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  63. Author’s Note

I asked, “Then they make it into a powder?”

“Not here. That takes a hydraulic press. There’s probably a spot within a day’s travel from here where they have a more permanent hub set up to do the final processing, and then they ship it out across the border.”

I tried to put this all in the context of Gina. She’d been here a week ago, but for how long? Did she and her captors come here, spend three or four days making the cocaine base, then leave? Did they head to this processing center that Vern theorized was close by? Did we just miss them, or had they been gone for several days already?

“What are you thinking?” Vern asked.

“I’m trying to figure out where Gina fits into all this. Did they come here to make the drugs? To steal drugs? To take the drugs somewhere else?”

“Yeah, I wish I had an answer for you.”

“Can you tell how long it’s been since they made the cocaine here?”

“I might be able to make a guess.” Vern stepped over the wall of plastic and into the coca tank.

“Thomas!”

I turned.

It was Diego. He and Carlos were inspecting the structure behind the tank. Juan Pablo stood outside the structure, holding Camila.

“Come see!” Diego said, waving his hand.

Vern stepped out of the tank, and the two of us made our way to the small hut. On the ground surrounding the hut were empty water bottles, cans of orange Fanta, and hundreds of cigarette butts.

Inside the hut was a makeshift table made of two pieces of plywood lying on top of three plastic drums. Centering the table was an ivory paste, which I guessed was a batch of cocaine base that had been softened by the jungle moisture.

But that wasn’t why Diego called me over.

There was blood spatter covering half of the table, two of the plastic drums, and a large portion of the tarp roof.

“That’s a lot of blood,” Vern said from behind me.

I was following the blood spatter down the table and onto the far-right blue drum when something on the ground caught my eye. Two yellow leaves were right next to the drum, yet both somehow escaped the blood spatter. I kicked the leaves aside with my boot and squinted at the object hidden beneath. It was almost completely submerged in the soft earth. I leaned down and wiggled it out of the ground, then I dusted it off against my chest. The screen was cracked, and it was covered in a few droplets of dried blood.

I turned the phone over and read the brand name on the back.

GlobalSat.

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jungle
august 9, 5:47 p.m.
days since abduction: 4