Watching for trip wires and other traps in the densely wooded area, Max guided Kara toward the generator they heard earlier. He wondered how someone could survive without electricity in this day and age. He got his answer.

The closer the got to the sound, the more noise they heard. If he was correct, he heard heavy truck engines and enough voices to host a village.

He put his finger to his lips and signaled to Kara to keep quiet. She nodded and slipped through the trees behind him. They came to a rusted chain-link fence that had been woven through the trees to make somewhat of a straight line.

What Max saw on the other side baffled him. Several small, shabby, aluminum siding buildings scattered the area, each looked capable of falling over in the breeze. How they withstood the storm that blew in a short time ago, he had no clue.

Even more puzzling were the thirty-so men dressed in a mixture of camo pants and T-shirts. Groups were separated and doing different tasks. One group unloaded wooden crates from the back of an old military transport truck and set them next to a larger group standing at worktables consisting of plywood resting on sawhorses.

From the open crates, men took out dolls wearing white dresses, tore the heads off, and tossed each half into fifty-gallon drums. What the fuck was going on? A man came out of one of the buildings carrying a long metal tray neatly stacked with headless dolls. He set it in front of another group of tables then took the large drum of newly headless bodies back into the shack.

The group with the stacked dolls returned the heads back onto the dolls and re-crated them. The guys who worked at the trucks hammered lids onto the crates and loaded them into the back of the vehicles which then drove off.

Kara tug on Max’s shirt. “What do you think they’re doing?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, “but if I had to guess, I’d say they were sneaking in drugs through toy dolls.”

“What?” Kara said.

“They take the heads off, stuff the bodies with packaged product, put the heads back on, then back into the crate,” Max surmised.

“Where are the crates coming from?” Kara asked.

“Good question,” Max said. “Let’s find out.”

He took Kara’s hand and they backed away from the fence. Following the direction and sound of the military truck, they made their way through the jungle. A bright spot among the trees caught his eye. Changing course, he headed in that direction.

Kara said, “It looks just like the other treeless circle, but...” she stared up at the see-through material dozens of feet above the ground and stretched from tree to tree around the perimeter, “is that a mosquito net covering the whole circle?”

Max stood with fists on his hips, looking up. “I’d wager from the air, it looks like the surrounding canopy.”

“You’re saying the netting is hiding the opening?” Kara asked.

“Yep,” Max squatted, examining the plants. He picked a leaf and studied the front and the back side.

“Let me guess,” Kara said, “coca plant.”

“You got it.” He stood and shook his head. “C’mon. Let’s see where the truck went.”

Following the dirt path, they come out at a beach. Hiding behind a dune, they watched the activity. With the sun beginning to set behind them, the view of the water and sky were crystal clear.

Here, more men loaded and unloaded the trucks from a small ferry-like boat filled with crates. One man slapped the side of the ferry, hollered out, and the boat headed out toward a cargo ship not far from the island. Several names were printed on the carrier crates: Marigold, CalTek, CMS and the usual that Max recognized as vendors and competitors in the shipping business. More boats ferried crates to and from the beach.

Max said, “Well, here’s your answer. The crates are from a vessel which looks to be headed north to the US.” In the sky beyond the ship, a dark spot floated between the clouds. A pair of binoculars would’ve been great to have.

“Oh my God,” Kara said, “this is a drug ring.” Behind them, automatic rifle shots sounded and the sand next to them erupted into the air. Men with guns ran out from the trees, yelling, and surrounded them.

With the rifles pointed at their faces, Max and Kara lifted their hands. The men walked them onto the beach and forced to them into the back of a truck. Max figured they were getting the scenic tour to the compound.

Kara’s grip on his arm was about to cut off blood circulation. He patted her hand to assure her they would be all right. He hoped. The bumpy ride was short and when the truck stopped, the tailgate dropped, and they were forced out. Two of the more official looking men spoke quietly in Spanish and pointed toward a shack.

Max and Kara were pushed in that direction, shoved inside, and the door locked behind them.

The two looked around the hot interior to find little. Broken crates, a rusty set of large rims, several fuel cans, and rags smeared with oil.

Kara plopped down on a rim, burying her face in her hands. “We’re fucked, aren’t we?”

He looked at her. “Why do you say that?”

She glanced at him with her mouth gaping. “How can you think we’re not?”

“We have an ace in the hole?” he said.

“We’re sure as hell in a hole,” she replied.

He didn’t want to let on what their advantage was so she wouldn’t accidentally give them away or be forced to reveal anything. He tugged on the small window, hearing the glass rattle, but the vertical rebar poles embedded from top to bottom were solid. No pulling down the jailhouse wall for a wild west escape.

Noise rambled outside the door. With squeaks and a metal-on-metal grind, the aluminum panel pretending to be a door opened. A man with a gun gestured for them to step out. He pushed them toward a nicer structure that appeared more stable than anything else there.

Inside was a decorated office with kitchenette and air conditioning. A man dressed in full camo fatigues laid a cell phone on the desk and spoke Spanish with their escort.

Max nodded and grinned. “Excuse me, do you speak English?”

The man behind the desk stood. “Yes, señor. I am interested in who you are and why you are trespassing on my island.”

“Believe me,” Max said, “trespassing wasn’t part of our original plan. Our plane crashed on the south side of the island and we need to call someone.”

“Plane crash? South side?” the man said. “And you remain alive?”

Max nodded. The two Latins rambled back and forth as if debating. “Also, I’d like you to know I am very rich and powerful in the States.”

The man behind the desk looked at him and smiled, gold tooth shining.