“Just beyond that. You can see the glow of a fire. Let’s try to get closer.”
They hadn’t gone more than a few feet when Sam saw the signature pattern of rocks hidden beneath a large fern. He pointed, Remi nodded, and the two stepped over the wire, working their way farther east. They found a patch of bromeliads—pineapples, by the looks of the softball- and larger-sized crowns growing from the plants. Hoping the fruit would help camouflage their heads, he and Remi crouched down, looking through the bromeliads’ leaves. The six men who’d kidnapped Nando sat in a clearing around a fire, while Nando, feet tied, hands bound behind him, sat against the trunk of a tree.
“One thing in our favor,” Sam said quietly. “Their compound has to be at least a day’s walk from here or they wouldn’t be camping for the night. Assuming that’s where they’re headed.”
He scanned the area, his gaze returning to the gunmen, who sat in a circle around the fire. As highly trained as they seemed on the trail, he was surprised by their relaxed attitude, not only in leaving their hostage positioned behind them but in not posting a guard to watch the perimeter. Of course, any area frequented by drug runners armed with fully automatic weapons tended to be a good deterrent to intruders. And they were relying on the trip wires to serve as warning.
Two of the men started singing again while another passed around a bottle. Sam looked at Nando, eyeing the tree he was seated against, the thick jungle behind him, and then the unripe pineapples growing everywhere. “I have an idea . . .”
71
Remi listened while Sam outlined the plan, then detailed exactly what they’d need to do in order to pull it off.
“You’re in?” he said.
“You have to ask?” If there was one thing she knew, it was that her husband weighed everything, including the risks. “When do you want to start?”
“The first part we can do now. The rest let’s wait until at least a few of them have dozed off. I like the odds better that way.”
They worked their way back down the trail, passing the first trip wire, then stopping at the second. Remi kept watch in the direction of the camp while Sam picked up the stones marking the location of the wire, moving them beneath another fern about twelve inches closer to the clearing. “Let’s hope it trips them up,” he said, examining his work.
“Pun intended?”
He gave a quick grin. “As long as we don’t forget where it is.”
“Good point.” Something rustled in the leaves behind them and they both pivoted, aiming their guns at a five-foot boa constrictor gliding out onto the trail. The moonlight glistened off its smooth scales as it slithered past, disappearing from view into the plants on
the other side. Remi lowered her gun, eyeing the pile of stones. “Let’s hope this works.”
“Have my plans ever failed?”
“There was that time in—”
“Never mind. Let’s go see what our friends are doing.”
They returned to their hiding place behind the thicket of pineapples. The men were passing around a bottle of amber liquid, their talk growing louder the more they drank. One glanced back at Nando, the man’s comment causing the others to look back at him, then laugh. After nearly an hour and another bottle, they seemed to do less talking and more staring at the fire. Eventually, five of the men leaned back against their packs to sleep while the lone guard—his back to Sam and Remi—lit a cigarette, the smoke drifting up to join that of the dying campfire.
“Now?” Remi whispered.
“Now.”
Remi, close enough to smell the faint, acrid scent of the guard’s cigarette, made her way around the edge of the clearing toward Nando’s tree. When she felt enough time had passed for Sam to be in position, she crept out to where Nando was tied, crouching down behind him. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized he was actually awake and trying to loosen his ties.
“Nando,” she whispered. “We’re here.”
His hands stilled.
She pulled the knife from her belt and cut his ties. When he started to rise, she grasped his hand, holding him back. “Not yet,” she said, leaning out just far enough to see around his shoulder. The guard hadn’t moved. Her glance shifted to the right, where she knew Sam was waiting. A moment later, Sam threw a baseball-sized pineapple down the trail. The thump, as it hit the ground, and the rustle of leaves, as it rolled, drew the guard’s attention.
The man stood and ventured toward the sounds, stopping at the edge of the clearing. Remi gripped Nando’s hand even harder. “Keep still,” she whispered.
The guard gave one last look into the jungle before returning to his spot by the fire.
Sam threw a second, larger pineapple at one of the trip wires. An explosion ripped through the air, debris flying up. The guard jumped to his feet, slinging his rifle from his shoulder, aiming toward the trail. The other men scrambled for their weapons. One started toward Nando.
“Leave him!” the guard said. “He’s not going anywhere. Follow me.”
They ran toward the trail in the direction of the explosion, each man jumping over the first trip wire. The moment the last one disappeared from view, Remi let go of Nando’s hand. “This way.”