Charlie turned on him. “I didn’t thank you,” he snapped. “Don’t think you understand this place, Evan. We have rules here, and one of the rules is that the new guy gets the stink. Because I’m your guardian angel, I get you, which means that I get the stink, too.” He moved to the second-to-last cot, leaving an empty one between himself and the next guy. He sat on the edge, then lifted his filthy feet on the end of the cot closest to the aisle and lay back. “Now try to sleep.”
Evan followed, but sat on the edge of his own cot, facing Charlie, his elbows resting on his knees. “He threw shit at you, man. You can’t let that happen. I live in a dormitory, too, and I’m telling you, you’ve got to fight for your reputation.”
Charlie rolled his head to make eye contact, his expression one of mild amusement. “Does this really look like a dormitory to you? This is a concentration camp. Siberia without the air-conditioning. Around here, you can fight every day or live every day. The fuck do I care how close to the shit can I sleep? This whole fucking place smells the same. Up there, back here, what difference does it make? Its not worth getting your nose broke or balls beat. It’s just not.” He shifted his gaze back to the ceiling, then closed his eyes. “Now go to sleep.”
Outside, in the distance, an engine fired up, and a moment later, bright light flared through the windows, turning the inside of the hut to day and casting sharp shadows on the walls and ceiling. Almost as one, the boys in the hut all sat up and whispered their concerns to each other.
“Well, that’s different,” Charlie said, sitting up. “People really coming to get you?” he asked.
Evan screwed up his face and shook his head. “I wish. Anybody wants to, I’m happy to come along.”
Charlie chuckled, then lay back down, placing his forearm over his eyes.
Evan followed suit, but was so many miles away from falling to sleep that he was already worried about how long the night was going to be.
After about five minutes, as the kids at the far end began to fill the room with the sounds of sleep, Charlie whispered, “You awake?”
“Oh my God, yes.”
“I want you to do me a favor. If some away team does beam down here for you, take me back to the mother ship with you, okay?”
Sometimes, it’s the stupidest images that give you the giggles.
Jonathan’s earpiece crackled, “They’re moving again. Away from you.”
Venice had been tracking the movements of the two men who had left the compound with guns, and had been fortunate enough in two four-minute cycles of pictures to catch them in the act of setting a booby trap on the trail they were walking. Because of the jungle cover, she wasn’t able to determine what munitions they were using, but the fact that it took them so long told Jonathan that it was something pretty rudimentary. By zooming in closely to the operation and using a stylus on her computer screen back in Fisherman’s Cove, she’d been able to mark the location of the trap to within a fraction of one second of latitude and longitude, and she’d already uploaded that location to the GPS devices Jonathan and his team were carrying.
It only made sense that the team would travel to the farthest point to set the first trap and then work backward. Reversing the order would be a terrific way to get snared by your own genius.
“Scorpion, I show you only about a hundred and fifty yards from the location of the trap,” Venice said.
Jonathan keyed his mike. “Keep focused on the bad guys, Mom. I’ve got the coordinates of the trap here. We’ll find it. I want to make sure that we find the second one if they set it.”
“I’m liking my decision to come along less and less every minute,” Harvey grumped. “Booby traps. Jesus.”
Jonathan admired Boxers for just letting it go. It was safe to say that the Big Guy didn’t like strangers in general-make that people in general-and he hated having tagalongs on missions. For him to keep his mouth shut on a setup like Harvey just offered took enormous self control.
It took all of five minutes for them to close the distance and arrive at the site of the first trap. When the GPS said that they were ten yards away, Jonathan brought the team to a halt and gathered them around, combining them into an unacceptably compact target, but judging the risk to be low at this point.
Besides, given the darkness of the night, they’d have been invisible to anyone more than just a few feet away.
They spoke in whispers. “Okay,” Jonathan said, “the trap they set is about ten yards up the trail. Harvey, go find it.”
“ What? ” His tone was one of abject horror.
Jonathan laughed. “I’m kidding,” he said.
Harvey brought a hand to his chest. “Holy shit.”
Jonathan turned serious again. “From here on out, we’re prepared for battle. I want weapons charged and safeties off, which means special attention to trigger discipline. Roger that?”
