Catalyst (Breakthrough Book 3)(99)
Once inside, Clay estimated a distance of thirty feet before lowering his bag and fishing out a small compact military style flashlight. He turned it on, instantly washing the narrow walls in bright light.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Li Na nodded. She stepped forward carefully, using the ambient glow from Clay’s light in front of her. The ground was littered with chunks of rock and large pieces of stone, some of which had fallen from the low ceiling, leaving pocks overhead.
The walls, less than a foot away on either side, bore deep scrapes in the rock and were largely covered in a dark film.
“Did the kid mention what kind of mine this was?”
Li Na paused for a moment. “Uh...coal?”
Clay fingered some of the material off a nearby wall and smelled it. “Iron ore.”
“Iron ore. Yes. What is it for?”
“It’s used in steel.” Clay picked up his bag, holding it out in front of him as he moved forward. Things just kept getting worse.
60
Things were getting worse. Caesare studied the distant sky, which was continuing to change. The setting sun had already disappeared behind the dark horizon, cutting their light short and causing the team to turn back early. Their storm had resumed its easterly direction.
Tiewater stepped up behind Caesare, who was standing on a rocky outcropping. “That doesn’t look good.”
“No. It doesn’t.”
“How long?”
Caesare shook his head. “I’m not sure. Maybe tomorrow morning.”
Tiewater scratched at the base of his lightly colored hair. He was graying prematurely, giving a distinguished contrast against his darker eyebrows. “We’re going to need to find some cover. That could be a hell of a downpour.”
“Agreed,” Caesare nodded. This was all they needed.
They both turned as Anderson came rushing out from a wall of palms below and scaled the small incline. He reached them only slightly out of breath.
“I may have some good news.”
“Good, we could use some.”
“I found some tracks headed northwest. Tire tracks. We have company up here and it’s not Otero.”
Caesare and Tiewater looked at each other. “Who?”
“Poachers, most likely.”
“Poachers?” Tiewater frowned. “Why is that good news?”
A wry grin appeared on Caesare’s face, matching Anderson’s. “Because the poachers may be looking for the same thing we are.”
“And not even realize it,” Anderson added.
Caesare motioned to Tiewater. “You two check it out. Corso and I will stay here and find some shelter. If nothing else, maybe these poachers can save us some time.” He checked his watch. “Find out where they are, fast.”
“Yes, sir.” Together, both men promptly scrambled back downhill and disappeared.
Caesare stepped down and followed a small path of matted grass back to the area where the rest were seated.
Corso approached him and spoke in a low voice. “What’s up?”
“Anderson may have found us a shortcut. In the meantime, we need to find some shelter. The storm isn’t finished with us.”
“Yeah, I saw that. I’ll see what I can find.” He raised a small wire microphone and earplug, then wrapped it around his left ear.
Caesare turned to DeeAnn and Juan, resting on a pair of nearby rocks. They looked exhausted.
“Where’s Dulce?”
DeeAnn looked up above Caesare’s head. He followed her eyes up just in time to catch the small gorilla, hanging from the tree and trying to place a small white flower on his head.
“Someone seems to be enjoying herself.”
Juan finished replacing the batteries and handed the vest back to DeeAnn. “Where’d the other guys go?”
“They’re checking some things out. The storm is headed our way again.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were. Things may be about to get very wet.” He scanned the ground around them. “And very muddy.”
“What do we do?”
“Corso’s searching for shelter. If we can find a decent place, we’ll need to relocate.”
“Where are the other two?”
“Looking for a shortcut.”
Juan and DeeAnn both looked at each other. “What does that mean?”
He grinned at DeeAnn. “It means that even poachers may still have one redeeming quality.”
61
“Poacher” was such an ugly word. Hugo preferred almost any other term. And frankly, he never understood why the practice was even illegal.
The Brazilian took another drag off his cigarette and scratched his stubbled chin absently.
As far as he was concerned, the black market was the way the world should be, pure opportunity without all the government leeching.