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Chad almost balked when they arrived at San Luis Airport in Colombia. A small plane awaited them.
If he and Tanya boarded, it would be impossible for the team to follow them. He’d been careful to not give away that they were following, not by glance, not by a single turn to see if anyone was over his shoulder beyond what would be normal for a man leading a small team across the Ecuadorian farmlands in the middle of the night. But he had no doubt that even now his Delta companions were arrayed strategically around the airport, ready to act on a moment’s notice.
The little twin-engine, low-winged Beech Baron seated six and could fly fifteen hundred miles. She could reach anywhere from the Yucatán or Miami to Bolivia in a single flight. La Capitana’s test hadn’t been for them to walk fr
