Page 32 of Fear No Evil

Shoot.Jake fully expected him to interfere.

The players didn’t notice. Three of the four boys were swarming the Frenchman. All at once, Charles shifted into a whole new mode of playing, dribbling past all three astonished defenders as he worked his way up the field. Lena abandoned the goal and sprinted past him toward their own goal. Charles booted the ball directly at her, and Lena sent it straight between the defender’s planted feet, right into the net.

From the corner of his eye, Jake watched Gallo drop his gun holster back inside his building, hang a key ring on a nail outside, and head toward the field.

The players finally caught sight of him and stilled, no doubt figuring their game would be over. Gallo jerked his thumb at one of the boys, indicating he would take the kid’s place. Well, at least he wasn’t adding to the grossly unfair odds. Even so, Jake suffered misgivings.

The rebels took possession of the ball, with Gallo himself dribbling up the field. Jake held his breath as Lena defended cautiously against themondo’s encroachment.

Wedging a foot between his, she managed to steal the ball back and punted it to Charles, who once more weaved between three defenders. With Gallo covering Lena aggressively, theFrenchman kicked the ball toward the goal himself. It went right past their goalie, who dived the wrong way.

The score was France 2, Colombia 0.

Charles sent Lena a subtle gesture that meant,Let the FARC score next. Jake agreed. No need to make their hosts unhappy.

Once more, Gallo brought the ball up the field, circumventing Charles. Even with two forwards wide open, he kept the ball for himself, bearing down on Lena, who put up a half-hearted defense. Gallo stalled, showing off his dribbling skills. Just as he broke forward, pushing toward the goal, he slipped on mud and landed hard on his back.

His four subordinates hooted with laughter. Marshaling her own smile, Lena nudged Jake’s respect to a whole new level by stepping forward and offering Gallo a hand.

Huh. Maybe you could fight fire with fire.

When Gallo slapped her hand away viciously, Jake saw red. While Lena bit her lips and squared her shoulders, Jake pushed off the sandbags and stalked toward the field.

The soldiers saw him and stopped snickering. Charles whirled and intercepted his path, laying a deterring hand on Jake’s chest. “Easy, easy. It’s just a game. Relax.”

It took Gallo another minute to roll to his feet. He sent Lena a murderous look as if she was the reason he’d fallen.

Mallacht air. This was just what theydidn’tneed‍—a rebel leader with a bone to pick.

Muttering threats to his soldiers, Gallo limped off the field toward his quarters to nurse his injured pride.

Once he was out of sight, the four original players approached the newcomers wearing hesitant smiles. It seemed, by humiliating Gallo, the peacekeepers had won over the rebels-in-training. One youth trotted off, then returned minutes later with two hard-boiled eggs for the victors.

Lena accepted her egg with relish, peeling off the shell with fingers that shook. As she took a bite out of it, her gaze landed on Jake, who hadn’t been given an egg since he hadn’t played. Her wide eyes conveyed guilt.

“Mange-le.”Eat it, he assured her, ignoring the rumble in his stomach. She probably had less body fat on her than he did.

Utilizing his supposedly limited Spanish, Jake applied himself to learning the kids’ names‍—Julian, Estéban, Chucho, and David. Each young man was eager to share his tale of woe. Julian and Estéban had been forced into service, their families threatened at gunpoint if they did not release their sons to the rebel’s keeping. Chucho had been sold by his family for three bags of rice. Only fairer-skinned David, who wore the insignia of a squad leader on his jacket, admitted he had dropped out of college to join the dissident’s cause. His father had been a white anthropologist, and his mother an Arhuaco Indian.

Holding David’s intelligent brown eyes, Jake read both caution and youthful idealism in their depths. The product of disparate social classes, he had chosen to identify with his mother’s people, the downtrodden indigenous, whom the FARC claimed to represent, insisting the Havana Accord of 2016 had done nothing to make their lives any easier.

Lena, having listened in silence while savoring her egg, startled Jake by throwing out the million-dollar question. “Do you know where the American hostages are kept?”

The younger boys shook their heads with credible ignorance. Chucho joked that he didn’t even know where his own home was. But David looked away and shrugged.“¿Quién sabe?”Who knows.

David definitely knew. Lena had timed her question perfectly, ferreting out their best informant within a day of their arrival at the FARC’s camp. Jake’s admiration for her made himwant to pick her up and kiss her, but he managed to restrain himself.

The sound of Gallo’s door creaking open let them know their party was over. Within seconds, he was bearing down on Chucho, who’d offered the eggs to the winners.

Grabbing him by the scruff, he shook the boy forcefully. “Why do you waste our food on these strangers? Our own people are starving. You think they’re here to help us? They are friends of the American spies.” He began pulling Chucho toward the dreaded shed he’d pointed out earlier, the key chain back on his belt loop.

Jake made a grab for Lena as she started after them, but she shook him off.

“Excuse me, Mondo Gallo.”

Her firm but deferent tone made Gallo wheel around with a look of incredulity. Out of the corner of his eyes, Jake saw Boris coming their way with a worried expression.

“I’m the one who caused you to fall. Perhaps you should take your anger out on me.”

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