Chapter 11

After another restless night, John was up at dawn and helping Miguel load the boat with cassava to sell in town. By the time that Harold was up and dressed, everything was packed and Inez was pressing a flask of coffee and a stack of bread into John's hands for the trip ahead. The whole hamlet had woken up to see them off and after an exchange of handshakes and hugs, they clambered into the little boat, which was barely more than a canoe with a motor, and they set off.

Harold sat stiffly in the little boat, but to John it was a relief to get moving again. He enjoyed the feeling of the wind in his hair and the water spray as the boat cut a path through the river. It reminded him of a simpler time, before the CIA had stolen his life and made him who he was. He sat at the front, barefoot, and listened to the sounds of the jungle. Miguel was still being the perfect host and clearly proud of his home, every so often he would slow down and point out something in the trees, so that their journey was marked by sightings of monkeys and sloths and once a pair of rare blue macaws. Seeing the macaws enlivened Harold, and he proceeded to take more of an interest in their surroundings. Once Miguel realised Harold's interest in birds, he got even more animated and pointed out everything, until he checked his watch and saw they were going to be late for market.

It was a long journey, would have been long even without the guided safari, but John was disappointed when they rounded a bend and saw their first glimpse of the modern world, a huge bridge that crossed over the wide river, empty save for one lone truck that was rumbling over it. There was a small jetty just after the bridge on the Eastern side, and it was here that Miguel moored his little boat. They were met by a couple of pre-teen boys offering to help unload the sacks of produce, and Miguel let them for a couple of coins each. John slung their backpack over one shoulder and the three men followed the boys up the dirt road into town.

Town, by any other standard, was a misnomer, but after the sleepy little village they had spent the last few days it felt like a bustling metropolis. There was only a couple of streets of houses, but the place appeared to be a meeting point for the local tribespeople, and a bustling market had been created in the street, with people selling all manner of things laid out on sarongs on the dusty floor. John watched Harold with a wry smile as he took it all in with awe, this whole week had been so far removed from anything he'd previously experienced. Everything appeared to be on sale, from food to clothing, to motor boat parts.

Miguel lead them both to a small concrete building, which seemed to be the village shop. Inside it sold mostly snacks and toiletries, but had a fridge selling cold drinks. Outside, there were a couple of plastic chairs and tables printed with advertising for various sodas, and there was a tiny tv perched in the window angled at the table. Despite how early it was, the tv was already showing a soccer match and a small ground had formed round it sharing a couple of bottles of beer between them. Miguel gestured for them to sit and then went inside to speak to the owner, he came out a moment later with the man from behind the counter who brought them a pair of glasses and a cold bottle of soda.

"Espereis aqui, y mi amigo organizerá el transporte. ¿A Caracas, no?" [Wait here and my friend will organise transport. To Caracas, no?]

"Caracas, si. Miguel, mi amigo, usted ha hecho mucho para nosotros." [Caracas, yes. Miguel, my friend, you have done a lot for us.] John pulled off the bag and rummaged in it until he found his motorcycle jacket. There was a hole in the lining and after a bit of fiddling he pulled out some money. Disguising the total with a bit of sleight of hand, he placed fifty dollars into Miguel's palm as he shook his hand. "Esto es solo un pequeño apreciación de nuestro gratitude." [This is just a small appreciation of our gratitude.]

Miguel looked down at the money, "¡No! No es necessario." [No! That's not necessary.] He replied, but neither John nor Harold would let him return the money. In the end they exchanged hugs and thank yous and Miguel left to go to work.

"Where did the money come from? Our kidnappers took my wallet." Harold pointed out.

"Finch, you of all people should know to keep some cash hidden for emergencies."

"What now?" Harold asked, looking round. The soccer fans all cheered as someone scored a goal and the tv commentator became hysterical with enthusiasm.

John poured them a glass of soda each and held out a chair for Harold to sit. "Now, you're going to sit here and guard the bag, while I go and see if I can get my money changed and do a little shopping." His scanned his surroundings and noticed that at the end of the little building a small payphone was attached. "But first things first, I'm going to call home."


Bear bounded up to the detective who was sat on a park bench eating a falafel wrap. It was unclear at first whether the dog was looking for food or affection, but Lionel wasn't prepared to share. He did reach down and give the Malinios a good scratch behind his ear which sent his tail wagging enthusiastically.

"So what now, My Dark Avenger?" Lionel greeted as Sameen sat beside him.

She looked at her clothing; black jeans, black boots, black tee shirt under her black winter coat. "You think I'd look better in pink?" She said sarcastically.

"I can think of a few worse nicknames if you'd rather?" Lionel pointed out.

Sameen shrugged. "Dark Avenger works for me. Hey, did you bring enough to share?"

"What? You can't afford your own food now Finch isn't around?" Lionel grumbled, but he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out another falafel wrap anyway.

Sameen grabbed it without saying thanks, ripped off the foil and bit into it in a rather unladylike manner. She pulled a bit off and threw it to Bear who caught it without letting it touch the ground.

"So what's new?"

Sameen rolled her eyes. "Nothing. I've been checking out our friend Eduardo. He's got links to this anti-tech terror group, New Dawn, that operates over much of Latin America but can't find anything on this David guy. He was on the flight manifest too, but whoever he works for seems to have scrubbed his name from every system I've got access to."

"Huh. We really could do with Glasses right now."

Sameen raised an eyebrow, she didn't need to say No shit Sherlock! it was clearly written on her face.

Lionel sighed, "Yeah, I know. Look, we'll get them back alright."

Sameen took another bite of her lunch while she prepared her next retort, but she was interrupted when her phone rang. She swallowed her food quickly and drew it out of her pocket, hoping it was Root with some new leads. Instead it was an unknown number with an international dialling code that she didn't recognise.

She answered and there was an automated voice on the other end of the line. "Would you be willing to accept a collect call from 'Reese'?" A familiar low voice cut in at the end.

"Yes." She said. She didn't do enthusiasm or relief, but she was sure that if she did, she would have been both.

She put the phone on speaker and held it between them as the automated voice said "Connecting now."

"Hey Reese." She greeted as the lines connected. "Too cheap to pay for your own phone calls huh?"

"I don't exactly have an abundance of change right now Shaw." He said with a hint of amusement.

"Hey Wonderboy, it's good to hear from you." Lionel said, and Bear barked his enthusiasm at hearing his master's voice.

"Hey Lionel, hey Bear."

"You got Mr Vocabulary with you?"

"He's making sure we don't miss our ride. I've stood him out on the roadside with his thumb out." He joked.

"You're hitchhiking? I'd say don't get in a car with a psycho, but I think it's them that'll have to worry."

"Where are you?" Sameen asked, trying to get the conversation back on track.

"Venezuela. Making our way to Caracas. Shaw, I need a favour. Pick us up some passports and money and bring them down here so we can get home?"

"What about the entry visa?"

"I have a guy. But I could do with the cash."

"Okay, but you're buying me a pitcher of Mojito when I get there."

"Why didn't you call us?" The detective chipped in. "You had Little Miss Sunshine here worried?"

"Not many phones in the jungle Lionel." John shot back. "Shaw, when you get here, there's a hotel off Avenida Luis Roche, Villa Mercedes. I'll see you there, booked under John Doyle."

"Yep, no worries. I'll look for the first flight. Reese, you need to watch your six. The people who are after you, I don't know who they are yet but they have ties at government level. It looks like your plane went down. But if they suspect you're alive you could be in trouble."

"I'll bare that in mind." John said seriously. "Gotta go. See you soon Shaw. Lionel, look after Bear for us will you?"

They said their goodbyes and Shaw hung up the phone. "That's gonna cost me a fortune. Finch had better pay my phone bill this month."

"Why am I not surprised that John just happens to have 'a guy' in Venezuela that can get him a visa? How many 'guys' do you think he has? How many do you have?" They got up and started walking together out of the park.

"One or two." Shaw admitted, keeping her answer cryptic. In truth she didn't, she didn't have the personality for making friends, but there were a few people she knew who she could bully into finding a counterfeiter.

"Now, Glasses is the guy I think of as having 'guys', but Reese… he's a little too antisocial."

Sameen frowned at him, "Lionel, you're rambling."

He laughed, "Yeah, you're right. What was I thinking? You're all about the most anti-social people I've ever met. So, what do I pack for Caracas?"

"You're looking after Bear, remember?" The animal in question padded along beside them in full protective mode, with a prancing step, almost touching Sameen's thigh. His head was up and tongue lolling out, happy to have heard John's voice.

"I'll leave him with Leon. He'll be okay there until we get back."

"Fusco, we don't know who is after them, this could be really dangerous."

"That's exactly why I'm going. Look, I may not be like you and the Crabby Commando, but I can watch your back, and I know how to shoot. I'm going with ya. Besides, I have a new passport, I really should get a stamp in it."


"This isn't working." John said, hours later.

After he'd found he could change some of his dollars into Venezuelan Bolivars on the black market, he bought snack and bottles of water. He had gone on the hunt for new footwear and had found a pair of knock-off running shoes for Finch, big enough to fit around his bandages, but had failed to find anything large enough to fit himself so he'd stayed in his flipflops. He'd come back to Finch and they'd sat finishing their bottle of soda and waiting for the shop owner to help them with a ride as Miguel had promised. It soon became clear that the villager had put them in the right place. Most of the trucks that rattled through, on their long journey to and from Ciudad Bolivar to their destinations throughout the Amazon basin, stopped off at the small shop to stock up on cold drinks and cigarettes. The problem was getting someone to take them along. It turned out that there had been a resurgence in bandit robberies on the road to Caracas, and no one wanted to run the risk of being targeted for having a couple of gringos in their truck.

"So what are we going to do now?" Harold asked. The man may have been feeling better, but he was still clearly exhausted and uncomfortable, and the continual hardships were causing him to feel defeated.

"Follow me." John said, shouldering the pack and starting to walk out of town.

They started walking along the dusty highway, Harold traipsing dejectedly after the other man. It was over 100 degrees F and their shirts were sticking to them in the humidity. John knew that he wouldn't be able to make his friend walk far, even in the new blue and white striped footwear. Thankfully, his plan only needed them to get far enough out of town to not cause a scene.

They reached the bridge and walked over it, both looking down at the enormous river below. The size of everything in this place could truly be staggering at times, and John was determined to drink it all in and not take the experience for granted. He wished that Harold could do the same, after all, how many people could say they'd been to the Amazon, but he suspected that he was too wrapped up in their hardships and at the logistics of getting home to really see it.

Once they were over the bridge John paused. "Now we wait here." He said. They both sat down on the hot concrete at the edge of the road.

"How is this better Mr Reese?" Harold grumbled, looking up at the bright sun that filtered through the trees.

"You'll see." John replied with a slight smile. He didn't want to give his plan away, knowing it would be met with disapproval.

It wasn't long before a flatbed truck came over the bridge, already with four people sat in the back. John jumped up and stuck his thumb out, but when the driver didn't appear to be slowing down, he stepped out into the middle of the road and pulled the stolen handgun from the back of his waistband and fired off a shot, narrowly missing the vehicle's wingmirror. The truck screeched to a halt in a panic.

John stepped over to the driver, keeping the gun trained on him at all times and had a few words. Before long he'd negotiated a seat for Harold up front and was settling himself down in the back with the others. They set off again, and after an initial fear from the other passengers, everyone seemed to relax, and a bottle of rum started being passed around, including to the two mismatched gringos. Finally it felt like they were on their way home.


Authors Note: Okay, so we're back on the road and the action should start to pick up soon. Thanks as always, to my three faithful reviewers, McMoni, ChibiDawn23 and Edith Bodin! The rest of you, I know you're there, I can see you on my stats. Don't be shy, let me know what you think. Reviews are motivation. Xx