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Oh, yeah, sure. I was just listening to the monkeys. They make quite a racket.” In his mind he reminded himself: Why would monkeys frightened by a plane escape to the highest limbs of the trees? “And I was just watching the line of trees,” he said. “You said to watch, didn’t you?”
    â€œHave you seen something?”
    â€œNo. Not yet.”
    â€œNot yet?”
    â€œNot yet.”
    Hawker and the woman helped the little man, Mario, load the supplies into the Land Cruiser. The woman kept up a rattling dialogue in Spanish. Hawker’s Spanish was fair, but he had to concentrate if he wanted to understand. Now, though, he was concentrating on something else.
    When the Toyota was loaded, the camouflage netting staked down, Mario slid in behind the wheel, Laurene Catocamez took the passenger seat, and Hawker sat on the luggage, one hand on the roll bar, the other resting the little submachine gun against the side of his head. As they started out across the field toward the jungle, Hawker quietly opened the top of one of the crates. Six grenades sat within, like metal eggs in compartments.
    He put two of the grenades at his feet and squatted down, waiting. If he was wrong, it would do no harm. If he was right, he wanted to be ready.
    Unfortunately he was right.
    The soldiers opened fire way too soon, when the Land Cruiser was two hundred meters from the line of trees. The first hail of fire slapped through the grass with a scything sound followed by the muted poppa-pop of the weapons.
    Behind them the plane exploded in bright orange flames and black smoke.
    Something hot splattered across Hawker’s face as Mario, the driver, slumped sideways. The Land Cruiser veered wildly and the woman screamed. Hawker jumped into the front of the vehicle and saw, in a look, that the driver was dead. He rolled the corpse out into the grass, and grabbed the wheel, and turned sharply away from the fire.
    â€œGet down!” Hawker yelled, shoving the woman roughly to the floor.
    He began to drive a serpentine route across the field, gradually angling toward what appeared to be an opening in the forest. Slugs ping-tinged off the body of the vehicle, and Hawker knew that at any moment the Toyota could explode into flames.
    â€œWho are they?” Hawker demanded.
    The woman was in hysterics. “My God, they shot poor Mario! Why did you leave him? Answer me, damn it! Answer me!”
    â€œBecause he was dead! Who are those soldiers?”
    â€œOh, Mario. Poor, poor Mario.…”
    Just ahead, fifty meters away behind some bushes, Hawker saw movement. He stood, his foot still on the accelerator, and opened fire. On full automatic, the Uzi shredded the bushes. One man in army khaki jumped to his feet, clawing at the black holes where his eyes once were. Two others tumbled out, their chests oozing red gore. Other men, he saw, climbed farther into the underbrush.
    Hawker shoved the Uzi at the woman. “Stick a new clip in this. Did you hear me?! Reload this or we’re all going to die!”
    As the Land Cruiser careened past the dead soldiers Hawker pulled the pins of two grenades and tossed the grenades into the brush. They exploded behind the Toyota, and in the mirror Hawker saw two men stagger drunkenly into the clearing. The blast had sheared off one of the men’s arms, and the stump that remained spurted blood.
    â€œIs it reloaded yet?” Hawker demanded.
    The woman thrust the Uzi at him. Her eyes were glazed with shock and rage. “Yes, damn it! But I want you to know right now that I hold you responsible for the loss of Mario!”
    â€œHe was dead, damn it!”
    â€œDo you know that for sure? Are you a doctor? At least we could have carried him with us and given him a proper burial!”
    â€œChrist, you act like he was your brother or something.”
    â€œHe was , you bastard. He was.…”

six
    The next five minutes seemed like five hours.
    The