by Dana Marton
“How long are you staying on the island?” she asked.
“As long as my cousin needs me.”
So much for the hope that he’d pack up and leave tomorrow.
The incline became steeper with every step they took. They walked in silence for the next hour or so, conserving energy. When they reached a rocky outcropping that had a couple of flat surfaces, he called a halt to rest.
They took off their backpacks. Hers held the food and water, his the repair kit for the satellite. Considering the number of metal tools and the spool of wire, she got the better end of the deal.
They ate canned meat, bread and fruit and each drank from their own bottle.
“I’ll look around a little if you stay with the bags,” he said.
“Fine.” The boots he had borrowed for her rubbed her feet, anyway. She had been prepared for a beach vacation and hadn’t thought to bring hiking gear.
The vegetation was lush here, so he could disappear in it in seconds. She waited a couple of minutes to make sure he was far enough. She moved over to his backpack and opened it. Tools, blanket, waterproof matches, a walkie-talkie and a fine knife with a seven-inch blade with a serrated edge. Much more effective than the kitchen utensil in her backpack. She took it and went back to her spot, leaned back on the stone to relax a little. She flipped the knife over and over again, finding its balance, getting a good feel for it.
The sun came through the leaves above, its warmth and the food she’d just eaten making her drowsy. She watched the bushes where he had disappeared, becoming mesmerized after a while by the leaves that flitted rhythmically in the breeze. Her eyelids grew heavy. She let her head rest against the rock at her back.
She slipped into the realm of dreams without notice, into the violent nightmare without any preamble. She was in a dark place. Children cried somewhere. A woman was whimpering. There was a man, the only visible shape, big and dark, made of shadows. He raged, and his fat mouth opened and there was blackness inside and something evil, threatening to swallow the crying kids, to swallow her. And he roared.
“Stop, Jimmy! Jimmy, stop!” she was yelling, knowing even in the dream that he wouldn’t, aware that the end was inevitable.
A hand closed around her wrist. Hard. The pain of it brought her awake.
She had the knife in her hand and Cal holding her wrist.
“Drop it.”
His face was inches from hers. She had no choice but to comply. How could she have been such an idiot and nodded off? They’d been up making plans and snooping around half the night, but still, she’d been on all-night stakeouts before and still gone to work in the morning. She was out of practice, her skills obviously rusty. A failing she couldn’t afford.
He picked up the knife and tucked it away, gazed down at her from his standing position, looking pretty formidable. “Who is Jimmy?”
She was going to tell him it was none of his business, but instead she said, “A man I killed.” And had the pleasure of watching his eyes go wide.
CAL LISTENED TO THE bug serenade of the night, pretending to sleep. Gina lay not a foot from him, wrapped in her sleeping bag at the base of the tower. Dusk had begun to fall by the time they’d gotten up here, thanks to the disastrous road conditions. He couldn’t blame Sergey for having turned back. He would have done the same if he didn’t have his private agenda.
Under the circumstances, they’d decided not to climb the tower until morning. He had plenty of time to fix what he had to and get back to the shore by midafternoon.
He opened his eyes a crack and found hers closed. The moonlight showed the curve of her hip. He tried not to focus on it much.
Gina Torno. She had killed a man. He’d been mulling that over on their way to the tower. Was she like the horde of criminals his cousin employed? Is that why she was here? He had hoped she’d come to join one of Joseph’s legitimate businesses. There were plenty of those, too, to make sure the man’s more nefarious activities had a solid cover.
She didn’t look like the average criminals who did Joseph’s dirty work. She did know how to fight, however. His still-aching ribs attested to that.
He’d brought her up the mountain so he could interrogate her away from her friends and everyone else, so he could take care of her if he decided that was the only way to save his mission. Instead he’d procrastinated the task all afternoon, asking questions but without real heat, hoping she’d betray herself on her own without him having to turn nasty.
His gut instinct and her gold-mocha eyes said she wasn’t like Joseph, was nothing like Mark or the others who worked for his cousin. But there was instinct and there were facts, and the fact was that she was here at Joseph’s invitation. And, in her own admission, she’d killed at least one man before.
Who was Jimmy? What had he done? The way Gina had called on him to stop in her dream, the desperation in her voice…Maybe Jimmy had needed killing. Cal watched her in the moonlight, how her face was relaxed now and peaceful—a thoroughly gorgeous woman. He would reserve judgment until he had more information on the matter.
And if she turned out to be one of the enemy and a serious risk, he would harden his heart and deal with the woman. Sometimes there was no right option; you had to make a choice between two courses of action that were bad and worse. He had known when he’d signed on to this mission that he would have to do things he’d never have done otherwise. They would have a long talk tomorrow.
Right now he had something more urgent to think about.
He sat up as quietly as he could and shook out his boots, mindful of the bugs, then slipped into them. He took nothing but his compass, gun and torch. With one last look at Gina, he slipped into the woods.
When he’d been here a week ago, he’d seen four bunkers on the south side of the island. Since he hadn’t been alone, all he could do was look at them from the tower while he’d worked on the satellite dish with Sergey. The man seemed to know nothing about them, nor was he interested in discovering more.
Cal had decided then that he would come back but had had to wait until he could do so without seeming suspicious. Now was the time.
He moved with care at first, then when he figured he was out of hearing distance, he picked up speed, no longer worried if a branch snapped underfoot. He could see nothing beyond the circle of the torch. He simply followed the compass, watching where he stepped.
The jungle at night was dangerous, even if there weren’t any large predators on the island. He could fall into a hole, break a leg, die before anyone found him. He just had to make sure that didn’t happen. If he hurried, he could check out the bunkers and be back at the tower long before Gina woke in the morning.
A good half hour passed before he realized he was being followed.
The short hairs stood at his nape. What or who was it? Animal or human? Just because Mark said there was nothing to fear in the woods didn’t mean he couldn’t be wrong. Just because they’d never seen a tiger didn’t mean there weren’t any. There were tigers on Borneo, and that wasn’t all that far away, although a much bigger island with a considerably larger habitat for big cats. He picked up speed, heading for a stand of breadfruit trees.
Whatever was following him did the same. His stalker was a human, he realized after a while and relaxed marginally, making sure his gun was handy. An animal that stalked its prey wouldn’t have made this much noise.
He turned off the torch and quietly broke to the right and waited, hoping to see whoever it was pass by. Nobody came. No sound now, either. The jungle was a sheet of impenetrable darkness around him.
After five minutes or so he started out again as quietly as he could, without turning on the light. Then he tripped over a root and fell face-first into the dirt and realized as he got up how stupid he’d been. He could have been skewered by a sharp branch. He flicked on the torch again and made sure he kept it pointed at the ground at his feet, keeping it sheltered with his body from behind. Hopefully there were enough trees between him and whoe
ver followed him to block the light.
Gina, most likely. But why? What interest did she have in his comings and goings? And if not her, then who? One of Mark’s men? Had Mark somehow figured out that he had something to do with that ceiling collapse and put a man on his tail?
Cal glanced back. If he got caught snooping around those bunkers—He wouldn’t. His mission was too important. He needed to make it out of the jungle alive.
He heard the noise again. Closer now, maybe only ten feet behind him. He drew his gun and turned the light off again. He had to figure out what was going on or he would never accomplish what he needed to do tonight.
He circled back to the point where he’d last heard the noise. It took him forever, but he finally saw the shadow he was looking for, standing under a nono tree in bloom. The flowers glowed in the moonlight. He moved closer inch by inch. When he was in position, he raised the torch and the gun simultaneously.
He had no time to either turn on the switch or fire. Both tools were kicked out of his hands the next second as the shadow twisted.
“Gina,” he growled as they grappled with each other. He’d seen and felt enough of her height and shape to recognize her.
She was drawing back, had probably only attacked on reflex. He wouldn’t let her. He had to figure out what in bloody hell was going on. He needed to grab her and not let her go until she talked.
When she was forced, she fought like a fiend, and not in a haphazard way, either. She fought like someone who’d been taught to fight. If he hadn’t outweighed her, he might never have been able to get the upper hand.
As it was, he finally had her pinned against a tree, holding her hands above her head. Her chest was heaving against his. And he was glad it was dark and she couldn’t see the blood that rushed to his face. From the fight, he told himself, from the exertion of the fight.
“What are you doing?”
“I wanted to see where you went.”
It was somewhat gratifying that at least she was breathing hard, too.
“Who are you?”
“A business consultant.”
“I already know the cover story. I want the truth. Where did you learn to fight like that?”
She waited a long time before she answered, time he spent trying to block out the sensation of her breasts pressing against him. She was full of fiery energy that in addition to putting him on guard—he knew she could go back to fighting in a split second, pulling some trick from her sleeve—was also bloody tempting.
“I used to be a cop.” She bit out the words with heat, her body as tense as a drawn bow.
Disappointment flashed through him. A crooked cop, then. His cousin had a whole collection of those. “Keeping the law proved too difficult?”
So she was exactly like everyone else who worked for Joseph. What had he expected? He pulled back a couple of inches.
“You disappoint me, Gina Torno.” The words slipped without his meaning to say them.
She went lax in the prison of his arms. “Welcome to the club.” There was a world of regret in her voice.
Odd for one of his cousin’s minions. The ones he’d met so far knew nothing of moral dilemmas or remorse.
He let her go. She shoved at him, just to prove she wasn’t surrendering, he supposed, but he wasn’t in the mood to play. He pinned her back up against the tree again. “I wouldn’t do that one more time.”
“Who the hell do you think you are to give me orders?”
“The guy who holds your life in his hands.”
She laughed in his face. “You’ll tell Mark about me? I wonder what he’ll think about your spying on his meeting?”
“You could get lost in the woods,” he said darkly. She needed to be scared enough to stay out of his way, not just in the interest of his mission but for her own sake also. If he couldn’t scare her off, he would have to eliminate her. “More is going on here than you understand,” he said again.
She opened her mouth, probably about to demand an explanation.
“Stay out of it and stay alive,” he said.
She went completely still and seemed to consider his words carefully, her eyebrows sliding up a quarter of an inch before she schooled her features back to normal. “Okay. Fine. You can let me go.”
He did so carefully but didn’t step away.
“You were going toward the bunkers,” she said. “What’s there?”
She was full of surprises, this one. “How do you know about the bunkers?” How closely was she involved in Joseph’s despicable projects?
“Our ship came around that corner of the island.”
“How many?”
“Four.”
That’s how many he’d seen from the tower. He’d wondered if there were more, blocked by vegetation or one of the large boulders that dotted the hillside that way.
“What are they?” she asked.
“Military bunkers left over from World War II.” He wasn’t giving away anything by telling her that. He knew little more himself.
“Why are they important to you?”
“They aren’t.”
“That’s why you were risking your life in the dark sneaking over to them in the middle of the night?”
She sure interrogated like a cop.
“What’s it to you?”
“I want to go with you.” She tilted her head.
“Why?”
“I’m scared to stay alone in the woods.”
Right. She might have been good at cop stuff, but she wasn’t good at lying. Odd for a criminal.
Myriad unlikely thoughts zipped through his head, possibilities he hadn’t considered before.
What if she wasn’t just like the others his cousin employed? What if she was here for the same reason he was, sent in by the Americans?
The thought stopped him in midmotion.
But wouldn’t the SIS, Britain’s Secret Intelligence Service, who had recruited him for this job, have told him if there were other operatives in the field? And what if SIS didn’t know about the Americans?
They had to, didn’t they? They were allies. These sorts of things were coordinated.
He collected his torch first, then, with its help, his gun.
“You’re going to shoot me?” Her body language was relaxed, but from the sharp look in her eyes he knew she was poised to fight.
“I probably should.” She knew enough to cause serious trouble. But she hadn’t yet. And she seemed to be doing the same type of information gathering on the island as he was, the reason they were continuously getting in each other’s way. Was he right about her being undercover? Could they work together? Did he have a choice?
What if she was here from some U.S. agency, they didn’t share information and ended up blowing the mission for nothing but stupid mistrust? He had to take a chance on her. If she wasn’t who he thought she might be…He rubbed the back of his hand over his forehead. He would deal with that if and when he came to it.
“Now what?” she asked.
He couldn’t believe he was seriously considering leveling with her. His contact at SIS would have a fit. But his contact wasn’t here to assess the situation and make decisions.
“Who are you working for?” He trained the light on her face.
She squinted. “Savall. You know that. It’s just a consulting company,” she said with bravado, but he could read the truth behind her words. He was a seasoned businessman who’d been through his fair share of negotiations. He knew when someone was stonewalling him.
He raised his gun. “You got yourself into something really nasty. I’m sorry. I’m going to ask one last time. It’s vital that you give the right answer, Gina. Who are you working for?”
Time and tension stretched between them as she measured him up, staring at him wildly. He could see the wheels madly turn in her head. Then she came to some sort of decision and squared her shoulders, bracing herself for whatever was to come.
He didn’t miss the hand that sneaked behind
her back. She probably had some sort of weapon. How? From where? Joseph’s men wouldn’t let anyone bring weapons to the island. He’d had to ask Mark for his gun and knife with the excuse that he wished to explore the jungle. He knew he was fully expected to give back both upon his return.
She drew in a slow breath and held it. “I’m working for the U.S. government.” She seemed ready to spring.
“For whom?”
“Who are you working for?” she asked instead of answering.
He hesitated. Didn’t really have any other choice but to tell her, did he? They needed to form some sort of an alliance.
“SIS.” He watched for her reaction.
Surprise and relief. “British Intelligence? They got you to go after your own cousin?”
His mood slipped and his defenses rose. He was well aware that he was going against family, had refused the mission over and over until SIS provided him with unquestionable proof that his cousin was a criminal mastermind who was responsible for the deaths of tens of thousands and was now part of a terrorist plot that could endanger millions.
He put that thought aside, aware that even though he’d taken on the task, his feelings were far from resolved.
“We’re on the same side,” he said, emphasizing the most important thing.
“Prove it. Give me one of your weapons.”
“Show me yours.”
She waited a beat, then pulled a steak knife from behind her back. And he could tell from her eyes that she would have gone up against him without a second thought. She had plenty of pluck.
He considered her for a moment and handed over the machete, a deadly weapon in its own right. She put away the knife and ran her fingers over the long blade, took a few seconds to examine the weapon. On their way up the hill, he’d kept it from her when she’d asked for it to help clear the underbrush.
