CHAPTER 294
The Chinook settled to the ground, and the engines began to wind down. Nobody moved from their seats. They were all waiting for some kind of instruction from Thorne. The chopper quieted further, and eventually someone emerged from the cockpit, but it wasn't Thorne. It was Smith.
He approached with kind of a lurching swagger and stopped in the midst of everyone. A toothpick was tucked between his cheek and his teeth, and he laid a sneer around the fuselage like an outlaw sizing up the interior of a saloon in an old western. Smith plucked the toothpick from his mouth, appeared as though he were going to say something, and then swaggered on to the back of the Chinook without doing so.
Thorne manifested a moment later and spoke to Dodgson. "We're at the coordinates you gave me."
Dodgson got up from his seat and talked close to Thorne's face. "Did you see anything?"
"Jungle. Some buildings."
"Anything out of the ordinary?"
"There's a bit of fog out there." Thorne shrugged. "Was I supposed to be looking for something?"
Light flooded the fuselage as the rear door lowered like a drawbridge.
Dodgson squinted. "No, that's fine." His eyes shifted around to the others, and he spoke softer. "Don't let anyone stray too far from the choppers until we get some equipment set up. Should only be a matter of minutes."
Thorne's brow raised. "Is there anything I should know about?"
Dodgson shook his head, "just a simple precaution. If everything goes as planned we won't be here more than a matter of hours."
Dodgson saw King rising from his seat, and he turned to him. "Howard, get things set up, would you?"
"Yes, Mr. Dodgson," King nodded and swept to the back of the fuselage.