“What now?” Linc asked Kerry.
“He’s taking us to their camp.”
Linc muttered a curse. “For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
“What for?”
“To decide what to do with us.”
With rifles at their backs, they were nudged forward. Kerry called out to the crying children, telling them that she would see them shortly. She couldn’t bear the sight of their frightened, tear-streaked faces as the truck rolled past. The commander told the soldier who was now driving the truck to take the cutoff. Apparently the camp wasn’t far away.
The soldiers slipped through the jungle soundlessly. They moved through the undergrowth without disturbing a single leaf. When Linc tried to make further conversation with Kerry, he was warned to be quiet. The command was issued so threateningly that he obeyed it, though his jaw was bunched with anger.
They reached the guerrilla camp just as the truck was driven into the clearing from the opposite side. Kerry asked permission to go to the children and it was granted. They poured over the side of the pickup, scrambling toward her, seeking reassurance.
Joe was shoved against the side of the truck along with Linc. Linc’s camera bags were heaved over the side and opened. Each piece of photographic equipment was examined.
“Tell them to get their goddamned hands off my cameras,” he shouted to Kerry.
She shot him a glance that warned him to keep his voice low and his temper under control. She faced the leader. “Mr. O’Neal is a professional photographer. He takes pictures and sells them to news magazines.” He seemed impressed, though still suspicious.
On a sudden inspiration, Kerry looked at
Linc, where he was being held at gunpoint against the side of the truck. “Do you have a Polaroid?”
“Yeah. Sometimes I use it to set up shots, to check the lighting angles.”
“And film?” He nodded.
She turned to the guerrilla, whose dark eyes were moving over her in a most disconcerting way. She ignored his blatantly sexual appraisal. “Would you like Mr. O’Neal to take a picture of you and your men? A group portrait.”
She could tell instantly that the idea appealed to the guerrillas. They began joking among themselves, poking each other playfully, using their automatic weapons like toys.
The leader roared for silence, and, as quickly as the joviality commenced, it ended. They all became stock-still.
“Wanna fill me in on what the hell is going on?” Linc demanded in a tightly controlled voice.
Kerry told him what she had suggested. “We might bribe our way out of this with a few photographs.”
Linc glanced around at the group of hostile men. “They might get their pictures but murder us all anyway.”
“Then you think of something!” she whispered tartly. “Even if we do get out alive, this is wasting precious time.”
Linc looked at her with grudging respect. Most women would have dissolved into hysterics after the ambush. He knew from experience that her sharp mind could devise alternate plans as the situation called for them.
“All right. Tell the leader to line them up, call off this bozo,” he said, glaring at the man who had the barrel of his M-16 embedded an inch in his belly, “and let me get my camera ready.”
She told the rebel what Linc had said. When she saw that he still wasn’t as keen on the idea as his men were, she spread it on thick. “Senor O’Neal is famous. A prize winner. The photographs of you and your men will appear in magazines everywhere. They will demonstrate to the world your fighting spirit and bravery.”
Sullenly the guerrilla pondered what she said, then abruptly broke into a wide grin of approval. His men, who had lapsed into expectant silence, began chattering and laughing again.
“Get your camera,” Kerry told Linc. “Start with a Polaroid so they can see immediate results.”
Linc thoroughly enjoyed shoving aside the soldier who had been ordered to guard him. He used the heel of his hand rather more roughly than necessary and was rewarded by a scowl. He bent over his camera bag, cursing as he dusted off his expensive equipment, which had been heedlessly dropped onto the ground.
While he was loading his cameras with film, having decided that these pictures would not only be lifesaving, but profitable, too, Kerry assembled the soldiers. They stood proud and tall, showing off their Uzis like fishermen with the day’s largest catch.