They were taken south through the jungle. The two soldiers were joined by two more, and the team of four escorted them at gunpoint, one pair clearing the way ahead and the second pair bringing up the rear. It was difficult to negotiate the trail with his hands behind his back; the darkness made it hard to follow the way ahead, and there were creepers and vines to step over and around. They climbed up to an escarpment dominated by a huge kapok tree, and Milton tripped over a root and fell against the trunk. The tree bore spines and conical thorns and, unable to use his hands to protect his face, he felt the sharp scrape as they drew scores across his cheek and the side of his neck.

One of the soldiers grabbed him beneath the shoulder and dragged him up.

“Keep moving.”

Milton heard the occasional clatter of automatic gunfire from behind them; there were others in the raiding party, hunting down those they had surprised at the kitchen. He wondered about the mercenaries again. What would they do? They must have been paid to protect La Bruja and they had failed. Would they come after them in an attempt to get her back? Or would they run? There was no way of knowing.

The soldier released Milton’s shoulder and shoved him ahead.

“I’m English,” Milton said.

“I don’t care if you’re the Prince of Wales.”

“I’m not with them.”

“With who?”

“The narcos.”

“You can spill your story when we get you out of here. You don’t need to worry about that, buddy. You’re gonna have plenty of time.”

VII. Monday

Part VII

Monday

69

They continued for an hour until they reached a track that had been cleared through the jungle. It was wide enough for a truck, and Milton guessed it had been cut through the jungle to allow access for the loggers who cleared out the mahogany and teak. They followed the track for another hour, moving much more quickly now that they didn’t have to contend with the undergrowth. The track turned left and right, tracing a route along the bottom of a shallow valley, before it straightened out and they came to a wider stretch where three vehicles were waiting with their engines on and their lights off. They drew closer and Milton saw more soldiers.

“Keep going,” one of the soldiers said to Milton, shoving him between the shoulders and sending him towards the nearest vehicle.

They were Land Rovers. La Bruja was taken to the vehicle in the middle and Milton to the one at the rear. A soldier got out of the driver’s side and, before Milton could protest, took a hood and draped it over his head. He pulled a drawstring to close the open end around his throat.