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By Root 726 0

managed to exist without starving for her first six years. All her life she’d had to fight for what she wanted, and Venable was no worse than other men who had tried to use her. Sometimes, she even liked him. He was totally dedicated to his work with the CIA and would let nothing stand in his way. It was surprising that she’d managed to work a deal with him about releasing that top secret restricted file. If the director hadn’t been getting so much heat from the media about the Winters kidnapping, she might not have fared so well. But the file wasn’t enough. She had to have more. “Eve Duncan. You know where the bodies are buried on every continent in the world. Bribe her, blackmail her, make her an offer she can’t refuse. I don’t care how you do it. Just get her for me.”

“I’m not promising you anything. I don’t have to. You’re obviously going to go in after Winters anyway.”

He was right. Even if she could only get the file, she would risk anything to have it handed over. “But if you don’t get Eve Duncan for me, I’ll get her myself. Do you want me to go after her?”

Silence. “No. I know you too well. You’d cause an incident that would cause me big trouble.” He paused. “I’ll do the best I can, but I don’t know where Eve Duncan’s bodies are buried. She’s clean, Catherine. If you’ve researched her as well as I think you have, then you know I can’t blackmail her.”

“That’s what I have to find out. Where her bodies are buried. Try. Do everything you can.” She started down the path toward the Munoz camp. “And I’ll do everything I can. I can’t talk any longer. I have to get moving. Has Munoz been in touch with anyone lately?”

“No, he’s not answered any of our messages.” He was silent a moment. “And I should tell you that late last night the Colombian government refused to release Munoz’s brother until the Winterses are free. They say they think he’s bluffing.”

“He’s not bluffing. If they don’t back down, Munoz will cut those hostages’ throats.”

“I agree. And that may mean whether I get you Eve Duncan or not may be a moot point. You may have nothing with which to bargain.” He hung up.

Catherine shoved her phone into the pocket of her jacket. Venable was right. Thanks to those politicians in Bogotá playing their little games, she’d be lucky to whisk Winters and his daughter away before Munoz decided to butcher them.

She wasn’t going to let that happen.

There was something wrong. Catherine’s gaze wandered over Munoz’s encampment. It was after three in the morning, and she hadn’t expected activity, but there was no—tension.

The man guarding the hostage tent was a good ten feet from the entrance flap, and he was the only one of Munoz’s men who appeared to be awake.

It made her uneasy.

She hesitated. It could be nothing.

She had passed Ron Timbers on the edge of the forest and knew that he’d had the camp under surveillance for most of the evening. He would have called her if there was a problem.

If he knew about the problem.

At any rate, she couldn’t stop now unless she had good reason.

She circled around in the trees until she was behind the hostage tent.

Catherine slit the canvas of the tent. Carefully. Silently. It was a small tent and the guard at the front entrance was only a scant ten feet from where she was working. But that lack of tension she’d sensed in the camp might be a positive. The guard had appeared both sleepy and bored.

Let him stay that way, she prayed, as she lifted the torn flap. And let Winters and his daughter realize that there was no threat from someone trying to break into the tent. But then hostages weren’t guaranteed to be thinking straight after two weeks of terror and incarceration. She started wriggling into the tent.

Darkness.

She couldn’t make out anything for the first moment.

She froze.

Good Lord, the stench.

She was too late. She knew that smell.

Rotting corpse.

They were dead, and the tropic heat had already begun the decomposing process.

She had to be sure.

Her eyes had grown accustomed to the dark now, but she didn’t need to see to find her way to the dead. The overpowering