Less than an hour after Max’s exit Stephan left the house in a hurry. Wade followed, heading south on Hummingbird Highway out of Belmopan. Stephan was quick to pass the slow-moving line of cars on the highway. Wade kept a safe distance, and Stephan clearly wasn’t spending much time checking his rear view mirrors. Whatever his destination, he was eager and wasting no time to get there.
Wade hadn’t been this way before, so the terrain and local signposts were completely unfamiliar. He radioed his position to Max, but there was no response. As Wade watched, Stephan increased his speed on Hummingbird Highway heading toward Dangriga until he realized he missed his exit. He hurriedly took the next exit, turned around and got back on Hummingbird, heading west. At a safe distance behind him, Wade followed his target as he took the Southern Highway South toward the Silk Grass Forest Reserve. Stephan’s nerves seemed on edge. From what little Wade could see, he appeared to be constantly looking at his watch and the maps on the seat beside him. Wade concluded he was definitely trying to make a deadline.
Stephan took the Hopkins Road exit and made a sharp left at a stop sign. The unmarked, two-lane farm road was lined with fences and pastures on both sides. A rooster tail of red dirt kicked up by Stephan’s car was visible for miles, so Wade didn’t feel the need to follow too closely; the rooster tail would clearly lead the way.
Four miles later, Stephan made a right turn onto another unmarked dirt farm road. The rooster tail dust changed from red to a light tan color that coated the rear of Stephan’s car, blocking both his side and rear view vision. Wade easily followed the rooster tail from several hundred yards behind.
Green pastures turned to orchards of yellow fruit trees that now lined both sides of the road. The distant tree line at the base of the mountain marked the far end of the orchards. Stephan seemed lost in the crisscross patterns of unmarked dirt roads and fence posts. He stretched, looking up and down both sides of the road and consulted what must have been directions on the front seat.
Wade didn’t want to follow too closely, even though it was impossible to see out of Stephan’s dust-covered car. His car would be easy to spot on the empty farm roads, so Wade decided to take a different route that would intersect Stephan’s.
His intersect route initially took him away from Stephan’s car. After reaching his new observation point, Wade looked back to track Stephan’s dust trail, but there was none. Stephan’s car must have turned and followed another dirt road to the end of the orchards just before the entrance to the foothills. Wade backtracked until he spotted Stephan’s dirt-covered car among a stand of trees, then moved closer to get a better look.
Wade’s tires thumped in rapid succession as he crossed the rows of metal pipes that made up a cattle guard. Moving slowly along an old mud trail, he made his way past crisscrossing fence posts until he approached a safe distance from Stephan’s car. Up ahead was a stand of tall trees planted to serve as a wind break for the orchards. The trees marked the end of both the orchard and the muddy road he was on.
He slowly drove a little farther, moving his front wheels across a rickety old wooden bridge, hoping it would hold the weight of the car. A small break in the heavy tree line drew Wade’s attention. He pulled his car into the narrow space between two large overhanging branches and moved out on foot to the edge of the trees.
The view through his binoculars revealed the layout beyond the tree line. He saw Stephan’s car, covered in dust, parked near a small yellow farmhouse. On the other side of the tree line was a large expanse of open field that curved upward at the base of the foothills. A light-colored strip of compacted dirt ran through the center of the field.
Wade heard a noise to his left and quickly turned with his pistol extended. Two white- faced Brahman-Charolais bulls looked back at him from the other side of the fence. He momentarily gasped in thanks that the thousand-pound bulls were enclosed by a sturdy fence. His new-found friends seemed content, chewing large mouthfuls of lush grass and staring in bemusement at the intruder.
Wade remembered the sign on the post hanging by one nail when he made his last turn: “McLawrey’s Mango Farm.” On a road hardly traveled, Wade thought he would not likely find other visitors. Turning his attention back to the tree line, Wade wanted a better position from which to observe his target. He decided that any threat would probably come from the yellow house or from behind his own position. He headed toward the windbreak fifty yards closer to the house that offered a better observation and shooting position.
No sooner had he gotten into position when he heard the faint sound of a revving engine from a long distance away. He focused on the roads leading towards the horizon, scanning for fast-moving vehicles, but there were no dust tails or vehicles in sight. The sound grew louder and then faded away.
The distant field was 400 yards away. He looked for roads covered with brush, hidden from view leading into and out of the field. Nothing he saw suggested a threat. Surely this field can be approached from more than one direction.
Quickly scanning the front of the farmhouse he saw Stephan appear in the doorway and walk along a path to the edge of the open field. He cautiously looked around, checking in all directions. Cupping his hands over his brow, Stephan looked up. The sun was just clearing the mountain tops; the temperature was rising and the glare was blinding. Wade trained his binoculars in the same direction. It was difficult to see anything but the white light of the sun that blurred his vision. Even the mountain tops were obscured by the glare.
Back at the car Wade checked his radio transmitter and put in a call to Max. The static in the transmission confirmed that he was definitely out of range. He checked his weapons, making sure both his sniper rifle and pistol were loaded and ready.
He continued surveying the field in front of him and the orchard behind. Wade’s biggest concern was someone approaching from the orchard side, cutting off his exit and forcing him out into the open field. He settled in for a long, hot stakeout, leaving the car’s front door open like a horizontal sail to catch the slightest passing breeze. He smiled when he remembered he had thrown in bottles of fresh water just before he met Max.
Putting his head back on the seat and closing his eyes was the only rest he going to get until Stephan made the next move. Just as his eyes closed, he once again heard the high-pitched engine sound in the far distance. He grabbed his binoculars and scanned the horizon.
The sound was coming from the glare off the mountain ridge. A glimpse of a silver reflection broke up the glare as a mosquito-sized object descended from the mountain ridge. A Cessna 414 dual-engine aircraft was using Stephan’s car to line up its descent over the open field. Clear of the mountain ridge, the plane quickly dropped over the field. The engine sound modulated to a low roar as wheels touched the graded dirt runway and taxied back to Stephan’s car.
As the plane came to a stop, Wade quickly scribbled down its tail numbers. The pilot disembarked, and he and Stephan shook hands. After a brief chat, the men approached the rear compartment of the aircraft. It took both men to unload the long and heavy green canvas military bag.
With each man supporting one end of the elongated canvas bag, they marched in unison over to Stephan’s vehicle and placed it inside. Their parting words were brief. The pilot walked back to the plane, stopping to check several exterior parts of the aircraft before climbing into the cockpit.
By the time Stephan got back to his car, the Cessna props were spinning fast enough for the plane to taxi its way to the center of the field. The plane turned into the wind as the pilot gunned the engines. The lift was sudden, and the plane dipped each wing slightly before banking right towards the mountains.