“It is a pretty thing, is it not?” she says.
Jake eyes the half-dozen gun-barrels levelled at his chest. “You don’t understand what you’ve got there,” he says.
Tresa hands the cup to one of the soldiers. “Put this in the plane and prepare for take-off,” she says. The soldier clicks his heels and runs off.
She turns back to Jake.
“You were a worthy opponent,” she says, “How do you Americans say, a jolly good sport?”
“No, that’s the Brits,” he says through gritted teeth, “but I’ve got another saying for you.”
Tresa laughs, “I expect you do. However, I do not have time to stay and listen.”
The cargo plane’s engines start up with a roar. Birds scatter from the nearby trees. Tresa starts towards the plane.
“I have an appointment with some armour in Peru,” she calls over her shoulder, “Sadly, I do not think you are invited!”