"We've got to get out of here," he said, and threw the jeep into gear. For a moment he hesitated. If he went up the dirt road to the hotel, Connel would surely see them. If Rick went back toward San Souci and the oncoming car was not Connel, but someone from Casa Guevara, the car might also turn toward San Souci, and the boys would be seen.
Rick thought quickly. About a hundred yards toward San Souci there was a break in the foliage that he had almost investigated until he saw that no tracks led into it. He quickly switched into four-wheel drive and swung the jeep in its own length. The lights were closer now. Rick accelerated and found the opening through the jungle scrub. The jeep bounced as he drove into it, then swung until they were behind a screen of palmetto. He killed the engine.
Scotty piled out, Rick close behind him. They hurried to the edge of the highway, careful to keep masked by the palmetto, and watched.
A jeep emerged from the driveway to Casa Guevara. In the back-scattered light from its headlights they saw that Connel was the driver. He was alone. They watched until his taillights flickered out beyond a bend in the road.
Connel was alone in the jeep
"Interesting," Rick said. "Does a social call last for less than a half hour? Answer: no, not in San Luz. There's Spanish-style hospitality here, and Connel would have been there for hours."