“Okay,” Nathan said. “Let’s make sure we’ve got this right. On the right side of the road, the prominent buildings are the church, some larger homes, Mateo’s place, a vacant lot, the general store, and then the motel. On the left, we’ve got the Laundromat, the post office, the tavern, an abandoned building, and a small gas station. The northeast quadrant of town is where the ore-processing plant and lumber mill are located. Farms and ranches surround the outskirts all the way out to the river. It may only be a stream by most standards, but let’s call it the river. At the river’s south end, about two hundred yards from the wooden bridge, it looks like there’s a sizable pond created by a dam that doubles as a crossing. It looks kinda marshy in these photos near the water’s edge, so let’s be sure we check that out before getting bogged down in the mud. Although the church isn’t the commercial center of town, it’s the geographic center, so let’s call it our zero and vector all other buildings from there. Everyone aboard with my assessment?”
Nathan received nods.
“Estefan, anything you want to add?”
Their friend pointed to a curved line heading away from the river to the ore-processing plant. On the other side of the plant, it curved back to the river, but it looked wider on the south side. “That’s the supply canal to the sluice boxes in the ore-processing plant. Freshwater enters the plant; silted water leaves. The exit canal has to be constantly dredged to keep the flow going.”
“Can we get across the canal?” Harv asked.
“Yes, but I don’t advise going across the exit side — it’s muddy and soft from the constant supply of silt runoff. Lots of miners pan for residual gold along the exit side because the sluice boxes don’t catch all of it. Some slips through.”
“When we enter the valley, drop us here.” Nathan pointed to a spot below the wooden bridge. “Harv and I will head up this mountain to the east and find a place that overlooks the town. The trees look thick down by the water, but the north-facing slope higher up looks less dense. We’ll find a good spot to hunker down and watch your back. We’ll be in constant radio communication with each other. We’ll wire you for stealth—”
Estefan’s cell rang. “It’s my wife. I asked her to call around six thirty. I should take this. I’ll be right back. Two minutes.” With his phone still ringing, Estefan left the dining room.
“What do you think?” Harv asked.
“If you’re asking what I think you’re asking, I’m not real thrilled about this op.”
“Me either.” They remained silent for a long moment. “Look,” Harv said, “I know you don’t want to interrogate anyone, but we need a lot more information than we found in the letters. If greasing some palms doesn’t work, we should consider… alternatives.”
Nathan didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. Harv was right. There was more at stake than either of them wanted to admit. Even though no national security issue existed, it didn’t diminish the fact that Raven was a product of their training. They created him, and they now needed to destroy him. He was their responsibility. Why else would Cantrell have sent them down here? As Nathan had noted in the armored SUV after they’d landed at Dulles, Cantrell had Central American assets available to her. Younger and better trained—
“What are you thinking about?”
“Huh?”
“You were gone,” Harv said.
“I felt a brief lapse of faith. It was unsettling.”
“Cantrell?”
Nathan nodded. “I dismissed the thought. She’s not withholding anything we need to know. I’m certain of it.”
“I admire your resolve, even though I don’t share it. Don’t get me wrong, she’d never betray us, but she’ll never be completely honest either. She can’t — her job description doesn’t allow it.”
“On that, Harv, we agree.”
Estefan reentered the dining room and apologized for the interruption. He said his wife was coming home around 7:30 PM, which gave them another half hour to study the aerials.
Before leaving, they grabbed a few more things that might come in handy. Estefan’s camera and telephoto lens topped the list. They wouldn’t be taking any photos until daybreak tomorrow, but it couldn’t hurt to bring it along. They split up the grenades Sergeant Lyle had given them and secured everything in their packs. To make room for all the tactical stuff, they removed their civilian clothes and put them in one of two spare backpacks that Estefan had. They loaded the other spare pack with canned food, fruit, and bottled water. Finally, Estefan added a few more camping items, including a charcoal water-filter kit and a small folding shovel.
“If you’re planning to bury Raven,” Nathan said, “you might want something a little more substantial.”
Estefan shrugged. “I’ll let him rot. The ants need food too.”
Five minutes later they were on their way.
CHAPTER 16
This had to be one of the worst traffic jams Caracas had ever seen. Juan Batista, Venezuela’s minister of basic industry and mining, couldn’t believe the timing. If this mess didn’t clear up soon, he’d miss his flight to Managua. What a pain in the ass. He’d have to charter a jet, assuming his staff could even find one available. The Central American summit was two days from now, and it would be very bad form to arrive late.
There must have been some kind of accident ahead. He looked at his watch — a little after 7:30 PM. The traffic shouldn’t be this snarled. His limousine was stopped dead, and his lane of traffic hadn’t moved more than ten meters in the last half hour. Tempers were short. Horns were blaring, and the collective din added to his irritation. At least he didn’t have to brave the heat. The air-conditioning kept his environment at a comfortable 20 degrees Celsius.
He pulled his cell and made a call.
“I’m stuck in traffic a few kilometers from the airport,” he told his secretary. “See if you can book me on a later flight tonight. If nothing’s available, find me a charter-jet service. I want to be in Managua tonight.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get right on it.”
He ended the call and turned to his aide. “What’s the expression? Shit happens?”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get you there on time for tomorrow’s reception breakfast. Carmen’s a resourceful woman. She’ll take care of everything.”
“I guess this is the price of progress.”
“Indeed it is.”
Juan looked out his tinted window. The entrepreneurial spirit was plainly evident. Dozens of street vendors were taking advantage of the stopped traffic. Children were selling gum and other trinkets, and they seemed to be doing well. Juan smiled, knowing no tax would be collected from these cash sales.
Selling bottled water from their waist packs, two bicyclists worked their way toward Juan’s limousine. They didn’t look especially young, maybe midtwenties. Juan smiled. The lead bicyclist had the jump on the guy behind him. The first guy stopped at the SUV in front of their limo and made a sale. The SUV’s driver handed a bill to the cyclist and received two bottles in return. The street vender approached and rolled to a stop at Juan’s window. Juan knew the young man couldn’t see inside the tinted windows — all he’d see was his own reflection.
Juan leaned over, removed his wallet, and rolled his window down. Warm air assaulted his face. “How much for three bottles?”
“For you, minister, they’re free.”
Minister? Juan doubted a common street vendor would recognize him. But he had been on TV a lot lately, so perhaps being recognized wasn’t too much of a stretch.