“Quesada,” Felicity called in Spanish. “Could you come over here, please?”
“No closer. You are too tricky. I can hear, and see you, fine from here.”
“Well, you can’t see enough,” she said, seduction oozing from her voice. “Look, you did a pretty thorough strip search, so I’ve got nothing left to hide from you. But I don’t want to die like this. Just a room away, we could have…some fun, one last time before I die.”
“You think me fool enough to untie you, just for sex?”
“You…you wouldn’t have to,” Felicity said. Her face showed this was harder than she expected. Mostly, her embarrassment probably stemmed from Morgan’s presence. But she continued. “A creative man like you can see a way. I could, well, I can be on my knees and elbows, still tied. A lot of men like to do it that way. And in my experience, many men like their women tied.”
“Getting that close to a captive, physically or emotionally, is the mark of an amateur,” Quesada said. “I am not an amateur.”
That closed that conversation. Their other guard, under Quesada’s eye, was unapproachable. Morgan wished Felicity would bolt, even if he died for it, but where could she go? Flight in the jungle, at night, barefoot, in just a thin nylon shell, would be painful at best, dangerous at worst.
Morgan was deep in thought, exploring the situation, looking for an undiscovered winning option when Felicity’s voice sneaked up on him in the darkness. “I’m sorry,” was an unexpected remark.
“Yeah, me too,” he said. “But we gave it one hell of a good run, didn’t we?”
“No,” Felicity said. “I mean for this whole mess. We’d never gotten into this if I hadn’t insisted we go undercover against an unknown enemy. It’s all…”
“If I hear the phrase `it’s all my fault’, I swear…”
“But it is,” Felicity said. “Not just the start. You had better sense than to pick up the kid here and carry him with us. That’s what really pissed Anaconda off. If I hadn’t made you take us to Texas the girl wouldn’t have died. Chuck, dear sweet Chuck wouldn’t have died, and we wouldn’t be about to die.” Morgan did not think he had ever heard an actual sob, but he was sure he heard one now.
“I’m glad you’re willing to take all the blame, Red, but you’re wrong,” Morgan said, sitting back in the deep cushions. He was not sure if both their guards understood English, and right then he did not care.
“First of all, we’re partners,” he continued, forcing calm into his voice. “We decided to take the job, for money, and to help a friend. Nothing wrong with that. Besides, if you recall, Anaconda fired the first shot in this war with that scorpion gag in your car. No way I’d have ducked out after that. And something else you maybe didn’t understand. I didn’t want to take Fred here under our wing, but I would have anyway. It was the only honorable option.”
Morgan paused and wet his lips, because the next bit made him uncomfortable. “Now, remember, when those two killers tried to hit us in our hotel rooms, Mary called and warned me. She was the only person who saw them. If they’d got us, they’d have killed her anyway. Standard operating procedure. We didn’t cause her death, we just adjusted the place.” He heard her breathing slowing, and knew he was getting through.
“And, for the last time, you didn’t kill Chuck Barton,” Morgan said. “He got sloppy, lost his edge and committed suicide by throwing knife. Yeah, I might not be here now if you hadn’t pushed me, but I wouldn’t like me as much. And while we’re on the subject, we ain’t dead yet!”
Morgan stopped for breath.
“Red, when you said what you did to Anaconda, when you stood up to her like that, I was cheering for you. You gained a lot of face in the eyes of her followers, and what you gained, she lost.” He chuckled here, drawing stares from their guards. “For a minute there, I thought you really were going to kick her ass. I’ve never been prouder of anyone I’ve been to war with, and if it comes to that, I’ll be proud to die with you, Felicity O’Brien.”
“I’d hug you if I could, Morgan Stark,” Felicity said. “And you’re right about one thing. We’re not dead yet.”
-46-
Anaconda entered the sitting room with the sun’s first rays, accompanied by two men. One was a gunman, the other, Frederico’s brother, Anthony. Two guards roughly yanked Morgan and Felicity to their feet. Frederico’s eyes fluttered open, but he looked around in horror and kept silent.
While Quesada held his gun on the captives, his partner tied a heavy hemp rope around Morgan’s waist, then around Frederico’s and Felicity’s. They all faced the same way, with Felicity behind Morgan and Frederico behind her. About two inches of slack rope separated them from each other. A guard used wire cutters to free their ankles and pointed them to the sliding glass door. It was dawn in Colombia and the somber mood felt appropriate. They were, after all, going to an execution.
After a slight false start the prisoners fell into step, marching at gunpoint across tall, damp grass. Climbing into a very clear sky, the morning sun warmed them despite a gentle breeze. Morgan heard parrots and, he thought, toucans discussing their day’s plans. When Felicity stumbled, he could not help but catch the impression of her nipples, stiffened by morning’s coolness, pressed into his back.
Their short walk ended beside Anaconda’s helicopter. Morgan could see those controls he had expected to be sitting at by now. Quesada dropped a much longer length of rope at his feet, picking up the end. Before any further action could take place, a howl got everyone’s attention. A lone maned wolf staggered forward, wobbling like a newborn colt on its stilt like legs.
“What is this?” Quesada asked. “It looks like the wolf’s been drinking.”
“The drug in the darts must just now be wearing off,” Felicity said. “They’ll be groggy for a few minutes after they wake up.”
Laughing, Quesada stepped forward, swinging a booted foot into the wolf’s side. The animal fell over, rolled, and scampered away. Then Quesada turned to his prisoners, wrapping the rope around all three of them. He stepped in close to make a knot in the middle of Morgan’s chest. He cinched it tight, grinning into Morgan’s face.
“You did run Mary off the road, didn’t you?” Morgan asked. “Remember? The Mexican girl?” Quesada looked at Morgan, twice bound with his wrists wired together.
“The Mexican girl?” Quesada rubbed at the scar next to his eye. “You mean on the highway in New Mexico. Si, I was driving. That cheap car, it rolled easy. So?”
“It’s just nice to be sure,” Morgan replied. Quesada stepped back, and never saw the naked foot snap upward into his crotch. The crunching sound was nearly as loud as Quesada’s strangled cry. The killer dropped to his knees, his face to the ground.
Morgan’s attack, born of frustration and rage, tipped the tethered group off balance. Morgan fell backward onto Felicity and Frederico, who landed face down on a helicopter runner. Morgan knew his rash attack had probably hurt his allies as much as the enemy. He heard the click of hammers being pulled back and Anaconda shouting “No!” to stop bullets from flying.
“Stand them up,” Anaconda shouted. Rough hands grasped their arms, hauling them forward. Felicity’s head smacked the helicopter’s frame on her way up.
“That was your final act of defiance,” Anaconda said, red faced. Then, to one of the gunmen, “Get Quesada into the copter. You! Get the rope around the tail. Now!”
A chill rolled down Morgan’s spine as he realized what came next. He looked at the knot on his chest, the wire around his wrists, the helicopter, looking for a way out of what seemed a trap too simple to break. Anaconda walked to within a foot of him, then stepped back until she was out of reach.
“Touch me and they will shoot to wound,” she said. “I will decide how you die. I will lift you into the sky, so that all my men can see how helpless you are. Then, we will cruise by, over there.” She pointed a thumb behind herself. “See those tall tree ferns. We will fly over them, very fast. You three will hit the tr
ees. Hard! Again and again, until there is nothing left of you but bloody skeletons. What, no final words of resistance, Miss O’Brien?”
Felicity stood behind Morgan with her head down, her hair obscuring her face, as if she was hiding behind her partner.
“And you, Mister Stark?”
Morgan responded to her question, staring at his captor. His gaze seemed to glance off those silver orbs but he held her eyes anyway.
“If this is it, bitch, I’ll be waiting for you in hell,” he said.
Anaconda looked around. This was a perceptive woman, and Morgan, following her gaze, could guess what was happening in her mind. She was noting the subtle shifts in body language and less aggressive facial expressions. She would note how gun barrels swayed away from their intended targets. For a moment she seemed uneasy, aware of her men regarding Morgan with respect. Too much respect. Morgan started a small smile. Then Frederico, ignored until now, faced his brother who stood just behind Anaconda. His eyes were sad.
“You will die with her, you know,” he said. Frederico’s pronouncement made all her men nervous. The situation would become critical if they stayed on the ground any longer. Anaconda quickly boarded her helicopter, along with Quesada and her pilot. Anthony climbed in last, just as Anaconda ordered the pilot to lift off.
While the big rotor slowly started turning, Morgan was cataloging the situation. The rope, now tied to the helicopter’s tail, had a good forty feet of slack. If he managed to somehow free himself quickly, he would get a bullet in the head. If it took him more than a minute, he’d face a long fall to an unpleasant death. He had run out of good options at last. Feeling the biting wind the rotor sent down, Morgan tried to twist his head around.
“Time for an idea,” he said to Felicity.
“Do not worry,” Frederico said. For the first time, Morgan became aware of him, and the confident look on his face. “You are the puma, and she, the hawk. Together you will pull the flying serpent from the sky.”
Morgan’s response was jerked out of him when the rope suddenly snapped taut and dragged them into the air. At first it was a dizzying ride. They were swaying under the rising helicopter, spinning as the twined rope uncoiled. The cold cut into Morgan right through the thin jumpsuit, and two ropes bit into his skin. The earth twisted below in all directions. The continuous helicopter sound from above quickly became the meaningless drone of white noise.
Soon the twisting stopped and they were hanging straight, a few hundred feet in the air. Morgan pulled his stomach in, trying to turn. If he could face Felicity, his body and Frederico’s would protect her, hopefully until the rope frayed and broke from impact with the trees. He was half turned when he saw tears flowing freely from Felicity’s eyes.
“God damn it!” Felicity swore, startling Morgan as much as Frederico. She looked up at Morgan through tortured eyes he did not understand. “I was going to do it, but I can’t figure out how the damn thing works.”
“What?” Morgan never finished his question because Felicity held her hands up as far as she could. Her left held the small paper package that held C4, and her right had a single pencil fuse.
“When we fell, I was over the helicopter runner and I felt this stuff in the tall grass. I grabbed them, but only got one of the fuse things. Sure and I would have set it off too, so you’d never know what happened. No time for fear. But I can’t figure out how to get the fuse to go off.”
A rush of thoughts, facts, and ideas flashed through Morgan’s mind, first and foremost being “Thank God.”
“Red, you’re brave as hell, but it wouldn’t have worked. The blast wouldn’t have reached the copter. But maybe, maybe I can. Shit, the boy could turn out to be right.” If I really can climb like a puma, he thought.
“Can you get this damn wire off my wrists?” Morgan asked. Felicity bent her neck, Morgan raised his hands, and the girl applied her teeth to twisting wire. It seemed agonizingly slow under the circumstances, but in fact she freed Morgan’s hands within two minutes. Then she worked at the inner rope, separating him from herself and Frederico.
“Look out!” Frederico called out and Felicity’s eyes grew wide. Morgan half turned and saw the top of a huge fern rushing at him. He had almost forgotten they were moving. He hugged Felicity, gritting his teeth.
The sharp edges of fronds and branches heightened the jarring impact. Morgan felt his back getting warm and wet, and knew why. The crash had shredded the nylon shell away, leaving his back covered with only blood. The helicopter turned. Positioning for another pass, Morgan assumed. He placed the pencil fuse in his mouth like a cigar, and clutched the plastique under his chin.
“You two hold tight to the outer rope, and we’ll see if we can go out with a bang.” With a forced smile toward Felicity he squirmed free and started climbing.
In difficult situations, you thank the Lord for any help that appears. Morgan appreciated the thick, rough hemp rope because he could easily grip it and climb. He moved upward slowly, trying to ignore the raw wounds on his back, the grating on his hands, the rough cord scraping across his crotch with each move upward.
Twenty feet up the rope, Morgan felt a directional shift. They were making another run for the ferns. He looked down at Felicity who nodded her head stoically and began to swing. Despite their forward momentum, she managed to get a good swing going, side to side. Morgan, halfway up the rope, pulled in rhythm with her. Their swing became pronounced as they approached the next tree. As they came even with it, Felicity and Frederico reached the end of a lateral swing. Long fronds lashed Felicity’s limbs but that had to be much better than hitting the springy trunk.
Morgan kept moving up the rope, but his progress was slowing. Damage done during their private war with Anaconda was taking its toll. A lancing pain in his right forearm from a knife wound was being echoed by his left calf, thanks to a bullet hole. Pain sapped the strength in those muscles, making a difficult climb impossible. The downdraft from the rotor shoved against him, forcing him to close his eyes. The noise was ear-splitting. Vibrations travelling down from the copter tail made his grip less dependable each second.
Just two meters from the helicopter’s body Morgan realized he could not push himself any higher. His grip was failing and he had no desire to become part of the beautiful rain forest landscape he now flew over. Instead, he wrapped his right arm in the rope, looping it three times. He held the explosive plastic in his left hand.
The fuses were so simple, it was no wonder Felicity had not figured out how they worked. You had to look at one to see how the mechanism did its explosive job. Inside each detonator was a thin metal band, like you find in electrical fuses. Squeezing the pencil rod ruptured a squib of powerful acid. Fuse delay time depended on how long it took the acid to eat through the metal band. When the band snapped, it would release the plunger which, he hoped, would trigger the explosion. Felicity had only grabbed one, a fairly short one, but it would have to do.
One handed, Morgan pulled the paper wrapping from the plastic lump and squeezed off half. He bit down on the detonator, releasing the acid and beginning the countdown. It was a one minute fuse. He swung the small wad of putty up toward his mouth, jamming it onto the detonator. Then he swung his arm back and tossed his explosive ball straight up into the powerful wind.
Fire shot through Morgan’s upper arm where a knife had so recently been, but the lump of plastique hit and stuck to the helicopter’s belly. Sucking in a deep breath, Morgan slid back down the rope, a bit more quickly than he wanted.
“And?” Felicity asked when Morgan reached her. Her hair was scattered in all directions and he thought he could see goosebumps on her flesh where the wind pressed her jumpsuit tight against her arms and shoulders.
“We’ll know in a few seconds,” Morgan replied. Over Felicity, he could see Frederico’s mouth gape open and this time he did not wait to be told. He wrapped himself around Felicity anticipating another impact. They were driving in at another tall tree fern, faster this time.
Morgan clenched his teeth and clamped his eyes shut. It would be close.
The world’s sound track was cut, and a tangible silence surrounded Morgan. A shock wave instantly deafened him, followed by a wave of searing heat that swept him from above. The rope went slack. His eyes opened a crack but the world was spinning so wildly it did not help. The feeling of weightlessness spurred the vertigo.
When the impact came it was on his side, and Morgan clutched wildly at fronds that broke off in his hands. He managed to grasp the woody stem that imitated a trunk for the tree fern. The outer rope’s large, loose loop dragged on him, threatening to tear his grip loose. In a burst of panic he struggled to free himself from it but before he could, he realized he was holding up the other two captives. In a moment that weight eased. Frederico was holding the stem below him and Felicity was pulling herself up to Morgan’s level.
Morgan could taste last night’s dinner, his last meal, again. Felicity did not look as if she enjoyed the ride any better. Most of her jumpsuit’s top half had been torn away. Shaking his head to clear it, Morgan spotted the helicopter listing in a wide circle away from them. It was losing altitude unevenly, as if the pilot were somehow trying to keep his ruptured aircraft flying. The tail boom was almost completely disconnected, and without a tail rotor, the copter gyrated wildly. Two bodies flew from it just before it landed with a heavy thump next to the drug production plant and erupted in flames.
Felicity stared long and hard into Morgan’s eyes before saying, with dramatic understatement, “Well, you did it.”
“We did it,” he answered. “I was out of ideas until you came up with the plastique.”
“Okay, we did it,” Felicity said through a giggle. “Now, how do we get down?”
Hands moving stiffly, Morgan pulled in the rope they so recently dangled from and tied its end to the treetop. Frederico and Morgan then gripped it and lowered the three of them to the ground.
Ice Woman Assignment Page 22
