Page 41 of Fear No Evil

Lena was the only one to answer.“El once de mayo.”May 11th. When everyone regarded her in surprise, she added, “Did you all not read the report?”

Jake looked back at the letter. “This letter was written a week ago, July 31, so, yes, he would have missed it.”

Lena leaned closer to the letter in his hand, then plucked it away from him.“Espera.”Wait.She shifted so she was standing under the light, then shook her head. “No. Someone else wrote this date. It’s not in his handwriting, and it isn’t even written with the same pen.”

Her awareness of details amazed Jake.

“Let me see?” Boris took the letter and examined it. “It looks the same to me.” He passed it to Bellini.

The Italian shrugged. “I think so, too.” He gave the letter to Esme.

She regarded the date for a moment. “I really can’t tell.”

Charles got the letter next. Angling it toward the screen door, he examined it. “I believe Madeleine is correct. The ink and the writing are different.” He passed it back to Boris.

Firming his lips, Boris stared at the date, then heaved a sigh. “I think, if there is a question about who wrote the date, then this letter does not prove Mike Howitz is still alive.” He returned the letter to the Argentine. “I’m sorry, but this doesn’t qualify as proof of life for Mike Howitz. He could have written this letter back in May, which is how it reads.”

The once dapper Argentine seemed to shrink in his chair. Pity for the man kept Jake quiet. He was as much a hostage as Mike and Jay despite the modest respect the rebels had shown him.

Charles gave a push toward Maggie and Jake’s agenda. “If we could only see the captives for ourselves.”

Boris shook his large head. “General Rojas would never allow that. Would he?” he asked Arias.

“No. Not even I am permitted to see them.”

A beat of silence passed.

Jake broke it by inquiring, “What about their voices?” He mimed talking via a handheld radio.

Lena jumped on the idea, taking over for him since Jacques’s Spanish wasn’t adequate enough. “Yes, whoever is guarding the hostages probably has a radio, as well. And, no, we don’t need to see the hostages to determine who they are. Their accents would identify them. Barnes is a Texan, and Howitz is from…” She pretended not to remember.

“Carolina del sur,”Charles supplied, scratching his chin. “You know, that’s not a bad idea.”

Boris turned eagerly toward Arias. “What do you think, señor?”

The middleman gave a weary shrug. “I can ask.” He sat a moment, brow furrowed, blinking as if to remember something.“Ah, yes. Rojas wishes to make a change to the FARC’s demands: In addition to the ransom of five-hundred-thousand dollars for each man, he wants you to pressure the Colombian Army into releasing five FARC soldiers captured in Calamar three years ago.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Boris didn’t seem at all dismayed or surprised by the FARC’s changing ransom demands.

Bellini gave voice to Jake’s question. “How could we possibly promise the return of captured rebels? We can’t speak for the Colombian Army.”

The German’s shrug implied he might have consulted with the Colombian Army prior to this trip to determine what, if any, concessions might be made. “Perhaps a trade,” he suggested. “As I understand it, the FARC have also captured some of the JUNGLA.”

Jake met Lena’s startled gaze. This was news to them.

“And yet”‍—Boris looked back at Arias‍—“no arrangements can be made until we are assured the hostages are alive.”

“Yes, yes.” Arias seemed half asleep.

Boris swept an apologetic look over the group. “Then we are done here.” Helping the Argentine to his feet, he thanked Charles, who held open the door for them. With a heavy heart, they all filed out, condemned to the soul-numbing task of waiting for better proof of life.

As they stepped into the hazy sunshine, the scent of simmering beans made Jake’s stomach rumble. Marquez waved them over, clearly inviting them to eat.

Jake had to smile at the look of anticipation on Lena’s face. Thanks to the mysterious delivery the previous evening, they would get to eat a halfway decent meal today.

More than that, Boris Mayer had revealed an ace in his deck of cards, which he’d hitherto kept up his sleeve. Colombia’sArmy was willing to release five rebels in return for the release of three captured JUNGLA. The prospect of a trade seemed reasonable, but only if the FARC let Howitz and Barnes prove they were alive by talking to the UN team via a handheld radio.

Sitting around the firepit’s embers on the tree stumps, the peacekeepers consumed their midday meal while listening to the Cuban propagandist rant against North American Imperialism. Jake had to remind himself he wasn’t anorteamericano,but rather a French citizen. He forced himself to nod from time to time as if agreeing with the commentator, who even had the gall to blame the uptick in protests on the “capitalist aggressor.” Lena, he could tell, was fighting not to roll her eyes.

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