The loaded carts were difficult to push for Giordino with his injured leg. He moved unsteadily, shoving his cart with short hops. Pitt was following close behind when Johansson stepped out of the jungle. His whip cracked a second later, the leather tip striking Giordino on the forearm. Despite the eruption of a red welt, Giordino reacted as if a gnat had landed on him, turning to Johansson with an ungracious smile.

“Why is your cart only half full?” the Swede shouted as a pair of guards rushed to his side.

Pitt could see the look in Giordino’s eyes and knew his friend was ready to pounce. The two guards would make it a hopeless act. Pitt shoved his cart forward, bumping into Giordino as a signal to stay calm. Giordino turned to Johansson and exposed the bloody bandage on his thigh.

“Playing on an injury?” Johansson said. “Fill the cart full next time or I’ll do the same to your other leg.” He turned to Pitt and let his bullwhip fly. “That goes for you, too.”

The lash snapped against Pitt’s leg. Like Giordino, he ignored the stinging pain and stared at Johansson with malice. Giordino nudged him this time, and the two men moved off with their carts while Johansson turned his attention to the next group of laborers.

“Woe is me and my goldbricking ways,” Giordino said under his breath.

“I’ve got some ideas on what I’d like to do with that bullwhip,” Pitt said.

“You and me both, brother.”

They dumped their carts at the side of the millhouse and made their way back to the dock, trying to survey the camp’s layout. Four long, low-roofed buildings off the back of the millhouse contained the extraction and separation operations. Beyond them, faintly visible through the brush, a two-story building housed the living quarters for the guards and facility workers. The captives’ housing was located on the opposite end of the millhouse. It was an open-walled structure, with a dining area at one end, surrounded by a ten-foot-high wall capped with barbed wire. Hidden farther into the jungle, and well beyond the white lines, a small power-generating station provided electricity for the compound.

The captives worked until dusk, by which time they were ready to collapse. As he returned his empty ore cart, Pitt heard a sharp cry from the dock. One of Plugrad’s men had tripped while storing a shovel and had fallen close to the white line. A surge of high voltage had coursed through his body before he could roll clear. He trembled as his heart pounded wildly, but he survived the shock as a living warning to the others.

Pitt and Giordino shuffled into the camp mess area as it began to rain, the palm-covered roof leaking everywhere. They were given bread and watery soup, which they took to a nearby table. Two emaciated men joined them.