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involved with the underworld he’d found that the rewards they had offered far too tempting to refuse. It hadn’t taken much for him turn his back on all that was good and just, to succumb to a life as a mercenary selling himself to the highest bidder where the difference between right and wrong was only judged by the price.
    Railing against his lack of professionalism, he vilified himself, calling himself every kind of fool. If he’d kept his mind on the job instead of in his pants, Eleanor wouldn’t be in this predicament now. She’d still be safe at the plane, and he’d have delivered the discs.
    Closing his mind to further recriminations, Abraham donned his professionalism like a cloak. Panning the binoculars around, he made within seconds a mental note of where everyone was, what equipment they had, and what they were doing. Eleanor was now under a makeshift shelter, bound hands and feet. Two men were patrolling the parameter of the clearing, holding machine guns, machetes tucked into their belts, and the one apparently in charge was conversing volatility in Portuguese with another man and glancing over at Eleanor. Abraham’s instincts tightened his gut, twisting in an agony he’d never felt before. He knew that look.

Chapter Ten
     
    Lying on the forest floor, Abraham moved stealthily, crawling through the scrub, the rotting vegetation, and numerous insects, which scurried away or, in some cases, signalled their displeasure by angrily displaying their striations. Tree frogs scurried up trees, and spiders’ eyes gleamed at him like stars in the dark undergrowth. Travelling slowly, he inched forward, using his elbows as leverage. At the perimeter of the clearing, he crouched behind a fern as big as a tree and drew out his binoculars, directing them once again toward the encampment.
    Eleanor visibly shook as one of the men pulled her to her feet and dragged her toward the one they called Carlos. Brought up in front of him, she stood tense as he walked nonchalantly around her, and she could feel his eyes on her. It was like they were burning into her quivering flesh.
    “What is your name?” he asked in astonishingly correct English.
    Staring at him in surprise, Eleanor failed to answer until roughly shoved from behind.
    “I’ll ask you again, who are you?”
    “My name’s Eleanor Courtney-Vance,” she replied, for some indefinable reason even more frightened by the fact that he spoke such good Oxford English.
    “Well, Miss Eleanor Courtney-Vance, perhaps you could enlighten me as to what you are doing here?”
    Swallowing hard, Eleanor explained in a small but steady voice about the crash, but for some unknown reason, cautiously decided to keep quiet about Abraham.
    Staring silently at her, Carlos reached out with one hand and closed his fingers tightly around her throat, forcing her head up.
    “So, Eleanor—may I call you Eleanor?” he asked quietly.
    Eleanor nodded, so terror stricken that she thought she might faint.
    “So, Eleanor, you expect me to believe that you survived the crash, crawled out of the wreckage, and managed to make your way this far, through the brutality of the Amazonian jungle all on your own?
    “Yes,” she whispered through trembling lips, feeling her eyes growing wider.
    Narrowing his gaze, Carlos stared deep into their depths then tightened his fingers around her throat until she gasped for breath. Her tied hands lifted to grasp his wrist, her fingers clawing at the flesh on his hands.
    Just as the world was beginning to darken, he released her. Falling to the ground at his feet, she coughed, panting and gasping for air.
    Being dragged roughly to her feet again had her trembling once more.
    “Now, Eleanor, we will begin again. Who is with you? And what of the discs?”
    “No one. No one is with me, and I don’t know anything about discs,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes.
    Carlos watched her tears through narrowed eyes, admiring how their dewlike clarity formed