A Matter of Trust

12 - Exposure

Thomaso unloaded the supplies from the jeep at the same point he'd dropped the professor and his party. There was little point in trying to deceive the dangerous gringo. Vincent sat on the ground and clumsily assembled the short-wave radio, warming up the battery and donning the headset. His splinted finger was not only aching again but also looking particularly distasteful with the dried blood all over the bandage. Claude leaned comfortably on the hood of the jeep, smoking and smiling at Thomaso.

"Got 'em," Vincent announced, and he set about exchanging messages with the party on the other end of the communication. When he was done, he shut everything down and stowed it in the pack before saying anything. "They crossed the falls yesterday morning and they're on the plateau headed for the edge of the forest."

"How long will it take us to get there?"

"I don't know, ask him." Vincent snapped, his anger at the man boiling just below the surface.

Thomaso shivered and immediately gave an estimate of the time it would take.

"What's Feldman doing now?"

"His guys are just staying with them, some have gone ahead to anticipate the route, and Feldman and the others are following behind. They won't do anything until we get there . . . until they lead us to the site, that is."

"And our little friend here is going to lead us to them, right?"

Thomaso nodded weakly.

***************

Brad Feldman lowered the binoculars hanging from the leather strap and let them fall on his chest as he spat on the ground. He smiled to himself and turned back to the two men who sat waiting patiently in the shade of a large, gnarly tree. The other two members of his group were on the far side of the gorge and he had seen them flash their mirror signal as planned, indicating that they now had the quarry in sight.

"Pedro has them now, we can take it a little easier." He joined the two men and took out a pack of small cigars. "Vincent has just reached the starting point so we won't see him for a day or so."

"How long do you think it'll take them to get where they're going?" The man with the white streak through his hair and one eyebrow, struck a match with his thumb and lit his boss's cigar.

"If I knew where they were going I could answer that." The reply was flat and cold.

"Can't be too far," the other man offered. "They haven't packed enough supplies for the long term." He waited for the offer of a cigar that didn't come and finally dug out his own pack of cigarettes.

"Don't underestimate the Howard woman," Brad said. "She's experienced out here and from what I heard about her encounter with Vincent, she's a survivor."

"What about the professor and the other guy?"

"The prof's nothing to worry about and the other guy appears to be a real wonk." Brad blew out a stream of smoke and spat again. "I don't even know why he's along. When I finish this we'll follow along the top of the gorge on this side and stay out of the jungle as long as possible. We can get Pedro at the next check point."

"Suits me," the man with the streaked hair said. "Harley here probably wants to take a nap anyway. Must be dog tired of listenin' to that iPod that's always strung around his neck." He kicked the leg of his partner and laughed.

"Wait'll you pull the all-nighter, Skunk, you'll be happy to have something to listen to besides the creepy noises in this place, and you'd be tired too."

Brad tossed his cigar stub away and rose to his feet. "There ain't gonna be much rest for any of us 'till this is over so let's get goin'."

Brad Feldman was a mercenary for hire and long time acquaintance of Bishop Gravestone. Brad had led the original raid on William Howard's site, unaware that it was a decoy and while failing to achieve his mission, had managed to kill him in the process. Gravestone had excused his blunder giving him this second chance.