Tanya yelped like a frightened pup, and jumped to her feet. "But how could that happen?" she said, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Escaped? What kind of security would let a half-drugged man escape?"
"Miss Caldwell, please! Calm yourself."
"Calm myself? How could anybody let Charles escape? He attacked one person, he kidnapped me, he tried to kill me…" Her voice choked on tears, she turned away from the attaché, her hands clenched into fists.
"Yes, ma'am, I am aware. I have just spoken to Mr. Malcolm Clark concerning the situation." The attaché took a deep breath. "He approved my suggestion that we charter a private plane to return you to Vermeil."
"A private plane?" Paul asked. "You are aware that it's a ten-hour flight, and that's with a commercial aircraft-"
"Here is the name of an excellent company, the Amado Company. We use it all the time." He handed a business card to Paul. "They have a fine reputation, superior. They have a new fleet of planes, both props and jets. You'll need to refuel only once or twice-"
"It's crazy!" Tanya said. Hysteria skirted the edges of her voice. "You're all crazy! First you let Charles escape, now you want to charter a small plane to fly across an entire continent…" Tears filled her eyes, though she forced herself not to cry. Again, Paul placed his hand on her shoulder.
"Let me check on this idea of a charter-if the trip's feasible, if the company really is reliable, all of the above. Then I'll contact Invicta headquarters myself," he said, and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.
"These things happen," the attaché said with a shrug. "Please remember that Mr. Charles Aldrin has a number of connections. He was a former CIA agent, as well. And, from what I know, an excellent one. Those of us who have worked abroad for the last fifteen years know how canny he can be."
* * *
Monday morning, Tanya sat beside Paul aboard a brand new Piper Cherokee. Their flight home had begun. Tanya, too tired and upset by the situation, took her escape in sleep; for most of the flight, she dozed.
Above the Amazonian forest, near Blem, the pilot announced the need for a landing. The plane had to be refueled. It also needed some minor repairs, nothing serious. Nothing more than a precaution.
"How long will it take?" Paul asked.
The pilot shrugged. "An hour? Maybe two, at the most?"