We tried to limit our risks. We sat closely pressed together, Molinas facing back toward the compound. I didn’t think any of his men could have gotten beyond us, but I couldn’t be sure.
A small plane was coming in, the buzz of its engine sounding rough. I saw Savich frowning at that sound, looking toward the mountains. In a couple of minutes, a sleek little Cessna 310 appeared over the top of the closest peak, banked sharply, and started in to land, the sunrise a halo around it.
I didn’t like the sound it was making-the engines sputtering, missing, as if barely hanging on.
Had Molinas screwed us?
I was turning to him when suddenly two helicopters burst over the mountains.
“My God,” Savich said, shading his eyes, “they’re McDonnell Douglas-Apaches, AH-64 Apaches. They’re ours. They’ve got an M230 Chain Gun, Hellfire missiles, and a stinger. Down! Everybody, DOWN!”
We all hit the ground. In a blink one of the Apaches fired on the Cessna. The small plane sputtered above the ground. I saw two men inside, one of them screaming. I watched the plane explode, showering debris into the dawn sky. Twisting shards of metal, parts of the engine, the seats, one of them holding what had been a man still strapped in, scattered over the airstrip and the land around it. A part of a wing crashed into the ground not twenty feet from us.
“Jesus,” Savich said. “Good old USA Apaches. What the hell are they doing here?”
“Somehow they must have found out where we were.” Laura was yelling at the Apaches, waving her arms. I held Molinas close.
I looked up at the helicopters. They came closer and hovered, making no move to land.
Oh, God. “Laura,” I shouted, “get away from there! Run!”
Without warning, they fired on us.
“The rain forest!” I grabbed Molinas and shoved him ahead of me. They came around again, firing, the hail of bullets kicking up dirt all around us. We made the rain forest, barely. Then I realized the last thing we needed was Molinas holding us back. He’d betrayed us.
I jerked him around and yelled in his face, “You damned bastard!”
“I didn’t betray you.” He was panting now. “You saw them. They shot down the Cessna. One of my men must have radioed Del Cabrizo and told him you were escaping. The cartel ordered it. I didn’t.”
“That makes me feel a whole lot better,” I said. “Well, you can stay and talk to him about it.” I shoved him down behind a tree, took off his belt, and tied his hands behind him to the skinny tree. I ripped off his very nice Italian silk shirt and stuffed it into his mouth, tying the rest behind his head.
“You’d better pray they don’t think you’re disposable. That’s about the only thing that would save both of you.”
I turned away from him and shouted, “Savich, we’re heading north. Keep going, but veer to your left, to the west.” Thank God it was light enough now to see where we were going. Northwest, we had to go northwest. Molina’s soldiers would be searching for him and then come after us.
Savich nodded, holding Sherlock close. I looked at Laura, wondering why she hadn’t come to help me. She was standing about ten feet from me, not moving. I watched her weave where she stood, then drop one of the AK-47s.
“Laura?”
I heard the Apaches overhead, incredibly loud, heard their automatic weapons firing into the forest. Chances were that only an incredibly lucky shot would find us through that thick, nearly impenetrable canopy overhead. But given how our luck had gone so far, I didn’t want to take any chances.
“Laura?” I yelled again. “Come on! We’ve got to hurry. I’ll take the other weapon. What the hell’s wrong?” She didn’t answer. I saw her lean back against a tree, gripping her shoulder.
“Laura?”
“Just a minute, Mac.” Her eyes were closed, her teeth gritted.
Oh, God, she’d been hit. The guns kept sounding overhead, the bullets smashing down through the foliage. We were too close to the edge of the rain forest. We had to go deeper. Without a word, I pulled her hand away from her shoulder. “It went through,” she said, and I saw she was right after I’d opened her shirt.