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trees. It released a flare, a sound like putting out a match in a glass of water. The chopper sauntered and released another flare, almost over our heads. Then a red one, as it hovered at the edge of the forest. The helicopter began to descend.

     “Pickup time,” Dalzell said. “Curb service, can you beat it?”

     I heard voices on the path, up near the top. Voices I knew.

     Dalzell and Penney didn't notice; they were climbing out with all their noise.

     “Let's go,” Penney said.

     Nonoy had noticed. Through all the shaking and the roaring, his face hadn't cracked. His face …

     “In a minute,” I said. “I want to watch.”

     “You want to watch?”

     “It isn't over yet.”

     “You watch. We're skedaddling,” Dalzell said. They were walking through the brush. It was above their knees. “The chopper won't wait.”

     “It'll wait. Luis isn't there yet.”

     “That's all right. First one in gets the seat by the window.”

     “I'll be there.”

     “You got guts, Jack, I have to hand it to you.” He was yelling at me from the path. Penney was beside him. “No kidding, I never saw anything like it.”

     They ran. The chopper was settling into the field; I could tell from the noise and the dust. Four men had appeared up the path. The second flare wiped them with light and shadow through the trees. It was Baby, Luis, Orlando with an AK, and the gaunt-faced killer carrying a shotgun. They were walking single file in that order, coming our way, briskly but by no means in a panic. The chopper would wait.

     Nonoy was looking up at them. Staring. He didn't seem