Page 4 of Cavern of Silence

"Yes."

"How many times?" he barks.

"Several."

"And Jorge Cano?"

"Often."

"With Jonas Torres?"

I stay silent, and spit flies into my face as he screams, "Tell me."

"Yes."

"And the Belizean cabinet members. You've flown with them?"

I nod.

"You know secrets, and you're going to tell me."

"I don't. I'm just a flight attendant."

He scoffs. "You have ears, correct?"

My stomach churns. "Yes."

"Then you've heard things."

"I haven't. I'm nobody important. Please. Just let me go."

He pulls out a clear bottle and rag.

I don't know what it is, but my gut tells me it isn't anything good.

He soaks the rag in fluid and puts the cap back on the bottle. I scoot as close to the door as I can, but there isn't any point.

Santiago moves closer, holds the rag over my nose, and I pass out.

Several times, I wake up, but it's always dark. Something is over my eyes, and my hands and ankles are restrained. I try to speak, but the cloth goes back over my nose, and I pass out again.

I'm not sure how long it lasts. Hours, maybe days, pass. When I wake up, the sound of monkeys screeching and birds cawing fills my ears.

Am I in a jungle?

I'm violently dragged out of a vehicle, and my ankle and hand restraints are removed. Someone pulls the blindfold off me, and I blink a few times as my eyes adjust to the brightness of my new surroundings.

Sunlight peeks through the lush green trees. The rushing of water makes me believe a river is nearby. Tents line the edge of the camp, and men sit around, playing cards or skinning animals. White smoke smolders from a fire pit.

"Time to wash up," a man I don't recognize says in Spanish.

"Where am I?"

He puts his hand on my throat, and I struggle for air. "Your job isn't to ask questions. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I gasp out.

He points to another man. "Take her to the river."