As the sun began to set, Agamemnon sat in front of the radio and waited for Eduardo to send him a report. Agamemnon had little doubt that his newly appointed leader would do his utmost to ensure success in his given task.

Now I just have to wait for the good news, he thought.

But as the minutes ticked by and Eduardo failed to meet the check-in time for radio communication, Agamemnon grew anxious.

Already today, his other search team had returned with nothing to show for their efforts. As far as they could tell, the American woman had simply vanished into the jungle. They had initially managed to find where she’d hidden in a tree and then followed the trail for a little while, but then it had gone utterly cold.

The search team leader had suggested that perhaps the American woman was dead. “After all, sir, she had no equipment.”

“You’re willing to stake your life on that theory?”

“I think so.”

That made Agamemnon even more displeased.

His thoughts were interrupted by intermittent screams coming from outside the hut. He sighed. It always took them so long to die when they were buried in the earth and honey was poured over their heads. The ants weren’t exactly the fastest eaters, but they were thorough. And Agamemnon had little doubt that by the time the army ants were done with the search team leader’s head, they would move on, leaving very little behind.

He sighed again. He needed more men to take care of these loose ends that plagued him. The American woman was still alive. He felt sure of that. And the presence of the sniper did little to allay his fears that at any moment, a bullet could come biting through the air with his name on it.

No, things were not good at all.

The one thing that had managed to save him from descending even deeper into a funk was the anticipation of Eduardo’s communication. Surely the new leader of the second camp would have good things to report.

Agamemnon checked the clock on the wall and then the wristwatch he wore. Thirty minutes late now.

He leaned forward and keyed the microphone. “Eduardo? Come in. Eduardo.”

He released the microphone key and heard static greet him as the radio crackled and sizzled as if it had been plopped on an open grill.

“Sir?” a voice came through the static.

Agamemnon jumped forward. “Eduardo?”

“No, sir. This is Miki.”

“Miki. Who are you?”

“Eduardo’s comrade. He is my best friend, sir.”

“You did not go out with him today?”

“No, sir. He insisted I stay behind in case of a problem.”

Agamemnon nodded. Good thinking. Eduardo was a fine replacement for Luis. He would no doubt step right into those vacant shoes and possibly do even better than Luis had. Agamemnon keyed the microphone again.

“Where is Eduardo?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“You don’t know?”

“We haven’t heard from them since they left early this morning.”

“No one has returned?”

“No, sir.”

Agamemnon steepled his fingers and tried to imagine what was going on in his jungle. He didn’t like the fact that people seemed to be disappearing with startling regularity.

“How many were in his party?” he asked.

“Four, plus Eduardo and his guide.”

“Guide?”

“Yes, sir. The old man was here when Luis established the base camp. He’s helped us ever since and we’ve sort of adopted him.”

Agamemnon frowned. He didn’t like hearing about outsiders being involved in his group’s activities. That was a security risk. And he thought that was understood by everyone. The fact that Luis had permitted this man to be in camp at all angered him.

“Tell me about the old man.”

“Not much to tell, sir. He’s very old. Ancient, almost. He wears a long white beard that comes down almost to his chest. He is extremely skilled at tracking, also.”

“Is he?”

“Yes, sir. This morning, Eduardo sent him out to find the sniper’s trail. He came back shortly and said he knew how to track him. That was when Eduardo and his team left.”

“And that was the last you heard from them—is that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

And now it was nightfall. “Would they be able to set up a camp in the jungle with this old guide?”

“I believe so, sir. Yes.”

Agamemnon chewed his lip. He didn’t like it. If people he didn’t know were leading his men around, no good could come of it. Experienced tracker or not, the old man was an unknown variable and Agamemnon hated leaving things like that to chance.

“Sir?” Miki asked.

“Yes?”

“Do you think there’s a problem?”

Agamemnon hesitated a moment before replying. “Possibly.”

“The old man?”

“Yes.”

Miki seemed to hesitate now before keying his microphone. “I can have another team ready to go in one hour, sir.”

“No.”

“No, sir?”

“You stay where you are, Miki. Eduardo was right to leave you behind. I want you to take command of the project that Eduardo would have told you about. Do you know what I’m referring to?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I want you to carry on getting ready to carry that plan out. I will form another search team and we will find our missing comrades. In the meantime, I need to know that things are being handled on your end. Do what you need to do to get the package ready to move into Manila within a day. Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. I will leave first thing tomorrow and find Eduardo and his men. I want you ready to leave by tomorrow afternoon. With luck, we’ll have everything accomplished within the next twenty-four hours. And then we will have much to celebrate.”

“I understand, sir.”

Agamemnon switched off the radio and leaned back in his seat. Eduardo and his men were missing. A strange old man was leading them around in the jungle. A sniper and an American woman were loose in his turf. All were things that annoyed Agamemnon to no end. And now he would have to take care of it all himself.

But not right away.

He walked outside of the hut. Off at the edge of the campsite was the dying search team leader. Even as the sun’s rays vanished and darkness started to bleed across the sky, Agamemnon could see the undulating carpet of ants crawling all over the man’s head.

He screamed less now. His cries had diminished to mere whimpers that floated only a few feet in the tepid jungle air.

As Agamemnon moved closer, he could hear the ants chattering, their mandibles no doubt slicing and biting into the soft tissue of the man’s face. His eyes would be bloody sockets full of ooze. The ants would have invaded his sinus cavities, crawling down into his trachea and esophagus. From there, they would eat away at him from the inside out.

Other ants would have marched into his ears and gained access to his sinuses from that direction, or else started gnawing on his eardrum as they made their way to the soft brain tissue farther in.

Agamemnon lit a cigar and sucked on it, the bright red tip glowing in the evening air. Truly, the man was dying in horrible fashion, he thought with satisfaction.

As he approached, some of the ants reacted to the sudden intrusion. Agamemnon stomped on a few that ventured over to investigate his presence.

“You won’t get anything from me,” he said, blowing out a stream of smoke at the ants, who quickly retreated.

The search team leader’s head turned slightly toward Agamemnon. He tried to speak, but he coughed and spit out bits of ants instead, retching as more of the tiny bodies filled his mouth and lungs.

Whatever he had hoped to say to Agamemnon was lost amid the feasting army.

But Agamemnon knew what he would be trying to say to him. He knew because he’d seen men die like this before. And after a man reached the point of no return, there was only one thing they wanted more than anything else.

Agamemnon unholstered his pistol and chambered a round. He puffed on his cigar and blew more smoke out into the night air. Amid the chattering ants, Agamemnon heard the first pellets of rain starting to fall. Tonight, it would storm. Already in the distance, peals of thunder sounded.

The ants would probably retreat under the deluge. But in the morning, when the sun came out and started to cook the jungle, they would return, drawn by the smell of baking flesh.

Agamemnon considered the man in front of him. He wasn’t really such a bad guy. He’d simply failed to live up to what Agamemnon expected of him.

And that, unfortunately for him, was not tolerated. Not when they were so close to unveiling their masterpiece.

“You could have gone so far,” Agamemnon said. “I trusted you to do your best and you let me down.”

The man didn’t respond. He couldn’t anymore. His head lolled from side to side, but only tiny sounds escaped him.

Agamemnon’s pistol barked once in the night air.

Agamemnon chomped on his cigar and then slid his pistol back into its holster. He blew another stream of smoke into the jungle air and turned to walk away.

Marta stood behind him. “You are hungry now?”

He smiled. “How long have you been standing there?”

She bowed. “You are most merciful. You did that man a great service by ending his life.”

“He was already dead.”

“Dying, master. And still suffering.”

Agamemnon shrugged. “What good are they to me if they cannot fulfill my expectations?”

“No good at all, sir.”

“Indeed.”

Marta looked at him. “You will need to eat before you leave tomorrow.”

Agamemnon smiled. “Now, who told you I was going somewhere?”

“It seemed obvious. If no one else is able to find the woman, then you must assume leadership yourself.”

“As much as it pains me to do so,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

Agamemnon took another drag on his cigar. “I will eat.”

“And after that?”

He smiled. “Tell the men to get ready. We leave at first light to look for the people who have gone missing. We will find them ourselves and then, if all things go to plan, we will have much to rejoice in when Miki at the other camp carries out his assignment.”