Thomaso unloaded the supplies from the jeep at the same point he'd dropped the professor and his party. There was little point in trying to deceive the dangerous gringo. Vincent sat on the ground and clumsily assembled the short-wave radio, warming up the battery and donning the headset. His splinted finger was not only aching again but also looking particularly distasteful with the dried blood all over the bandage. Claude leaned comfortably on the hood of the jeep, smoking and smiling at Thomaso.

"Got 'em," Vincent announced, and he set about exchanging messages with the party on the other end of the communication. When he was done, he shut everything down and stowed it in the pack before saying anything. "They crossed the falls yesterday morning and they're on the plateau headed for the edge of the forest."

"How long will it take us to get there?"

"I don't know, ask him." Vincent snapped, his anger at the man boiling just below the surface.

Thomaso shivered and immediately gave an estimate of the time it would take.

"What's Feldman doing now?"

"His guys are just staying with them, some have gone ahead to anticipate the route, and Feldman and the others are following behind. They won't do anything until we get there . . . until they lead us to the site, that is."

"And our little friend here is going to lead us to them, right?"

Thomaso nodded weakly.

***************

Brad Feldman lowered the binoculars hanging from the leather strap and let them fall on his chest as he spat on the ground. He smiled to himself and turned back to the two men who sat waiting patiently in the shade of a large, gnarly tree. The other two members of his group were on the far side of the gorge and he had seen them flash their mirror signal as planned, indicating that they now had the quarry in sight.

"Pedro has them now, we can take it a little easier." He joined the two men and took out a pack of small cigars. "Vincent has just reached the starting point so we won't see him for a day or so."

"How long do you think it'll take them to get where they're going?" The man with the white streak through his hair and one eyebrow, struck a match with his thumb and lit his boss's cigar.

"If I knew where they were going I could answer that." The reply was flat and cold.

"Can't be too far," the other man offered. "They haven't packed enough supplies for the long term." He waited for the offer of a cigar that didn't come and finally dug out his own pack of cigarettes.

"Don't underestimate the Howard woman," Brad said. "She's experienced out here and from what I heard about her encounter with Vincent, she's a survivor."

"What about the professor and the other guy?"

"The prof's nothing to worry about and the other guy appears to be a real wonk." Brad blew out a stream of smoke and spat again. "I don't even know why he's along. When I finish this we'll follow along the top of the gorge on this side and stay out of the jungle as long as possible. We can get Pedro at the next check point."

"Suits me," the man with the streaked hair said. "Harley here probably wants to take a nap anyway. Must be dog tired of listenin' to that iPod that's always strung around his neck." He kicked the leg of his partner and laughed.

"Wait'll you pull the all-nighter, Skunk, you'll be happy to have something to listen to besides the creepy noises in this place, and you'd be tired too."

Brad tossed his cigar stub away and rose to his feet. "There ain't gonna be much rest for any of us 'till this is over so let's get goin'."

Brad Feldman was a mercenary for hire and long time acquaintance of Bishop Gravestone. Brad had led the original raid on William Howard's site, unaware that it was a decoy and while failing to achieve his mission, had managed to kill him in the process. Gravestone had excused his blunder giving him this second chance.

This time, however, Gravestone included an ace in the hole, one Feldman wasn't aware of. Claude DeGeer. Claude's mandate was simple: once the real site was identified and the necessary codes in hand, all parties became expendable and the tear in his operation cauterized.

Gravestone had coveted William Howard's discovery ever since word first reached his ears and his campaign to befriend the man and arrange for financial backing had taken much time and patience. The disquieting fact that Howard had sniffed the prevailing wind and found a suspicious odor around Gravestone's intentions, led to their subsequent falling out and Howard's deliberate concealment of his discovery.

When Feldman had botched his assignment and found no clues to its source, all he had left were Howard's belongings that the Mexican authorities had shipped to his address as the partner. It wasn't until long after he had forwarded some old souvenirs and papers, most of what he considered junk, to Howard's relative, Gretta.

He later learned she had promptly contacted her uncle's old friend the professor and he realized there must have been some information hidden in one of the artifacts or in the notes that he had overlooked. At that point he made his plans.

***************

When Arnold crawled from his tent in the early light there was no sound and he felt a rush of panic. The stove was in the middle of the camp where he had left it but it was still unlit and the battery lamp was still outside his tent. He stood and looked at the other tents, seeing no movement and hearing no sound.

Arnold hesitated calling, something told him to investigate silently and keep alert. He bent down at Gretta's tent and pushed the flap aside. Empty. Quickly he crossed to the professor's tent. Also empty. Okay Arnold, stay calm and think this through. He turned a slow three hundred and sixty degrees, framing each portion of the surrounding area before continuing his circle. Nothing. Start worrying, Arnold!

He hurried back to his tent and dragged out his pack, rummaging through it for the hunting knife that was part of his supplies. Armed, he studied the ground and surprised himself that he could see footprints, other than his, leading off toward the trees.

At a cautious crouch, Arnold followed the prints to the trees then using the thick trunks as cover he advanced toward a large rock outcrop where he could hear light splashing. He flattened himself against the face of the rock and inched forward, extending his neck as far as he dared. The splashing had stopped and Arnold found himself staring into the fiercely glaring eyes of Gretta, who stood naked behind a lacy frond of fern leaves, clutching a cloth and a bar of soap.

"Yipe!" He jumped back out of sight, dropping the knife and covering his eyes with both hands, frozen to the spot.

"I might have accused you of a lot of things, Arnold Wainright, but peeping never crossed my mind! I can't believe this disgusting behaviour!"

"No! Gretta, you've got it-" He dropped his hands and gaped anew as she stood only a few feet from him, fists on hips and still naked." "Oooh God!" He covered his eyes again and turned to go.

"Stop right where you are Wainright and explain yourself!"

"I can't! You'll never believe me!" He waited, listening.

"You can turn around now, you pervert!"

"Gretta, I didn't- I- please let me explain..."

"Then face me and explain."

He turned his head and cracked open one eye. Gretta was wearing the tank top and had a large towel wrapped around her waist. In one hand she held the soap and the cloth and in the other was an extremely nasty looking machete.

With considerable blathering and bumbling, he explained what had happened and stood mortified as she let him finish, and then stalked back to the camp without a word. At the campsite, the professor was brewing tea and making notes in a journal when Arnold arrived back.

"Good morning, Arnold."

"Not really."

"Eh? What's up?"

"I'm afraid I did it again, professor. I have once more raised Gretta's ire."

"Not that difficult my friend, but how, specifically?" Arnold explained again, this time with calm reflection, and awaited the elder man's judgment. The professor finished making his tea and poured himself a mug, all the while keeping his face averted, nodding and half smiling. "It's difficult when what might be considered good fortune by some turns into misfortune."

"Don't let her hear you say that," Arnold cautioned. "No amount of explaining seems to be exonerating."

Gretta's tent flap flew back and she crawled out, dragging her bedding and other items after her. With a few deft moves, the tent was collapsed and stowed and the bedding was folded and rolled and secured for travel. She walked directly to the camp stove and poured herself some tea, handing Arny his abandoned knife without comment.

Both men spoke at the same time: Arnold asking once more for forgiveness and the professor asking which direction they would be going.

"I should have left a note or warned you about what I was doing and we are heading that way." Both questions answered, she rinsed her mug and went back to gather her pack.

"I think I got lucky," Arnold said.

"I think we both did," the professor echoed.

***************

Gretta stood hipshot studying her compass and looking off into the distance at the twin peaks in the Chiapas mountain range. She checked the compass again and then slipped her pack off and squatted down.

"Trouble?" The professor joined her on the small rise overlooking the gorge and the rain forest below.

"If we follow this trail we have to go down there in that direction." The professor followed her pointing finger and scratched his chin.

"Are we resting?" Arnold caught up, dropping his pack and unscrewing his canteen.

"It might not be a bad idea considering where we have to go next."

"What do you mean?" He was pleased that Gretta was speaking in a more friendly tone.

"That's where the trail take us." She jerked her head down into the gorge.

Arnold took a long swig from his canteen and hunkered down beside them, his knee bumping Gretta's hip. "Sorry."

"I need to aah... visit nature," the professor announced, leaving the two of them alone while he hurried off into the trees.

"Gretta, I am sorry."

She twisted around to look at him, her eyes travelling over every inch of his face. "Sorry you saw or sorry over what you saw?"

"Huh? Don't be daft! Sorry I saw, of course!" He returned her stare for a minute and then realized at the trap she'd laid and his ears began to grow warm. Gretta maintained a straight face for as long as she could then turned away, pretending to study the terrain. "Aah Jesus..."

"Let's forget what happened and say that you owe me one, okay?" She stood up and opened her pack, withdrawing the coil of rope they'd used to cross the river.

"Owe you...? Huh?"

"Ready to move on?" The professor jogged back, checking for any hints of trouble between the couple and finding nothing significant clapped his hands and urged Gretta to lead on.