Page 339 of The Black Trilogy

“Stay safe, hotshot,” Nate whispered, giving her a kiss goodbye.

“You too.”

As their fingertips parted, she melted into the greenery beside us, and after a few seconds, she’d disappeared from sight.

Our plan called for her to climb a nearby hill to give her an elevated position. We’d selected the location to give her line-of-sight over most of the compound while still having excellent cover. Not that she was easy to spot. When she’d tried out her ghillie suit the day before yesterday, I’d almost tripped over her.

Next, we split into our sub-teams. A week ago when Nate asked who I wanted with me, I hadn’t hesitated in my answer. Dan and I had been finishing each other’s sentences for a decade, and Nick had proven countless times over the years that he’d got my back. Jed made up the fourth corner of our group, and I was glad to have the son of a biscuit on my side. His leg seemed to be holding up, or at least if he was in pain, he refused to admit it.

Slowly, slowly, we got closer to our target, the only sound around us the incessant buzz of mosquitos and the occasional cry of something louder. Bradley, ever the helpful one, had taken great delight in telling me about the spectacled bears and jaguars that lived in the area.

“And the golden poison frogs, don’t forget those,” he’d said, looking up from his iPad. “They’re quite rare, though.”

“Enough, Bradley.”

Although the frogs were cute—I had an old friend who used to keep a couple as pets.

Once we got within fifty metres of the compound, we found a hidden hollow between two trees and hunkered down for the night under ponchos. We’d attack as dawn broke. Why dawn? Firstly, because we’d have enough light to see by, and secondly, it meant the people inside the compound would be sleepy and at their most vulnerable.

One by one, the other four teams confirmed they were in position, and while we’d been fighting through the jungle, the pilots had radioed to say they’d landed safely. The last person to call through was Carmen.

“Good to go,” she said.

“How’s the view?”

“Could be better. One of the guards took a leak, and let me tell you, Mickey Mouse boxer shorts are not a good look on any man.”

“With you there.”

Nate had designed an excellent communications system, which allowed us to talk with Mack and Luke as clearly as if they were standing next to us. They’d be keeping an eye on things electronically throughout the operation, monitoring internet and phone traffic and checking on our eye in the sky from the safety of the control room at Riverley Hall.

“Everything was quiet on the latest satellite pass,” Mack told us. “No noticeable activity on the road in.”

Apparently, I was now providing the staff in the CIA communications department with corporate hospitality at the Superbowl as well as just seats.

As daylight faded into dusk, we took it in turns to rest, with one pair getting some shut-eye while the other two watched the shadows.

“I’m taking the opposite shift to you,” Nick told me. “At least if I’m awake while you’re asleep, I stand a fighting chance.”

I got where he was coming from, but for all Nick’s worries, I had no trouble sleeping soundly in the middle of the jungle. Even with water dripping onto me and the noises of wild animals in close proximity, my subconscious understood I needed to recharge so I could function in the required manner. It was a question of some deeply buried survival instinct kicking in.

I took the final watch with Jed, and we huddled together to keep warm, sharing our ponchos. Tick, tick, tick. I itched to get started, because the sooner we did our thing, the sooner the Ramos family would be shaking hands with Lucifer and complaining about the temperature.

Seb’s men, the ones watching the movements in and out of the compound, had reported Diego’s return early yesterday afternoon while we were floating down the river. They’d got a good look at him as he slowed his Ferrari to a snail’s pace to navigate the potholes. Hector had ploughed through in a Land Rover the day before that, smoking a suspicious-looking cigarette with his comb-over flapping in the breeze that came through the open window. Those photos had arrived by email before we left, so at least I knew who I had to kill.

Neither of them had driven back out, so unless they’d gone by air, they were still inside.

The big unknown was Carlos. In all our surveillance, all our digging, we hadn’t seen any sign of him. Where was he? Eduardo’s sources agreed he was reclusive, but the lack of confirmation left me twitchy. The only person we’d been able to find who’d seen him in recent months was his lawyer. And Diego, of course. Thanks to him, we knew his brother was home on the night of the fundraiser. I just hoped Carlos hadn’t got a sudden urge to take a skiing holiday or something equally irritating.

But as I sat on the spongy floor of the rainforest, listening to the chatter of the monkeys above, I vowed he’d die no matter what. If I didn’t get the man today, I’d hunt him to the ends of the earth until I pushed him right off it.

When the moon punched out and the first shards of sunlight filtered through the jungle canopy overhead, we assembled our equipment.

“Very Lara Croft,” Jed whispered, patting me on the bottom.

Hey, so I liked my thigh holsters. They were comfortable, okay?

“Fancy going treasure hunting when this is over?”

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