17.
We land in Lima some eight hours later. From there we hop a connecting flight that takes us up to the Sacred Valley. The twin prop plane bounces around the turbulent air of the Andes Mountains like a leaf in a windstorm and it’s all I can do to keep our previous in-flight breakfast of microwaved scrambled eggs and bacon from coming up on me.
“My God,” Leslie says, as soon as she disembarks from the plane, “I can hardly breathe.”
Rodney pulls his sidearm from a pea green military-style holster that also supports a twelve-inch fighting knife.
“That’s because you’re more than seven thousand feet above sea level.” He smiles, clearly the type to enjoy life the more uncomfortable it gets. “That’s the equivalent of a mile and a half.”
“Shouldn’t the air be cooler?” the lit agent turned e
