[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

 You heard the lady, Van Alman, Ray said.
 Even if we wanted you on board, you re in no shape to come, Peta added.
Frik stood his ground. Peta and Ray walked around him and headed for the
plane. He followed them. Peta slowed down almost imperceptibly. When he was so
close that she could feel his breath on her neck, she stopped in her tracks
and turned around, forcing him to step aside.
 What part of  no do you not understand?
Frik stared at her, eyes filled with hatred. Waving his bandaged hand
perilously close to her face, he said,  You ll regret this, bitch. One hand no
hands I m twice as good as any woman.
30
In early June, standing at the head of Oilstar s La Brea dock, McKendry looked
over his assault team. Except for the fact that Manny Sheppard had been
missing for two days and that they still had no specifics about the
whereabouts of the ecoterrorists, they were as ready as they would ever be.
The three men Bruzual had sent slouched together against one of the pilings,
smoking Peta s cigarettes and polishing their weapons. The one called José
drew his knife against a stone to sharpen the edge. As he spun it, McKendry
saw the initials J.R. etched into the pommel.
 You re his buddies. Where the devil is Sheppard? McKendry looked at Peta and
Ray accusingly.
 Triple A to the rescue, Manny said, appearing out of nowhere. With a
self-satisfied grin, he handed McKendry a grease-stained scrap of paper with a
sketch on it.
According to Manny, he had glided up to the shoreline of the jungle in his
small outboard boat and asked an elderly Warao fisherman for information about
Green Impact. Normally, the indigenous jungle Indians would not take part in
any outsider activity, and they certainly wouldn t have betrayed Selene
Trujold, so Manny had expected no answer. But the old man had caught a large
and frightening catfish that day surely an omen, since the Warao considered
catfish to be magical creatures. He had given Manny all the details the team
could possibly want, including a sketch of the camp itself.
 So when do we leave? José sheathed his knife and rested his hand on the butt
of his pistol.
 When we ve all memorized the sketch, Ray answered. He looked none too happy
with the man s apparent bloodlust.  Meanwhile, let s go over what we know.
 Again? Another of Bruzual s men, Diego.
 Yes, Ray said.  Again. Peta?
 As far as we know, Selene s group lost several members during the raid on
theYucatán . They probably have between ten and twenty members left, hiding in
the jungle, planning more attacks against Oilstar. Some Warao Indians are also
likely to be in the camp, but they re workers, not converts to the cause paid
with trinkets and supplies. It s unlikely that they re motivated by political
convictions or personal loyalty.
 We figure the Indians will disappear as soon as they see trouble, McKendry
added.
 You re right, Manny said.  They re too smart to stick around waiting to be
shot or  he looked at José  knifed.
Page 93
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Ray nodded.  I m going to say this one more time. No violence except in
self-defense. We re there to disable the camp and find Frik s piece of
jewelry.
 And Selene, McKendry said.  I hope I can keep my hands off her neck long
enough to hand her over to Bruzual for trial.
Peta looked at him with a worried expression, but Ray, who knew him better,
just grinned.
As day became night, with Manny at the helm of the fiberglass boat supplied by
Bruzual, they left Trinidad and headed toward the shores of the Orinoco Delta.
The stars, bright during the team s journey across the gulf, were soon
obscured by the jungle. Only a few pinpricks of light were visible as they
entered one of the narrow channels between overhanging mangrove and palm
trees. No one spoke, not even when they reached the first of thepalafitos,
sturdy handmade huts that stood on pilings at the water s edge.
In the lowlands of eastern Venezuela, the slick whisper of water in the caños
was like a wet tongue moving through the grasses, thick weeds, and leaf-heavy
branches. The night songs of crickets and frogs in the dense underbrush made a
din that masked the sounds of the quiet movement of the oars. The fiberglass
boat prowled like a piranha through the narrow rivulets. Now, the low
strumming of a guitar was added to the nocturnal orchestra as Manny guided the
boat up beside Green Impact s black Zodiac rafts.
The terrorists, falsely secure in their isolation, had not thought to have
anyone keep watch.
With Manny leading the way, the assault team slipped through crackling weeds
to the sturdypalafito poles. He used worn bumps and notches as if they were a
ladder to scramble up the nearest pole to the floor above. McKendry and the
three men provided by Venezuelan security minister Bruzual stayed close
behind, with Peta and Ray in the rear.
McKendry heard a rustle of palm fronds, small monkeys or rodents scampering
across the thatched hut roofs. Through the leaves of a fern he was using as
cover, he saw the intense white lights of Coleman lanterns set on tables and
attracting swarms of jungle insects. The air smelled of hot oil, fried fish
and bananas, and bitter tobacco smoke.
As he climbed the pole behind Manny, McKendry could see a long-legged man
through the door opening that led into the next hut over. The stranger s bare
feet were propped up on a windowsill and he was strumming a guitar. It was the
young minstrel he and Keene had met in the delta cantina what seemed like
forever ago.
Other than that, the compound was quiet. McKendry wondered briefly what had
happened to the musician s girlfriend. Perhaps, he thought, she s already in
bed, somewhere out of sight. He knew that in the jungle, people bedded down
once darkness fell, and rose with the dawn. He and his team planned to take
advantage of the routine and the darkness.
Manny and McKendry stepped into the first palafito and looked around. It was
empty, probably a simple storage hut or one of the dwellings used by a
recently killed member of Green Impact. The log floor creaked underfoot.
McKendry motioned for José to slip across to the next dwelling, where the
guitarist was making enough noise to muffle their stealthy approach. The
mercenary moved like a shadow into the hut and behind the guitar player. There [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]