Steve Martini - Trader of secrets

“Off to the right there should be a paved road, two lanes as I recall, into the jungle. It connects with the main highway between Cancun and Merida. It’s the road to Coba. After that I don’t know,” said Herman. “I’m afraid you’re on your own.”

“Nothing more specific?” Adin was in the chair next to him.

“The area around Coba is all Paul told me,” said Herman. “Whether he had more information I don’t know. Nothing back on the e-mail yet?”

Adin looked at the navigator who doubled as the radio operator. The man shook his head.

“We’ll just have to look,” said the pilot. He dropped the starboard wing and edged the plane toward the right. Moments later they picked up the narrow thread of light-colored asphalt leading into the jungle, the two-lane highway to Coba.

“What have we got for a landing strip?” asked the pilot. “Anything in the area?” He was talking to the navigator seated to the right of Herman and Adin at a kind of desk. The man was scanning a computer screen looking at charts and global positioning satellite (GPS) maps.

“Looks like one unimproved short strip, but it’s quite a ways out,” said the navigator. He did some quick calculations using the computer’s keyboard. “It’s halfway to Merida,” said the navigator. “Off a federal highway. Mexico one-eighty, it looks like. It’s a long way from Coba.”

“Great,” said the pilot. “Somebody better tell Uncle Ben we’ve got a logistics problem. Tell him to get up here.”

“I got it.” Adin unbuckled and headed back toward the cargo area.

“What’s the problem?” said Herman.

“Nowhere to put down,” said the pilot. “We can’t run the jeep and the trailer loaded with troops and munitions on a public highway. Not that far. We’ll end up in a firefight with the Mexican army.”

Herman nodded.

“We’ll have to look for something else,” said the pilot. “There’s bound to be other strips, but they’re not always marked on the charts.”

“Places prepared by the cartels,” said Herman.

The pilot nodded. “We may have to shoot our way in and out. I’m going to pull up to seventy-five hundred feet and level off in just a couple of minutes, as soon as we get some more eyes up front here to help us look. Tell some of the guys in the back to strap themselves on the ramp and lower it a little so they can see what’s behind us, in case we missed anything.”

Herman got up and followed Adin out of the flight cabin and down the ladder.

Liquida began the painful shimmy like a snake through the ducting, pushing with the rubber toes of his running shoes, pulling with his hands as best he could. He tried to make as little noise as possible, though the constant roar of the air conditioner sucking air through the return would have swallowed almost any sound coming from the vents.

He was moving away from the control room and the space next to it with the banks of computers. As he approached the next register, Liquida pulled the stiletto from the sheath in his coat. He used the sharp point to part several openings in the glass fibers of the filter so he could peek through the slatted metal vents down into the room below.

There was a long counter that separated the room into two sections. The door to the main corridor outside was closed and, if Liquida had to guess, it was locked. It wasn’t a solid-core wooden door like the one to Liquida’s room. This one was steel with a sensor on the wall so it could be opened with an electronic key card.

A man was seated at a desk against the wall on the left side of the room behind the counter. Liquida could see the back of his head as the guy worked over what looked like a set of books.

Against the opposite wall behind him was a large industrial safe, double doors, thick tempered steel that looked to be at least eight inches with two large cylindrical stainless-steel bolts protruding from each of the two open doors. Inside were stacks of cash, what looked like greenbacks, U.S. currency, enough of it to fill a small van.

Liquida wondered how many people worked here. Whoever they were, they weren’t taking their salary by check or in pesos. And neither was he.

With the ramp on the belly of the Hercules C-130 partway down, the noise from the four roaring Allison turboprop engines was deafening. Sarah had to cover both ears with her hands as wind swirled through the cargo hold. Herman held on to Bugsy’s leash as the three of them huddled against the side of the plane in front of the smaller cargo container.

Every once in a while Sarah would crawl to the corner of the container and look toward the back of the plane to see what they were looking at. All she could see from where she knelt was an endless green carpet of jungle. She felt the plane gaining altitude. She crawled back to Herman, petting Bugsy with one hand on the way.

“Good luck finding a place to land,” shouted Herman.

She nodded. “What if they can’t find one?”

Herman shrugged a shoulder and gave her a face like he had no clue.

“You think they’ll try to parachute?” she asked.

Herman shook his head. “Not into that.” What he meant was the jungle canopy. Anybody jumping into an area of dense foliage like that was asking for trouble. Most, if not all, would get hung up in the trees. Those who didn’t break bones or get killed in the fall would be easy targets for anybody on the ground with a rifle.

“Sarah!”

When she looked up, Adin was at the top of the ladder looking down from the flight deck. He waved them up and motioned for her to tie off the dog.

Sarah looped Bugsy’s leash through the cargo net on the side of the plane and tied it. She settled him down into a prone position on deck and petted him, then followed Herman up the ladder.

Once they were inside the flight compartment, Adin pointed out through the small windshield in front of the pilot. Off in the distance were two looming white dishes, one of them large enough that it looked like a giant parasol someone had dropped in the jungle.

Adin looked at her. “That has to be it.” He glanced at Herman.

“When Paul said antennas, I was thinking more along the lines of a series of towers,” said Herman.

“No.” Adin shook his head. “You see the smaller dish?”

Sarah and Herman squinted out toward the windshield and then nodded.

“That’s a radio telescope,” said Adin. “It’s not real big. Not as large as the ones in Puerto Rico, but it’s enough to see out into space.”

Herman gave him a puzzled look. “What’s that got to do with it?”

“It’s what we’re looking for,” said Adin.

“What do you mean?”

“Trust me, that’s it,” said Adin. “Look off to the left.” He took Herman by the arm and pointed. “You see that clearing next to the buildings?”

Herman squinted and then nodded.

“Pilot says it looks like a landing strip. Can’t tell if it’s paved from this distance, but it should be enough for us; that is, if it’s long enough.”

“You’re not gonna try and land there, are you?” said Herman.

Adin nodded. “It’s our best bet. If we get on the ground fast and off-load, they’ll never know what hit them.” He took a couple of steps forward and tapped the pilot on the shoulder.

“If that’s the place, you’re out of your mind,” said Herman.

Immediately the plane’s wing dipped. The C-130 made a deep banking turn, dropped altitude, and veered off to the left.

Sarah lost her footing. Adin grabbed her and held on until the plane leveled off. It circled away from the two massive dishes in the jungle and took a heading south toward Coba.

“Get your guys ready!” The pilot yelled over his shoulder to Teo Ben Rabin, who was seated behind him. “We’re only going to get one shot at this. I’ll approach low in over the trees,” said the pilot. “They gotta be ready to move the second we hit that runway.”