Help me!she cried silently, knowing that no one was going to come to her aid this time either. Why didn’t you kill me when you had a chance, Juan Carlos Ortega? Why couldn’t I have died with Michael?
* * * *
General Marco Talavado paced back and forth in front of his cabin, impatiently tapping the butt of the whip handle against his thigh. It had been more than nineteen hours since he’d gotten the call on the radio that the helicopter was returning to the city, having done its job. Now it was just waiting for the men to walk the fifteen miles back to the compound. Then, he’d do something he’d been wanting to do ever since that afternoon when they’d planned this whole thing. He was going to take revenge on the American woman. Juan Carlos had given him permission and he was going to enjoy it.
His adjutant stood before him.
“What?” he growled.
“The search party has just come into the lower coca field. They should have her here in about twenty minutes.”