The Dorado Deception by Matt James

Author:Matt James [James, Matt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-04-27T22:00:00+00:00

16

It wasn’t much, but Jack was given a like-new AK-47, along with a couple extra of its signature banana-shaped magazines. The rifle was currently slung across his back. The ammunition went into a canvas pouch on his hip. Jack also received a machete. It, like the Kalashnikov rifle, was on his back, safely sheathed in a protective scabbard. Last but not least, Jack received a walkie-talkie, clipping it to his belt. The device contained ten channels to communicate through.

“Channel one is off-limits, except to Santiago and me,” Matias explained. “Channel two is for everyone else.” Jack nodded, grinning. “What?”

“You must hate this.”

Matias growled and shoved past him, stomping away. Jack didn’t react. He was enjoying the show of petulance too much. Jack’s presence threatened Matias. He had exposed the man’s ineptitudes at every turn, showing Aguilar that he was better at Matias’ job than he was—as a hostage, no less. Jack had willingly offered to help Aguilar, but there were no illusions about what was going on. Jack would only be useful until they found El Dorado.

Jack stepped up to the bow of the boat. He refrained from whooping into the air and shouting, “I’m the king of the world!” The breeze whipping by him felt great. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment, dissecting the smells and sounds of the remote jungle atmosphere. His radio crackled to life, causing him to sigh in disappointment. He unclipped it from his belt and lifted it to his ear.

Everything was in Spanish, but he did recognize a few words.

“Un día más,” the speaker announced.

Jack’s shoulders slumped. If his translation was correct, they still had another full day of travel to go before they reached their destination. Typically, Jack didn’t mind being out in the middle of nowhere for days on end. This was a different situation, though. It was an environment he had been trained to survive in, but not one he was particularly familiar with or fond of. Jack had spent most of his military career in the Middle East’s sunbaked deserts, not the wet rainforests of South America.

He was comfortable with the desert’s arid, scorching days and its cold-ass nights. Even now, Jack had done very little physically in over a day’s time, and yet, he was drenched in sweat and exhausted. The temperature wasn’t the problem here. It was the ungodly thick, equatorial air. Unless you were a native in a loincloth, you didn’t belong here.

Jack looked down at his clothing and sighed. He was clammy, but at least he was covered. The bugs in this part of the world were as vicious as the people that had just attacked them. The insects weren’t picky, and they took no prisoners.

The river widened a bit up ahead. Situated directly at its center was a jagged rock taller than their boat. It resembled some space-age shark fin—slicing through the ever-growing current.

Growing current!

Jack spun in time to see the other soldiers disappear behind the wheelhouse. Jack instantly knew what was coming. Men shouted in fright all around him.

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