Kerry had felt contrition as she watched him carry out this sobering task. She had manipulated this man unmercifully. He would be home, safe in the United States, pursuing his profession, if it weren’t for her.
The only thing that eased her conscience was looking into the hopeful faces surrounding her. And she knew that, if she had it to do over again, she would take whatever measures were necessary to guarantee these orphans a brighter future.
As soon as Linc reached the bank after crossing the river for the last time, Kerry expected him to collapse and rest. Instead his movements were quick and lively.
“Hurry, Kerry, get all the children back into the trees. Have them lie down and tell them not to move.”
Even as she carried out his instructions, she asked him. “What’s the matter?”
“I think we’re about to have company. Quick now! Joe, tell those girls to be quiet. Everybody lie down.”
After having made certain that they’d left no traces behind and slashing the rope from the tree trunk, Linc dove for cover in the deep undergrowth beneath the trees. He lay on his stomach beside Kerry, staring out over the river. His breathing was rapid and heavy.
“You’re exhausted,” she whispered.
“Yeah.”
His eyes didn’t waver from the truck on the other side of the bank. Much as Kerry had despised that pickup, she missed the security of it now. “Do you think someone is following us?”
“I don’t think they were deliberately following us. But someone is behind us. I heard them.”
“Who?”
“It won’t matter when they see the truck belonging to El Presidente’s army and the rope.”
“If it’s El Presidente’s men, they’ll wonder what happened to their comrades and come checking on them,” she said musingly. “And if it’s part of the rebel army...”
“You got it,” he said grimly. “Shh. There they are. Pass it along that no one is to move a muscle.”
The whispered command was passed from child to child as a jeep chugged out of the jungle on the far side. Several others could be seen behind it.
“Rebels.” Linc whispered a curse. He would have preferred the regular army since they had deserted a government truck.
Several guerrillas alighted, holding their automatic weapons at their hips ready to be fired. They approached the pickup cautiously, fearing that it might be booby-trapped. When they were satisfied that it wasn’t, they examined it thoroughly.
“Recognize any of them?”
“No.” Kerry listened hard, trying to catch the gist of their conversation over the roar of the water. “They’re speculating on why the truck wasn’t just turned around when it came to the washed-out bridge. They’re wondering if the soldiers crossed the river by holding onto the rope.”
“Only a fool would try crossing that river on a rope,” Linc muttered.
Kerry looked at him quickly. He glanced down at her from the corner of his eye. They exchanged a brief smile.
On the far bank, one of the guerrillas produced a pair of field glasses. “Lie still,” Linc hissed. The soldier studied the riverbank through the binoculars and said something.
“He saw our footprints in the mud,” Kerry interrupted. “He’s telling the others that there are several of us. Around a dozen.”
“Pretty damn smart.”
“Now he’s saying—” She gasped sharply when more guerrillas moved into view.
“What is it?”
“The one on the far left—”
“Yeah, what about him?”
“That’s Juan. Our courier.”