The stone walls had become degraded here, and strange markings covered every surface. Words and rudimentary drawings stood out against the rock in a hodgepodge of paints left over from many years of adolescent graffiti. Empty glass bottles and aluminum cans littered the floor near the entrance. I half expected to see a drunken teenager stumble around the corner at any second. The thought of it made me smile. Every small town in America has a similar place where teens went to party and escape their parents. It doesn't matter where in the world you are, some things always remain the same.
Once I reached the entrance, I poked my head out and looked around. When nobody shouted or raised an alarm, I carefully exited the tunnel and found myself halfway up a steep hill. Rudimentary steps cut into the rock led down towards a small stream that gently bubbled over smooth pebbles. Leading up the hill was a small footpath, little more than a game trail leading back towards the village.
I followed the trail up and through the jungle, going slowly to avoid making noise or moving the plants which would give me away to the soldiers. I didn't have to walk long before I could make out the outlines of buildings through the jungle growth. A few steps later the underbrush gave way to the edge of the village, and I found myself looking at the side of Blatt's villa.
The military truck sat idling in front of the house. A single guard leaned against its fender, puffing on a cigarette with obvious boredom. That meant the troops were still inside, and that wasn't good. With them there, I couldn't move about the village. Every passing minute was a larger head start for the mysterious Jaye Mercury.
Soon, a man stepped out of the house. He was dressed differently than the guard. His uniform was lighter, and he carried no weapon except a sidearm secured in a black leather hip holster. He took a moment to scan the tree line, looking right at me as he did his sweep, but continuing on, unable to see me through the thick growth.
As he completed his scan, he pulled a pair of mirrored sunglasses from a chest pocket, and slipped them on with practiced ease. He then pulled a cigar from his other chest pocket. He motioned to the guard, who immediately came over and offered a lighter to his superior. The officer puffed rapidly on his cigar, green orbs of smoke rising like morse code, until he finally pulled away, the cigar fully lit. He said something to his subordinate and waved his arms dismissively, calling his troops back out of the house.
The troops filed outside and into the back of the truck. Then the officer got into the passenger seat. I watched as the truck bounced its way down the main road out of the village. I forced myself to remain hidden for a couple of minutes. I needed to find Mercury, but I didn't want any more surprises either.
The bugs were ravenous, biting me with a ferocity I'd only ever seen in coastal Louisiana, or on tiny undeveloped islands in the Florida Keys. The constant bites finally spurred me to action. I got up to leave the bushes and head for the villa, but someone else was already coming to check it out. It was a child with an arm full of groceries. Pancho! Suddenly, I had another idea.
The boy stopped short of the house, transfixed, his big brown eyes locked on the busted door. I moved to the very edge of the jungle and whispered as loudly as I dared.
Psst! "Pancho!"
The boy didn't move. I tried again, and again he stood still. Finally, I let out a short whistle, and that did the trick. He broke out of his stupor and began looking for the source of the noise. I moved out of the bushes so he could see me and waved him over. He dropped the groceries in the dirt and ran to me in a full sprint.
"Señor! You're OK," the boy said, as he came to a stop near me. His eyes glistened as tears streaked down his face.
I knelt down to speak with him, and he leapt forward, wrapping his arms around me. His whole body shook as he sobbed. "Yes, I'm OK," I said, trying to comfort him.
"But Doctor Blatt. Why did the army come and take him away?" the boy asked.
"I don't know," I lied. "I'm sure they'll let him go soon. Have the troops left the village?"
Pancho sniffed back tears and wiped his nose. "Yes. They are all gone now. But the house. I don't understand why they would do that. Why would they damage such an old house? Why?" He cried again. Despite the shock and stress of the day, his English remained excellent, almost as if it was his native tongue.
"They were looking for something, Pancho. But they weren't the only ones. There was a woman, too. Have you seen any new women in the village? Someone you don't recognize?"
"Yes! Yes!" He replied excitedly. "She is staying in the hotel. I saw her when she came in this morning. It is not every day we have visitors. My papa says she flew here. No one, except the military, ever flies here. One time, four tourists landed at the airstrip. But that was before I was born."
"Do you know where in the hotel she is staying?" I asked, hoping.
"No. But Señor Alvarez might. He is the hotel owner." All effects of his worry and the abduction of Miles Blatt had disappeared from his body language and face. Now he stood before me bubbling with energy, wanting nothing more than to be helpful, looking for any way to help save Dr. Blatt. Children truly have an amazing capacity for dealing with the trials life throws at them, and I despised myself for it, but I put his exuberance to work.
"Pancho, can you find
