The civilians moved off to roust their men, leaving Espinoza alone with his adjutant. Both men lit cigarillos, sharing a single wind-resistant match. “What do you think, Jefe?” Jimenez asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke that mingled with the pall already hanging over the camp.

“We’ll find whatever these men saw,” Major Espinoza said. “The only question is if it will be worth our while.”

“Anytime we can show the world that the Americans aren’t infallible is always good for the Ministry of Propaganda.”

“World opinion is so against our government right now that I’m afraid a few bits of space junk won’t change many hearts or minds. But orders are orders, yes? And this is a good training exercise for the men. They can grow soft clearing out villages from the comfort of our gunboats.”

CABRILLO AND HIS MEN were already on the move by the time the logging camp’s foreman was ordered to gather his men. It would be a race to see who reached the prize first. Juan and the team had more ground to cover, but they would remain near the crest of the hills while the Argentine soldiers were forced to climb the mountainside. They would be further hampered by the need for a slow, deliberate approach to their search. The men from the Corporation had the gamma detector acting like a bloodhound to help pinpoint the power cell.

Knowing the competition was close goaded them on, allowing them to push past the aches creeping into their muscles and joints. If they could reach the power cell and retreat, then the Argentines would have no idea they were ever here.

The men moved swiftly but maintained noise discipline. There was no sound louder than the rasp of vegetation on cloth and the steady whisper of their breathing. The smoke billowing up from below, where the forest was being cleared, was just a thin veil at their altitude, but down where the soldiers were starting their skirmish line it was one more impediment to their search.

Juan didn’t break stride when he heard the approaching whine of a helicopter’s jet engine, but he couldn’t help but feel his heart sink. He should have realized they would use aerial reconnaissance. A piece of space debris weighing seventy pounds and slamming into the earth at terminal velocity would leave an impact crater more than large enough to be spotted from the air. It was only a question of whether enough jungle canopy remained to hide it from above.

He had a feeling they wouldn’t be that lucky.

“Signal from the detector’s still looking good,” Mark said. They had abandoned a normal separation for the fast trot around the mountain’s top, so he was just a few paces behind the Chairman.

Forty hard minutes later, they were close to where the chopper traversed the jungle, searching for any sign of an impact. There was no way to know how the soldiers on the ground were doing with their assent. The men were forced to reduce their pace whenever the Argentine helo flew within visual range.