Chapter 3

Belize is a beautiful country; but for most tourists, its beaches, its offshore islands, and to a lesser extent, its Mayan ruins are what attract their attention. Nonetheless, there is a growing, if still relatively small, eco-tourism trade that is making the country's wilder central areas better known and appreciated.

For most of these visitors, the entrée point to this small, English-speaking Central American country is Belize City, which sits smack on the Caribbean Sea. But only about thirty miles southwest of that relatively flat coastal city, the land begins to rise dramatically and sweeps into the enchanting Mountain Ridge Area and the Maya Mountains.  The abundant rainwater cascades from the highlands there into a number of streams, which eventually flow into the Macal River. And, further on, the Macal River joins with the Mopan River. Where they converge, they form the headwaters of the Belize River, which eventually empties into the Caribbean.

If we were reading Terry's signs correctly, his captors had taken him into these highlands, smack to the very area of the proposed Chalillo Dam. This hydroelectric dam project was to be built on the Macal River in an area inside the Chiquibul Forest Reserve and National Park.

The tropical rainforest valley of the Macal River contains one of the most significant wildlife habitats in Central America - it is a fertile floodplain nurturing abundant Morelet's crocodiles, tapirs, jaguars, and a rare subspecies of scarlet macaw. Without this wild place, many of these species could become extinct.

"This is what you're fighting for?" I asked her, my notebook out and my pen scribbling.

"The Chalillo Dam will destroy the habitat. It will flood thousands of acres where these animals are able to thrive," she said. "And at what price? We will have lost irreplaceable species to a project that's not needed. And, in the end, the irony is that we will pay a higher price for the electricity the dam brings to our country while it destroys endangered species."

Luna Vasquez. My contact. Arranged through the good graces of the restaurant owner I'd met the day before. She was taller than I was; thin and very attractive with her soft brown eyes, deep brown hair and creamy tan skin. If she was only the public front for the Belize Alliance to Stop Chalillo, or BASC, she was chosen wisely. Photogenic, well spoken and charismatic. She wouldn't be the leader because they would never have exposed their leader at this point in the game.

This eco-terrorism group wanted publicity for their cause. They were getting lots of interest among their country's media but, so far, the only foreign press was a Canadian documentary crew that was still enroute to Belize. I was hoping their arrival would get delayed for a day or two. Okay, okay, I admit it. I called in some favors in Washington and the film crew was missing their connecting flight in New York as DEA agents were combing through their equipment looking for contraband.

By now, I would think you knew I didn't always play nice.

It was important, critical really, to our plans that I be left to play the foreign media game all by myself. We really wanted BASC to think I was their only shot at wider publicity. We wanted them to really crave my involvement. We wanted them to make a mistake in their eagerness to get the worldwide media exposure they wanted. We wanted them to trust me and take me into their confidence.

I wanted them to take me to their camp. Dino didn't want that. He wanted me to have their leader come to me. Or, he wanted us to portray a real news crew and have several of us go to San Ignacio to ferret out their camp. Too iffy, I kept thinking about his plan. One of us needed to find the camp and I thought I stood the best shot. After we found the camp, we could mount a recovery operation.

Luna was intense and focused, if also transparently doing a sales job on me. I was so into my role as a news producer for a U.S. network TV affiliate, that I was actually getting involved in the question and answer routine. I hoped she bought the cover because if she did, I was hoping she'd lead me to the hostages.

I had explained to her that as a producer, she should think of me as the advance guard. I'd check out the story, set up the shots we'd want covered, arrange the interviews and validate all the facts before I'd bring in an on-air reporter and a photographer. She had to convince me of the story before they could hope to get the television coverage they were panting for.

"It's the fact that you've taken hostages that makes this a news story for us, Luna," I told her. "I'm willing to bring in a crew from Houston if you can get us up to where the hostages are and if you can show us that there is construction work being done on the dam site. But I won't bring in a crew if you cannot prove to me that we'll be safe with you."

"How can we give you this proof?" she asked me and I worked hard not to smile. Come on little fishie, take the bait and let me set the hook, I thought. Then I can just reel you in.

"Take me there." She took in a sharp breath and peered at me through slitted eyes. "I need to see. If it's as you've said, then I'll have the crew fly out the next morning. But, first, I want to see the hostages and then I want to see the construction."

If needed, I did actually have some friends at a Houston station who'd come down for the story.  And Dino could come along as the soundman; no one would ever notice him. Until it was too late, of course. But that all would depend on whether or not I got to go to the camp where they were holding the hostages.

Luna called my cell phone an hour later. Meet her at my contact's restaurant at 4 a.m. the next morning and be ready to hike in a rainforest. "Come alone," she said. "And if we're followed, consider yourself dead."

I looked at Dino after I told him. He was furious. Standing there, looking between me and the window, too angry at first to do anything but grind his teeth and try to regain some control.

"Why did you fucking push? These assholes cannot be trusted. They're just as likely to keep you there as anything else," he said finally when he could speak again. Staring a hole through me. "This isn't the way we operate, Lisa. I can't let you go in there alone. If they can take Terry, you don't stand a chance."

"Give me a break, Dino. We both know I won't really be alone," I replied, trying to keep my own temper hidden. Because it pissed me off that Dino couldn't see that this was the chance we'd needed.

Really. Send me in there, alone even, and we now had a trained operative gathering information, setting up the rescue, finding out what we were up against.

But. The reality was, even if Dino was resisting the logic and appeal of this, there are always ways to keep an operative in touch. We had the gear or we could get it quickly. They could track me to the moon if they needed to.

Well. Sure, I was pretty focused on the end goal and I think Dino was afraid I'd look at this less as a recon mission and more as a rescue chance.

Sure. I'll admit it. If things went well, if I had the chance, I'd seize it. If I was able to free Terry, the nightmare would be over. And with Terry free? The odds would shift radically away from the amateurs holding him.

So. Uh-huh. Where did that leave us? With Dino trying to be my boss while I was straining at the leash. And, of course, it was Dino who wanted to be in there going where I was about to go. Instead, he was going to have to stay behind as the support person to man the radio and keep up the appearances that they were still hunting hard for the people who'd taken the hostages.

And. Yes, that's right, we'd just made them think one of their key demands was being met. I think that even though Dino wouldn't admit it to me, he knew this would, in many ways, calm the kidnappers down for a little while. They wouldn't dare harm the hostages now, not when they were about to have the eyes of the world on them.

We spent the rest of the day and into the evening outfitting my shoes, my gear bag and my camera vest with tracking, recording and transmitting devices. All incredibly state-of-the-art; it was extremely debatable that this gear would ever be detected, even by pros. Plus, I was going in with a digital video camera to get the "raw footage" I'd told Luna the affiliate would need to determine the validity of the story before the real photographer came in. But the camera itself gave us visual studies of wherever we'd need to go to get the hostages in a recovery operation. Plus, it was a special little gizmo because it transmitted the images as long as the wireless receiver was within a ten-mile range. So if Dino or Bennie could keep up, they'd be looking at the pictures live. Otherwise, I'd just show them the recorded material when I got back and we could use it to make our plan of attack. Pretty cool stuff, I thought. But then I'd always been a sucker for gadgets.

I listened in to the evening's radio negotiations and felt this curious lightness about it. Told myself not to be overconfident. Reminded myself of what always seemed to happen to me when I got that way.

That night, I actually slept for a few hours. No nightmares.

He came to comfort me in my dreams. Riding in on a wave of memories of a special time we'd shared. Dark hair, sea green eyes that shifted hues as I stared at him, stubbled face because I'd convinced him not to shave while we were away. It was the day I knew I was in way, way over my head with this man.

It was about three months after I'd come to England with him and he'd taken me to meet his son Henry. The three of us had ended up in a pub, playing darts.

Now, I suck at darts. There, I've said it. But the Thorne men were on a roll. I was leaning against the bar, watching them play. It was the second day we'd spent with Henry. We'd watched him play a game of rugby that afternoon and I'd been amazed to see some of Henry's movements. He got that intense concentration and moved in this stealthy manner that brought back images of Terry in the field. On Trinidad. And in that moment, I had gotten a sudden flash of Terry slinging his rifle over his shoulder and reaching for me. It was something about the way they moved their shoulders.

I'd looked at him as he watched Henry out on the field and saw into his soul. When Terry turned to look at me, he smiled in a new way. I froze in the glow. I drowned in the depth of his need of me. Time to grow up, I told myself, this is a man and his needs can only be fulfilled by a woman.

In the pub that evening, I watched the two Thorne men. They would always be more formal with each other than either probably liked. There was a distance between them because they so rarely spent time together doing everyday things. But that evening, there was a certain warmth in their easy camaraderie that was nice to witness. Then Terry glanced up, checking on me like he always did, making sure I wasn't bored. He smiled at me and I felt it slide across the room and wrap around me.

Leaning into Henry's ear, Terry said something, never taking his eyes off me. And then he walked to where I stood, tilted his chin down toward me and gave me a soft kiss just as he put his arms around me.

"We need to get Henry back," he said quietly but in that deep voice that seemed to vibrate just under my skin. "And I've neglected you this evening. How shall I make it up to you?"

Over his shoulder, I watched as Henry put on his jacket and started heading our way. Just before I moved from Terry's embrace, I whispered in his ear, "Something tells me you'll come up with something."

He had been laughing when our threesome left the pub. 

My eyes blinked open from where he'd been holding me in the dream. I rose and went to the window, spreading a space between the slats of the Venetian blinds, looking off into the distance. I'm coming for you, Terry, I said to him. Hoping he could feel my promise.

My fingers dropped; I leaned my forehead against the closed blinds and shut my eyes. Closing off my brain to everything but a pleasant memory of Terry; making myself go back into the dream I'd awakened from.

When we had left the pub that night, I asked Terry to drop me off at the inn before he took Henry back to his boarding school to make curfew. "It'll give you two some time alone," I whispered in his ear. "Something tells me Henry needs some man-talk tonight."

I liked Henry. He was such a neat kid and as many similarities as I found between father and son, there were stark differences as well. Far fairer than his dad, there was a sweet softness about his eyes that must have come from his mother's genes. But one thing that seemed to me had to be a product of Terry's genes was Henry's intensity. Whatever the subject, if he was interested in it, there were no half measures.

That morning, Henry had shared with me that he now had a special someone in his life. He was only 15 and, yet, this was love. When he talked about her, I'd watched that light in his eyes and then the way his jaw tightened as he told me his mother did not approve. Unfortunately, we had little time for this conversation; Terry was up in our suite talking with Dino about a possible situation in South Africa. Henry and I were strolling in a nearby park as we waited for him.

"It's hard being this age and feeling this way, isn't it?" I asked him.

He looked at me, his soft eyes and his easy grin. "She's a wonderful girl, Lisa. You'd like her, too."

"Ah, yes. But that's not the issue," I laughed with him. "The issue is your parents. Maybe if you just give your mother some time to come to grips with the fact that her little boy is becoming a man...?"

"Dunno. Don't see her changing her mind about this," he replied, his face clouding. "She just doesn't understand."

"Maybe Terry could talk with her?" I offered.

His cheeks almost blushed as he glanced up at me. "I've never talked to my father about... Well, about that kind of thing. It's just that... um... he's just not..."

When his eyes widened, I turned to look where he was staring and saw Terry strolling quickly toward us. I leaned into Henry's ear, whispering, "I won't tell him, Henry. This will be just between us. Okay?"

And got a relieved smile from Henry. It was one of those bonding moments that come so easily when you're just dating someone's father. Because there's no real pressure on you to be anything but the cool older-sister-figure.

But it was that snippet of a conversation with his son that convinced me that Terry needed time alone with him. Time when they could have their own bonding moments. After he dropped me off at the inn, I read e-mail as I sipped from a tumbler that held two ice cubes cooling two fingers of Scotch. After an hour went by, I settled in to wait, running water in the tub and sliding into its inviting depths with a wee bit more Scotch and ice in the tumbler.

I heard him come in the door and quickly rinsed off, pulling the plug to let the water run out of the tub. But before I could rise from my bath, Terry was before me, holding a towel in both hands, inviting gleam in those eyes, sexy grin playing on his lips. In total silence, I stood and let him skim the dew of moisture from my body, the roughness of the towel contrasting with the feel of his skin whenever his arms would brush across me. When he was done, he bent and lifted me from the tub, carrying me to the bed.

This was a memory to store. That night of silent tenderness in England. I needed its haunting melody in my brain this other night as I stood in the darkness of Belize and gathered the steel into my body so I would be ready in the morning.

And I remembered every detail of that faraway night. How I'd watch him strip off his clothes; the way he'd concentrated on me even as he was across the room. Then how he moved toward the bed and the way the light seemed to catch the edges of his body. "Henry likes you," he had whispered to me as he came over me, then pressing fluttering kisses along my jaw. "But nothing like his old man likes you, woman."

Sliding into me, kissing me deeply at the same time, making me feel saturated with him. Taking me up and then gliding for a while as he teased me, lingering just on the brink, teetering on that line between sexual frustration and sexual satisfaction. Until I begged him for release. And then listening to his breathing and his sighs until they were chased away by his rough voice, muttering my name right against my throat. Coming in a blinding flash and losing myself yet again in his passion.

When I had found myself still awake nearly thirty minutes later, I had risen from the bed to stand at the window and look out into England's night sky. The stars there were different to me. Cars on the wrong side of the road. Words that never sounded right when they rolled off the British tongue. Food that I'd never be fond of. Like I'd never get to the point where this foreign country ever felt anything less than alien. Everything looked different to me than I'd want it to be. I missed home.

I knew I was getting sucked in to this man's solar system, like he was a black star and I was losing my own gravity to the totality of his pull. There was something about how he treated me. Possessive, yet not allowing me to possess him. One moment I felt he lived for me and the next I wondered how long he'd play with me before deciding the game was over.

And that day, had I really seen the need in his eyes? Or had I just wished it there so badly that it seemed so sure and solid? I turned to look back at him in the bed we had been sharing that night. He was propped up on an elbow, staring at me across a darkened room. Silent. Ever watchful. Ever patient. You'd wait forever before you'd tell me, I thought.

"Terry?" He didn't move, didn't speak. Just watched me. "What's happening between us? Should I get out now before you hurt me?"

I watched him as he slowly slid his legs from under the sheet. They reached the floor without a whisper of a sound. Even the boards of this old inn never creaked as he walked slowly toward me. His hands touched me, sure and warm, sweeping from my shoulders to my back as he pulled me into his embrace.

He just held on to me. Hoping, I would think, that he'd never have to say anything but that I'd know and that it would be enough. I tried hard to let it be enough.

But in all our time together, he'd never said the words. He talked around love, even while he seemed to be resolutely intent on making me the center of his world. In my cynical outlook on life, I was the first to know that people who lived lives like his, where he'd be off somewhere else doing dangerous things and then rushing home to try to stuff in all the gentle parts of normal life in this accelerated version of real life, that they were almost desperate to feel like they had someone waiting for them when they did come home.

The soldier syndrome, they used to call it in my old circles. Your life split between two worlds. One dirty. One clean. Afraid to commit too much to the home life because so much of your energy and attention was needed elsewhere if you were to survive in the war life. But desperate for someone to come home to at the end of the battles. Otherwise, was it ever worth it to risk your life that way? Ideology was one thing; a personal stake was what could really drive you to risk it all.

When he made the decision to just hold me and hope my need for words would go away, I felt like he gave me an answer. It wasn't the one I'd hoped to hear. He felt the tears as they slid from my cheeks onto his bare chest.

"Lisa, don't cry. Please, baby," he whispered to me. 

I shoved my hands between us and wiped my tears away. "Sorry," I mumbled.

"Hey, hey, don't be that way," he said as I edged out of his arms. "C'mon, baby, let's not spoil this."

I gave him a plastic smile over my shoulder and climbed back into the bed. Held my hand out to him and noticed his slight hesitation before he came to sit by me. I looked right in his eyes. And lied. "I'm fine. Come lie back with me, Terry. We've got an early day tomorrow with a long drive ahead of us."

He moved his hands smoothly up my arms. "Want to take a bath with me, Lisa? I'll scrub your back." Saying it in his deep, sensuous voice that held every sexual invitation ever written in it. When I nodded, he pulled me up with him and into the bathroom.

While we waited for the water to fill the tub, he knelt in front of where I sat perched on the closed toilet. His hands slid up from my knees, to my thighs where they paused for just a fraction before continuing up to my abdomen and then coming to rest on the underside of my breasts. His mouth slipped slowly over each nipple in turn, never stopping until I was arching hard into his body. Then he knelt up, his face level with mine. The fingers of one hand began slowly exploring my face. It sent shivers spiraling down my spine and I shook from the softness of his touch.

By then, the water was ready and soon we were sitting in the tub. He had me sit in front of him, my back to him and he scrubbed diligently at my back before we gave up the pretense. I just laid back against his chest and his arms circled me. The warmth of the water seemed to ease the tension we were both holding in our bodies.

"You do know I need you, don't you, Lisa?" 

"Sure," I replied, my voice soft. "And you know I love you, right, Terry?"

No reply. His hand came up to caress my cheek. Guess that's all I'll get from you, I thought.

Standing right up against a window in Belize, I screwed my eyes shut and willed my mind to remember what had happened next that night in England.

It was the first time he asked me to move in permanently with him. We were back in the bed and I was almost asleep. He wanted to admit, he said in this quiet voice, that he felt that what we had together had a future. In the darkness, he couldn't see my eyes. He never saw the tears that slid slowly down the sides of my face, falling without a trace onto the pillow under my head.

What had I expected? Terry wanted more without having to endanger his heart and I wanted... Would I ever understand what I had wanted that night? I was always happier in the bloom of the dangerous time of new love. It was when things turned inevitably toward the decision to make a commitment that I invariably backed away.

Settling down with a man like this? What had happened to make me reach a point where I wanted the type of commitment from him that I'd never been able to make to another man? And now his request that I move in with him? I knew in that moment that it was likely the closest I'd ever get to him telling me outright that he loved me.

If I'd felt he was making a real commitment at the level I was wanting to, I would probably have felt more willing to take the gamble on us. I'd lived my entire adult life in a state of always hedging my bets. He was asking me to risk it all on one roll of the dice.

When some weeks later he'd finally found the way to tell me straight out that he loved me, I still hedged my bets. I had put off moving from Washington all these past months. Even when it became this huge issue between us, I ignored it. Thought it would go away, that he would realize we were happy just like we were - so why risk making any changes?

Dino's touch on my shoulder made me jump. "It's time, Lisa," he said. Then he looked at me strangely, like he'd known what I'd been thinking. "No second thoughts, kiddo?"

"Not a one," I said firmly. "Let's go find him."

The steel. It was back in me. I was going to need it.

Chapter 4

Early morning. Whenever I was up that early, it always reminded me of childhood. The way my dad and I would be up long before dawn on those rare Summer weekends when he would be home and we always had one thought in mind.

Fishing.

My God. I loved fishing with my dad. I even loved the whole feel of being up so early, traveling dark roads while everyone else slept. Like it was our own private world until the sun came up. A flashing memory lit my mind. Of the last time I'd seen my dad.  How I hadn't been paying attention because I didn't know it would be the last time. That I didn't know that, as I passed him in the hall on the way to the bathroom, I should have hugged him. It had been my last chance. I wished I'd known.

I shook my head to bounce the memory away. Tried not to be nervous that it was now 4:07 a.m. and Luna was not where she was supposed to be.

And I was way, way past eager to start the day's fishing trip by the time she pulled up in a van at 4:11 a.m. I was hoping to reel in the biggest fish of my life.

Inside the van with Luna were two men who seemed to have no other job than to try to make me nervous. It was only mildly boring to pretend to be disquieted by their attempts to intimidate me. We were charging up the highway, moving swiftly into the higher elevations of Belize. It was about 50 miles from Belize City to the country's capital, Belmopan. It still took us over two hours. From there, San Ignacio was another 20 plus miles southwest. If we'd turned due west once we hit San Ignacio, we would have been to the Guatemalan border in less than ten miles.

San Ignacio. Not much of a city but with 4,000 or so residents, it's the biggest thing around that insulated highland area. The Macal River winds its way through San Ignacio, separating it from the smaller town of Santa Elena. Even within the city limits, the Macal River is an inviting place to swim and canoe. A small surge in eco-tourism has caused several jungle lodges to spring up along the river's banks at the outskirts of the small city. However, most of the surrounding countryside is dominated by citrus groves, rolling hills and cattle pastures. The city's past glory as a major collection point for mahogany and chicle, which then traversed the river on its trip to Belmopan and then to the coast, had faded in the past few decades. But there remained a tiny if eager cottage industry of Mennonites who crafted mahogany into simple and sturdy furniture.

When we got to San Ignacio, we stopped at a small provisioning store for gas and a potty break. Standing outside in the clean air afterwards, seeming for all the world to be scanning the green beauty of the surroundings, I was making a video record of where we'd stopped. And hoping that Bennie was close enough to be picking the transmission up.

One of the men from the van walked up right behind me as I seemed to be intent on my videotaping. "Stop that," he growled into my ear, his body much too close to be anything but a threat. His hand reached for the camera. When I turned into him, smacking his hipbone with the edge of the camera, he thought two things: I was a clumsy bitch and that my clumsiness couldn't have stopped his movements any better than if I'd been planning it.

Screw you, I thought as I watched the pain light up his eyes; now, come tell Mama all about it. My eyes widened, as if in innocent surprise, as he stumbled back from me and rubbed his hip. "Oh, no. Have I hurt you? I'm so sorry," I told him and watched his eyes dismiss me as someone he could mess with.

When we were piling back in the van, the man shoved me into one of the back panel seats as Luna told me I'd be blindfolded from this point so the exact location of the camp would not be revealed to me. His hands roughly turned my body to the side of the van and he yanked the blindfold into place, knotting it a bit too tightly just as the van lurched into motion. I knew it was no accident that, as he turned me frontward in the seat, his hand cupped my breast and that he sat much too close to me.

Try it, I was thinking, because I'd so love to remember you doing something nasty to me when I'm ready to kick your ass later.

But he never went any further. He must have been satisfied that he'd intimidated me into compliance.

If I timed it correctly, it took another 20 minutes until the van ground to a stop. "Leave the blindfold on," I heard Luna tell me. Then I was being pulled from the van, still clutching my camera and tapping a signal button on it to alert Bennie if he was close that we were out of the vehicle and on the move.

"We'll be hiking in from here," Luna told me. "In a little while, when we're safely away from this point, we'll remove the blindfold. Until then, hang on to Luis so you don't fall."

My van buddy grabbed my hand and dragged it down his back until I felt his belt and I latched on. It took another twenty minutes before they finally removed the blindfold. My eyes blinked into cool greenness. The air was weighted with the heaviness of an overhanging of dampness. We were deep within the edges of the tropical rainforest. Looking up and the tops of trees were shrouded in vapor. Looking around and, except for the wide path we were on, everything was varying shades of green interspersed with flecks of colorful flowers and flowering bushes. Luis shoved me and I was moving in step with the group.

We hiked another six hours, barely stopping for more than a hasty lunch. Finally, we crested a sharp rise and I looked down to see a small clearing. My eyes caught the telltale signs of lookouts posted on high spots that overlooked this camp below me. Nice, defendable spot, I realized. Covertly searching for any nearby places a helicopter could land. It was doable, but only if a ground movement had first taken out the lookouts. I keyed on the video camera and before Luis could stop me, I'd swept it over the majority of the area. When I got back, I could now show Dino exactly where the assault would have to start. I was operating under the assumption that Bennie was nowhere near enough.

Inside the camp, the toughest work for me was not looking like I was cataloging every single detail I was drinking in. The news producer cover was good because I suspected they'd expect me to be eager to look at everything.

"When do I meet your leader?" I asked Luna, getting a swift, suspicious look from her. Looking back at her, hard and all business. "Luna, you either trust me at this point or you don't. I cannot imagine you would have brought me all this way without planning to show me everything."

"After dinner," she said, dismissing our two escorts and motioning me to follow her. 

We ate around one of about five small tables set up near an outdoor cooking fire and a lean-to holding cooking gear. I listened to the voices of the others whom we joined and tried not to be too obvious that I was absorbing any tidbits I could from their conversations. It almost amused me to realize they were like people everywhere; they were much too busy bitching about working conditions and their family news to spill anything useful. Well, except that it was useful just knowing some same-old-same-old ennui had crept into the situation at the camp.

Walking through the camp, I made swift mental calculations of the surrounding shanties and tents, trying to figure out what each was for and which might have held the hostages. And thinking about what the layout might have suggested about the number of people we might have to worry about in any recovery mission.

And then I found myself face-to-face with a man who couldn't have been more than 25 and a woman who had to be my age. And neither was smiling. Hoo-boy, I sniffed the air, smells like these are the bosses.

"Camera," the man barked, his hand out. I placed the video camera there and watched him inspect it. He looked like he might just know what he was looking for so I raised my eyebrows and looked confused. Like I didn't have a clue as to why he'd be looking so hard. After a few minutes, he thrust it back at me, scowling at me for all he was worth. "Don't use it again unless one of us says you can."

Flawless English but an accent I could never place. Not American. Not English. Not Aussie. Not Caribbean. More like a mixture of California, Miami and Antigua. But that's just a guess and a poor one, I'm sure. He was about 5'8" and if he weighed more than 160 pounds I would have been surprised. He was chiseled and muscular but not in any way muscle-bound. He looked solid and he looked tough. His dark hair, light brown skin and dark brown eyes looked damn good on him. Not a pretty boy, but I don't know if there's another way to describe him except handsome.

"And you are?" I asked, all 'inquiring minds want to know.' Didn't miss the swift glance between the two women.

He smiled at me and moved closer. Too close. Obviously trying to see if I'd back down. I almost did because I thought it might have been what he expected and then I remembered my cover. Back down? An American journalist? Crap no. He'd expect me to stand my ground and get pissed off.

"Martin Ruiz," he said. And flicked a lock of hair away from my face. I stood my ground and stared back at him, my gaze even and unruffled.

"Cecile Wilson," I replied, pointedly sticking a hand between us. He took it and we shook hands. "Nice meeting you. So, are you the one in charge or are you just the head thug?"

Making the two women giggle. At least until he shot them a dark look.

As he took a step away from me, I stuck my hand toward the other woman. "Hello. I haven't caught your name yet, have I?"

Her lips parted, then she smiled this little slight upturn, then she pursed her lips. All in about two seconds. I'd never seen anyone do that before. It captivated me and I'm a woman who's never been captivated by another woman. But there was just something about her. I wondered how long, in seconds, it took her to seduce a man?

"Isabelle Ferre," she responded, meeting my hand in a strong grip, her own hand almost cool compared to mine. Her accent and her voice were achingly familiar. But it took me another ten minutes before I placed it. Escarlata. The voice who'd negotiated with Dino. For some reason, when I'd put her face with her actions as the negotiator, something traveled down my spine to spook me.

But at that particular moment, I was pretty single-minded in what I wanted. "When do I get to meet the hostages? And when do you show me your proof that there is illegal building beginning on the dam?"

Isabelle looked away from me, slowly craning her head and looking up into the green at the edges of the clearing. "Just now, Cecile, I was thinking it might be better to show you what the dam will destroy." Now her brown eyes fell to mine. "The destruction of 2,000 acres that hold the last of the scarlet macaw's nesting grounds. The place where the jaguar makes home and hunts. All of this will disappear. And none of it was done legally. There were no hearings. The agency that approved this project ignored its staff's own report that documented the damage to our biodiversity that would happen if this dam is built."

"May I tape you while we speak? It will help prepare the reporter," I asked. But what I really wanted was her, Luna and Martin on video so Dino and the others who would be coming back with us would know who to take special notice of.

Martin's hand wrapped around my wrist. "No. No taping. Not of Isabelle and not of me. And you should be paying attention, not worrying about taping. This is important. This area is important to the world because it is irreplaceable. It is insulting to the people of this country that they are being asked to pay for a dam that will destroy so much of what makes this country unique and beautiful."

They talked my ears off. On and on and on and on. Damn. Within an hour I felt like I was being indoctrinated into Ecologists Underground. Sheesh. They never shut up. Except. Oh, yeah, they shut up when we walked into the rainforest and Isabelle turned to me with another strange, provocative smile. We're here, she told me, here in the place that is to be destroyed.

And from that moment on, it was like walking through a living, breathing, very green church. A place that made even someone as jaded and hard-hearted as me want to kneel down and praise God for creating such sanctuaries.

We stopped when the heavy air turned liquid. That's the best I can describe the curious way the rain fell there. It wasn't just that it was gentle, which it was, but it was that it just seemed to materialize out of the ever-present fluidity of the air. And when it did rain, I looked up and almost laughed at the sight of the huge droplets that seemed to just float toward me. Luna had brought plastic sheeting for us and together, we pulled it above our heads. We were already wet, but the plastic gave us relief from the heaviest of the downpour.

It happened just as the rain began to disappear, leaving the falling sun's dim rays to glance off water-logged flora.

"There," Luna breathed to me, pointing into the canopy.

I looked where she pointed and saw it. Flash of deep, almost burnt red. Like someone had turned on a flare, it was a contrast with the green background that was mesmerizing. Swooping majestically. I looked down when the scarlet macaw was no longer in sight and found three sets of eyes eager on my face. "Oh, Lord. That was beautiful. Thank you."

And I meant that. In that moment of pure perfection, I had nothing in my mind but the rapture of witnessing the flight of possibly the rarest bird I'd ever seen. They were so damn pleased at my reaction. They almost giggled at each other. Another convert, they were thinking. Where's Terry, I was already thinking by that point. Quickly back to obsessing about what was really important to me.

By the time we trudged back to the camp, I had a deeper understanding of their motivation. And I knew two things about that: it would drive them in a way money would never drive a professional and it made them totally unpredictable in their dedication. Man, I didn't like that at all.

"Now, how about the hostages?" I asked them, smiling at Martin as we entered the camp. "And, you know you'll need to let me film them. At least briefly."

Trying to exert some pressure and see if their guards were down enough to let me press just a bit. If they did, then I could try pressing harder.

They stopped on a dime. Looked at each other. Isabelle gave a curt nod and Martin grabbed hold of a lock looped over a hatch on the door to the shanty we were standing near. After his key unsnapped the lock, he slapped open the door. He motioned me in.

Terry. My heart flipped and then dropped. He was dirty, unshaven and blinking in the new light streaming in toward him from the open door. His arm was no longer in a sling and I watched him move it so I figured he wanted me to know it was okay. I fought every instinct in my body not to grab him. Instead, I studied the scene. A manacle was around his foot and he was chained to a bracket on the wall. There didn't appear to be a whole lot of play in the chain that ran between him and the wall. He was sitting down on the dirty floor, leaning against the wall, his head back but his eyes clear and focused on Martin.

I got his message. Martin was who I needed to worry about.

Now I scanned the original hostage, Ben Taylor. He looked much worse off than Terry. And, he looked scared and spooked. I wondered what he would have been like if Terry hadn't been there with him, helping him keep hope alive.

"You see them. Now, let's talk about when your reporter will come," Martin said.

I didn't even look at him. "Not yet. First I get them on camera. Then you're gonna show me the dam construction. Remember?"

It felt so heartless to say that. To have to keep my cover up enough to act like the hostages were just a side interest to me in a larger story. But I had to convince them.

"It's getting too late to take you to the construction. We'll never make it back by nightfall," Isabelle said.

"Fine. I'll come back in the morning," I told her.

She laughed and I looked at her over my shoulder. She was looking at Terry, giving him one of those enigmatic smiles of hers, and then she turned to me, saying, "No, I don't think so. I don't want to take you back to San Ignacio. Besides, you'd never make it there before nightfall. We're a lot safer if you just stay with us tonight. You can share my quarters."

"Okay. Fine. But right now? I'd like to do the interview with the hostages." Purposely looked at Isabelle, not Martin. Wanted to see who was really in charge. She was. With her nod, I was ready.

I sat down on the tarp-covered floor, turned on the video camera and pointed it at Terry. I tapped the signal button on the camera that would alert Bennie in the million-to-one chance he was within range. "Tell me your name," I said.

"Terry Thorne," he replied, his voice strong and clear.

"Why were you taken?"

He glanced at Martin then flicked a brief smile into the camera. "Because they have an unusual understanding of the concept of negotiating," he said. Then he got that dead serious look of his. "I was hired by Mr. Taylor's company to negotiate his release. However, for reasons still not entirely clear to me, the people holding him decided I should be taken as well."

I only asked a few more questions. Probing subtly to see if Terry needed to pass along a message that would help us. All I really learned was that he knew exactly why he'd been taken. He would never be able to lie to me and he knew it, too. So he did the lousiest job imaginable to be sure I caught on.

Next, I turned the camera to Taylor. It was almost cruel. He sputtered and tears dripped and he sounded totally done in. I felt horrible for him. Like I was adding to his agony.

They let me spend almost an hour with them. When I left, I carefully avoided Terry's eyes. But I made indelible note in my mind of the locks on the door and on their manacles; knew they weren't anything I couldn't handle without a key.

All into the evening, they indoctrinated me into their cause. I was satiated with it. Sleep, such as it was since it was accomplished upon a thin spread over hard-packed earth inside a tent, was a welcome relief from their earnestness. Any other time, and their tales of greedy businessmen and politicians raping the land would have been real pissers for me. I loved the good cause. I adored the battles between the have-nots and the greedy. But these people were never going to find an ally in me as long as they were willing to take hostages.

When dawn broke, my back felt like it was breaking. Damn, I'm getting old, I thought as I heard an ominous creaking noise in my spine. Yikes.

Very early the next morning, we began the long hike to the dam. Sure enough, there was evidence of construction activity but it looked to me like it had stopped months earlier. Of course, it was too hard to really tell; they kept me well away from it and I could only view it through binoculars. They told me that those building the dam were so intent on keeping their work secret that they'd shoot anyone they found too close. Frankly, I didn't care that much; by that point, I just wanted to get the tour over with so I could head back to Belize City. So Dino and I could start plotting the recovery.

But when we got back to the camp, it was just after noon. And, we were shaking hands goodbye and I was all set to leave. And then I hauled the camera to my face to make one last record.

And that's when I got the signal.

Inside the camera was not only a transmitting signal but also a receiver. It didn't give off an audible signal, but a visual one that you only saw when looking through the viewfinder. I almost froze when I saw it.

I recognized the pattern of the signal. Dino was there and he could see me. They were ready for an assault. They just needed to know that I knew.

Smiling at Martin and he was smiling back, happy at my unexpected goodwill toward him. Stretching my hands above my head, saying, "Man, I'll be glad to sleep on a real bed tonight." Groaning into the stretch and knowing that, since he was a man, he was watching my breasts - not my fingers.

Good thing. Because the hand that wasn't holding the video camera was signaling to Dino to give me five minutes and the hand that was holding the video was recording the location of the shanty that held our targets.

I glanced at my watch as I brought my hands down. Patted my camera vest and looked worried. Started peering around anxiously.

"Is there a problem?" Martin asked me. I looked up at him and noted that Isabelle was some way away from us. The opposite direction from where Terry and Taylor were being held.

"I lost my lens cap," I said, grimacing at him. "Would you tell Luna to give me just a few minutes to look for it? I mean, it's not the end of the world, but if I could find it, it would be great."

Not even waiting for his permission and looking totally befuddled as I began searching around. Shoving my camera inside my backpack so I'd have two free hands when the time for action came. And getting slowly closer to the shanty. Keeping Martin close, willing him to follow me.

When the first diversionary flare and explosion went off, I took Martin down. So swift he never even got a chance to acknowledge me before he was treated to an unexpected snooze. Yanking on his limp arm, I dragged his rifle from him and dropped low as the first helicopter zoomed above us, drawing attention and gunfire toward it. Then I was moving and at the shanty. Pausing long enough to make sure I was clear, I dragged the metal pick from my vest and had the lock open in seconds. Almost faster than if I'd had a key.

Inside swiftly and swinging the door shut behind me. Eyes only for Terry. He was ready for me, on his feet and poised for action. The lock on his manacle was soon history. Before I rose to see to Taylor, I paused and looked in Terry's eyes. Saw my sea and then his hand was on the back of my head. Fierce, too quick kiss and then we were both back to business.

When Taylor's manacle was released, Terry leaned into his face, softly but firmly saying, "Alright now, mate. Here we go. Just like I promised. You can do this. Stay with us and we'll get you outta here. Let's go."

At the door, I swooped out and took in the chaos. Two people heading our way and looking like they were doing it on purpose. Back inside the shanty, two fingers up and then a finger on my lips and Terry dropped against the wall opposite me, pulling Taylor securely behind him. Terry and I traded glances across the doorway. He nodded at me and I nodded back.

First man through was mine. Second man was his. They didn't stand a chance. I felt like wiping my hands together and spitting on them in triumph. But I resisted the impulse and instead, the three of us bolted for freedom. I had a pretty good idea of where Dino would expect us to head so that's where I led them. We were out of the clearing shortly and safer in the denser foliage as we headed for one of the high points.

Just as I was feeling myself think ahead to meeting up with Dino and getting on the next chopper out, Terry hissed up to me. "Lisa. I need to go back."

I turned around and he was already moving away from me. "Terry." My voice sharp and he turned to see me. "What the fuck?"

"I have to go back. There's something I need to get."

Grabbing Taylor, shoving him out of the way, reaching Terry and yanking on his arm. "You can't go back. Whatever you left, forget it."

He put both hands on my shoulders and looked hard into my eyes. There was a strange gleam I hadn't noticed in his before and it really scared me. Something was wrong with Terry, something I'd overlooked in my abject desire to see him as being fine. "You don't understand. They have my laptop."

"Fuck, baby, I'll buy you a new one. Now c'mon."

He shook his head. "No. You get Taylor out. I'll get the laptop and meet you."

And with that, he was off, heading swiftly back the way we'd come. Was he absolutely nuts? I turned and looked at Taylor, reading him, knowing he was too scared to know if he should follow Terry or stay with me.

"Look, Ben, you're on a path. See it?" I pointed down to the thin black vein between green. "Okay. Now, you keep heading this way. Keep going up. Our guys are gonna find you. Anyone you see in camos, they're one of us. Okay? When you hook up with them, tell them what's happened. Tell them I'm going back for Terry and we'll try to catch up to you guys. But if we don't, tell them to take off without us. We'll find another way out. And tell Dino we'll meet him in San Ignacio if we get separated. Got that?"

He nodded. "San Ignacio. Dino. Got it."

"Good man." Smiling reassuringly to him. "Now go."

Watched him for about thirty seconds to be sure he was moving and in the right direction. Then turned and ran as fast as I could, back to the camp. Wondering what the fuck was going on with Terry.