Chapter 11:

Jesse closed the hood of the jeep. The sting of the mid morning heat had already arrived and he wiped his brow from the sweat that dripped into his eyes.

"You are right Fi. The engine seized, it isn't going anywhere. He wouldn't have been able to fix that, he must have walked back. Maybe he got a ride."

Fi stood next to him wiping the oil from her hands. "No, he would have checked in at the hotel, even if we missed him because we were out I think he would have left some sort of note."

"So where is he?"

Fi stood looking up the road and then she turned and looked toward the overhanging jungle of trees and vines. "I don't know. I don't know where to begin. If that group looking for me found him . . . "

Jesse leaned back trying to crack his back. It was stiff and sore from the plane ride that he had been on less than an hour ago. He could feel himself getting tense as his operation was sliding downhill with each passing hour.

"We still gotta get into that compound. That might be our best shot for both of them. Are you ready for your meeting?" He said trying to get her mind focused.

Fi looked at him strangely. "I am supposed to appear with Michael Weston, burned spy. A man against the government. How is that going to happen? This was confirmed yesterday."

"How about we tell them, he is sick? You said he wasn't well."

"I don't know . . . " She didn't know much of anything at the moment. A simple drive back to the hotel had turned into a nightmare for all of them and she feared mostly for Michael.

"We have less than an hour to get there. We don't have another shot at this. This is go time. Maybe I should just say that I am Michael Weston. He didn't work much in South America, maybe they won't know the difference."

"And if they do, we are dead. They are not forgiving people."

"Does that mean you will do it?"

Fi threw her arms up in the air. "I think we tell them he is sick."

Miguel walked into the lobby of the Colonial Hotel. Its air-conditioned room felt good on his skin after nearly two hours in the heat of the morning sun. He found the bathroom, washed his face and drank a long time from the sink. It was hotter out that he expected. From there he headed to the elevator and caught the left one up to the fourth floor and found the room number Michael had given him. He knocked several times, some louder than others. A guest next door opened his door and peaked out. Miguel just waved and smiled.

He returned to the lobby to find the concierge.

She was a young lady with bright green eyes and long brown hair neatly pulled back to a ponytail. Here green uniform fit her well as she looked up from the desk she had been writing on.

"Excuse me Miss, can you help me please?"

She smiled at this handsome man in front of her. "What can I do for you?" she said standing and offering him a seat.

He gladly accepted, nearly falling into the rattan chair. "I need to leave a message for a guest.

"Yes, of course. Which one?"

"Ms Glenanne."

"I can ring her room for you."

"No, thank you. I already tried knocking."

"I did see her leave a while ago. She came to speak to me about a problem with a rental car. Would you like to wait for her to return? We have a lovely café with good coffee."

Miguel smiled at the girl. He had forgotten how beautiful women from his own country could be. "Only if you join me." He said crinkling the fresh dollars in his pocket.

She hesitated and looked at the clock above the front desk.

"All right, but I only have about 15 minutes before I must get back."

"Me too." He answered with a grin.

"Acostarse! Acostarse!" The words were yelled at him as he came out of his fog of fever. Strong hands grabbed him and pulled at his arms. Yanking him from the bed and his delirium.

He shook all over as he was dragged from the house and out into the yard. A foot to the back of his knees brought him down hard. His stomach churned up into the back of his throat and he held it down as much as he could.

There he knelt, but just barely as focused on staying upright. A figure was dragged next to him and a third. It was the elderly lady that had forced him to drink her vile potion and a young boy about 11 or 12.

A truck backed up and stopped just a few yards away. The grandmother was yelling and the young boy just wept. Michael had been warned this might happen, but was powerless to do anything about it until now.

"I will go peacefully if you let them go." He said from his spot in the dirt and then repeating it louder.

A man with sweat stained clothing and an odor of filth came close to Michael's face. His breath smelled of tobacco and rotten teeth. "Gringo, you will do what you are told. Do you understand? They do!" he said pointing at the others inside the truck as a flap of canvas was pulled back to reveal several men and young boys.

Michael turned his head away from the stench. "I am going to give you one last chance. Let them go and I will go without a problem."

The man laughed revealing the amount of teeth that remained in his mouth as Michael swung his leg around, hitting him in the ankles and knocking him from his feet into the dirt. From the man's ankle he grabbed the long thick knife and grabbed a second man walking by. With a twist the man was down on the ground with Michael's foot on his wind pipe. His eyes closed in seconds his air was depleted.

Michael went for a third man who was coming out of the truck and pushed the large metal door back at him knocking him back into the cab of the truck. The man corrected himself, swung and missed while Michael punched through the open window hitting him squarely in the jaw and the man fell from the seat, wedging himself into the open space.

Turning and jumping from the truck, Michael could see two men approaching one held machete and the other a gun. He needed to close the gap. Throw them off. He dug in deep and sprinted toward them, the man raised his gun as Michael got close and fired as Michael connected with his elbow hard into his throat jumping up and then down into the man. He crumbled as the gun fell from his hand and slid under the truck.

The man with the machete swiped at Michael's arm and barely connected. Blood drizzled down his upper arm as he firmly held his own knife between his hand and wrist. He watched the man swing again narrowly missing him and he bolted for his wrist. He needed to control the hand that held the weapon and threaten with his other, but he never saw the rifle butt as it came from behind and hit his head hard. The man with the missing teeth growled over him. Michael's vision blurred from the ground beneath the back wheel of the truck. He had seconds, maybe two, but enough to see the grandmother leading the boy away though the thick trees on the other side. Darkness came quickly after that.