Lauren was swept up
in the joy, laughter and playfulness of the fifteen or so
children. They were all barefoot, red mud splattered all
over their short twig-like legs and calloused bare feet as
they tugged and pulled at her hand. First, she
stopped and gave each of them a piece of candy, delighting
in their eyes shining back with thanks. And then,
the two oldest boys, probably ten and twelve, grabbed her
hands, tugging her forward, pointing excitedly toward the
edge of the village.
&nb
sp; Where were they going?
What did they want to show her?
Lauren saw a number of women by their
huts. They smiled and waved to her. It
felt good to be welcomed and Lauren pulled her hand free
from one boy and waved back. She turned her
attention back to the children, and saw that they were
leading her behind a large family-sized
hut. There was a path there that led into the
jungle. It had to be the other feeder
line. The one they had not walked today.
&nb
sp; Several children raced ahead, their
hair flying, calling out to her in their Quechua language
that Lauren couldn’t understand. They went
up a steep slope, everyone sliding and slipping in the red
mud. The children laughed. Three of
the girls got behind Lauren, pushing on her butt to help her
up the steep hill. The boys tugged even harder on
her hands, helping her to make the ascent. At the
top, they were all looking very excited. The trio
of girls who stood on the flat path, gestured for Lauren to
hurry forward. She nodded and
grinned. These kids were up to something, their
excitement infectious. &nbs
p; Lauren noticed that the woody vines that
normally didn’t allow anyone to walk through the
jungle were non-existent in this area. She could
see into the dark jungle full of trees, most of the ground
free of bushes. Wondering if the villagers had
removed the ground cover over time, Lauren realized that one
could move quite easily across this litter-free jungle
floor. Because not much sunlight could reach the
ground of the jungle, few plants grew there. Instead,
the earth was covered with decaying leaves, much like the
hill they would put up the sniper hide on tomorrow morning.
&nb
sp; The children became very
enthused, their little voices reaching high pitches as they
called to her. They rounded a slight
curve. There, on the path, was several blooming
orchids that had been blown out of overhanging trees last
night by the gusty winds from the thunderstorms that had
rolled through the area. One little girl knelt,
gesturing for Lauren to stop and come look at them. &nbs
p; “Ohhhh,” Lauren said, smiling as
she halted, kneeling down, “these are
beautiful!” and she scooped one orchid in bloom up
into her hands. The children surrounded her,
wriggling like happy puppies, their faces alight and
beaming. Lauren looked at the huge white orchid
with its long, leathery, oval leaves. She saw a
lot of roots still gripping onto what looked like bark and
moss from where it had lived on a branch of a tree above
them. Looking up, because the children were
pointing that way, she saw several more of the same type of
orchid still clinging onto the tree by the path. &nbs
p; One child took her hand and pushed it toward
her. Another kept pointing at her nose, trying to
tell Lauren to smell the flower she held.
&nb
sp; “Okay,” she told them,
laughing, “I get it.” And she lifted
the huge white orchid with its purple lip up to her
nose. The fragrance reminded Lauren of a heavy
vanilla scent. Closing her eyes, she sighed,
inhaling the scent deep into her lungs. &nbs
p; Suddenly, Lauren felt the grip of man’s
hand on her shoulder, fingers digging in, holding her right
where she was.
&nb
sp; The children all
gasped. Some cried out. They scattered
away from Lauren &nbs
p; Dropping the orchid, Lauren jerked her head
up. Her heart plunged. The Russian
drug running leader, Tamryn Volkov had his pistol pointed at
her temple, grinning down at her. &nbs
p; “So,” he whispered triumphantly,
“we meet again, eh? Stand up!” &nbs
p; The children ran screaming back down the path
toward the village.
&nb
sp; A second man appeared out of the
dark jungle, short brown hair, as tall as Alex, with his
dark blue eyes narrowed on her. He quickly
removed the pistol from her belt and frisked her roughly for
any other weapons. &nbs
p; “Hurry,
Morozov!” Volkov snapped. He
jerked a look over his shoulder. “Those
brats will alert everyone.” &nbs
p; Lauren gasped, her heart pounding in her
breast. How? How did they find her?
She felt Volkov’s hand dig painfully into
her shoulder. “Scream and you die,”
he snarled. &nbs
p; Morozov pulled out a pair of plastic flex
cuffs, quickly binding her hands in front of
her. Next, he took out a dirty green rag and
pushed it into her mouth, tying its corners behind her
head. “Let’s go,” he snapped,
gripping her arm, jerking her forward. &nbs
p; No! God, no! Lauren
wasn’t going down easily. The instant
Volkov lowered his pistol, she whirled on her left boot, her
right leg arcing up, catching him in the chest, flinging him
backward off his feet. He grunted. The
pistol flew out of his hand. &nbs
p; She head Morozov curse and swung
around. He lunged at her. She snapped
her booted foot upward, slamming it into his
chest. He let out a
loud, “oofff,” and staggered backward,
falling.
&nb
sp; Now! Lauren turned, racing,
slipping and sliding down the trail, heading back toward the
village. Her nostrils flared as they drank in
huge draughts of air. The mud slowed
her. She heard pounding boots coming up behind
her, catching up with
her. No! No! One of them
tackled her from behind. She slammed into
the ground, striking her head on an exposed
root. It was the last thing she remembered.
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