The vigilante carried on a running gun-battle with soldiers. More than once he thought of abandoning the vehicle and the woman and striking out into the jungle alone. Instead he clung stubbornly to the wheel with his left hand while holding the Uzi in his right. What had looked to be an opening in the forest was really nothing more than a muddy logging path. The Land Cruiser roared down it, jumping and jolting through the potholes. Once they drove into what appeared to be a wide puddle. The puddle was so deep that water came up over the floorboards, yet the Land Cruiser continued to run. Ahead, someone had dragged a tree across the trail. In the bushes on either side Hawker could see men waiting. He slid down into the seat, touched the brake, and made ready to shift into reverse. But in the rearview mirror he could see more soldiers running after them. “Grab one of the automatics and put down some fire behind us,” Hawker ordered. The woman wiped her eyes defiantly, but she took up a weapon, slid in a fresh clip, and began to fire.
