Delta Force

by Alex Westmore

  “I think he should be our first visit.” Delta rose as she spoke.

  Liz reached out and touched Delta’s hand. “He’s not here.”

  Delta stopped and glowered down at Liz. “What do you mean he’s not here?”

  “He had business in Nicaragua, and won’t be back until tomorrow.”

  “He isn’t worried, then?”

  Liz shrugged. “Believe me, Juan Carlos believes Megan fell under Augustine’s charm and is spending some romantic time with him. That’s how they think down here.”

  Delta slowly lowered herself back to her seat. “So, he didn’t bother sending anyone after her or check to make sure this Augustine guy wasn’t taking adv—”

  “It’s nothing like that, Delta. He’s a really nice guy who’s devoted to saving animals in the rain forest. Megan showed an interest and they became friends. But that’s all. Megan made it clear she was not available. Tico men respect a woman’s space, unlike some of the other Latin American men. Augustine was just a friend.”

  A sigh of relief escaped from Delta’s lips. “And you’re sure he understood Megan’s boundaries?”

  Connie leaned closer to Liz. “What Delta wants to know is, is there any reason why we shouldn’t suspect that Augustine had abducted her?”

  Liz shook her head. “I never saw him treat Megan like anything other than a friend or a student. He was always very respectful. If he had any romantic feelings for her, I wouldn’t know.”

  Delta pushed her chair back once more and stood up. “Let’s get to the pension and see what we can find.”

  Connie glanced up at Delta.

  “Now, Consuela! I won’t wait any longer.”

  Connie slowly rose, taking Megan’s journal and stuffing it in her purse. “What about the embassy?”

  Delta considered this a moment. “Why don’t you go to the embassy, and I’ll go to Megan’s. We might as well cover as much ground as we can.” Delta smiled to the waitress as they made their way from the veranda to the front of the Gran Hotel.

  Connie gazed over at Delta. “I still don’t like the idea of separating.”

  “It makes the most sense.”

  Sighing, Connie acquiesced. “All right. Meet me back here in three hours, and don’t go anywhere else.”

  Delta nodded and said softly, “Thanks.”

  “No problem. You take the Jeep.” Connie pointed to the red Jeep in the parking lot before turning to Liz. “You take Del back to your place. I’ll get a taxi.”

  Delta took the keys from Connie. “Good idea. Come on, Liz.” Hopping over the curb, Delta started for the Jeep.

  “Storm?”

  Turning just as she put the key in the door, Delta answered. “Yeah?”

  “Don’t go off half-cocked,” Connie warned, fully aware of Delta’s MO when patrolling the streets. Delta was as unconventional as they came when it meant bringing down the bad guys. “And take this.” Tossing Delta a map, Connie watched as she snatched it with her free hand.

  “Right.”

  “We’re not in River Valley, Del. Remember that.”

  Closing her fingers around the keys, Delta unlocked the door and jumped in.

  Morning sun filtered through the large green leaves of the overhanging trees. Shafts of sunlight caressed the camp as a light breeze rustled the smaller leaves. The only sound louder than the birds and insects were the tents being unzipped.

  “Buenos días!” one of the guards announced as he folded the tent flap back. As he held his hand out to help Megan through the opening, the guard grinned at her.

  “No thanks,” Megan said, brushing past his outstretched hand. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she realized there was something different about this morning. “It’s later than usual, isn’t it?”

  The guard, still grinning, nodded. “Sí. General Zahn want you sleep late. You good for his...cómo se dice…temperature?”

  Megan looked at him. “That’s temperament, Paco, and you can march right back there and tell him that I don’t want any special treatment. He may get me in the evenings, but I don’t want anything from him once the sun comes up.”

  The guard, still smiling, said in broken English, “No make him happy.”

  Stretching, Megan bent over and helped Siobhan from the tent. “I don’t really care.”

  The guard looked at Megan and shook his head. “No smart, señorita. The general is muy feo when enojado.”

  “I’m sure he’s ugly even when he’s not mad. Go on, Pedro...take my message back to him.”

  The guard shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

  As they were led away, Megan asked Siobhan, “You okay?” Siobhan looked up at Megan with empty eyes. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

  Megan put her arm around Siobhan’s shoulders and walked close to her as they started their descent into the mouth of darkened caverns covered by overgrowth. After four days of this daily trek, they were all too familiar with the rocky path. At first, Megan figured they were being led to their deaths. And in a way, they were—they were being worked to death. Already, one woman had collapsed, and when she refused to work, they shot her in the back of the head. This seemed to motivate the others the next day.

  “I know you’re scared,” Megan whispered to Siobhan. “But you must have courage.”

  “Courage? How can I? And how can you just keep going, knowing they’ll probably kill us when they’re through?”

  Megan stopped. “Kill us? Where’d you get that idea?”

  “They killed your friend, Augustine, didn’t they?”

  Megan blinked quickly. “That was different. Augustine knows the rainforest. He could have gotten us out of here. He was a threat. To the Colombians, we’re just weak women. We’re not really considered very threatening.”

  “Exactly. They were afraid of him. And they’ll be afraid to let us go, too. They’ll do the same to us when we’re finished.”

  “Then we must not finish.”

  Siobhan stopped. “What?”

  Gently pulling her along, Megan lowered her voice. “Tell the others to slow down just a little. We’ve got to buy ourselves some time.”

  “Time? Time for what?”

  “Time for me to think of a way to get us out of here.”

  An hour and a half after her fruitless search through Megan’s possessions, Delta drove into the town of Rivas. The first thing she noticed was its size...or lack thereof—one main street...and the major mode of transportation was by foot.

  So far, Liz’s description of life outside the city of San Jose was right on the mark. The Pan-American highway was the only real highway in the country that didn’t have yard-long potholes, sections of gravel, or one-lane bridges. Once outside the metropolitan area, the scenery was lush—every shade of green imaginable. Numerous small houses dotted the countryside. But unlike what Delta was used to seeing at home, these almost looked like airy barns and small sheds. Few, if any, had glass in the windows, and almost every front door was wide open.

  But what struck her the most were the smiles on the people’s faces. Everywhere she went, people waved to her, as if she were some long-forgotten relative. They seemed so happy, so carefree. But then, Delta figured, given the beauty of their surroundings, it was no wonder. This country was a postcard. Everywhere she looked, she saw another Kodak moment. There were rolling hills, lush valleys, cliffs covered with the forest green of coffee trees. Every available field was home to at least one kind of fruit-bearing tree or shrub. In areas too steep for tree growth were dark green coffee plants flowing lazily over the cliffs and hillsides. There were small farms rolling across the expanse, some with white cows and an occasional bull. Nothing had prepared her for the raw beauty that lay before her. Suddenly she understood why Megan had fallen in love with this place.

  Delta pulled up to the first building she saw, locked the Jeep, and walked across the street to a bar with a long, unrecognizable name—Los something-or-other. Reaching into her back pocket, Delta
withdrew the pocket traveler Connie had forced on her on the plane. She looked at the front of it and grinned. I don’t even know how to use it.

  Nearing what looked like an outdoor bar, Delta watched several children running across the street, their laughter filling the tropical air.

  “Hey!” Delta shouted. All five children immediately stopped. Flipping open the pocket guide, Delta knelt down in front of the gaggle of kids.

  “Hay alguien aquí que habla inglés?” Delta asked, butchering the pronunciation.

  The children shook their heads. The oldest child couldn’t have been more than six or seven.

  “Shit,” Delta said, rising and jamming her hands on her hips. The children giggled at her. They might not know English, but they knew enough to see that she was a frustrated traveler who had just sworn. Pulling Megan’s picture out, Delta showed it to them. The children all crowded around to see it and began chattering among themselves. Finally, when all the talking died down, the oldest-looking boy shook his head.

  “Gracias,” Delta said, putting the picture back. As she started toward the bar, she turned back to the kids for one last try. “Augustine Riner?” she asked hopefully.

  The group nodded in unison. “Sí! Vive aquí!”

  Delta quickly flipped through her guidebook, looking for the word for ‘where.’

  Before she could find it, they all pointed down the street, while chattering again among themselves. Suddenly, Delta had a feeling that she’d landed in Munchkin Land, and that she, too, was dogless.

  “Uh, Señor Riner’s casa?” she asked, pulling out the fourth Spanish word she knew. The children stopped talking and the oldest boy took her hand and started pulling her down the street, followed by the flock of curious children. If only there were a yellow brick road...

  About a hundred yards from where the Jeep was parked, they came to a little house with no glass on the windows, and the front door wide open. This was a far cry from River Valley, California, where windows and doors were often protected by bars, security gates and guarded driveways, and where people owned attack dogs for pets.

  Unfamiliar with Costa Rican customs, Delta stopped at the door, even though the boy was motioning for her to enter.

  “No way, kid. Where I come from, walking into someone’s house uninvited is asking for a bullet between the eyes. I think I’ll just wait here.” Delta smiled at the children behind her and thanked them again. They seemed perplexed by her unwillingness to enter the house, and one of the smaller girls said something to the group before taking off down the street. Delta had read somewhere (or was it one of Connie’s oft-told tales?) that gypsy children lured tourists into desolate areas so adult gypsies could mug them. Delta watched silently as the girl disappeared down the street. Where was she going? For the cops? For her dad? Her gut instincts kicking in, Delta surveyed her surroundings for a way out. Connie, as usual, had been right: Delta was way out of her element here, and all the street savvy she had acquired over the years was all but useless to her now.

  Delta decided retreat was the better part of stupidity, and started to head back down the path; she’d try the Los-something bar again.

  When she looked up, the little girl who had left a moment ago had returned with a teenage girl in tow.

  “Great,” Delta muttered. “Now, I’m a tourist attraction.”

  When the two girls rejoined the group, everyone started talking to the teenager at once. How anyone heard what was being said was beyond Delta. What she did understand was that they were all giving the new girl their version of finding this bumbling American tourist. The new girl, who looked older than the others, held up her hand and the children all stopped talking. She pointed to one older boy, who chattered away a moment, before beaming proudly that he had been the chosen one. The new girl then turned from the group, sized up Delta, and then stepped in front of her.

  “I’m Bianca,” she said. “What’s your name?”

  Bianca’s crisp, clear English was sweetness to Delta, who had begun to feel like she’d fallen into a foreign film.

  “My name is Delta. You speak English?” Delta asked slowly, afraid Bianca might only know that one line.

  Bianca smiled and nodded. “And quite well, too.”

  Another huge sigh escaped Delta’s mouth. Finally, someone with whom she could communicate. Delta studied the young girl in amazement. Bianca had beautiful caramel-colored skin and a lovely face surrounded by shiny black hair down to her waist. She regarded Delta with big, intelligent brown eyes. She could be Connie at that age, Delta thought: the similarities in their expressions were uncanny.

  Bianca grinned as Delta squatted there. Bianca looked about 13 or 14 but Delta couldn’t be sure. “Your English is very good,” Delta said.

  Bianca’s smile grew. “I am home on holiday. I attend a private school in Canada.”

  Ah...illumination at last. “Oh, I see.”

  “I am also fluent in French, but I’m afraid there’s no use for that here. Maria says she thinks you are looking for someone.”

  Retrieving Megan’s picture once again, Delta held it out to Bianca. “A friend of mine disappeared a few days ago. We think she was traveling with—”

  “Augustine Riner.”

  Delta’s eyes grew wide and her heart seemed to skip. “Yes!” she said eagerly.

  “He is gone, also. That is why his family is not home. His brothers went looking for him on Talamanca, and his mama and sister are in San Jose.” Bianca looked at the picture of Megan with intense eyes. “The boys had spoken of a beautiful woman traveling with Augustine. She is very pretty.” Handing the picture back, Bianca said something to the children, who scattered like leaves in the wind.

  “But you haven’t seen her?”

  “No. We knew Augustine was taking some woman into the forest, but that was the last anyone heard.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Four days.”

  “How long has his family been gone?”

  “They left two days ago. Augustine is very responsible and doesn’t like to worry his mama. Something has happened to him, or he would have called.”

  “What do they think happened to him?”

  Bianca looked away. “There are rumors...I don’t know...”

  “What?” Delta’s voice was hard and sharp, as if she were speaking to an adult. Yet this precocious girl certainly spoke and acted like a grownup. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

  Bianca patted Delta’s hand. “Costa Ricans don’t gossip. It isn’t right to speak lies of someone, and anything you say that is not the truth is a lie.”

  Delta studied her for a moment, unsure of what to say. “Then tell me as much of the truth as you know.”

  Bianca grinned. “You’re asking me to guess.”

  “I’m asking for help.”

  Bianca’s eyebrows knitted together as she thought. “Some of us believe Augustine is a tour guide, but others...well, people around town know of his hatred for...what are they called in English? Poachers?”

  “He does that for a living?”

  “We do lots of different things for a living here. Augustine has a special relationship with animals. He goes into the forest all the time.”

  Delta gazed into Bianca’s face. “What do you think he was doing in the rainforest?”

  Rubbing her chin, Bianca thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. My brother, Manny, might know. He and Augustine are good friends.”

  “Where’s your brother now?”

  Bianca glanced up at the sun and then down at the shadow of the streets. “He’s usually at the bridge about now. Want me to take you there?”

  Nodding, Delta looked up at the sun, and wondered if she would ever be able to tell time by the solar clock. “I’d really appreciate that.”

  Bianca headed for the road. “Delta, huh? Isn’t that Greek?”

  Delta nodded. “Yes, it is.”

  “Delta what?”

  “Stevens. Delta St
evens.”

  “Well, Delta Stevens, it is awfully brave of you to come deep into a country without knowing its language or customs.”

  Delta followed Bianca onto the main road. “I came with a friend who is fluent in Spanish.”

  Bianca stopped and shook her head. “Spanish? That might work in San Jose and out here, but if you’re going into the forest, it won’t help you one bit. The natives here have their own language and not even Ticos can understand it. Sort of like your Native Americans, I would imagine.”

  Delta stared at her. “How old are you, anyway?”

  “Me? Almost sixteen. But there’s a reason I’m in a private school so far from home.” Bianca continued walking until she took a turn down a gravel road. “We have to stop at my house first to get Kiki. My mother doesn’t like me going to the bridge without Kiki, just in case something happens.”

  Delta smiled at Bianca and wondered, only for a split second, if the trees were going to start throwing their fruit or if a witch was going to land on top of a house and start tossing fireballs. “In case something happens? What could happen on a bridge?”

  Bianca parted the low-hanging branches of a fruit tree and waited for Delta to pass before responding. “Los cocodrilos, is what can happen.”

  “Los what?”

  Bianca grinned and shook her head. “Crocodiles, Delta Stevens. Big, fat, ugly crocodiles.”

  “Crocodiles?” Delta said, her mouth hanging open. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Bianca set her hands on her hips once more, a gesture Delta would come to know quite well. “What did you do? Hop on a plane without the faintest idea of where you were going?”

  Delta nodded sheepishly. “Something like that.”

  “Then you know next to nothing about the forest or its animal life?”

  Delta nodded again. “Zip.” Delta waited for Bianca to respond, but the girl only shook her head. “Look, I heard my friend was missing and here I am.”

  The two did not talk again until they reached an even smaller dirt road outside of town.

  “Is Kiki your sister?”

  Bianca laughed. “I suppose you could say that.” Putting her hands to her mouth, Bianca yelled, “Kiki! Kiki, come here!”