Hand still clamped on Rivera’s wrist, Sam took a big step backward, dropped his center of gravity and twisted his hips, whipping Rivera’s body flat across the floor. Sam released the wrist and dropped onto Rivera’s back. He snaked his right arm around the throat, going for a rear naked choke. Rivera reacted immediately, lashing backward with an elbow punch that caught Sam below the eye. His eyesight sparkled and dimmed. He turned his face away, felt another elbow crash into the back of his head. Sam breathed through it and curled his forearm, sliding farther across Rivera’s throat. Using his legs as counterweights, Sam rolled left, taking Rivera with him. Then Rivera made his mistake: He panicked. He stopped throwing elbows and started clawing at the forearm around his neck. Sam extended the choke, clamped his right hand onto his left bicep, then squeezed while pressing his head forward, forcing Rivera’s chin toward his chest and compressing his carotid arteries. Almost immediately Rivera’s flailing weakened. Another second, and he went limp. Sam held on for three more beats, then let go and shoved Rivera aside. Sam got to his knees and checked the man’s pulse and breathing: alive but in a deep sleep.

Sam took ten seconds to catch his breath, then climbed to his feet. He reached up and touched his cheekbone; his fingers came back bloody. He shuffled out the door, looked around to make sure all was clear, then held up five fingers. He returned inside.

Remi stepped through the door sixty seconds later. She glanced at Rivera’s motionless body, then to Sam, then dropped their backpacks. She strode to Sam and they embraced. She pulled away. She used her index finger to tilt his face sideways. She frowned.“It looks worse than it is,” Sam said.

“How do you know what it looks like? You’re going to need stitches.”

“My pageant days are over.”

Remi nodded to Rivera. “Is he . . .”

“Just sleeping. He’s going to be one angry man when he wakes up.”

“Then let’s not be here. I assume we’re going with the helicopter hijacking?”

“They were kind enough to load the bell aboard. It’d be rude to let that effort go to waste. The Rinker . . . Did you . . .”

“Jerked out the wires and tossed them overboard. What now? Tie him up?”

“No time. We’ve got surprise on our side. If anyone comes back looking for him, that’s gone.” Sam looked around. He walked forward and opened a door, revealing a ladder leading upward. “That’ll be the bridge. Go up and do some damage to their communications.”Remi said, “Ship-to-shore phone and radio, right?”

Sam nodded. “I’ll go below and see if there’re any bazookas lying around.”

“Pardon?” “We’re going to have company at the helicopter pad, and I doubt they’ll be happy to see us. Something big and loud and scary might change their minds.”

Sam knelt down, retrieved Rivera’s gun-another H amp;K semiautomatic-and handed it to Remi. She examined it for a few moments, then deftly ejected the magazine, checked the ammunition, slid the magazine back into place, flipped on the safety, and shoved the H amp;K into her waistband.Sam stared at her.

She said, “Home and Garden Television.”

“Okay, then. We’ll meet back here in two minutes.”

Remi headed up the ladder, and Sam went belowdecks. He ransacked each of the six sleeping quarters and found only one weapon, a .357 Magnum revolver. He went back up the ladder. Remi was waiting.“How’d you do?” he asked.

“I ripped both handsets out of their sockets and tossed them overboard.”

“That’ll work. Okay. Everyone’s waiting for Rivera at the pad. With luck, it’ll be Yaotl, Nochtli, the guard, and the pilot. Four people at most. We drive up and hope they don’t get suspicious until it’s too late.”“And if there’s a big party waiting for us?”

“We retreat.”

BIG SUKUTI ISLAND

“OKAY, SIT TIGHT,” SAM SAID TO REMI.

He brought the cart to a halt and set the parking brake. Ahead he could see the crest of the path. He walked forward until he could see over the rise. A hundred feet down the path was a clearing where the road forked up to the main house. To the right of the clearing, sitting under the glow of a pole-mounted sodium-vapor lamp, was the helicopter pad.

Sam walked back to the cart. Remi asked, “How many?”

“I only saw three: the guard, Nochtli, and Yaotl, all standing together at the edge of the pad. They’ve all got AK-74s, but they’re slung over their shoulders. As for the pilot, no sign. He’s either at the house or sitting in the helicopter waiting.”“No offense, Sam, but I hope it’s the latter. If we convince him to fly us-”

“No offense taken.”

“What about the bell?”

“It’s not on the Cushman. Looks like they’ve done the heavy lifting. I’ll take the first three; you head straight for the helicopter. You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” She crouched on the golf cart’s floor and ducked her head beneath the fiberglass dashboard. She looked up at him. “You don’t look much like Rivera.”

“As long as we get close enough fast enough, it won’t matter.”

Sam withdrew the .357 and the H amp;K from his pockets, tucked one each beneath a thigh, then released the parking brake and depressed the gas pedal. The cart eased forward, and within seconds they were over the crest and heading for the clearing. He resisted the impulse to jam the accelerator to the floorboards.“Fifty feet to go,” he muttered to Remi. “Still haven’t seen us.”

At thirty feet, Yaotl looked up and spotted the cart. He said something to the other two. They turned around. All eyes were on the cart now.

“Still no reaction,” Sam said. “Hold on tight. I’m going in.”

He stomped on the gas pedal, and the cart accelerated, covering the final twenty feet in a matter of seconds. Sam slammed on the brake, locking the parking mechanism, took his hands off the wheel, grabbed both guns, and jumped out before the trio, just outside the glow of the pole light. He raised both guns.“Evening, gentlemen,” he said.

“It’s you . . .” said Yaotl.

“Us,” Sam corrected. Without a word, Remi climbed from the cart and joined Sam, who told the group, “Everyone act natural. Nothing’s changed. Just three guys hanging around. Big smiles, everyone.”

He and Remi had decided it was best to assume the pad was under observation from the Big Eyes binoculars on the main house’s roof. To avoid arousing suspicion, Yaotl and the other two would have to keep their weapons until Sam and Remi were ready to leave.“Remi, see what you can do about that light.”

Careful to stay at the edge of its glow, Remi stepped forward and studied the pole. “No switch, but the cables are coming up from the ground. It looks like standard one-ten voltage.”

Sam said, “Nice of Okafor to cut corners for us.” While two-twenty-volt lines carried enough juice to electrocute, one-ten lines carried only enough to cause a painful jolt. “Do you think you can make it to the helo without being seen?”“I think so. Be right back.”

She walked back down the road and ducked into some bushes alongside the helicopter pad. Thirty seconds later she appeared on the opposite side and, using the helicopter to screen her movements, sprinted to the pilot’s door. With the pilot under her H amp;K, she retraced her course and returned to where Sam stood. The pilot was a short black man in dark blue coveralls. His expression was one of genuine fear.Remi said, “The crate’s aboard, all strapped down.”

Yaotl asked Sam, “Where’s Rivera?”

“Napping.”

The guard moved his hand, trying surreptitiously to unsling his AK-74. Sam raised the gun and pointed it at his head. “Don’t,” Sam said, then added in Swahili: “Usifanye hivyo!”

The guard stopped, let his hand drop.“Remi, do you have them?”

“I have them.”

Sam stepped backward and motioned for the pilot to join him. “What’s your name?” “Jingaro.”