“The solution is collected, sulphuric acid and water are added, and then the gasoline separates. We remove it and throw it in the river, then wait until a crust forms on the top layer of the solution. The liquid beneath is strained. The muslin that we use for that holds a white paste. Here.” She walked over to the table and held up a tray that was filled with paste. Milton smelled it; it was sweet with bitter notes, like chocolate that had caught on the bottom of a pan. “This paste is heated. The process removes a further useless layer, and we are left with a sticky cream. That is the paste that we will turn into the powder that people like you are so keen to buy.”

Milton stopped and wiped the sweat from his eyes. “Thank you,” he said. He turned back to del Pozo. “It’s as hot as hell here. Who am I supposed to be meeting?”

Del Pozo didn’t answer; instead, he angled his head so that his gaze fell somewhere behind Milton’s shoulder.

“You are here to meet me.”

Milton turned back. The woman with the brown eyes was still standing there.

“I am La Bruja,” she said. “You must be Señor Smith.”

60

Ellie followed at the end of the line with Fuentes and Miguel. The SEALs had split into three teams of six, with two pushing a little ahead and the third—with Ellie and the others—in the rear. The jungle was thick with vegetation, and the dense canopy overhead blocked out much of the dying sun. It was coming up to 19:00, local time, and there was only another two hours before sundown. The assault had been timed for later, when visibility would be much reduced and the SEALs could take advantage with their night vision.

They moved carefully, favouring stealth over speed. They communicated by way of a troop radio, each SEAL equipped with in-ear receivers and throat mics. Ellie had been given the same equipment, and she listened in as the men at the head of the two forward-most teams reported back on what they were seeing ahead. Their dispatches were hushed, clipped half-sentences only when absolutely necessary; otherwise, they communicated by way of quick presses of the transmit pressels that sent hisses of static to the others on the net.

The SEAL in front of Ellie pointed down to a thick vine that crossed the trail, and she stepped over it, hurrying to keep up with the man as he pulled away from her a little.

She felt the hard edge of her pistol as it bumped against her hip.

Not much longer.

61