by KaLyn Cooper
As the man tried to run across the fifteen feet of open space to the next tree, he never made it. Nita’s shot took him down. That was some damn fine shooting.
“Move, now,” she yelled.
“Run like hell to the next tree,” he ordered, pulling up the man as Chyna scrambled to her feet.
Nita was making her way down to the lakeshore using the trees as much as possible. She’d stopped just before the wide sandy beach and signaled for him to bring in the remaining researchers.
“Everyone down,” she commanded. “Try to make your body as flat as you can against the ground. We don’t know if they’ll be back with reinforcements before the helicopter gets here.”
Daniel heard whimpering and looked over at the four researchers. Chyna was crying into the crook of her arm.
Before either he or Nita had a chance to say anything, the older man in the group warned her, “Stop that bawling before you get us all killed.”
A motherly woman next to her rubbed her hand down Chyna’s back. “Take a deep breath, and get your body under control. We’re not out of here yet, and we’re certainly not out of danger.”
Daniel listened carefully for the sound of rotor blades. All he could hear was the mumbling and heavy breathing of the researchers. He glanced to his side to see Nita kneeling, constantly scanning the area through her NVGs. She wasn’t even breathing hard. She’d just killed several men, and outwardly it hadn’t phased her. She was focused on the mission.
“Nice shooting back there,” Daniel said in a low voice so it only went as far as Nita.
“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.” She cocked her head as though listening.
He didn’t hear anything, which had him worried. They could probably defend that position through at least one more firefight, provided not too many men showed up next time, but at some point they would run out of ammunition.
Glancing over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of her small smile.
“They are almost here.” She duck-walked over to where the scientists lay face down. “The helicopter will be here in less than a minute. You’ll need to jump in the door then scoot out of the way. My teammates will help you. Do absolutely everything they tell you. Don’t ask questions. Just do it. Once we take off, make yourself comfortable. It’s going to be a long ride to Costa Rica.”
Daniel listened carefully while watching for tangoes. Given the rustling behind him, he knew they were all on their feet again. But he didn’t hear any helicopter.
The purr of a well-honed mechanical engine broke the complete silence of the city. It seemed to be coming from over the lake. He turned and was startled by the closeness of the helicopter. At least he thought it was a helicopter. The pointed nose and sharp angles looked like something out of a science fiction comic book rather than a U.S. military arsenal.
The whipping of the rotor wind around him was oddly comforting. It had always meant he was headed home after a mission. He sighed heavily as he looked back at the building where Cris and his guards were waiting. Disappointment fell over him like a pelting rain.
He wasn’t going home.
But Nita and the scientists were.
As the side door slid open, he recognized the woman dressed head to toe in black, even though a helmet hid her long blond hair. He couldn’t help but smile at his sister as he helped herd the scientists to the helicopter. When he lifted Chyna onto the deck of the chopper, he looked up into a copy of the same blue eyes he saw in the mirror every morning.
“Hey, sis. This is a new one for us.” He could see the shock on her face before she broke into a broad smile. Jumping out of the helicopter, she threw her arms around him.
“Are you coming back to the compound with us?”
He hugged his sister. The yearning to go home intensified. He was so over this undercover shit. The next time he spoke to their Uncle Tom, he’d ask for an immediate transfer. Hell, he might just quit the CIA. He had so much more than just his future to think about now.
“Sorry, little one. I can’t.” But damn it, he wanted nothing more than to hop on that chopper with her and be drinking fine Scotch whiskey within hours, eating some of the most delicious food prepared by their cook, and to sleep in his big soft bed. But not tonight. “I’ll try to sneak off and see you as soon as possible.” That was as much a promise to himself as it was to her.
The dual blades on top of the helicopter started to increase speed.
“Sorry, big bro. Gotta go. Stay safe.” She leaped into the futuristic-looking helicopter, then she turned to wave. Nita stepped up beside her and mouthed thank you while saying it in American Sign Language.
He placed his fingers on his pursed lips and flung them toward the helicopter as it lifted off, throwing a kiss. To which woman, he wasn’t sure.
The helicopter shot almost straight up and quickly disappeared in the dark of the night as though it had never been there. Once he was sure they were safely gone, Daniel trotted back toward the office Cris had appropriated. He announced himself as he approached his men who still stood guard on either side of the door to their leader.
“Any problems?” Daniel asked.
“None. But we did hear shooting,” Emilio noted.
“Yeah, we got the bastards.” Daniel wasn’t about to define which bastards he was referring to, but instead strode into the office where Cris sat behind the computer.
“We’re leaving,” the leader said a few minutes later as he unhooked a cable to the PC sitting on top of the desk. “The city is officially dead.”
“What the fuck?” Daniel glanced up to find the guerrilla leader grinning proudly.
“What the EMP didn’t take out, I just virtually destroyed. It will take years to rebuild this city.” The two men stared at each other for a long moment before Cris explained. “We’re building a whole new capitol at San Miguelito on Lago Cocibolca. General Cortez plans to wipe out Managua, literally scraping away everything from the former regime.”
Daniel considered the small port on the largest lake in Nicaragua and couldn’t help asking, “Why there? That’s nothing but a tiny fishing port.”
Cris clicked the locks on the metal briefcase. “In five years, it will be the halfway point of the Nicaraguan Canal linking the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. World-class hotels and high-end resorts will replace those fishing shacks. People from all over the world will get off cruise ships and spend their foreign dollars in the most modern city in Central America. Ships that are too big for the Panama Canal will easily fit through the canal that I am building. Commercial boats from every country around the world will pay us to travel the length of my canal.”
Daniel didn’t miss the word my. Cris had studied ocean engineering in the United States and possessed a master’s degree in the field, but upon returning to Nicaragua, he had not been allowed to work on the fledgling idea of a transcontinental canal. The now previous president hadn’t found a billionaire who was willing to part with enough of his money to buy off the rights to dig the canal across Nicaragua. By the looks of things, General Cortez didn’t have that problem.
Cris picked up the briefcase and headed toward the door. “San Miguelito will be one of the richest fresh water ports in the world. Tourists will spend millions of dollars every day enjoying international cuisine, the finest hotels in the world, and our beautiful lake, all because of my canal.”
At the double doors to the office he stopped and turned around to face Daniel. “Nicaragua will no longer be the Third World shit hole the U.S. president called it. We will be a powerful nation. There will be plenty of money for health care, education, and new roads.” Cris smiled. “Did I tell you about my railroad we’re building at the same time as the canal? We will control the fastest East-West commerce shipment in the world. And that magnificent fleet of warships the United States uses to threaten the world with will protect us.”
He slapped his hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “And you’ll be there, right beside me, my friend. But now we need to return to camp whi
le General Cortez deals with the fallout from his takeover. I feel like fucking every woman there.” His grin fell. “Every woman except for my sister. She’s yours.”
Daniel thought about the bitch he’d used to get close to Cristobal Maximo four years ago. On the outside, she had been beautiful with dark golden eyes, long black hair, and large lips around perfect teeth. Too bad the woman was certifiably crazy. And paranoid. And a slut.
She’d been educated in the U.S.A. like her brother. But underneath that sorority polish was a scheming bitch who’d fuck any man to get her way. She soon discovered that Daniel was not the jealous type. They’d never been married although she’d tried twice to tie him to her forever. He knew better than to shackle himself to a deceitful, cunning woman who would kill him as quickly as she’d suck his cock. She needed to be the constant center of attention and always in control.
Daniel didn’t play that way so they’d fought loud and often. But damn, the makeup sex was unbelievable. She’d always come back to him, apologizing for whatever she’d concocted in that insane brain of hers—because she was truly, fucking crazy. The shit she’d come up with was literally insane.
Thank Christ her brother knew just how deranged she was. Sometimes Daniel thought Cris “gave” her to him so someone else would have to put up with her shit and handle her mood swings. Daniel was never sure if she was on drugs, or should be. All he knew for sure was that she was dangerous so he’d kept his distance, most of the time. But like an addictive drug, when he was at his lowest, she’d show up and offer him relief. He’d take what she offered, hating himself afterward for it.
Tonight, with Nita on his mind and his emotions out of control for the doctor who haunted his dreams, there was no way he could bury himself inside any other woman, especially the crazy bitch. He wanted to take the Land Rover and point it toward Costa Rica. He was afraid if he did that tonight, he might never come back. And he had to come back.
Instead, Daniel got drunk with his men—the two dozen elite, highly trained, and most intelligent soldiers in the camp. Just before dawn, he’d crawled into bed, alone.
Daniel slept through much of the next day, exhausted from the night in Managua. Still feeling like shit, he briefly dragged himself out of bed, and managed to check on everything he was responsible for. Scarfing down some lunch, he watched the camp children play, bringing joy to his tortured soul for their now-brighter future. The guards on duty assured him Cris was safe and obviously contented by the number of women who’d been in his bed since their homecoming. Satisfied everything was as it should be, Daniel returned to bed.
By the second day, he was feeling human once again. He dropped by the barracks to roust the man who’d been on the mission with him. He wanted to do some reconnaissance back in Managua. “Rise and shine,” he bellowed next to his bunks.
When Hugo Vargas rolled over, he looked terrible and smelled worse. “Sorry, lieutenant. There must have been something in that whisky last night.”
“You hit the bottle again last night knowing you were on duty today?” Daniel was pissed that his man would shirk his duties in such a way.
“That wasn’t last night, sir. It’s been two days,” the man next to him pointed out.
“Yeah, lieutenant, we’ve been throwing up for two days now,” another soldier tried to explain.
Daniel looked at his watch. That date couldn’t be right. He hadn’t slept for an entire day and night. Somehow, he’d lost a whole twenty-four hours. Had that fucking bitch, Cris’s sister, drugged him again? She’d done that to him once, and made him late for meeting Katlin at their compound in Costa Rica. He smiled deep inside as he remembered that visit. He’d never forget kissing Nita for the first time.
Just then one of the men shot out of the bed and dragged his weakened body to the bathroom. Sounds of dry heaves filled the long barracks.
“I’ll send in the camp medic,” he promised as he left to check on Cris.
On his way through the tents, Daniel saw the man who had been designated camp doc. Although he’d never finished more than two years of med school, he had mad skills at bullet removal and could stitch sutures like a plastic surgeon. Daniel could attest first hand to both abilities.
“Hey, doc, can you check on my men? They’re puking their guts out.” Daniel looked at the harried older man.
“Them and half the camp.” The medic shook his head. “Seems we have the flu making its way through our little village. It’s been hitting people harder than usual, though.”
“Help us.” Down the dirt street, a young teenager half-carried an older woman who looked to be her grandmother.
“The farmers around us are bringing their sick here to see me.” He looked up at Daniel. “And there’s not a fucking thing I can do for any of them. We just don’t have the supplies.” As though an idea dawned, he looked up at Daniel hopefully once again. “Do you think you can get medicine in here from your contacts? Maybe something for flu? I could really use gallons of rehydration fluids. And potassium. Their joints and muscles seem to ache, but that could be due to the high fever. Which reminds me, we’re desperately low on aspirin to bring down the fevers. Do you think you can help?”
Daniel wasn’t sure, but he’d run the request up the chain of command. “I’ll see what I can do.” He glanced around the area looking for the small familiar faces. “Where are all the children?”
“When people started getting sick, the teacher took them to the school.” The doctor gave him a weak smile. “Thanks to you, they all got their flu shots this year. But we all know that’s not a guarantee they won’t get sick.”
With a short nod, Daniel headed toward one of the few adobe buildings located on the outskirts of the camp. He was more than a little concerned, especially for the babies.
Chapter 7
Nita was more exhausted than she had been during Hell Week, the final test of their SEAL training, as she dragged her tired ass from the clean room located on the resort property next door to the Callahan compound in Costa Rica. Even though everything they needed had been delivered, the lab still had to be completely set up before they could release the live viruses into the new storage units. Complicating the process to the nth degree was the fact they had to do everything in self-contained clean suits. It was like walking around in a bulky space suit with a set of heavy scuba tanks strapped on.
Originally built to be a beachside grill that could withstand a category five hurricane, the large block building was certainly stout. It had its own water source and HVAC separate from the hotel. To ensure containment, a U.S. company specializing in mobile clean rooms had brought in their panelized system, totally encasing the interior and creating a leading edge facility.
Uncle Tom had insisted that every piece of equipment be hardened against another EMP, which included the air conditioning systems as well as backup generators for the backup generators. When the Ladies of Black Swan had arrived three days ago, the clean room itself had been completed, but the air systems were still under construction. Thank God somebody was smart enough to put several filters in place, as well as bacteria killing lights, within the ventilation. But all of that had taken time.
The scientists had just confirmed that Reston Ebola was an airborne virus and simple breathing could transmit the illness. It could penetrate through the mucus in the eyes and nose. This virus was one of the most dangerous on the planet.
Nita yearned for a solid six hours between soft sheets as she trudged over the well-worn path in fresh scrubs and a new pair of flip-flops. Her mind spun with too many possibilities to rest so she hung the right and walked along the sandy beach, allowing the lap of waves and warm sea breeze to calm her. Stretching out on one of the comfortable lounge chairs, she stared at the winking stars in the moonless sky.
She forced fresh salt air all the way to the bottom of her lungs to purify every corner of the recycled air she’d been breathing for days. As she had learned in yoga class, she let her muscles relax one-by-one. She neve
r remembered reducing the tension in her calves.
The distant sound of a fussy baby brought Nita to her nightmare. Red glowed beneath the child’s chocolate skin. What the hell am I missing? The panicked thought raced through her mind once again, just as it had so many times since her last year in med school. She had delivered this precious life into the world on OB/GYN rotation. The newborn’s Apgar scores were ten-by-ten, excellent on anyone’s scale. Less than twenty-four hours later, the child had been moved to the neonatal intensive care unit and the mother had disappeared.
The supervising NICU physician had assured Nita that they had run every test possible, but had yet to discover why the child ran such a high fever. Wanting nothing more than to pull the baby from the hard plastic encasement, Nita had satisfied her need by running a gloved hand down the small hot cheek. She had to be missing something. She’d retracted her hands back through the protected circles and grabbed the file at the end of the tiny bed. Accustomed to looking at lab results, she scanned the long list of numbers. Damnably, nothing had stood out.
Her gaze had swept the many machines connected to the small body clad only in a diaper. What the fuck am I missing?
The baby’s cries had quieted as her legs and arms calmed as though she’d run out of energy. Nita had watched the elevated heart rate drop to one of sleep. The tiny chest had expanded and contracted several times. Satisfied the unnamed child would rest, she had gone on with her rounds.
Near the end of her shift, after delivering eight more babies, Nita had decided to drop into the NICU one last time before heading back to the barracks. The second she stepped in the door, her entire body had tensed.
The physician in charge of neonatology had stood over the opened incubator, tiny electrical probes in hand as a solid-tone alarm pierced the air. “Clear.” The nurses surrounding the crib had all lifted their hands. A second later, the heart machine had blipped a normal cadence. “We’ve got her back.” He’d scanned the machines before giving orders changing the medications.
