The next day, on the Ecuadorian side of the Putumayo River, at nine o'clock at night.
"Damn bugs!"
The cook stretched out his hand to pinch out an unidentifiable bug from his neck, crushed it into a pulp, and then looked at it under the moonlight.
It was all blood.
Clearly, the little creature had sucked quite a bit of his own blood.
"If you tuck in your scarf better, they'll have a harder time getting in," Song Heping whispered.
The cook readjusted the scarf wound around his neck and face, trying to improve the seal as much as possible.
In such a primitive jungle, concealment wasn't much of a problem; there were plants everywhere taller than a person.
It was just that there were too many insects.
So many that it was rather horrifying.
Although they had all applied camouflage oil with a scent to repel insects, it still couldn't completely deter some bugs that, upon smelling human blood, fearlessly burrowed into their necks.
"Do you think that Dominic is reliable?" the cook suddenly asked with some concern. "If he can't steal the helicopter on time, we're probably done for."
Song Heping said, "Once we cross the river, we'll hide the rubber boat. If Dominic really doesn't show up as promised, we'll have to fight a jungle war and then come back here to cross the river in the rubber boat."
The cook said, "That's gambling with your life."
Song Heping replied coldly, "When are we not gambling with our lives in this line of work?"
The cook sighed and blurted out, "I miss home."
Song Heping turned to look at the cook curiously.
Under the moonlight, the cook's face was covered with strange tranquility, and staring at the moon above, he did indeed seem somewhat homesick.
"Earned enough and thinking of calling it quits?" Song Heping asked.
The cook replied, "No, the day before yesterday a friend back home called me, said there was a good opportunity, and asked if I was going to return to the country."
"What opportunity?" Song Heping grew more curious.
The cook was not one to be sentimental.
If he said something like this, it meant he really had other ideas in mind.
Leaving the company?
Could he bear to?
This side was a contract income of 240 million US dollars a year; although he didn't get that much in his hands, it was still considerable.
"My friend now works at the Kremlin," the cook muttered. "He makes contact with big shots and revealed something to me..."
Mid-speech, he suddenly stopped.
Song Heping asked, "What did he reveal?"
This time, the cook didn't answer, instead falling silent.
Suddenly, he changed the subject, "How much longer do we have to wait, damn it?!"
Song Heping understood.
The cook didn't want to talk about it.
It seemed the matter was highly confidential, and he chose to keep it even from himself.
Since the other party wouldn't talk, Song Heping didn't press further.
"Just wait," he said.
Song Heping glanced at his watch.
"The informant's intelligence says that a water patrol boat will pass here at nine forty. After it passes, it'll take another hour to come back. We can take that chance to cross the river."
He paused and then asked, "Can you row a boat?"
The cook shook his head, "I haven't practiced, but isn't it just like this?"
He made a paddling gesture.
Song Heping couldn't be bothered to explain the skills of navigating and paddling a boat; those were things only Special Forces needed to master.
The cook was a guy who had come out of a long prison term; to expect him to pick up too much in a short time would be too naive.
"Just follow my lead when we paddle. When I tell you to stop, you stop."
"Okay."
The group fell into silence once again, blending into the darkness.
The night in the Amazon Jungle was like a mysterious and terrifying world; the darkness enveloped the entire forest, only the faint starlight filtered through the treetops, barely illuminating the ground.
"Awoo—"
Suddenly, the quiet night was broken by an unexpected sound, the call of some fierce animal.
Although Song Heping had undergone countless wilderness survival trainings and slept in numerous horrifying places, including being instructed by a drill sergeant to sleep in a graveyard where exposed skeletons could be seen,