Destruction

by J. M. Madden

  “Fuck,” Aiden breathed. “But there are only three prisoners?”

  “That’s all we see. There could be more stashed somewhere.”

  Aiden huffed out a breath. “Okay. Wulfe is leaving now, heading back to watch Silverstone corporate. They’re all attending the Bitch in Blue’s funeral in a bit. I’ll send a satellite phone with him. Is there anything you need us to do?”

  “Not right now. I’d take a caramel macchiato if you had one available.”

  “Noted. Stay safe, Fontana. Team working well?”

  “Yes, they are. More able than I ever could have expected.”

  “Good. Remember to call me.”

  “I will.”

  Aiden hung up, looking at the phone thoughtfully. The GPS coordinates of the call scrolled past. The team was a long way from home. He really hoped they all returned safe.

  Fontana had to see the camp in the daylight. Madeira offered to lead him out to the viewpoint where Shane and Payne were on duty for their shift, and he nodded. Taking up their MP5s, they took off. Zero and Kenny were chilling between the knees of the massive tree, trying to keep from being eaten by all the bugs. The problem was, there were bugs on the ground as well, and the Jungle Juice didn’t repel them the way it did their airborne cousins.

  The two of them were silent as they walked. Madeira wove through the trees like she’d been born in the jungle, and he really appreciated that he’d brought her along with them. Or maybe it was vice versa. If she hadn’t agreed to put her life on the line to bring them none of them would be here right now.

  Cresting a small rise, they crouched down to maneuver behind a clump of thick bushes. Payne gave them a chin nod, gun held across his knees as he knelt behind the bush. Shane lowered the binoculars to look at them. He gave a nod of his head as well and held the binoculars out to Fontana.

  Fontana didn’t like the gnawing feeling in his gut. It had been two years since they’d broken out, but he could remember every pain-filled second of being there. He could remember the feel of the textured floor of the cage, the inability to get away from being under scrutiny. They’d been watched for everything. It was only later when they’d began to build their mental ability that they’d finally gotten some relief, because they’d been able to direct the guards’ attention elsewhere.

  His body spasmed with remembered pain from the cattle prod. They’d used it all the time, for every minor or major infraction. It had been their favorite torture device to use on him.

  Hands trembling the tiniest bit, he lifted the binoculars to his eyes.

  In a way, it looked the same. The cages were spaced about twenty yards apart, but some kind of green ivy hung over the sides. Same with the med center to the left. There were marks where the building had burned, but he could also see where they’d tried to paint over all of the damage. He wondered what it looked like inside. They would have to check before they left. It was going to be like breaking out all over again. He wondered if they still stored information here. Surely, they couldn’t be that stupid.

  Well, they still held prisoners here in a compromised location. Any average person would have closed the camp down and gotten rid of the evidence like the first camp they’d investigated. Right?

  It was exactly a week today since Priscilla Mattingly had died. Anton Scofield had taken over from her, but so far it didn’t seem like anything had changed. Was he even aware of what she’d done for the company?

  Fontana sank down on his ass and propped his elbows on his knees, continuing to look through the binoculars. “Have any of the vehicles moved?”

  “No.”

  He looked and tried to guess which cage had been his. Aiden had been in the one closest to the med center, then Wulfe. There had been a couple of cages between Fontana and Wulfe. His had been pretty distant. Panning to the right, he paused. That was it. He recognized the hut almost directly across from his cell door. There had been a woman living there, one of the nurses, with the coldest eyes he’d ever seen on a woman. She’d watched the guards abuse him and several times he’d caught her grinning, enjoying his pain. Then, the night the abuse had changed to molestation, she’d actually sat at her window and watched.

  He’d hated that woman with the power of the sun.

  Something blocked his vision, but Fontana had already lowered the binoculars, not wanting to see his cage anymore. Emotion and a remnant of fear, as well as disgust, quaked through his body. His heart was racing and his teeth were literally gritted. He became aware that there was a hand on each of his arms, and someone was leaning into him from the front. Madeira’s short dark hair brushed his cheek on one side, and she held them pressed together with her rough hands. The scars on her palms weren’t usually noticeable, but he could feel them against his skin now.

  Shifting, he pulled back to look at her.

  Those pretty Army green irises were wide in her face and she seemed a little fearful. “You weren’t responding to us, and we thought you were going to lunge up out of here. You tensed like you saw someone you wanted to fight.”

  He blinked and shook his head. “Just ghosts. Thanks guys. I’m good.”

  Gently, he pulled away from her— their— comfort and stalked back down the hill.

  Jordyn wanted to follow Fontana. She really did. But she knew the man had to rebuild his defenses.

  When he’d drawn in a breath like he was about to shout something, she’d leaned around to get a better look in his face. There had been anger there, and fury, as well as terror. Even with his eyes pressed to the reticles of the binoculars, he’d looked like he was about to beat the shit out of someone. She wasn’t sure what he’d seen, but it had to have been bad.

  Shane had grabbed his left arm first and Payne had maneuvered around to hold his right, while Jordyn had blocked his view and pulled him in tight from the front. For a long moment he’d just shaken in her arms before he’d pulled back and looked at her.

  Jordyn had seen torture before, and every bit of that memory was still in his eyes. Fontana had pulled back like she’d looked into his soul and found him lacking. She really hoped he didn’t think that.

  And for a moment—just a moment—she’d thought the jungle had shaken with his terror as well.

  “Did you feel that?” she asked Payne, hoping she was crazy.

  He’d nodded grimly, his mouth clamped tight. Oh, hell.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Anton stared at his assistant, wondering if the young man had finally gone off his rocker.

  Lukas Evans was every man’s fantasy. Tight ass, sleekly styled hair, perfectly groomed outfit. Anton had found him in a Starbucks, running the store damn near single-handed. There had been a sharp cunning in his big blue eyes, and he hadn’t put up with anyone’s shit. When Anton had asked him if he’d like a job, the first question out of his mouth had been, “Do I have to fuck you to get it?”

  Anton had smiled. “Only if you want to.”

  They’d been working together for the better part of a year now, and Lukas had grown into one of the most competent assistants he’d ever had.

  Which made his statement all the more ridiculous. “Why the fuck would I want to go to Guyana?”

  Lukas shook his head. “You’re not going because you want to. You’re going because you want to get a grip on the scope of what Priscilla did. Guyana is one of the last Collaborative research properties. You would have to go at some time anyway, so why not go now— sooner— and get a grip on what’s going on before the bearded dickhead moves in and takes all the credit.”

  Lukas’ words had merit, but Anton had no desire to fly halfway around the world.

  Damon had been dismissive the day of Priscilla’s funeral, and Anton didn’t want to piss him off so badly that he’d fire him in a fit of rage. Every day there were employee emails and messages rolling in asking him for guidance. And he could admit to himself that he was damn near clueless.

  Maybe it would be smart to go to Guyana. If he showed up in person, surely
they would recognize his authority. And maybe he would spot some things that could be modified or changed. Lord knew he needed to impress Damon with something.

  “Fine,” Anton sighed. “See if the company plane is free. There’s no way I’m flying there commercial.”

  Lukas nodded, looking smug. “I knew you’d make the right choice.”

  “Oh, don’t be too excited. While I’m gone you get to run herd on dickweed. I want you to watch everything he does.”

  Lucas snorted. “Which dickweed are we talking about?”

  “Both of them, actually.” Anton laughed.

  Lukas typed into his tablet furiously.

  Anton watched the boy, enjoying the play of muscles in his back as he turned toward the window. “It occurs to me that I may be gone for a while.”

  Lukas looked up and caught his gaze. “Yes, you will,” he said slowly, a grin tugging at his full lips. “Maybe we should lock the door and have a more in-depth meeting.”

  “You read my mind,” Anton said, watching the young man walk toward him, ever so deliberately.

  Fontana stalked into the jungle to get a grip on his emotions. Two years after the fact, he hadn’t recovered from what had been done to him. He wanted immediate vengeance, but in reality, it was a long, drawn out process.

  He came to a smaller Brazil nut tree, the base of this one only stretching about twenty feet. Scraping his boot through the loose litter in the lee of one of the knees, he made sure it was safe before sitting down and leaning back against it. Cupping his head in his hands he exhaled, trying to recenter himself.

  What had been done to them had been horrific, but they had survived. And they’d recovered physically at least, still working on everything else. Yes, it had been hard at first, but things were falling together the way they were supposed to. Tonight, they’d infiltrate the camp and steal back the men trapped inside. If anyone interfered, he had no problem taking them out. Maybe, if he did both of those things, the pressure in his head and mind would dissipate.

  He’d been dealing with the repercussions of being in the camp for two years. It was time he dealt with the ghosts.

  When he returned to the other tree, Jordyn and Payne were talking softly. Fontana wandered over and sat down, looking between the two of them. “I appreciate what you did for me up there.”

  Payne shrugged. “We all have triggers. We knew we’d have to watch you when we came to this location. What you were feeling was completely natural. I still break into a panic attack if a jet screams over my head. I know it’s highly unlikely that it will drop a bomb right in front of me like in Kandahar, but it’s training that you received, and your brain has learned to take steps to protect you.”

  Fontana appreciated the former Marine’s words. No one had actually ever talked to him about it before.

  “I can’t let anyone fly me anymore,” Jordyn admitted. “Not in a chopper anyway. Not even my mother. Pisses her off to no end.” She shrugged her shoulders, and Fontana noticed that she’d taken her bulletproof vest off. Her t-shirt beneath was marked with sweat in the armpits and down her chest.

  For the first time he noticed how damp he was himself. Too many other things on his mind to even notice the heat. He reached for the water nozzle on his pack and drank. Warm and stale, but it quenched his thirst.

  Jordyn held a meat stick out to him. “Fresh from the wrapper.”

  He snorted and took it from her, and as soon as he bit into the meat he realized how hungry he was. She seemed to sense it too because she handed him another one.

  Fontana chewed mindlessly, intent on getting it in his stomach. This entire trip had been stressful for him and he hadn’t been taking care of himself.

  “Is there anything we need to watch for when we go down there?”

  Fontana looked at Payne. “The med center is where they do the experiments. We started a fire in the building when we evacuated two years ago, but apparently it didn’t burn well enough. Before we get these prisoners out we’ll have to check the building again. If they’re stupid enough to use a compromised location, they may be stupid enough to continue storing the data here. If we can find more information on the Collaborative, I’m all for it.”

  Payne nodded. “I think that’s smart.”

  “How many people were here when you were in residence?”

  He looked at Jordyn. “We started with twenty men in our group. And there were almost fifty guards here. That included both hired guards and Brazilian Army. There were at least thirty medical staff.”

  “We didn’t see anywhere near those numbers,” she frowned. “In fact, I don’t think there are thirty people total in the camp right now.”

  “It seems to be running with a skeleton crew,” he agreed.

  Jordyn looked at him, and he could see the worry in her eyes. “We can deal with it. Those men need to be rescued. Did you recognize the one that spotted you?”

  He shook his head. “No. I seriously doubt it’s any of the men from the original group. There’s no way they could have survived this long.”

  “What time are we going in?”

  Fontana looked at the watch on his wrist. “About zero two hundred. Most everyone will be asleep and the lookouts, if there are any, will be drowsy.”

  Payne nodded. “I’m going to crash for a couple of hours then.”

  “Me too,” Jordyn said. “If those men are not able to run or even walk, we’re going to have to carry them back to Margarita. It would be easiest if they’re ambulatory, but if not, we need to make sure we aren’t pursued.”

  Fontana looked at her and gave her a grin. “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll take care of anyone that might even think of pursuing us.”

  The thought sent a thrill through him, and apparently her as well, because she grinned back at him. It was so wrong that the thought of getting vengeance on some of the evil in the world made them so happy.

  Madeira reached into her pocket, then held her fist out to him. He tried to bump her knuckles, but she shook her head. She held her fist out again and he figured she was handing him something. Opening his hand but leery, he held it out.

  She left a handful of multi-colored Swedish fish on his palm. Fontana’s mouth watered at the sight of the candy. “Oh, no way,” he breathed. He popped a classic red into his mouth and let his eyes fall shut as he chewed. The repetitive chewing, and the sugar, relaxed him like nothing else. With a grin, he gave her a thumbs-up as she crossed to her pack.

  It took forever for two a.m. to swing around.

  Jordyn tightened one of the Velcro straps along the side of her combat vest. It had to be perfect when they inserted, because there was no fixing it there. They were going to be too busy. Everyone else was geared up as well, and they were all basically dancing in place.

  “Paramount is the safety of the team and the prisoners,” Fontana told them. “We’re going to stay together as a group as much as possible. At some point I’m going to peel off to check the med center. Zero, you’ll be my backup. Let’s roll out.”

  Zero nodded. It was just barely visible in the light of the flashlight Fontana held. They all had night vision goggles on their helmets, but they hadn’t flipped them on yet. They needed to go as far as possible without using them so that the batteries that powered them stayed fresh.

  The night was black as pitch and the trees swayed above them, like it was going to blow up a storm. Jordyn prayed it at least waited until they had gotten out safely before Mother Nature let loose on them.

  They fell into step behind Fontana, pulling the NVGs down over their eyes. Everything turned brilliant green as they hiked through the jungle toward the camp. They went over the same section of downed fenced that they had the previous night, but he angled in a different direction. It seemed like he was going to the farthest cage and would work his way back.

  “Madeira,” he said over the com. “I’ll open the cage and take care of the cameras, but I want you to be the first contact. Try to be non-threatening.”
<
br />   She snorted softly. “Roger.”

  That made sense. She spoke more languages than the others, plus she was female. As long as her scars didn’t scare the men to death, they might be okay.

  There was a lone guard traveling along the main path between the med center and the cafeteria. Everything else branched off of that path, including all of the prisoner cells. Fontana made a motion for them to hunker down behind a hut, so they did. Then he padded out behind the guard and snapped his neck. In a flowing motion, Fontana caught the guard as he fell and dragged him into the brush.

  Madeira began keeping a running count of bodies in her head. Later they would probably want to reconstruct what had happened.

  Fontana led them to the first cell. There was a man on the floor, curled on his side. Bones poked up out of his hips and he appeared to be unconscious. Reaching out, Fontana touched the cell door lock. Madeira heard a click and a squeak as the door popped open. Then she heard a pop from the upper corner of the cell. That must have been the camera.

  The bony man was suddenly spinning around, hands out to try to fend off attack. He didn’t have the energy, though, and he fell weakly against the bars. There was a giant swath of something dark on the front of his abdomen. Madeira was afraid to know what it was.

  Jordyn jumped up into the cage, swiping the helmet off her head. She positioned the helmet so that the shine from the NVG goggles illuminated her face. “My name is Jordyn Madeira, former US Army. Do you speak English?”

  The man licked his cracked lips. “L-little.”

  “What country are you from?”

  “Denmark.”

  Ok, that was one language she knew nothing about. “Do you know how many prisoners are here in the camp right now?”

  He held out a spread hand, all four fingers and the thumb. Five. “One,” he pointed at the med center.