“No roads at all, most of the time,” Mike added wryly. “A lot of llama, alpaca and cow trails, though.”

“S`i. And telephones are a luxury. Especially anywhere outside of Lima, the capital, or Cusco, the second largest city in our country.”

“Translated,” Houston growled, “that means that Rojas doesn’t have an iridium satellite phone, which he could use to call anywhere in the world, because he can’t yet afford one. He can’t use a cell phone up there in those mountains, either. So he’s got to get back to Cusco, would be my guess, to get to a phone to make a call. Which—” Mike smiled a little “—can be difficult at best. If he’s the struggling little upstart of a drug lord I think he is, he doesn’t have the money, the means or the people to do this. It’s probably too soon to expect a call.”

“But what about Tal? What will he do to her?” Jake choked back the emotion rising in his chest and jamming his throat. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to wrap his fingers around Rojas’s scrawny little neck and choke him to death if he was the one who had kidnapped Tal. What would the man do to her? Rape her? Bitterness coated Jake’s mouth. Jake couldn’t stand the thought of such a thing happening to his vibrant sister, who was like sunshine in his life.

Houston sighed. “What kind of a personality does Tal have?”

“She’s outgoing. Spirited. Vibrant. She walks into a room and everyone turns to look at her.” Jake smiled a little, his voice softening. “She’s such a warm person, Major Houston. Very caring.”

“Is she a pushover?” Pilar asked.

Jake shook his head. “No, just the opposite. She’s a fighter. She can confront the meanest bastard and look him in the eye and stand toe-to-toe with him and win.”

Houston nodded approvingly. “Good. Because mealymouthed tyrants like Rojas are usually afraid of big, bruising norteamericana women, who are seen as Amazon warriors. South American men are used to passive females who do their bidding.” He glanced past Morgan and gave Pilar an apologetic look. “There are exceptions, of course.”

Pilar nodded deferentially. “Thank you, Mike.”

Jake looked at them. “You’re saying that if she stays strong, he won’t…hurt her?”

“That’s right,” Houston murmured. “She probably scares the pants off Rojas.” He chuckled.

Pilar laughed softly. “South American men have not learned how to deal with a strong, self-empowered woman yet.” Her dark eyes sparkled mischievously. “But they are learning.”

Jake leaned forward. “That leads me to why I’m here, Mr. Trayhern. I need to get down there. I need help, though. The kind only you can give me. Can you send me with one of your mercenaries as a guide? So I can find Tal? My parents are Iowa farmers. They don’t have any money at all, but I’ve got about ten thousand dollars saved and—”

“Save your money,” Morgan murmured. He looked at Mike. “Who do we have in from a mission that we could send down with him?”

Mike rolled his eyes. “No one. We’re stretched thin right now, Morgan.”

Scowling, he said, “Are you sure?”

Mike nodded glumly. “Very sure.”

Pilar sat up. “Then you need someone from inside Peru to assist you. Mike, what about Captain Maya Stevenson? She’s got a spec ops—special operations—base near Machu Picchu, right?”

Snapping his fingers, Houston sat up. “That’s right! She’s got Apache helicopter pilots from various countries working under her command. And if I recall, there are two Peruvian pilots among them. Home grown. The kind we need right now.”

Pilar grinned a little. “What are the chances of persuading Captain Stevenson to loan out a pilot who might know not only the area, but the Quechua language as well? The Rainbow Valley is mostly made up of Quechua Indian villages, where Spanish is a second language, not the first, as it is in the rest of the country.”

Morgan looked from Mike to Pilar. “Sounds good to me. What you don’t know is that I’ve been in contact with her already. I got wind, through an army general friend of mine, of her needing upgraded Apache helicopters. She indicated that she might be willing to work with us in order to get those upgrades. I haven’t told her how we might work with her.”

Jake frowned. “I don’t understand. You don’t have a team or a person from Perseus who can help me find Tal?”

“No, Son, we don’t.” Morgan smiled slightly. “But we have other contacts that might work out just as well. Maybe better. Mike, you want to contact Captain Stevenson on the iridium scramble sat com? Tell her I want to trade one of her Peruvian women pilots for those Apache upgrades she’s been wanting.” He scowled. “She won’t be easily convinced, Mike, so hang tough with her. She’s shorthanded as hell and isn’t about to let one go unless we wave those much-needed upgrades under her nose. She’s a savvy negotiator.”

Rising, Mike said, “You bet. Hang around, Captain Travers, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Nonplussed, Jake looked at Morgan. “Who’s this Captain Stevenson?”

“She’s a shadowy spec ops figure who is under spook supervision. We don’t know a whole lot about her, as her work is on a need-to-know basis. The general I talked to put me in touch with her about a month ago.”

Spooks were the CIA, Jake realized. “A woman helicopter pilot down in Peru and working for the CIA?”