I actually talk to them?” Gabby said, persisting, all eyes and curiosity. “Oh, J.D., imagine belonging to a group like that, going all over the world to fight for freedom.”
“A lot of them do it for less noble reasons, Gabby,” he said, searching her face with an odd intensity. “And you may be disappointed if you’re expecting a band of Hollywood movie stars. There’s nothing glamorous about killing people.”
“Killing…people?”
“What in God’s name did you think they did, turn water hoses on the enemy?” he asked incredulously. “Gabby, in war men kill each other. In ways you wouldn’t like to know about.”
“Well, yes, I realize that.” She frowned. “But it’s a very dangerous way to live, it’s…” She stopped and searched for words. “Before I came to work for you I lived a quiet, kind of dull life, J.D.,” she said, trying to explain. “Sometimes I thought that I’d probably never do anything more exciting than washing clothes at the Laundromat. Those men…they’ve faced death. They’ve learned the limits of their courage, they’ve tested themselves until the secrets are all gone.” She looked up. “I don’t suppose it makes sense, but I think I envy them in a way. They’ve taken all the veneer off civilization and come away with the reality of what they are. In a terrible way, they’ve seen the face of life without the mask. I never will. I don’t think I really want to. But I’m curious about people who have.”
He brushed the hair back from her face with a gentle hand. “When you see First Shirt, you won’t have to ask questions. You’ll be able to read the answers in his face. Won’t she, Laremos?”
“But indeed.” He chuckled.
“Is he a friend of yours?” she asked J.D.
He nodded. “One of the best I ever had.”
“When you were in the Special Forces?” she asked.
He turned away. “Of course.” He glanced at Laremos, and they exchanged a level gaze that Gabby didn’t understand.
“You didn’t want mines, did you?” Laremos asked suddenly.
“No. The RPGs will be enough, and Drago can jury-rig a mine if he has to. I want to get in and get out fast.”
“The rainy season hasn’t started, at least,” Laremos said. “That will be a bonus.”
“Yes, it will. Have you still got my crossbow?”
“Above the mantel in my study.” Laremos smiled. “It is a conversation piece.”
“To hell with that, does it still work?”
“Yes.”
“A crossbow?” Gabby laughed. “Is it an antique?”
J.D. shook his head. “Not quite.”
“Is it easier to shoot than a bow and arrow?” she asked, pursuing the subject.
He looked uncomfortable. “It’s just a memento,” he said. “Gabby, did you pack some jeans and comfortable shoes?”
“Yes, as you saw in Italy.” She sighed, beginning to feel uneasy. “How long will we be here?”
“Probably no more than three days, if things go well,” he replied. “We need a little time to scout the area and make a plan.”
“The hospitality of my finca is at your disposal,” Laremos said. “Perhaps we might even make time to show Gabby some of the Maya ruins.”
Her eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Don’t mention archaeological ruins around her, please,” J.D. muttered. “She goes crazy.”
“Well, I like old things,” she retorted. “Why else would I work for you?”
J.D. looked shocked. “Me? Old?”
She studied his face. It wasn’t heavily lined, but there was a lot of silver at his temples mingling with his black hair. She frowned. She’d always assumed he was pushing forty, but now she wondered.
“How old are you, J.D.?” she asked.
“Thirty-six.”
She gasped.
“Not what you expected?” he asked softly.
“You…seem older.”
He nodded. “I imagine so. I’ve got thirteen years on you.”
“You needn’t sound so smug,” she told him. “When I’m fifty, you’ll hate those extra thirteen years.”
“Think so?” he murmured, smiling.
She glanced away from that predatory look. “Tell me about Guatemala, Señor Laremos.”
“Diego, please,” he said, correcting her. “What would you like to know?”
“Anything.”
He shrugged. “Things have been better since the peace agreement in ’96 and the increase in foreign trade, but the people are still poor and the crime high. Guatemala has become a major transport route for drugs and human smuggling, which has not earned us a good reputation on the international stage.”
She looked shocked. “Will things get better?”
“We hope so. But in the meantime, those who wish to secure their land and loved ones must have security. Mine is excellent. But many do not have the financial wherewithal to hire guards. I have a neighbor who gets government troops to go with him every afternoon to check his cattle and his holdings. He is afraid to go alone.”
“I’ll never grumble about paying income taxes again,” Gabby said. “I guess we tend to take it for granted that we don’t have to defend our property and families with guns.”
“Perhaps someday we will be able to say the same thing.”
Gabby was quiet for the rest of the trip, while J.D. and Laremos discussed things she couldn’t begin to understand. Military terms. Logistics. She studied her taciturn employer with new eyes. There was more than he was telling her. It had something to do with the past he never discussed, and he was obviously reluctant to share any of it with her. Trust, again. At least he trusted her enough to let her handle the communications for this insane rescue attempt. If only he’d let those men go into the jungle and stay behind himself. Maybe she could talk him into it. It was a job for a professional soldier, not a lawyer. She closed her eyes and began to think up things to say, knowing in her heart that J.D. wasn’t going to be swayed by any of them.
Despite Gabby’s unvoiced fears, they went through customs with no hitches, and minutes later were met by a man J.D. obviously knew.
The
