LITMIR.BIZ

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at all.”

      Mike looked out at the shadowy faces turned raptly toward him. “All of you know I’m part Quechua Indian, from Peru. I have a personal stake in this large, ongoing mission. We have drug lords enslaving Indians in every country in South America in order to produce large quantities of cocaine for world distribution. If the Indians do not do the work, they are murdered. The captured women are raped. After working all day they become unwilling pawns to the drug dealers at night. Children who are captured are forced to work the same hours as an adult. They suffer the same fate as an adult.” His mouth became set. “Clearly, we need to make a statement to these drug lords. The head honchos aren’t stupid. They use the rain forests and jungles to hide in. Even our satellite tracking cannot find them under the dense canopy. What we need, in each country, is someone who knows the territory where these factories are located, to act as a guide, to bring the army forces in to destroy them.”

      Mike grimaced. “This is no easy task. The Amazon basin is huge and the military must march in on foot. The only way units can be resupplied is by helicopter. When they get farther in, helicopters are out of range—they can’t reach them without refueling—so we must rely on cargo plane airdrops. The troops’ medical needs aren’t going to be met. If there is an emergency, a sick or wounded soldier will have to be carried out to a place where a helicopter can pick him up and transport him back to the nearest hospital. As you all are aware, I’m sure, there are a lot of deadly things out in the Amazon. Piranhas in the rivers, channels and pools. Bushmaster snakes that will literally chase you until they sink their fangs into you. Mosquitoes carrying malaria, yellow fever and dengue. There’s always the threat of unknown hemorrhagic viruses, victims of which can bleed out before we can get them proper medical help. There are insects that with one bite can kill you in as little as forty-eight hours if you are without medical intervention.”

      Mike paused, then moved on. “Colonel Jaime Marcellino has been chosen to lead the Brazilian Army contingent, a company of their best soldiers—roughly one hundred and eighty men. He is their rain forest specialist. He has knowledge of the problems inherit in that environment.”

      Jaime bowed slightly to Houston.

      Mike went on. “We all agree that Colonel Marcellino’s experiment with a company of men in Brazil will teach us a lot about how to organize military attacks against drug strongholds in other countries. What we learn from his mission will help all of you in preparation for yours. He will be our guinea pig, so to speak. Mistakes made there we will learn from. What works will be passed on in an after-action report to all of you.”

      Moving toward the front of the room, Mike tapped the map projected on the huge screen. “We have it on good authority where six factories, in six different valleys, are located. We have a guide who will lead the colonel’s company to the nearest one, which is about ten hours southeast of Manaus, up in a mountainous region known as Sector 5. The colonel’s company will disembark at Manaus, motor down the Amazon and, at a predestined spot, off-load and meet their guide. The guide will then take them through a lot of grueling hilly and swampy terrain to reach the valley where the factory is located. Once there, Colonel Marcellino will deploy his troops for a strategic attack on the facility.” Mike shrugged. “It is our hope that the Indians who are captive will be freed. We don’t want them killed in the cross fire. The Valentino Brothers have heavily fortified operations. Their drug soldiers are men who live in the rain forest and know it intimately. They will be a constant threat.”

      Jaime held up a long, narrow hand with closely clipped carefully manicured nails. “Major Houston, I am sure my men will be able to take this factory. Do not look so worried.” He smiled slightly.

      “Colonel, I wish I could share your optimism,” Mike said heavily. “I don’t question your willingness and passion for this mission. But it’s going to be hard. No army in South America has tried such a thing before. There’s bound to be a steep learning curve on this.”

      “We are prepared,” Marcellino answered in his soothing well-modulated tone. He looked at Morgan. “My men are trained for rain forest warfare.”

      Morgan nodded. “We realize that, Colonel. That’s why you’re being asked to lead this mission. Even though your men have trained for it, that doesn’t mean they’ve actually undertaken missions in the basin, however. There’s a big difference between training and real-time experience.”

      Jaime nodded. “Of course, Mr. Trayhern. I’m confident we can do this.”

      Mike Houston cleared his throat. “For this mission, we are sending Roan Storm Walker with you, Colonel. He’ll be your advisor, your translator, and will work directly between you and the guide. He will answer only to you and to Morgan Trayhern at Perseus, which has the backing of this administration to undertake this plan of attack. Even though Storm Walker has no military designation, his judgment will be equal to your own.” Houston drilled Marcellino with an incisive look. “Do you understand that?”

      Jaime shrugged thin, sharp shoulders beneath a uniform resplendent with shining brass buttons and thick, gold braid and epaulets. On his chest were at least twenty ribbons. “Yes, yes, of course. I will order my officers to acknowledge that he has full authority to override their decisions in the field.” Frowning, he turned and looked down the table at Storm Walker. “However, he must check with me first before any action is taken.”

      “Of course,” Mike assured him. “Roan knows chain of command. He recognizes you as the ultimate authority over your men.”

      Nodding, Jaime raised his thin, graying brows. “And what of this guide? What is his status with me?”

      Mike sent a brief, flickering glance in Morgan’s direction and kept his voice low and deep as he answered. “The guide knows the terrain, Colonel. You should listen to the advice given to you. This is a person who has lived in the basin all her life. Storm Walker will be her liaison with you, and she’ll be your point man—woman—on this mission. You’d best heed whatever advice she gives you because she knows the territory. She’s had a number of skirmishes with the Valentino Brothers and has every reason for wanting them out of the basin.”

      Curious, Jaime straightened, his hand resting lightly on the table. “Excuse me, Major. Am I hearing you correctly? You said ‘she’? I thought our guide would be a man. What woman has knowledge of the basin?” He laughed briefly and waved his hand. “Women stay at home and have our children. They are wives and mothers—that is all. No, you must have meant ‘he.’ Sim?”

      Mike girded himself internally. He flashed a look of warning in Roan’s direction. Now the muck was going to hit the fan. “No,” he began slowly, “I meant she. This is a woman who was born and raised in the basin. She knows at least fifteen Indian languages, knows the territory like the back of her hand. No one is better suited for this assignment than she is. Roan Storm Walker will interface directly with her, Colonel. You will not have to if you don’t want to.”

      Though he frowned, Jaime said laughingly, “And why would I not want to meet this woman and hear her words directly? If she is Indian and knows Portuguese, there should not be a language problem, eh?”

      Biting down on his lower lip for a moment, Mike said quietly, “She is known as the jaguar goddess, Colonel. Her real name is Inca.” He saw the colonel’s eyes widen enormously, as if he’d just been hit in the chest with an artillery shell. Before the Brazilian could protest, Mike added quickly, “We know the past history between Inca and yourself. That is why Roan Storm Walker is going along. He’ll relay any information or opinions from Inca to you. We know you won’t want to interface with her directly due to…circumstances….”

      Marcellino uttered a sharp cry of surprise. He shot up so quickly that his chair tipped over. His voice was ragged with utter disbelief. “No! No! A thousand times no!” He swung toward Morgan, who sat tensely.

      “You cannot do this! I will not allow it! She’s a ruthless killer! She murdered my eldest son, Rafael, in cold blood!” He slammed his fist down on the table, causing the wood to vibrate. “I will not permit this godless woman anywhere near me or my troops!” His voice cracked. Tears came to his eyes, though he instantly

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