“I couldn’t agree with you more, but nothing can be done about it. Seems to be a done deal.”

“Can’t you help us?” Caroline pleaded.

“What, and compromise my reportorial neutrality? Sorry, miss. Best I can do is get on the phone and let the embassy know what happened to you. Of course, if you are trying to avoid the attention of U.S. government agencies ”

“Surely this man in the hat doesn’t think he owns us?”

“He’d better not.” Even as he spoke Ross Ed was acutely aware there was little they could do to affect the proceedings, unless Jed could nudge the man mentally. And if such effects were only temporary or limited in scope, that might not be such a good idea. They’d still be stuck in the middle of raw jungle. Around them macaws squawked and monkeys chittered in the treetops.

At last the negotiations were concluded. The man in the hat rose and shook hands with the rebel leaders. Then he and his sinister escorts advanced on Ross Ed and Caroline. McClure thoughtfully moved to one side.

Quite unexpectedly, the hatted one broke out in a wide grin and stuck out his hand. Not knowing what else to do, Ross shook it. The grip was firm and straightforward. Even more unexpectedly, he then turned to Caroline, raised her right hand, and bent to kiss it, perspiration notwithstanding.

Confused and wary, she responded with a warning look. ‘fat was nice, but don’t go getting any ideas just because you think you’ve paid for us.”

The man made anxious placating gestures. “I am Armando de la Vega. Por favor, wait until los indios have gone on their way and we will talk. I promise that no harm will come to either of you.” His English was heavily accented but readily understandable.

An hour later Ross Ed and Caroline bid farewell to McClure, who wished them well. When the line of rebels was finally out of sight over the next ridge, their new host gestured for them to follow.

“Just a minute.” Ross didn’t move. “Why should we?”

De la Vega turned and walked back to them. “Well, for one thing, because I gave money to free you from the rebels. More to the point, if the army finds you here, you may very well be shot as collaborators, or at least arrested. Besides, you don’t want your U.S. Army Intelligence people to pick you up, not after all tire running you have been doing. Do you?” He winked.

The two startled Americans exchanged a look. “How’d you know about that?” Ross Ed asked him.

Again the expansive smile fell upon them. “I have my own technicians, who know their way around fax/modems and satellite telephones as well as radios and TVs. I have been reading with interest your Mr. McClure’s reports back to New York. It is an excellent way for me to keep abreast of the

rebellion. Encoded army communications are a little more difficult to decipher, but these days you can do anything with the right chip, es verdad?” He turned and beckoned.

“Now come with me. Or do you still prefer the jungle to cold drinks, cooked food, and a bath?”

“A bath?” Caroline all but swooned. “Take me, I’m yours.”

“Caroline!” Ross Ed blurted.

She shrugged and grinned. “Well, figuratively, anyway.”

They fell in alongside him, the two escorts spreading out to flank them on either side, guns at the ready.

“You live out here?” Caroline studied the slightly tanninstained water with interest as they slogged toward the opposite bank. Meanwhile Ross slipped on smooth river rock and fought to right himself.

De la Vega nodded absently. His attention was focused on the Texan’s burden. “Is that really an ancient Mayan god? The American officers speak frequently of a valuable ‘parcel’ you are supposed to be carrying.”

“It’s a dead alien,” Ross Ed explained tiredly. “His name’s Jed.”

“Really? You don’t say. I have seen such things in films, but never expected to encounter a real one.”

Surmounting the opposite bank, they started up another slope. Not as severe as the one they had ascended in the company of the rebels, it soon leveled off. At this, Caroline was visibly relieved and Ross Ed silently grateful. It was the climate here that sapped one’s energy, not the climbing. Occasionally they had to duck beneath fallen trees, but otherwise they made good progress.

“U.S. Army Intelligence must want something very badly to involve uniformed soldiers in a domestic Mexican rebellion. Since neither of you strike me as especially remarkable, I must assume they are interested in your alien.”

“What’s any of this to you?” Ross Ed tried not to sound too belligerent. “Why should you get involved?” He was afraid he knew the answer. De la Vega’s reply went a long way toward confirming it.

“I am a businessman, and where there is opportunity for profit, I am always interested.” He flicked an inch-long ant off his leg. “Also, I have no love for the armies of either country, and it pleases me to confound them. I do much business with the rebels, but I also am a confidant of the local police.”

“So you’re another amoral local,” Caroline surmised, “like Santos.”

“Ah, Santos!” De la Vega kissed bunched fingers. “Such food the man serves! It is not Vera Cruz, but for the hinterland he does wonders. What he can do with camarones is sinful.”

“So you want Jed, too.” Ross Ed was hardly surprised.

“A dead alien. A real dead alien.” The man wagged a finger at them. “These are possibilities that are new to me, and require careful consideration.”

“Just so you should know where we all stand,” the Texan told him, “I wouldn’t give him up to the U.S. Army, I didn’t give him up to the rebels, and I won’t give him up to you.”

“Please, please.” De la Vega assumed a hurt expression. “So much hostile.” He looked at Caroline. “Is he always like this?”

“He’s just being protective. Based on what he’s told me about the things that have happened to him and on what I’ve seen for myself, he has reason to be.”

“So. Now then, you are from Texas,” he told Ross, “and you”—he studied Caroline intently—“I’m not so sure. Ohio?”

She shook her head. “Sorry. Nebraska.”

“I have never been to Nebraska, but I have a feeling I would not do much business there.”

They crossed a small bridge fashioned of logs bound together with strips of vine. Caroline picked her way carefully while Ross Ed, accustomed to working atop oil rigs, sauntered across effortlessly.

“What is your business?” Caroline inquired. “Oil exploration, gold mining, logging, cattle ranching?”

“None of those things. We are too far south for oil, there is no gold in this part of the Yucatán, and this is a protected region as far as logging and ranching are concerned.” He straightened proudly. “I am a dedicated environmentalist, as you will see.

“I am a simple, small farmer who believes in preserving the rain forest.”

“And what is it that you farm?” Ross asked him.

“Only native produce. Hemp, mostly. For rope, of course.” He smiled sadly. “Is it my fault that instead of using it to make nets and things, misguided people choose to burn it and inhale the smoke? Except for your president, of course.”

Wonderful, Ross reflected. They’d gone from being chased by the armies of two countries to being held by Indian rebels to being bought by a local drug lord. It was almost enough to make one wish for the cool assurance of the Culakhan. At least they operated according to a Code.

“You’re a dope dealer.”

De la Vega raised a hand. ‘but, mi compadre. A businessman, if you please. I sell only what my customers want. If norteamericanos want to smoke my produce instead of braid it, who am I to argue with them? I do admit that the laws I choose to pledge allegiance to are those of supply and demand.”

Following in their host’s agile footsteps, Ross Ed hopped lithely across a foot-wide stream of army ants. “So where does that leave us?”

“Please, not here. It is too hot. We will talk more when we reach my hacienda. It is just ahead, just there.” He raised an arm.

Ross stared. “Ahead where? I don’t see anything but more jungle.”