you."
"What about the job we've been working on? The archaeology thing?"
"Gunn and Yaeger can work up an operational plan while we're gone. You stay put until we get there."
"What about the admiral?"
"Don't worry. I'll handle things with Sandecker."
"I really appreciate this, Kurt. More than you know" The statement was as far as Trout's Yankee reserve would let him go.
Austin dialed Sandecker and told him the story. .
Sandecker had a reputation' for carrying out a project once started, but his loyalty to his staff was equally legendary. "It took me years to put this Special Assignments Team. together. I'm not going to have one of its key members kidnapped by a bunch of damned Mexican bandits. Go get her. You'll have every resource NUMA can offer."
It was the reaction Austin expected, but one never knew with the unpredictable admiral. "Thank you, sir. I'll start right off with a request for quick transportation to Mexico."
"When do you want to leave?"
"I want to put together a specialized gear package. Say two hours?"
"You and Zavala be at Andrews Air Force Base with your toothbrushes. A jet will be waiting for you."
Austin hung up. "Gamay's in trouble, and Paul needs our help." He sketched out the details. "Sandecker's given the okay.
We'll be leaving from Andrews in about two hours. Can you handle that?"
Zavala was up and heading for the door. "On my way"
A minute later Austin was on the phone again. After a quick conversation he was out of the office as well and on his way to the boathouse, where he threw some gear and clothes into a duffel bag and headed to the airport. Sandecker was true to his word. A sweptwing Cessna Citation X executive jet painted in NUMA turquoise blue was warming up its engines on the tarmac. He and Zavala were tossing their bags to the copilot when an army pickup truck rolled up. Two husky Special Forces men got out and supervised while a forklift hoisted a large wooden box from the truck and into the cargo section of the plane.
Zavala raised an eyebrow. "Glad to see you brought beer for the trip."
"I thought the basic Austin Rescue Kit might come in handy." Austin signed a receipt for one of the Special Forces men. Minutes later he and Zavala were buckling into their seats in the plush twelve-passenger cabin, and the plane was in line for takeoff.
The pilot's voice came over the speaker.
"We're cleared for takeoff. We'll be. flying at a cruising speed of Mach .88, which should put us in the Yucatan in less than two hours easy. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. You'll find the scotch in the liquor cabinet and soda and ice cubes in the refrigerator."
Minutes later the plane was in the air, climbing to its cruising altitude at four thousand feet per minute. As soon as they leveled off Zavala was out of his seat. "This is the fastest commercial jet except for the Concorde," said a mistyeyed Zavala, who had flown everything under the sun. "I'm going to chat with the guys in the cockpit."