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border into the Matto Grosso in Brazil, and will drop you off twenty-five kilometres from the hut where Chevez meets Mendoza. A vetted, reliable, Marpari guide will meet you.’
    ‘What about fire-power – equipment?’ Kane asks.
    ‘The Americans will supply you with weapons that the local Brazilian troops use – we cannot leave any trace of the Regiment behind. You won’t need much – Chevez only has an old, bolt-action Mauser – he makes his own ammunition.’
    ‘What about communications?’ Kane asks.
    ‘Too risky, Jim,’ Price-Palmer answers. ‘We do not want the Brazilians picking up signals. The Americans will provide air support.’
    ‘Not bloody likely,’ replies Kane. ‘The US Air Force bombed the fuck out of me in both Gulf Wars and Afghanistan.’
    ‘Mistakes happen,’ replies Capt Price-Palmer. ‘The American Air Force and Army are the best equipped and trained in the world.’
    ‘In WW 2,’ says Sgt Kane, ‘when American GIs saw their own air force approaching, they shouted, “Look out boys – here comes the American Luftwaffe !” – nothing has changed, Henry.’
    ‘As you wish, Jim,’ answers the Captain. ‘The Americans only need Chevez’s left ear – it has a piece missing – they have his DNA. Here are photographs and descriptions of the missing US soldiers – just in case some are still lost in the jungle. Good luck.’
    Captain Price-Palmer opens the 22 SAS operational logbook as if about to log the operation. Kane turns to leave.
    ‘Oh, be nice to the Americans, Jim,’ adds the Major.
    ‘Bollocks!’ Kane replies.
    Price-Palmer then closes the logbook without entering the operation and smiles. Lighting a cigarette, he picks up the phone.
    ‘Major Ely Bodeen’s office? Ely, it’s Henry – Operation Chevez Two is on – a four-man team led by Sgt Kane will be with you tonight. Two of my men, Edwards and Dublin, are in the team – the only two who know about the million dollar reward on Chevez.’
    Major Ely Bodeen sits his cowboy boots on the desk. ‘Well done Henry – now hear this – I want this operation to go as quickly as shit through a goose!’
    ‘Ok to speak?’ Captain Price-Palmer asks.
    ‘Go ahead, Henry – this line is as pure and clean as Mary Poppins’ gusset!’
    ‘Regarding our arrangement – Iraq Two – we need to reach a conclusion soon!’
    ‘The money has to be moved around first – patience, Henry – just a few more weeks. Now take care, Henry.’
    Major Ely Bodeen hangs up. He immediately makes another call. ‘Special Forces Headquarters, Missouri, Colonel Clay.’ Major Bodeen takes out a box of Havana cigars and smells it appreciatively but, before he can open it, his call is through. ‘Homer – the Limeys will be in the field tomorrow!’
    Colonel Clay speaks with a deep southern accent. ‘Listen Ely, I want at least four tracking devices on those sons-of-bitch Limeys. Limeys are stupid – but cunning – they must not see the bigger picture – understand!’
    ‘My opinion is ….’
    ‘Listen Ely – an opinion is like an arsehole – everybody has one! I want this finished before the rains, and before those Italian grease-balls send out some of their people to find out what happened to their missing money.’
    ‘Don’t worry, Homer. Sgt Kane is as honest and as straight as Captain Price-Palmer, Frank Dublin and Bill Edwards are dishonest and crooked. We should have Peterson’s dog-tags with the co-ordinates of the missing money in a few days – these SAS Limeys are real good in the jungle. I have ordered Sgt Kane to personally collect all dog-tags – saying I did not want the other SAS boys contaminating any DNA evidence.’

CHAPTER FOUR
THE RETURN OF MANUS XINGUE
    A jungle logging road in Brazil’s Matto Grosso; a tame Marpari indian guide awaits the arrival of the SAS troopers. The indian stands at the track’s edge; he often looks at his cheap watch. The Marpari is uneasy, nervously looking over his shoulder