by Meryl Sawyer
"We'll be in the rain forest then. How will we find our way?" Already she had visions of holding Rafi on one hip while hacking away at the dense foliage with a machete with her free arm.
"The Arauco Indians never bother with the border crossing. They hate the government. We'll follow one of their trails." He pulled out his tiny computer. "There's a special program in here courtesy of the EPA satellite."
"The Environmental Protection Agency has its own satellite?"
"You bet. A state-of-the-art satellite. It can spot a raindrop on an orchid and send a digitized, color-enhanced photograph to the White House in under one minute. They have detailed maps of the rain forest. It's their hot button."
She watched Logan click on Venezuela, then click again on Elorza. A map appeared, showing the city, the orphanage. And the road to Colombia.
"How do you know where we are? The truck keeps moving."
"The Breitling knows. They've always provided the military with specialized watches for pilots and astronauts. Mine is a Cobra Force special. It's a Chronomat Blackbird with a Titanium band." He consulted the glowing dials, unmistakable pride in his voice. "It will give me exact latitude and longitude information."
He pointed to the computer screen. "I compare it to the lat-lon information on the map. Judging by how fast this truck is going, we should be approaching one of the trails in about an hour."
Rafi stirred and Kelly decided to let him sleep on the straw. It was beastly hot inside the truck, and holding him was only making each of them warmer. He mumbled something as she put him down, then went right to sleep again. She took off her blouse and put it under his head.
Even though she was just in her bra and the new shorts that she had bought, it wasn't much cooler. She stretched out beside Rafi and told herself to get some sleep. She rested her head near Rafi's; the rank smell of the straw caused her stomach to rebel with a swift, sickening lurch.
She should have been panic stricken, but a bone-deep calm had replaced her earlier state of near hysteria. She didn't know why she felt so … composed. It took her a minute to realize how much she trusted Logan. She knew that if anyone could lead them to safety, it was Logan.
Trusting anyone with her life—and Rafi's—was a startling revelation. Early on, Pop had given her a precious gift—self-confidence. Over the years, she'd learned to rely on herself and take charge. If she'd been in this situation with Daniel, she would have been ordering him around.
And he would have allowed it. Daniel's unhappy childhood had scarred him emotionally. He appeared to be out-going and assured, but he wasn't.
Logan must have had a very traumatic childhood like Daniel, perhaps even worse, yet he inspired confidence and had true leadership abilities. She didn't question him, instead she trusted him in a way that she had never trusted any man.
She listened to the chuff of Rafi's rhythmic breathing. He was a gift, a priceless gift. She'd expected to gradually grow to love him even though he was the living proof of Daniel's betrayal. But the moment he'd called her "Mommy," her heart had opened and a new type of love had surged through her with bittersweet intensity.
Already she was fiercely protective of Rafi. She would do anything to save him, even if it meant being killed. Somehow she had to get him home where he would be safe and loved.
She tried to sleep, but couldn't keep her eyes closed. Logan wasn't seizing the opportunity to rest. He was loading the Glock that he had checked at the airport, then picked up when the plane had landed. When he finished, he placed it in the side compartment of his pack where he could easily get it.
"What's that for?" she whispered to Logan when he took out a small knife.
"It's a special switchblade. I want you to keep it in your pocket."
She sat up, and listened closely as he explained how to use it. Just as she put the knife in her purse, she heard a siren. It wasn't like sirens in America. This was a keening wail, like sirens in Hitler's Germany.
Logan peered through the tarp at the road behind them. "Son of a bitch! It's the police."
* * *
For the first time since he was a child, Logan was afraid, not for himself, but for Kelly and the boy. Sweat peppered his upper lip, and he swiped at it with the back of his hand, trying to think what to do. It was dusk and the light was tricky, making it hard to see.
"There's only one car, but it looks like two men are inside," he told Kelly as the truck slowed and gradually came to a stop.
Two men and rural policemen at that. Normally, he wouldn't have been concerned. He'd taken on six trained guerrillas on one botched mission in Guatemala. But this was different Two innocent people were now depending on him.
"I've got the knife," Kelly said gamely. "You've got a gun."
For a moment, he almost loved her. She had more courage and spirit than anyone he'd ever met. But he refused to let her take a chance with her life.
He put his finger to his lips and listened while the cops went up to the driver's door and began questioning the man. He denied picking up any norte Americanos. Just goes to show you what one hundred bucks US would do. Of course, the cops insisted on searching the back of the truck.
Logan figured he could blow them both away when they pulled back the tarp, but he couldn't risk them having drawn guns and shooting. Kelly or Rafi could be seriously wounded or killed.
He jumped out of the truck just as the cops came around to the back. They were sauntering, almost swaggering, like so many South American policemen on a power trip. No wonder the people hated them. The driver probably would have lied even if Logan hadn't given him so much money.
The first man had his gun drawn, and he fired the second he spotted Logan's Glock aimed at him. The wild shot didn't come anywhere near Logan. It went wide and shattered the windshield on the patrol car.
Logan missed his chance to kill him with a single shot. He was afraid the bullet would rip through the cop and kill the driver who was standing right behind him.
"Cuidado!" He yelled for the driver to look out.
The driver ducked, but by now the second cop had drawn his gun. Logan instinctively hit the blacktop, the back of the shoulder first, the way Cobras were taught and quickly rolled to the side. Both policemen fired at the spot where he had been.
Logan's first shot brought down one cop, hitting him squarely in the heart. The other cop dove under the truck, and began firing in Logan's direction. Shit! Logan couldn't gamble that one of his bullets might go astray into the back of the truck where Kelly and Rafi were. The cop had more ammo than he did, and could keep him pinned down until help arrived.
Above the burst of gunfire, Logan heard Rafi's frantic cries, "No! Mami, no!"
What in hell was Kelly doing? Her head popped out through a gap in the tarp just behind the cab. She climbed out and scrambled onto the top of the cab.
He realized what she was up to, but the cop under the truck couldn't see her. He kept firing at Logan. The truck kicked into gear and rabbit-hopped forward, giving Logan a clear shot at the man.
On the second hop, Rafi lifted the back tarp and jumped out. Logan didn't have a split second to think. His training took over and he reacted, firing at the man as he dashed across the road.
Rafi was standing there, frantically looking around for Kelly. Logan blocked the child with his body, cursing when he saw the man had jumped to his feet and was reloading his gun. Logan aimed, more carefully this time, knowing he only had one more bullet in the chamber.
His last chance.
The cop trained his gun at an angle so the bullet would hit Rafi. Logan threw himself over the child, and the bullet seared through his arm, splintering the bone.
The kick of his gun and the zinging sound of the bullet told Logan that he had fired, but he didn't realize he'd squeezed the trigger. A split second later, the man crumpled in slow motion, sagging to his knees, his head canted to one side.
The cop fired and fired, his bent trigger finger frozen on the gun. The slugs peppered th
e blacktop. The last bullet left the chamber just as the man hunched forward and hit the ground, faceup. A thin ribbon of blood oozed from the bullet hole between his eyes.
"Oh, my God," cried Kelly as she leaped from the cab and sprinted toward them.
"Mami, Mami," wailed Rafi, sobbing, but unhurt.
Logan couldn't move. He instructed his mind to override the pain, to shut it out. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, he told himself. But he kept wondering how in hell was he going to get them to safety with a bum arm.
Dazed, he barely heard Kelly cooing to Rafi to calm him. She took off her bra and used it as a tourniquet. She was naked from the waist up, her soft breasts pillowed against his arm as she worked on him.
His body failed to react as it normally would have. That's when he realized blood was gushing from the wound on his upper arm. No wonder he was light-headed, on the verge of passing out.
* * *
Chapter 30
« ^ »
Logan blinked hard, trying to get his bearings. Where in hell was he? A stench filled the dark, hot air, yet he felt chilled and clammy.
His brain struggled to process the information he was getting. He must be in the truck again. Nothing else on earth could smell quite as gross.
Then he remembered seeing Kelly half-naked. His arm! He lifted his left arm, and a white-hot blade of pain seared through him. He tried not to groan, but some sound escaped his lips.
"Logan, darling. Are you awake?"
It was too dark to see Kelly, but there was no mistaking the tears in her voice. Darling. She'd never called him that even when they were making love. Oh, Christ. He must be dying.
"How did you get me in here?" he asked, his head more clear now.
"The driver helped me. We dragged the men into the underbrush. Luckily, we were beyond the llanos and in the rain forest. I drove their car into the underbrush to buy us some time. I want to get over the border before their bodies are discovered."
"Good thinking," he said, and he meant every word. She had an amazing sixth sense that was invaluable in anti-terrorist work. She'd noticed the opening in the tarp and had later used it to get into the truck. When he'd been unconscious, she hadn't panicked. She'd taken all the right steps.
"Can you pull the flashlight out of my pack? It's in the side pocket."
She flicked on the flashlight. "I took it out already. I reloaded your gun, and I've been checking on you. It was off to conserve the battery."
He inhaled sharply, aware of a new, deeper pain. Seeing Kelly with blood—his blood—on her hands, staining her face—made his heart heavy. Her red-rimmed eyes and wet lashes told him she'd been crying. For him.
No one had ever cried for him.
"We're about half an hour from the border," she said, her voice low. Rafi's head rested on her lap, his little fist clutching the hem of her shorts.
He checked his watch. The lat-lon indicator said they had just past the trail the Indians used. "Stop the truck. Have him let us out here. We can walk back to the trailhead."
"You can't be serious. You'll die in the jungle, and we'll die with you. Our only chance is to hope they don't search the truck at the border."
"They'll search it. Someone must have seen us in the gas station and reported it to the police. Why else would they have come after us so quickly? Believe me, they've phoned ahead."
"We're just going to traipse off into the jungle?"
"I have a plan. Trust me."
She gently moved Rafi aside and scooted over to the back side of the cab. Her banging on the wall made the driver stop. It also awakened Rafi.
"Mami, Mami," he called, stretching his little arms out to her.
The driver came around to the back to see what was wrong. It didn't take much talking to persuade him to drive them back a quarter of a mile. The driver was a good man, but he had a family and didn't want any trouble at the border.
As soon as the driver returned to the cab, Kelly asked, "What is the plan?"
"The map shows the trail leads to a clearing about a quarter of a mile in. The EPA info says timber was illegally stripped from that part of the rain forest before it was stopped. We can spend the night there."
"Can you make it that far? You've lost a lot of blood."
"No problem." He had to make it. "I'll contact the DEA unit operating out of Colombia and have them send a helicopter for us."
She nodded, then turned off the flashlight. "We're going to need this. No use wasting its battery."
"Turn it on again. Painkillers are in the bottom of my pack in the yellow kit."
"I had to go through your pack. I found the pills. They're in my pocket, but there are only two of them. Do you want one now?"
The concern in her voice touched him, and for a moment, it overshadowed his admiration of her. She handled a crisis better than most men would have.
"I'll take one of those pills now. Don't bother to turn on the light. Just put it in my hand."
He figured it would take everything he had to find the trail and reach the clearing. He'd lost more blood than he realized. His body was incredibly limp, hot in places yet chilled in others.
But he didn't tell Kelly. Instead he tried to focus on the problems they might encounter. Finding the trail wouldn't be too hard, but the clearing had him worried. Plants grew incredibly fast in the rain forest. The EPA data in his computer was nearly a year old. By now the clearing might be too small for a helicopter to land.
Kelly placed the pill in the palm of his hand. He put it in his mouth and swallowed, but his tongue was so dry that it lodged in the back of his throat. Swallowing harder, it grudgingly went down.
Rafi was singing to himself, and Logan had to smile. Despite what he'd just been through, the little boy didn't seem traumatized. He was just happy to be with Kelly.
That made two of them.
"I can't thank you enough for saving Rafi," Kelly told him, the threat of tears in her voice. "I never thought he would jump out of the truck."
"He's terrified you'll disappear again." He winced, pain overcoming him for a moment. He took a deep breath, then, continued, "Rafi needs you, Kelly. He needs … love, a mother's love."
* * *
Kelly shifted Rafi from one hip to the other, almost stumbling over an exposed root along the trail. Sweat drenched her clothes plastering them to her body. The mossy scent of lichen and moldering leaves hung in the hot air, so thick and heavy with moisture that she wondered if a machete could cut it.
Around them, the trees and snake-like vines encroached on the trail seeming to grow as they passed. In places the rain forest had reclaimed the land, and they almost lost the path several times. The canopy of foliage was so dense that not a single star could be seen in the clear night sky. The only light was the blast of blue-white light from Logan's special flashlight.
From the secret world concealed by the jungle around them came mysterious sounds. Unseen and possibly dangerous creatures lurked in the moist thickets flanking the trail. Night creatures scuttled in the underbrush, foraging. A larger animal was moving along beside them just out of sight. But Logan didn't seem disturbed by the noises, so Kelly forged ahead.
The driver had left them off, and Logan had quickly found the trail the Araucos Indians had trod through the underbrush. God alone knew how Logan mustered the strength to sling his pack over his good arm and trudge down the path.
Kelly was ready to tell Logan that she had to rest when he stopped. She'd dumped what she didn't need in the back of the truck, keeping the Scotch and jeans in her tote. Her passport and the adoption papers were in the money-belt around her waist. A quarter of a mile didn't sound far, but carrying Rafi and the tote in the stifling heat and humidity was a real endurance test.
"Is this it?" Kelly asked as Logan flashed the light around the small clearing just off the trail.
"Yes. Let's make camp over there."
He ground out the words, his voice grittier than usual. She knew that he had bare
ly made it here. He walked over to a tree stump, dropped his backpack and sat down on it.
"Are you okay?" she asked as she came up to him.
For a moment he didn't answer. He gazed up at the lopsided moon peering down at them. It was obvious to her that this clearing was far too small for a helicopter, but she didn't mention it. Taking care of him was her first priority.
"There's a sheet of Kevlar rolled up in my pack. Put it on the ground and let Rafi sleep on it."
She did as she was told. Obviously, Logan was in far worse shape than he wanted to admit. It wasn't like him to sit there and let her go through his things.
"Buenas noches, mi chiquito bonito," she repeated what she'd heard Logan saying when she'd left him with Rafi to buy clothes. Then she kissed the little boy and said a silent prayer for his safety.
"Buenas noches, Mami."
He closed his eyes, and she couldn't resist giving him another quick peck. Then she turned to Logan, saying, "I think Rafi sleeps a lot, don't you?"
"I'm no expert on kids, but it seems that way. Have a doctor look at him."
"I will." She moved to examine the bandage she'd put on after she'd stopped the flow of blood with her bra. "Let me check your bandage." Blood had soaked through the gauze she'd found in the first aid kit in his pack. It had dried now, and had formed a thick crust on the bandage.
"You're going to have to take out the bullet, or I'll have blood poisoning."
For a second, she closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. God, please give me strength to do this. Too clearly she remembered blood gushing from the wound and her struggle to stem the flow with her bra.
Then he'd collapsed in her arms.
She'd dumped the contents of his pack on the ground in a frantic attempt to find his first aid kit. She'd managed to dress the wound, but she couldn't imagine prying out a bullet.
"You can do it, Kelly. Think of Rafi. We have to get him to safety."
"It's you I'm thinking about," she cried. "I got you into this mess. If it weren't for me…"
