While the others assembled their gear, Zane motioned for Pratt to follow him a short distance away. Once they were out of earshot, he said, “I need you to stay with the boat.”
“What?” Pratt asked in his thickest Southern drawl, always a sign that he was angry. “When did you decide that?”
Zane hadn’t told the operative in advance because he had just made the decision on the way over. The boat was their lifeline to safety, and he needed his second-in-command to make sure it wasn’t compromised. Tonight was mostly about due diligence.
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know myself until a few minutes ago. Look, I need my best man to handle this. If something happens to our ride, then we’re toast.”
“If that’s the case, then we should have come over on a pontoon boat that we could pull ashore and hide.”
“In hindsight, you’re probably right. That’s what we should have done.”
Pratt pointed toward the others. “Why not leave one of them? You know good and well I have the most experience in the field.”
“That’s precisely why I need you here. You’ve worked in jungles before. You’re the one who can stay out of sight if a couple of bad guys show up. You’re going to be our rear guard.”
Pratt pointed at the sand. “I don’t see any footprints, which means there probably aren’t any foot patrols on this part of the island.” He nodded at the trees. “That’s what you need to worry about. That jungle is even thicker and nastier than I thought it would be.”
“Remember, tonight is just recon,” Zane said. “We’re going to go in to get the lay of the land. If we’re lucky, maybe we find out where Carmen is being held. That’s it. The only way we’ll try to extract her is if we can see a clear path in, and I’d say the chances of that are slim to none.”
“When we come back to get her, I’m going in,” Pratt said emphatically.
“When that happens, we’re all going in. You have my word.”
After a short pause, Pratt nodded. “Copy that.”
Once everyone was ready, Zane led Mortensen and Skinner along the jungle’s edge to look for a way in. As they searched for an opening in the trees, Zane began to wonder if it would even be possible to penetrate the thick tangle of undergrowth.
His answer came a minute later when Skinner said, “I think I have something.”
When Zane and Mortensen arrived, Skinner pulled out a flashlight and pointed it at an opening between two palm trees. A well-beaten path ran off into the darkness.
“Bingo,” Zane said. “All right, let’s put on our eyes and check it out.”
Skinner turned off the light. All three operatives slid their night vision goggles into place then set out along the trail. The path was initially narrow but widened about twenty yards in. As they probed deeper into the jungle, they were hit by clouds of mosquitoes. The bugs were unrelenting. Zane tried to swat them away but soon realized it was an exercise in futility. They were going to suffer until they got to higher ground.
A few minutes later, the trail sloped upward. Based on their analysis of satellite images, Zane knew the distance to the top of the ridge was about one mile. Once there, they should have a clear view of the island’s interior. The moon was still behind a bank of clouds, making visibility problematic. But their night vision equipment should allow them to observe any structures present.
As they neared the top, the trail narrowed again, forcing the operatives to walk in single file. The slope was also steeper, forcing them to slow their pace.
Skinner, who was walking in front, held up a hand. Zane and Mortensen stopped behind him.
“What’s going on?” Mortensen asked.
“Look to your right,” Skinner replied.
Zane followed his gaze, but all he saw was a tangle of flowering vines. “Snake?”
“No, look at the palm tree,” Skinner whispered.
Zane shifted his gaze to the right. It took him a moment, but he finally saw what Skinner was talking about. A metal box was affixed about two feet up the trunk of the palm. A pencil-thin beam of green light shone out of it and across the trail.
“Laser sensor,” Zane said.
Mortensen looked at Skinner. “Nice find.”
“I just happened to look down at the last minute,” Skinner said.
Mortensen looked around. “No telling how many of these things are out here.”
Zane nodded toward the trail ahead. “Let’s get going.”
Moving carefully, each man stepped over the beam. Once all three made it to the other side, they traveled the remaining twenty yards to the top, where the trail intersected with a broader path that ran along the ridge in both directions.
The view into the valley was blocked by tall trees.
“Which way now?” Skinner asked.
“Let’s try left,” Zane said.
The three walked in that direction until they came to a break in the trees. Zane signaled for them to kneel behind a low hedgerow. The moon had just come out again, enhancing visibility.
“Nice view,” Skinner said.
From their position, the valley seemed to be an impenetrable mass of trees and vegetation. Zane guessed it was probably the result of the rich volcanic soil and the tropical humidity. If there were buildings down there, they were well hidden.
Zane lifted his binoculars for a closer look. Skinner and Mortensen followed suit.
“See anything?” Zane asked after the three had scanned the valley for several minutes.
“A lot of plants,” Mortensen said.
Skinner nodded. “Same here.”
“Look for breaks in the vegetation,” Zane said. “Anything that might indicate a human footprint.”
“Got something.” Mortensen pointed. “One o’clock.”
Zane lifted the binoculars and focused on the spot. As he turned the focus wheel, he finally saw the dim glow of at least a half dozen lights. “So there is life down there.”
“If you look farther out, there are even more,” Mortensen said.
“Funny that we can’t see any buildings.” Zane moved his binoculars slightly. “That light could be coming through a window, but it might also be a pole light. Hard to tell from this distance.”
Mortensen nodded. “Maybe we should get a little closer.”
Skinner held up a hand. “Hang on. I think I just found something else.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
PRATT UNZIPPED HIS pants and maneuvered carefully up to the tree. He had the whole splatter-distance thing down to a science. Within two feet of the target, splatter wasn’t just possible but likely. That was why he always positioned himself at least a yard away from anything that might cause what he called “bounce back.”
A self-described germaphobe, Pratt suffered from various forms of OCD. Fortunately, the germ issues tended to fade when he was out in the field. Something about being focused on a task — particularly when he was out in nature — diminished his quirks. It was like God’s creation served as a soothing distraction.
As he conducted his business against the vine-covered trunk, Pratt tried to push aside his anger. He appreciated Zane’s compliments on the beach, but he still wasn’t buying the whole theory about leaving the most experienced man behind. That didn’t make any sense. The purpose of the operation was to gather information, and he had spent more time in the jungle than any of the others, even Zane.
Pratt wondered if the decision was related to his reputation of being overly aggressive. After all, that was where the nickname Bull came from. Since this was a covert mission to gather information, Zane probably wanted operatives who would be quiet and follow instructions. Pratt was able to do both of those things — in fact, he prided himself on respecting all chains of command — but he did have to admit that he sometimes lived on the edge. He had been that way his entire life, and he didn’t see that changing anytime soon.