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was a man who’d been out in the outside world.
    The chief’s nephew — wasn’t that was Cara said? If anyone knew what was going on behind the scenes with the antenna deal, it would be Rodrigo.
    “Rodrigo, have you been to the US?”
    Rodrigo answered with a half smile that could have signaled pride or disgust. “Sure. Four years at UC Davis, two at Georgetown.”
    Now, why didn’t that surprise him? “So you probably know the Eagles. The band.”
    “Sure.”
    “Then tell me, what’s with the Hotel California thing you’ve got going on here?”
    Rodrigo tried to hide his smile, but it was too big.
    “Hotel California,” Tobin pressed on. “‘You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.’ Sound familiar?”
    The man wore his best poker face, but that didn’t fool him.
    “You don’t want this antenna deal to happen?” Tobin prompted.
    Rodrigo’s eyes narrowed, like he was deciding how much to reveal.
    “The antenna is coming,” he said at last. “The government has decided that.” He scowled. “That is a battle I cannot win. But we can influence who wins the bid. The lesser of two evils.”
    DigiOne, Tobin figured. Cara’s competition. “How much are they paying you to make her miss that meeting?”
    Rodrigo stared a little longer then gave a little nod, like he’d decided no harm would come of the truth. “Enough for a new roof,” he said quietly, pointing to an open-sided building. A couple of tiny voices trickled out of it, singing an alphabet song in Spanish for Cara. The makeshift village schoolhouse.
    Shit.
    Tobin eyed the crooked beams and the thatched roof, then kicked at the dirt. Leave it Cara to stumble across a rebel with a worthy cause. No wonder they were adamant that she stay.
    “Tables and chairs, too. Right now, the children sit on the ground.” Rodrigo’s eyes were sparkling with vision now, so much that Tobin could see it, too: neat rows of desks and chairs with a dozen kids singing, laughing, learning. “And a world map on the wall,” Rodrigo went on, “so they can be proud of where they come from but know what’s outside. So they can choose, and choose wisely.”
    Tobin couldn’t help but nod. Yeah, maybe he’d take a woman hostage, too, if it meant something like that to his hometown.
    “I bet her company will match the deal, Rodrigo. Do better, even.”
    The man’s face darkened. “Those men are old goats. They do not respect our ways. Do you know what they offered us? A new road. What do we need a new road for?”
    Tobin could have tossed out a dozen good reasons. No more hiking in and out. No more mud. Quicker connections—
    “We like it the way it is,” Rodrigo said. “The bad road is like…our moat. It protects us from the outside world. From men who love money more than their souls — loggers, miners, smugglers. The drug runners are bad enough already.” His eyes went dark as he shook his head. “No. Money for the school is much better than a road.”
    Probably Cara’s company would be just as happy to fix the school as build a road or give the village anything else it wanted, but it was pretty clear they’d pissed Rodrigo off. His mind was made up. He’d do whatever necessary to make sure DigiOne won rights to the antenna. The village would get its school. Cara would lose her job. Tobin would… Wait, what did he have to win or lose?
    The alphabet song hit a high note, and Cara’s sweet voice carried above the rest.
    He couldn’t quite put it into words, but yeah, he had something on the line, too, even if he wasn’t quite sure how much to hope. But he’d be damned if he’d give up his chance at…at whatever it was signaling madly in his gut. Not without a fight.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
    The sun set quickly in the tropics, but it still caught Tobin off guard. The beach town he’d spent the last couple of weeks in might be in the same small country, but Tucumba might as well have been a different planet.