That was when sanity reasserted itself. They piled into their APCs and sent them scurrying south to Yucatan.
Perhaps the cameras had picked up nothing through the drumming black rain after all. It no longer mattered. Efrain Zaragoza had learned an important lesson. Glory was nothing. Life was all. And he was not being paid to fight walking stones that bled like men.
Chapter 51
"I was just thinking," Winston Smith said over the combined noise of rotor wash and rain.
"Si?"
"We lead dangerous lives. Danger is our beans and rice. We could be snuffed out at any moment."
"Yes, this is very true," Assumpta admitted.
"Once we join up with Verapaz, nothing is guaranteed. Not tomorrow. Not even tonight. Surviving the next hour is strictly fifty-fifty."
"This is so, chilito mio. "
Winston blinked. "What's that mean?"
"My little chili pepper." Assumpta smiled shyly.
"Look, why don't we just land this eggbeater and do it now? That way, if we're killed or separated or anything bad happens, at least we can say we knew true love before the end came."
"The gas is low ...."
"Yeah, I was gonna mention it, but I didn't want it to sound like a line."
"We will refuel and make passionate love as guerrilleros do."
"Great," said Winston. "That clearing up ahead looks soft."
The chopper skimmed lower and angled toward a landing.
At the last possible moment the ship seemed to lighten, as if dropping a load of fuel. Maybe the engine needed an overhaul, Winston thought.
After he shut it down, Winston Smith turned to Assumpta. "Well, here we are."
Her face was a cameo against the backdrop of the rain-washed Plexiglas bubble beyond which the raindistorted green landscape seemed to waver and run.
He leaned in to kiss her. Their arms bumped the controls. Assumpta laughed. Then her lips were pressed against his, and Winston wondered if he should stick his tongue in her mouth or wait until later. First kisses were logistical nightmares ....
Somewhere the sound of knocking intruded on their silent interlude. He ignored it.
It came again. Very loud this time.
Assumpta drew away in fear. "What is that?"
"Search me."
He saw the shape behind her. A face. It swam behind the swimming Plexiglas.
"Get down!" he cried, reaching for his Hellfire.
Before he could reach his weapon, the cockpit door at his back opened, letting in driving rain and an irresistible hand.
Smith was yanked out and dropped on his back. A foot stamped his gun into the mud. He looked up, his face furious.
The face of his alleged father looked down. It was not a happy face.
"Where the hell did you come from!" Winston raged.
"A magician never tells," Remo told him.
"Nice move. Your timing is fucking excellent."
"Forget it, chilito. It's curfew time. We heard every word."
"How's that possible?"
Remo pulled him to his feet. Winston noticed the old Korean standing behind him, also unhappy.
Assumpta shouted, "Let him go, jou-jou CIA yanquis! He has told me all about you. You will never defeat Lord Verapaz!"
"Right now we have a bigger problem."
"What's that?" Winston growled.
"The monster. I need you to fly us to him."
"Monster? Don't be stupid. The Extinguisher doesn't fight monsters. Try Raymond Burr."
"He's dead, so you're elected." And Winston found himself placed in the chopper pilot seat like a baby dropped into his high chair.
The old Korean climbed into the cockpit and, crossing his legs, sat on his steamer trunk.
Winston looked to Remo standing in the rain. "What about you?"
"Just take off. I'll hitch a ride on the skid."
"That's how you did it!"
"And people say you're slow on the draw."
"I resent that!"
But he took off anyway.