Sebastián sits a few feet away, holding an empty cup and watching the flames. This feels like a good opportunity to make a personal connection. To convince him that the kidnappers can make their point without taking any more lives.

Suddenly I’m horrifyingly aware of how awful I must look, wearing almost as much sweat and mud as clothing. I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet today. But I’m not going to get a better shot, so I dig a breath mint from my pack and sit next to Sebastián.

He looks up, surprised, and I point at Óscar’s instant coffee. “If Colombia produces the best beans in the world, why is everyone drinking instant?”

Sebastián laughs, and heads turn our way. I can practically feel everyone watching us. “We export the best beans,” he says in his thick but comprehensible accent.

“All of them?” It doesn’t seem fair that those who produce the best coffee don’t get to drink it.

Rog chuckles as he passes behind us. “Colombian farmers are too smart to drink their own cash crop, when they can sell it to Americans foolish enough to pay more in a month for coffee than on their cell phone bills.”

Metal clinks, and I turn to see Óscar pouring hot water into cups held out by his fellow captors. He heads our way when Sebastián holds his mug up.

I’ve never needed coffee worse in my life.

When Óscar moves on, I make a show of sniffing the air and enjoying the aroma. “Smells good.”

Sebastián looks amused as he holds out his metal cup so I can see several small green leaves steeping in yellowish water. The scent of coffee is not coming from his mug. “Té de coca,” he says. “Want some?”

Do I want cocaine tea?

“There’s no actual cocaine in it,” Rog says, and I turn to see him sitting with his back to a tree, pulling his longish, frizzy hair into a low man bun. “A sip won’t hurt.”

So I accept the cup from Sebastián. He watches while I take a sip. I make a face. The tea is bitter and herbal-tasting.

He laughs again.

“Gracias.” I give the cup back and watch him sip from it while I consider an approach that will drive the wedge between Silvana and Sebastián deeper, while letting him know he can trust me. “I’m sorry if I got you in trouble with Silvana.” I look straight into his eyes to convey honesty. “Over my dad’s ‘resources.’”

Sebastián scowls. “I don’t answer to Silvana.”

“Oh.” I fake surprise. “That’s good. She’s kind of . . . horrible.”

“They don’t pay her to be sweet.”

“Well, if ‘they’ intended to hire a homicidal maniac, I’d say they got their money’s worth. Who else would want to smuggle bombs into the US on a cargo plane?” It doesn’t matter whether my guess is right or wrong. What matters is his reaction to it.

Sebastián leans closer and lowers his voice. “We don’t want a plane.”

I’m not sure I believe him. A plane would be the fastest, most direct way to get a bomb into the country, and he didn’t deny that they’d be smuggling bombs.

“You know everything that comes through customs is inspected, right?” I whisper as I study his reaction. “It’s not as simple as just unloading a bomb at the airport and driving off with—”

Horror sends a wave of chills over me. Maybe they won’t be driving off with the bomb. What if they’re planning to blow up an airport?

When he says nothing else, I glance at Silvana, then give him a sympathetic look. “I know, you’re not supposed to tell me what this is really about. She’s such a control freak.”

Sebastián chuckles. “If you were half as smart as you think you are, you’d be a very dangerous girl.”

“If you had half the balls you pretend to have, you’d be calling the shots here,” I return without missing a beat.

Sebastián looks insulted. Then he laughs out loud. “I’m calling plenty of shots. And that’s all you need to know.”

34 HOURS EARLIER

MADDIE

“There! Do you hear that?” I grab Luke’s hand, and his fingers go stiff. “That’s definitely water.”

He smiles. “Good ear.”

We veer to the north, and soon we find the bank of the very river I jumped into seven hours ago.

While Luke gathers dry twigs, I unpack the small wood-burning camp stove we scavenged from the technological treasure trove of Holden’s abandoned tent, and together we manage to get a compact but bright fire going.

“Wait.” He frowns at the stove, then at the plastic water bottles, which will melt at the first lick of flames. “We need something to boil the water in before we drink it.”

“We have something.” I sit on a fallen log and pop the top on two cans of soup, then hand one to him. “Eat fast.”

We have to pour bites into our mouths straight from the cans because we don’t have any spoons, and I smile when Luke lowers his to reveal a half circle of tomato soup rising from the corners of his mouth, like a grotesque clown smile.

“Yeah, well, you have a clam chowder mustache,” he fires back with a grin while he wipes his face on his sleeve. For the first time in hours, I don’t want to dig my own grave and lie down in it.

But then the radio at Luke’s waist crackles, and my smile dies. We hear only static, but the fact that we’re picking up anything at all means we’re getting closer to Genesis and the other hostages.

Closer to my brother’s killers.

I’m only going to get one shot at them. I will damn well be ready.

GENESIS

Everyone stares at me as I rejoin the hostages across the clearing. Indiana’s subtle smile says he knows what I’m up to with Sebastián, but I’m not even sure I do, anymore. He’s harder to read than I thought he’d be, and I still have no idea how they expect my dad to get a bomb past customs, or what they want to blow up. Or why.

“What the hell was that?” Holden demands in a whisper. In spite of his plan to distract a couple of the gunmen with my nudity, he’s wearing jealousy like a wool sweater—as if it chafes.

“What was what?”

He leans in to whisper what probably looks like something sweet and soft, his breath brushing my hair. “You can’t work Sebastián over in front of the whole world. You have to take him into the jungle and give him something better to hold on to than that rifle.”