“Hey, yourself,” he answered in his neutral way, and she could feel him studying her with his probing, inquisitive reporter’s eyes.

“Sleep well?” he inquired.

What with the hurry and hustle of getting everyone up, breakfasting, gathering belongings and equipment, getting to the airport, filing flight plans, prepping the plane and getting underway, it was the first moment they’d had alone together since she’d left him the night before.

“Yes, I did.” She didn’t try to keep the satisfaction-maybe even smugness-out of her voice. “How ’bout yourself?”

He made a soft dry sound, then muttered something under his breath. Something along the lines of, “Same old Sam…”

The urge to grin made the muscles in her face cramp, and she bit down hard on her lower lip to quell it.

Cory clasped his hands together, then leaned forward to gaze through the windshield at the low, cloud-shrouded smudge on the horizon. Fidgeting. The thought flashed into her mind: That’s not like him.

She said, “That’s the island you’re looking at out there. We’ll be landing in about…forty-five minutes.” He nodded but didn’t reply.

After listening to the droning of the aircraft’s engines for several minutes, she said, “Mind if I ask you something?” The look he threw her was both surprised and wary-she didn’t usually ask permission. “I’m curious-Will and I both were, actually. Why charter a plane for this? Why didn’t you just hire a boat? Woulda been a lot simpler-cheaper, too.”

He gave her a look and said mildly, “I’m going into a terrorist’s hideout to interview one of the most wanted and dangerous men in the world. When I’m done with that, I’d rather not have to get through forty miles of jungle before I’m home free.”

“Okay, I can see that. Then wouldn’t a helicopter be more practical?”

The look he gave her this time was wry. “I was specifically warned not to use a helicopter. Apparently, both Philippine government forces and U.S. Special Ops are active in that area. When al-Rami’s troops see a chopper they do their best to shoot it down.”

“Ah,” said Sam, keeping her voice neutral. “So…” she persisted after a moment, “why did you ask for such a big plane? There’s just the two of you. Why not a Cessna? It’d be a whole lot easier to land and take off on those remote airstrips.”

He shifted again as if something was irritating him, but replied in a calm, almost conversational way. “That’s not a problem. Apparently, there’s a landing strip near the rendezvous point that was built by the Americans during World War Two, and the villagers have kept it up-they get most of their supplies that way. The roads in and out of the region aren’t reliable at the best of times, and during the monsoon season they’re sometimes impassable.” He threw her a grin. “You shouldn’t have any trouble. In fact, this old bird ought to feel right at home.”

Sam frowned at the cloudy horizon. “That still doesn’t explain-” Then she broke off as it hit her. “Oh, good God. They have hostages. You’re going to try to get them out.” He didn’t answer. She looked over at him. “Aren’t you? That’s what this is all about-the interview-” Her hands tightened on the wheel. “That’s how you were able to get approval from State, isn’t it? I should have known.”

Dammit, I should have known. Why weren’t we told about this? Same old story…left hand doesn’t have a clue what the right hand’s doing…

Cory’s quiet, reasonable voice broke in on her silent fuming. “I intend to try to negotiate for their release during the course of the interview, sure. How can I not try? What else would you expect me to do?”

She let out a short, sharp breath. “Nothing-absolutely nothing. It’s exactly what you would do. Like I said-I should have known.” She threw him a distracted glance, not even registering the puzzled look on his face or the probing intensity of his eyes as she switched to her captain’s voice.

“Uh…look, we’re coming into Isabella airspace…I’m gonna need to be talking to their tower…if you wouldn’t mind taking your seat…”

“Oh-sure, no problem.”

Sam was already fiddling with the radio and hardly noticed when Cory eased out of his seat in the overly careful, oh-Lord-don’t-let-me-touch-anything way he had and made his way slowly back through the radioman’s compartment. She did glance up, though, to make sure his back was still turned while she tuned her radio to a frequency not monitored by any airport control tower anywhere in the world. Only when she was certain he was out of earshot did she begin to speak into her mouthpiece, in a monotone designed to carry no farther than the confines of the cockpit.

“Uncle Willie, this is Junebug calling. Come in…”

She waited, counting off the seconds, then repeated it. “Uncle Willie, this is June-”

“Hey, Junie-baby, this is your old Uncle Willie. How’re ya doin’, sweetcakes?”

One side of Sam’s mouth quirked upward. “Oh, fair…just fair. Got a few clouds on the horizon…”

“Yeah? How bad? Look like it might spoil our party?”

“Don’t know yet. Seems our guest of honor has some plans of his own. Might be a conflict, can’t say for sure. Does complicate things, though.”

There was a brief and thoughtful silence. Then: “Okay, stay on top of it. I trust you can handle our guest if he gets…uh, difficult?”

“He’s not exactly the ‘handling’ type.”

“Be a shame,” the voice said smoothly, “if the party had to be cancelled. The other guests would not be happy.”

“Right.” She let out a gust of breath. “I know. I’ll take care of it. Oh-Uncle Willie-one more thing.” She lifted a hand to her right headphone, then lightly touched the tender spot just beneath a small fresh surgical scar hidden in the thick hair behind her ear. “How’re those pictures I’ve been sending you? Still getting to you okay?”

There was a fat-sounding chuckle. “Gettin’ some as we speak, sweetcakes. Nice of you to share. Almost like bein’ right there with you.”

“Glad you’re enjoying ’em,” Sam said, grinning. “I’ll be in touch.”

“You do that, Junebug-baby. Take care now.”

“Will do, Uncle Willie. Out.”

No longer wearing any suggestion of a smile, Sam returned the DC-3’s radio to its regular frequency.

As Cory settled into his seat, Tony looked up from the paperback novel he was reading to give him what could best be described as a leer. “So, how’d it go last night? You and Captain Earhart patch up your differences?”

Cory responded with a dismissive snort. “Sam’s and my differences are pretty much irreconcilable.”

“Huh. That your opinion or hers?” When he didn’t get an answer, Tony dog-eared the page-making Cory wince-and closed the book. Tucking it between his leg and the armrest, he shifted in his seat in a settling-in kind of way and said in an undertone, “Okay. When last we left the romantic misadventures of Cory Pearson, you were telling me how you’d just, in effect, told the lady you love to grow up. After which, when she took offense-quite understandably, in my opinion-you went off and married somebody else. That doesn’t sound like ‘differences’ to me, man. Sounds to me more like you owe the lady one hell of an apology. Not to mention roses. And diamonds.”

“Yeah, well…as it happens, I tried that-the apology, anyway. After the divorce was final. I…I actually called her.”

“Yeah? And?”

Cory’s smile flickered dimly, like a dying lightbulb. “About what you’d expect. She told me to get lost. Leave her alone. Never speak to her again.”

Tony reared back in mock astonishment. “No kidding? What a shock, man. And I suppose you did just what she told you to.”

“As a matter of fact I did, yeah.” Cory was beginning to find the whole conversation annoying. “What was I supposed to do? Stalk her?”

“Woo her, man. That’s what she wanted, I guarantee it. Hey-after what you did, a phone call and a simple ‘I’m sorry’ ain’t gonna cut it. You gotta go back to square one, make her remember why she fell for you in the first place. You dig?”

“Easy for you to say,” Cory said dryly. It was, too; he’d seen Tony in action. For reasons he’d never been able to figure out, in spite of his strong resemblance to a bald-headed pit bull terrier, the man seemed to possess some kind of magic attraction irresistible to any human female between the ages of six and a hundred.

Tony made a “Tsk”-ing sound and hitched himself closer. “Look, man. Any fool can see she’s still got a thing for you. And if the feelings are there, there’s no such thing as ‘irreconcilable differences.’ Know what I mean?”

Would that that were true, Cory thought. He felt heavy and sad, thinking about it, remembering his conversation with Sam last night…remembering the way she’d kissed him. He wished Tony would leave it alone, just…shut up about it. But unfortunately, Tony’s looks weren’t the only thing about him that resembled a pit bull.

He drew a resolute breath. “It’s not about feelings. In this case I’m not sure they even matter. What it is, is that both of us want something the other doesn’t have to give. If that doesn’t make it irreconcilable-”

“Ah, come on, that’s just bull-”

The cough of the intercom interrupted. To Cory, thoroughly sick of the conversation, Sam’s tinny voice came like the answer to a prayer.

“Okay, we’re over the island…I’m gonna drop down under this cloud cover and see if I can find us a place to land. Fasten your seat belts, boys and girls…might get a little bumpy.”

“That wasn’t so bad.” Tony was grinning, his jaws working like pistons on the wad of gum he’d been chewing to relieve eardrum pressure during the corkscrew descent.

Cory gave him a look, then went back to scanning the jungle growth that crowded close to the plowed fields surrounding the grassy airstrip. Beyond the jungle, green mountain slopes, terraced for farming on the lower flanks, rose into a feathery gray mist of cloud cover. The air was still and heavy with humidity.