As if adding an exclamation mark to her comment, the Huey dropped jarringly in a pocket of unstable air before resuming the climb.

In addition to Campos, she felt the big contractor, Jedidiah Johnson, watching her. And one of the women, Nisha.

“Hutan Q’ero village is at very high elevation—just over four thousand meters—where the air is thin. The ceiling for this helicopter is just over fifty-eight hundred meters, so we are safe. Not to worry, Gayle. It is bumpy because of the windy mountain passes but safe. I promise you.”

“I know,” she said, suddenly wondering why exactly she had joined the CIA in the first place.

I’m a better missionary than spy, she thought and chuckled to herself. In the corner of her eye, she noticed Jedidiah chuckling along with her. I hope I didn’t say that out loud.

The big man looked away, but the smile lingered on his face.

“You know, Gayle, this initial report from your missionary is not making sense,” Campos said, relentless in trying to get her talking. “Fire from the sky . . . Sodom and Gomorrah . . . piles of ashes. I don’t know what he’s getting at, but I am pretty sure God does not rain fire down anymore, yes? I believe these are Old Testament ideas, but God’s new covenant through Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross put a stop to this.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise at this last comment.

Campos waved a hand. “Ten years of Catholic school, you learn some things.”

Gayle felt the helicopter slow rapidly and tilt, and for a moment she stopped breathing, afraid the Huey had stalled.

“There’s no stall speed in a rotary-wing aircraft,” Jedidiah said as if reading her mind, his voice calm and confident. “The pilots are flaring into a hover in preparation to land.”

She nodded at him but looked out the square window beside her anyway to confirm she wasn’t about to die. Seeing the side of the mountain coming up beneath them, she shut her eyes and clutched the aluminum rail even tighter as the helo—buffeted in the mountain winds—rocked and rolled before finally settling to the  ground.

“It’s over now, Gayle,” Campos said. “You can open your eyes.”

She let out a long whistling sigh and opened her eyes to find the Peruvian intelligence agent grinning at her.

So glad I could entertain you . . .

“I hate helicopters too,” Nisha said, but she hadn’t been clutching the seat rail for dear life during the flight like Gayle had.

“Me too,” the contractor named Eli said with a friendly nod, but she’d noticed him sleeping during the ride.

Unlike Campos, at least they’re making an effort to let me save face, she decided.