The Edge

there."

    Sherlock took my arm and led me toward the emergency room. "We made it," she whispered. "Don't worry, Mac. Laura will be fine."

    An hour later we'd been examined, cleaned up somewhat, but Savich and I still looked like wild men, with stubble on our faces, torn fatigues, and swollen insect bites covering our necks and the backs of our hands. As for Sherlock, she looked like Little Orphan Annie before she hit the big time, her red hair a wild nimbus around her head, her face pale, her clothes stiff with dried mud. I leaned down and kissed her cheek. She tasted like insect repellent.

    But at least we looked human again, barely, and that was a good start.

    I called Laura's boss, Richard Atherton, of the DBA. Savich set up a conference call with his boss, Jimmy Maitland, and Carl Bardolino, my chief. We went over every detail of what had happened. It took at least an hour, some of it peppered with curses from Atherton. We agreed they would fill in our embassy and contact the local authorities to get us protection. They all wanted to come and bring agents with them. Bottom line, no one was going to take four federal agents and haul them off to another country and get away with it. They were arranging for an assault on the compound with the Costa Rican military. Edgerton was already covered with agents, searching for us, questioning everyone, turning the town upside down. I thought of my sister. I was worried and scared for her.

    I listened as Sherlock and Savich called his mom and talked baby talk to their son.

    Dr. Manual Salinas came to us in the waiting room and said in only slightly accented English, "You did very well. Two days in the rain forest with a bullet through her shoulder, I will tell you that I am surprised Ms. Bellamy survived. You took very good care of her. We went in and cleaned the wound. There was not any deep infection, which is a big relief. We were able to stitch the wound. She will be all right. She is still under the effects of the medication. You can see her in another hour or so." He shook my hand. "You did an excellent job, all of you. I would like her to remain here for another two days to be sure there are no complications. Then you may fly back to the United States."

    I wanted to kiss him.

    After assuring myself that Laura was going to be all right, I left with Sherlock and Savich to buy new clothes. Since we had no wallets, no ID, and not even a dollar bill among the three of us, Dr. Salinas loaned us money. Once Savich and I had shaved and no longer looked like desperadoes, they let us into the stores. When we got back to the hospital, we all showered again and changed in the doctors' locker room. Then we ate, wearing our new duds, and waited. Local police authorities arrived to question us and to provide protection, which made us all feel better, given the tenacity of Molinas's soldiers. They agreed to wait until representatives from the DEA and the FBI arrived. They seemed concerned and cooperative. One police lieutenant told us that he'd heard about an old army compound near Dos Brazos. He was surprised someone would try to use it for the drug trade into his country. They wouldn't get away with anything like that in Costa Rica.

    The day seemed to last forever. Laura awoke briefly, but mostly slept. We all elected to stay at the hospital that night, at the urging of the six police officers there to protect us.

    The next morning we were seated in Laura's room, speaking quietly since she was sleeping. I heard a man's voice but didn't look up. Then the hospital room door opened and Savich roared to his feet. "Good God, sir, am I glad to see you!"

    Assistant Director Jimmy Maitland, Savich's boss, came into the hospital room like a tackle bursting through the line, grinning from ear to ear when he saw Sherlock and Savich.

    "S and S, good to see you guys on your feet! I don't mind telling you though that I'm glad this sort of thing is mostly behind me." He hugged Sherlock tightly and shook hands with Savich.

    Behind him was my own boss, Big Carl Bardolino. He was a man I'd walk over coals to work for, a man who was ferocious in his loyalty to his people, just as Jimmy Maitland was to his. Big Carl came in at just under six feet five inches and weighed a lithe two hundred pounds. I'd never yet seen an agent who could take him in the gym. "Sir," I said. "Welcome to Costa Rica."

    "Good to see you in one piece this time, Mac."

    Another man I'd never seen before walked over