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the south side of the river is Masagua, my country. Our army has been training on the north side of the river to avoid the government troops.”
    â€œAnd how does the government of Guatemala feel about that?”
    â€œI doubt if the government of Guatemala even knows that this valley exists. Very few know of it. That is why Colonel Curtis has chosen it for our training grounds. Like all Americans, you are surprised that places of beauty still exist in the world unknown to men and governments and builders. I find it comforting that in my country more is unknown than known.” The woman tapped the throttle and the plane decreased speed. “Hold on; the field—see it? That clearing. I’m going to circle once before landing. Please keep your eye open for soldiers.”
    â€œLaurene, you’ve got to be kidding. An entire division could hide in that jungle without being seen.”
    The woman reached back, picked up and threw a canvas covering on the floor. What had been beneath the canvas were several automatic weapons, a crate of ammunition, and a box of grenades. “I am not kidding—please look for soldiers. But, if they are there, we are ready. Okay?”
    Hawker picked up one of the automatics. It was one of the early-model Uzi submachine guns. Its wooden stock made it stern-heavy, awkward. He slid in a full clip of 9-mm. parabellum cartridges. “Because I have no choice,” he said, “I’m ready.”
    The woman dropped the plane lower, circling. “I see a jeep in the trees,” Hawker said. “There’s a man standing beside it. He’s wearing a wide-brimmed hat.”
    â€œYes,” said the woman. “That will be Mario. He has come to pick us up. Do you see anything else?”
    â€œTrees; just a lot of trees—hey, and there’s something … something climbing through the trees like crazy.”
    The woman banked lower. She laughed. “Monkeys. They are frightened by the plane. See how they rush to escape to the highest branches?”
    Hawker did not smile. “Right. The highest branches.” Hawker checked the safety tang of the old Uzi. Full automatic was two notches forward of safety.
    The woman nosed the plane down easily, dropping it over the trees into the wind, touching the wheels onto the rough grass as the carriage of the plane creaked and rattled like an old car. She brought the plane to a stop at the end of the short runway as Mario, the tiny man in the wide hat, came driving out to meet them in a red Toyota Land Cruiser with no top.
    â€œWe’ll unload the luggage and weapons, then tie down the plane and cover it with a camouflaged netting,” the woman said as they jumped down to the ground. “We have about a twenty-mile ride before we meet the horses.”
    â€œWellington Curtis will meet us there?”
    â€œColonel Curtis is with the troops. He never leaves them.”
    â€œAfter that plane ride I don’t blame him.”
    Carrying the Uzi, Hawker grabbed his duffel. While the woman threw out her baggage and supplies Hawker kept his eye on the line of trees. He had never seen such huge trees—even in Venezuela. The trees were ancient, massive, black. Steam seemed to rise from the trees, and the elephant-ear-size leaves sagged in the stillness and the heat. The air was gaseous with the smell of vegetation, rot, black earth. In the distance there were the screams of birds and the chattering of monkeys. The sounds, the humid smell of jungle, the stillness, all touched some prehistoric nerve in Hawker, some chord he recognized but could not identify. He could feel the chord deep within him, a dark thing with catlike eyes and teeth of the carnivore, the chord of the beast. In that startling moment Hawker felt as if he should rip his clothes away, grab the woman by the hair, run her naked into the jungle to hunt, to rear offspring, to survive.
    â€œJames? Are you all right?”
    â€œWhat?