Resuming her position beside the childs bed, she settled in to await the coming darkness.
THUNDER MINGLED with gunfire in the mountains as nightfall swooped like a vampires cloak over the jungle. Jon Lassiter scanned the area in the deepening twilight as a knot of tension formed in the pit of his stomach. It was a familiar sensation. A mixture of elation, dread and adrenaline that he always experienced before a battle.
Neither the storm nor the rebel skirmishes with the Cartégan army had moved any closer in the past twenty-four hours, but he wasnt about to let down his guard. Hed learned a long time ago that disaster usually struck when and where you least expected it.
And in Cartéga, disaster was never far away.
The tiny Central American country had once been little more than a blip on the international radar screen, a lush, primitive paradise that time and progress had forgotten. But the discovery of oil, along with one of the most significant archaeological finds in decades, had propelled Cartéga onto the world stage.
Representatives from all the major oil companies had stampeded into the sleepy capital of San Cristóbal, throwing enough money around to corrupt an already corrupt government. Lassiter had no idea how Kruger Petroleum, his current employer, had managed to outsmart the international conglomerates, but knowing Hoyt Kruger, it had probably been a combination of charm, chicanery and a pact with the devil.
Lassiter could appreciate that.
A chain-link fence topped by razor wire enclosed the compound, and sentries were posted at the entrance and at intervals around the perimeter. Lassiter nodded to the dozen or so guards he encountered as he made his nightly rounds. He didnt know half their names, nor did he want to. He didnt trust any of them. Money could buy a lot of things in this part of the world, but seldom loyalty.
Lassiter could appreciate that, too. He was a member of a dark and sinister society whose allegiance was sworn only to the highest bidder, and he labored under no delusions about his mens fealty. He commanded this operation for one reason only. The money came through him. In another time, another country, in another hellhole of a jungle, he was just as likely to be following the orders of one of his comrades. Or to be fighting against them. It all depended on the price, and every man had one.
As he walked back inside the camp, Lassiter breathed in the familiar fragrance of rotting vegetation, cigarette smoke, sweat and diesel fuel. And fainter, the acrid smell of gunpowder that clung to the twilight like the remnant of some mostly forgotten nightmare.
The past three years of his life were all wrapped up in that smell, Lassiter thought with a keen sense of inevitability. The location changedNicaragua, Guatemala, El Salvadorbut that scent stayed the same. He sometimes thought he could smell it on his skin. Like the stench of a rotting corpse, it had gotten into his pores, his hair shafts, his sinuses. He could no more scrub that odor away than he could banish the screams from inside his head.
Screams from another life, one he only vaguely recalled, although at times the memories would come back with startling clarity, usually after one of the dreams. Then hed lie awake, staring at the sky and forcing himself to recall everything he could about his previous lifethe farm where hed grown up deep in the Mississippi Delta, his frail mother, a girl named Sarah whod wanted to marry him.
He had no idea what had happened to that girl. He didnt even know if his mother was still alive. Home was a lifetime away.
Stopping for a moment to light up one of the thin, black cigarettes he ordered from a cigar shop in Tegucigalpa, he listened to the raucous laughter and cursing coming from the crew as they continued to work in the illumination from the floodlights that had been set up around the third well site. They worked in twelve-hour shifts, just as Lassiters men did.
When Kruger had first moved in the heavy equipment six months ago, preparing for what promised to be a long and profitable arrangement with the Cartégan government, hed been assured of round-the-clock protection. But then the rebel incursions had intensified around the capital, and the beleaguered and poorly equipped army had been called into service to snuff out the guerrilla encampments in the mountains.
His operation soon the target of saboteurs and snipers, Hoyt Kruger had decided to put together his own army, not just as protection against the rebels, but as a safeguard in the event one of the local drug lords decided to move in and try to take control of the wells.
When word had reached Lassiter in Caracas that Kruger wanted to meet with him, hed been a little surprised by the request. The reputation hed acquired in Central America hadnt exactly served him in good stead in recent months. Clients had become few and far between, which was why hed drifted south. But hed had a feeling from the moment he shook Krugers hand, sealing the deal, that the rumors keeping others at bay had been the reason the enigmatic Texas oilman had sought him out in the first place.
Lassiter ground the half-smoked cigarillo beneath his heel, then continued on his rounds. The camp consisted of five tin barracks crowded with bunksfour housing the drilling crew and one for Lassiters menan office packed with computers connected to Krugers headquarters in Houston via satellite, a mess tent, a medical clinic and a rec hall of sorts where the off-duty crew could watch videos, play cards or shoot the bull. Not exactly the most effective activities for warding off tension and boredom, but on rotating weekends, there was the always unpredictable nightlife in Santa Elena, a thirty-minute jeep ride away.
The door to the office was open, and Lassiter could see the gleam of Krugers bald head in the glow of a CRT screen as he and his partner, Martin Grace, pored over the paper scrolling out of the printer like cardiologists reading an EKG.
Kruger was tall and powerfully built, not handsome except for his piercing blue eyes. He was in his late fifties, a good twenty-five years older than Lassiter, but still with a quick mind, a quick temper and an uncanny knack for making money.
Sensing Lassiters scrutiny, the two men looked up with tense expressions, then Kruger relaxed when he saw who it was. But Graces features tightened. He didnt like Lassiter and made no bones about it.
He wasnt a small man, probably just shy of six feet, but Kruger seemed to dwarf him, in both stature and personality.
Dont you know how to knock? he barked irritably.
Lassiter shrugged. Door was open.
The offhand remark seemed to irritate the man even more, and Kruger laughed. Youll have to excuse Marty, Lassiter. Hes been jumpy ever since he got here. But hell soon get used to the gunfire, right?
Lassiter shrugged. I hardly even notice it.
Martin Graces eyes narrowed. Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but isnt it your job to notice the gunfire? And what about the snipers?
What about them?
The men were fired on again yesterday. Luckily, there werent any injuries, but thats no thanks to you. We hired you to protect the crew and our interests down here, but Im starting to wonder if thats what youre doing.
Lassiters name crackled over the radio fastened to his belt, and he gave Martin Grace a pointed look. Well have to take this up later. Ill come look you up as soon as I take care of this matter.
Grace glanced down at the paper in his hand as if suddenly alarmed by the notion of a one-on-one meeting with Lassiter. Ive said my piece, he mumbled.
Lassiter nodded to Kruger, then stepped outside to answer the radio. Lifting the unit to his ear, he said his name into the transmitter.
Its Tag, the man on the other end responded. Ive picked up something on one of the monitors you need to take a look at.
What is it?
Taglio hesitated. I think youd better see it for yourself.
Uneasiness tripped along Lassiters nerve endings. There was something in Taglios voice
Anything wrong? Kruger stood in the doorway, one hand propped against the frame as he regarded Lassiter anxiously.
Lassiter shrugged as his gaze met the older mans in the semidarkness. Whatever it is, Ill take care of it.
See that you do. The men are getting skittish with all that damn gunfire. And I heard today a kid was brought into the clinic in Santa Elena with the fever. When the crew gets wind of that He didnt bother to finish the sentence, but Lassiter knew what he was thinking. The disease, along with the fighting, was getting closer.
Shouldering his rifle, Lassiter strode across the camp to the sheet-metal building that served as operation headquarters. As he neared the structure, the smell of diesel fuel from the generator grew stronger.
Part of the bargain Kruger had struck with the Cartégan government had been the routing of electrical lines through the jungle to the camp. But even in the capital, service was unpredictable at best, and Lassiter hadnt wanted to take a chance on a complete power blackout.
The generator was a safeguard and had been one of a long list of items hed presented to Kruger before hed signed on to the operation. To the oilmans credit, he hadnt batted an eye at the price tag. And with good reason, Lassiter figured. His fee for services and equipment was substantial, but the wells that had already been drilled were producing thousands of barrels a day. If they continued at that rate for several months, let alone years, Kruger Petroleum stood to make millions.
Along with the generator, Lassiter had also requested portable thermal-imaging cameras which he and his men had camouflaged and mounted around the perimeter of the camp. The monitors were watched around the clock in the event the guerrillas or one of the drug cartelsor even the Cartégan armydecided to launch an assault.
The door to the building was open to allow in the night air, and when Lassiter stepped inside, Taglio glanced up with a frown. He was several years younger than Lassiter, well educated, well traveled and with a grace and style that often caused people to underestimate his toughness. Sometimes even Lassiter wondered what had brought a man with Danny Taglios looks and privileged background to a place like Cartéga, but he never asked. No one ever asked.