“Just to say that we’d love to get her alive if we can. I know that’s easier said than done, but if we get her, then there’s a chance we can roll the whole organisation up. We’re also looking for any documents or digital equipment that she might have with her. We’ll be in charge of checking the camp once it’s been cleared, but if you see anything that you think might be useful, then let either one of us know and we’ll check it out.”

McSweeney folded his arms. “You clear?”

The SEALs answered in the affirmative.

“Good luck. You got two hours to get ready. It’s four hours to the jungle and it’s not going to be comfortable.”

55

The hood was made of a thick material that blocked all light. It also muffled the sound, and, even though Milton tried to listen out for something that might give him an idea about where he was being taken, it was impossible to distinguish anything recognisable. He usually had a good sense of the passage of time but, without sight or sound, even that felt unreliable.

He guessed it was an hour—although it could easily have been more—when the rough surface of the road on which they had been travelling changed to something more uneven. The Land Rover bounced through potholes and across rougher patches. The sound changed, too, with the occasional rumble of a passing car or truck gradually fading away to be replaced by a quiet that was punctuated only by the squeaking of the suspension and the calling of nearby birds.

Eventually the car rolled to a stop. Milton heard a brief conversation in Spanish and the sound of the door opening.

“Out,” Eidur said, grabbing Milton’s arm and pulling him across the seat.

Milton put his feet down, feeling loose dirt and stones beneath the soles of his boots.

“I don’t think we need that anymore,” del Pozo said.

The hood was yanked from his head.

Milton blinked against the blast of bright sunlight. He waited until his vision had adjusted and then looked around. They were in a settlement of some description, but there was nothing that he could use to identify it. The village comprised a series of huts that were raised on stilts. The land ran down to a wide river, the sunlight sparkling off the purplish surface, evidence that the water was polluted with some sort of industrial effluent. The plants that struggled for growth on the banks were stained black with tar and oil. There were signs that the waters often overflowed, and a gaggle of dirty children played in the muddy fields on this side of the river.

“Where are we?”

Del Pozo shook his head. “No, Señor Smith. You don’t need to know that.”

“Is this it? We’re meeting here?”