Chapter Eight
The flight was nearly three hours back to the airport where I was ushered out of the small twin-engine Cessna and into a luxurious private jet. Within a few minutes we taxied down the runway and headed south towards the horizon.
“Philippe,” Mr. Rodriguez said after we had been airborne for about twenty minutes. “Remove his cuffs so he can share a drink with me just like old times.”
“But, Señor, he may try something.”
“No he won’t, will you, Adam?”
“No, Sir. Everything will be fine. I promise.”
“I know you will because you’d hate to return to the jungle and endure what that little scum bag that I left with Maria is going to get. And you know me. I’m a man of my word. Now enough of this talk. Why don’t you get up and fix us all a drink.”
“Yes, Sir.”
God that twenty year
