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Back Jungle Up Save as PDF
Chapters (63)
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  63. Author’s Note

Andy had nearly forgotten that the lieutenant and a convoy of soldiers were scheduled to join the expedition on day three.

He let out a sigh of relief.

They were here to protect him.

Maybe he would survive the next twenty-four hours after all.

26

26

jungle
august 17, 11:56 a.m.
days since abduction: 12

Diego stopped suddenly and held his hands up. He put his finger to his lips and waved the four of us back. We retreated a hundred yards back the way we came, then huddled together.

“What?” I asked.

“Men,” Diego whispered. “And some kind of shelters.”

“Villagers?”

He shook his head. “They have guns.”

“Narcos?”

“I think so.”

There had been evidence of two different paths leading away from yesterday’s drug lab. One heading east, one north. As a group, we had decided to follow the northern trail, which was consistent with the narcos moving their drugs closer to the Brazilian border. For two hours last night, then another five hours today, Diego tracked the trail to these narcos’ doorstep.

I said what everyone was thinking. “This could be it. This could be where they’re keeping Gina.”

That’s assuming Gina hadn’t escaped after killing one of her abductors.

“I’m going to do a recon,” I said. “Give me the binoculars.”

Vern rummaged around in his pack and handed me a small pair of binoculars. Then he handed me one of the pistols. I took the gun, clicked off the safety, then asked, “You don’t happen to have a ghillie suit in there, left over from your time in Vietnam?”

A ghillie suit is a camouflage suit covered in vegetation to make you blend in. They are what snipers are usually wearing in the movies.

“Sorry, Charlie,” he said with a wry grin.

Though I would have happily welcomed some camouflage, I was confident I could get relatively close without being seen. I gingerly made my way to where Diego had stopped us and pushed aside the thick vegetation. Twenty yards away were two compact wooden shacks, one decidedly bigger than the other. They were well built and looked to be more of the permanent variety—Ruth’s Chris Steak Houses, as opposed to yesterday’s pop-up smoothie bars. I presumed this was the transshipment hub Vern alluded to yesterday.

There were three dark-skinned men. One of them was sitting in a chair in front of the farthest shack. An automatic rifle was lying across his lap, and he was smoking. The two other men were loading something into the back of a four-wheeler.

I brought the binoculars up, focusing them on the packages. They were rectangular and wrapped heavily in beige packing tape. I’d seen plenty of them in the SPD evidence locker—uncut bricks of cocaine.

I spent another few minutes scouting the area and formulating an attack plan. Whether that plan would be executed at day or night, I wasn’t yet certain.