![]() If he ran for the door, he might not leave here today. But his limbs locked as he tried to catch his breath. All Carlos had to do was dash fifteen yards to the door and slip in. The building’s side door was midway open, stalled by its rusty hinge. The soldier with the thick, sun-browned neck guarding the gate behind him might shoot him on sight. The building looked like it should have been empty, except for the mud-caked military truck and three civilian cars parked in a neat row near the main entrance’s glass double doors. He was miles beyond the town, past coffee plantations and bamboo forests, stranded inside the razor fencing of a two-story pale green building battered nearly white by the sun maybe an old water-treatment plant or sewage facility. A shadow hid Carlos from the guard, but for how long?įear stole the oxygen from Carlos’s lungs. Army soldier patrolled the compound’s gate with an M-16. ![]() Twenty-five yards from him, a stocky U.S. Or an invitation.Ĭarlos had scraped his arm raw sliding down from the low-hanging branches of the flowering Maricao tree where he’d camouflaged himself for the past hour, but pain was the least of his problems. Carlos Harris’s breath rasped as he stared at the building’s side entrance across the muddy courtyard. ![]()
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