The sun had been down for two hours when the boat finally appeared on the horizon. It was relatively small, and Roger judged that it could hold a crew of not more than five to six people. It was clear from the lone dimmed light that the boat was not to be seen from the shore, and only Roger's trained eyes could detect it before it berthed alongside the small quay.
On his right, Blake stretched her legs in the sand with a groan. "How will we know which one is our man?"
"We go straight to the leader. Even if it's not him, he'll point us to the right guy for sure."
Ross intervened: "How can we be sure he will tell the truth?"
"I find that when a gun's being aimed at your head, you usually do what you're told."
They all positioned themselves behind the dunes hugging the narrow path leading back to the village. Their sole advantage was the element of surprise, so the plan was for Roger to overpower the leader while Blake and Ross would prevent the others from rescuing him.
They watched in silence as the crew unloaded several large bags on the shore. Although the sound of the crashing waves prevented them from hearing anything, it was clear from the men's demeanour that they were not in a hurry to get the job done. "Good," Roger thought, "it will be easier for us if they aren't on their guard."
One man stood apart from the others, talking on a cell phone and gesturing to the others from time to time. Roger silently pointed him out to Ross and Blake; this was the man he was going to go after.
After what seemed like another hour, the men made their way towards the path. Four of them were carrying the bags while another one led the way. The leader was closing the march. Roger waited until the others had passed them by before crying at the top of his lungs: "Now!"
Ross and Blake sent sand flying straight into the eyes of the crew as instructed before aiming their gun at them. Meanwhile, Roger jumped at the throat of the leader and slammed his head on the ground. He was right in thinking that the crew has suspected nothing and he succeeded in disarming the man in seconds.
"Nobody moves or we shoot," he said, catching his breath.
The leader tried to shake free but stopped short when he felt the cold barrel of the gun pressed against his neck. "How did you know we'd be here?" he asked in a hoarse voice.
"Never mind that. I want to know who it was that kidnapped a redhead woman on this beach last week. Was it you?" Roger asked, shaking the man violently.
A puzzled look crossed the man's eyes. Clearly, these Americans were not there to steal their merchandise as he had assumed.
"How should I know?" he answered boldly.
Roger looked at Blake, who only slightly hesitated before firing her gun, missing the leader right knee by less than an inch. He jerked in Roger's arms, trying to free himself one more time from his grip.
"Next time she won't miss, so you better start talking."
The man cleared his throat, visibly scared now. "It was me, but I only followed orders. My boss saw the woman in the village and asked me to get her for him. We brought her back with us on the boat and then to Panama."
"Panama!" Ross could not help but exclaim.
"Once we got her there, we brought her to our bunker in the jungle but she escaped on the way there."
"How?"
"I am not sure. She was tied and a guard was watching her on the back of the truck. But when we arrived, we found the guard knocked out on the floor. She was nowhere to be found."
Roger thought for a moment and then leaned towards the man's ear and whispered only for him to hear.
"This is your lucky day, because you're coming back with us to Panama and you're going to show us exactly where you last saw her. And maybe, just maybe, I'll let you go in one piece afterwards."
He looked at the others and said in a normal voice: "Ross, tie these jerks together. Blake, you make sure that nobody tries something stupid."
When Ross was finished, the three of them left the crew to fend for itself and went back to the village with the leader. On the way, Roger said: "Your boss sounds like an asshole, asking you to kidnap women for his entertainment. He would not happen to be Diego Guerrera by any chance?"
The man said nothing but his eyes gave him away. Roger couldn't help but shiver at the thought of Holly in the hands of this beast. He had to get to her before Guerrera did.
"Roger!"
Holly woke up with a start. For a few seconds, she could not remember where she was. Then it all came back to her and she fell back on the bed with a groan. She could hear the rain drumming on the tin roof and Johnny breathing softly next to her.
She got up carefully, trying not to wake him up, and went to the window. Sheets of water poured down and created rivulets on the muddy grown. Her mind wandered back to her dream. How odd that she should dream of Roger, she thought, and what a gloomy dream it had been too, almost a nightmare.
He was lying on a couch in a house that she didn't recognize. There was a fire burning in the fireplace and a Christmas tree in a corner of the living room. He had a bullet in his chest and she could tell that his life was in danger. The weirdest part was that, in the dream, she was actually scared that he would die.
"As if I cared," she mumbled under her breath.