"I didn't betray you." He was panting now. "You saw them. They shot down the Cessna. One of my men must have radioed Del Cabrizo and told him you were escaping. The cartel ordered it. I didn't."
"That makes me feel a whole lot better," I said. "Well, you can stay and talk to him about it." I shoved him down behind a tree, took off his belt, and tied his hands behind him to the skinny tree. I ripped off his very nice Italian silk shirt and stuffed it into his mouth, tying the rest behind his head.
"You'd better pray they don't think you're disposable. That's about the only thing that would save both of you."
I turned away from him and shouted, "Savich, we're heading north. Keep going, but veer to your left, to the west." Thank God it was light enough now to see where we were going. Northwest, we had to go northwest. Molina's soldiers would be searching for him and then come after us.
Savich nodded, holding Sherlock close. I looked at Laura, wondering why she hadn't come to help me. She was standing about ten feet from me, not moving. I watched her weave where she stood, then drop one of the AK-47s.
"Laura?"
I heard the Apaches overhead, incredibly loud, heard their automatic weapons firing into the forest. Chances were that only an incredibly lucky shot would find us through that thick, nearly impenetrable canopy overhead. But given how our luck had gone so far, I didn't want to take any chances.
"Laura?" I yelled again. "Come on! We've got to hurry. I'll take the other weapon. What the hell's wrong?" She didn't answer. I saw her lean back against a tree, gripping her shoulder.
"Laura?"
"Just a minute, Mac." Her eyes were closed, her teeth gritted.
Oh, God, she'd been hit. The guns kept sounding overhead, the bullets smashing down through the foliage. We were too close to the edge of the rain forest. We had to go deeper. Without a word, I pulled her hand away from her shoulder. "It went through," she said, and I saw she was right after I'd opened her shirt.
"Hold still." I unbuttoned my fatigue shirt and jerked it off. At least it wasn't as sweaty as my undershirt. I wrapped it as best I could over the wound, tying it under her breasts.
It was still bleeding. She was trembling. Her blood streaked over my hands. "Can you hang on for a while?"
She gave me a smile that made me want to cry and said, "I'm DEA. Of course I can hang on."
I smiled at her as I rebuttoned her shirt, picked up both AK-47s, and hoisted her over my shoulder.
"Mac, no, I can walk."
"It's time for the DEA agent to keep her mouth shut," I said, and to Savich, who'd turned back, "Laura's been shot. It's clean, through the upper shoulder. But we've got to take care of it, we've-"
An Apache was coming in fast and hovered right over us. It sounded muffled through all the greenery overhead, but it was close, too close. If it fired downward, it could hit us.
I laid Laura on the floor of the forest, cupped her cheek with my palm, and said, "Don't move, I'll be right back. I'm going to get you a first-aid kit and then I'm going to play doctor."
She looked at me like the drug had captured my brain again. I just smiled at her, grabbed one of the AK-47s, and ran for a small, light-filled clearing just inside the forest belt. I looked up. An Apache was hovering not twenty yards overhead, its rotor blades fanning the thick upper canopy of the rain forest. I heard birds screeching, heard their wings flapping madly to escape. It was just that the growth was so thick off to my left that I couldn't see them. I could make out a man staring downward with binoculars.
"Hey, you bastards!" I fired upward. When I cleared the magazine, I pulled it out and shoved another in, and waited. I needed them closer, and lower. The Apache weaved, plunging side to side. Yes, I thought, you've seen me. Now, come and get me. I could hear a man yelling. They were right over me now. I fired off another twelve rounds, directly into the gut of the helicopter.
I could see the pilot fighting the controls, trying to regain control. I heard the other man yell. Then, like it was released from a slingshot, the Apache rose straight up and then dipped sharply to the left. I fired another half-dozen rounds. It trembled, the rotor grinding, those amazing General Electric turboshafts sputtering, dying now from all the damage my bullets had caused. The Apache lurched and went straight up again, its nose aimed at the sky. It stopped, trembled some more, turned nose toward the ground, and came down fast. I heard the two men screaming.
The helicopter plunged into the rain forest, slashing through leaves and trees. I heard a loud ripping sound- its rotor being torn off. Then silence. I heard the other helicopter, but it wasn't close. Wouldn't it come over us like this one had? Because they saw it go down?