Page 122 of Doyle

And the next.

And sure, she had climbing abilities, but?—

“Rope!”

She looked up in time to see a frayed rope careening down the side of the hole. She hugged the rock.

“I tied a bowline loop for your foot. Climb on and I’ll haul you up.”

What—?“You sure?”

“No, I thought I’d leave you down there to think about your crimes. Yes, I’m sure, Phoenix. Let’s go.”

She found the loop and put her foot in. The other she used to push herself away from the wall.

And then, as ifno problem, thanks,Muscles pulled her up. With her help.Sorta.

Whatever.She reached the top and found that he’d looped the rope around a nearby tree, then his waist, and made a pulley of sorts.

Still, sweat poured down his face into his shirt, which was starting to dry in the heat of the day.

Air. Fresh air.It filled her lungs, and she couldn’t take enough in.

She climbed out of the hole and fell to her hands and knees, wanting to openly weep at the light and fresh air and freedom.

He collapsed next to her. “Please, let’s never do that again.”

“My master plan to hike out might not have been the best.”

He eyed her. “We’re still alive.” Then he held out his fist.

Huh.She smacked it with hers.What, they were buddies now?

Rolling over, she lay on her back.

They’d emerged onto what looked like a small hill, volcanic boulders the size of her Fiat littering the area, a few scraggly evergreens, and brush fighting to survive. Beyond, the deep blue of the Caribbean Sea stretched out under a glorious dawn-painted blue sky.

He sat, staring out over the ocean. Then, suddenly, he got up. “We need to move.”

“Why?” She rolled to her feet.

“Because the people I stole the rope from are coming back.” He grabbed her and hauled her behind a boulder. Pointed.

Fifty-some feet away sat a portable drill rig, a truck, and a couple men in work clothes and hard hats, carrying a drum between them, coiling out a line.

“I took the rope off their truck.”

“Is that—wait.Is that detonation wire?”

He nodded. “They were inside the cave. I think they’re on a mining team.” He yanked her back and indicated down the dirt road to the base of the mountain.

What looked like a mining camp was set against a cleared-out portion of rainforest. Modular units circled a central compound, and drilling rigs and an excavator sat in a nearby lot. A satellite dish lifted from one of the units, pointed toward the sky.

A few men moved around the camp in the early morning.

Voices lifted from nearby, and she stilled, listening.

Russian.

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