“How? When?”
“On Friday. I need only three days of your time. You’ll go home with your pockets full of money.”
She had his attention. He was studying her thoughtfully. “Why me? Beyond the fact that I was drunk and easily duped.”
“I need someone with your experience.”
“There are several others still hanging around. Even several in that stinking bar last night.”
“But you looked more...suited to the job.”
“What is this job?”
She sidestepped the direct question. First, she had to sell him on the idea of staying in the country for a few extra days. “It’s a tough job. I need someone who has his own weapons available.” She appealed to his vanity. “And, of course, the experience and courage to use them if it becomes necessary.”
“Weapons?” He shook his head in bewilderment. “Wait a minute. You think I’m a mercenary?”
She didn’t have to answer him. Her expression told him that his guess was correct.
Kerry stared at him in mystification as his face broke into a facsimile of a smile. His laugh was hoarse and deep, but eventually it rumbled up out of his chest and finally erupted as a series of dry, hacking coughs. He cursed expansively, but not so viciously as before. He rubbed his forehead and dragged both hands down his haggard face. Then he leaned against the truck, turned his face heavenward, and sighed heavily.
“What’s wrong?” Kerry had to ask, though she didn’t think she wanted to know. His laughter had held irony, not humor.
“You got the wrong man, lady. I’m not a mercenary.”
Her jaw went slack as she stared at him. “That’s not true!” How dare he try to trick her this way. “And you called El Presidente a coward. You’re just trying to weasel your way out of accepting a challenging job.”
“You’re damn right I’m a coward,” he shouted. “I cover my ass, understand? I don’t claim to be a glory guy. But I’m not lying when I tell you that I’m no profe
ssional soldier.”
She had recoiled at his flash of temper. “But your pistol, your machete—”
“For protection. What kind of damn fool goes into the jungle without any way to protect himself from animals? Of the four-legged variety as well as the two-legged kind.” He took another step toward her. “We’re in a war zone, lady, or haven’t you noticed? Now I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I’m taking myself back to town right now and throwing myself on the mercy of El Presidente. Maybe he’ll still let me leave.”
He glanced down at Kerry again, taking in the long, tangled hair and whorish dress. “He likes a bawdy story. I’ll tell him one of the lovely ladies of his country enticed me beyond the point of no return. He’ll like that.”
He stepped around her and headed toward the hood of the truck.
She clutched at his sleeve desperately. “Believe me, this is no game. You can’t go.”
“Wanna bet?” He wrested his arm free and made for the driver’s side of the truck.
“What about all that weaponry?” she asked, pointing toward the bed of the pickup.
He bent down, picked up the machete, and slid it back into its sheath. “You want to see my weaponry? All right.”
He strode toward the rear of the truck and heaved one of the heavy bags over the side after removing the tarpaulin with a flourish. “Stand back,” he cautioned her theatrically. “I’d hate for any of these to blow up in your face.”
With a sharp tug, he unzipped one of the bags. Ready for explosive devices to spill out, Kerry stared down at the contents of the canvas bag with stupefaction.
“That’s a camera.”
His expression was dripping with sarcasm. “No kidding.” He rezipped the bag and set it back inside the pickup. “To be precise a Nikon F3.”
“You mean all those bags have cameras in them?”
“And lenses and film. I’m a photojournalist. I’d offer you my card, but a group of guerrillas and I used them to start a cookfire a week or so back and I’m fresh out.”