Crossfire

by Traci Hunter Abramson

  They watched a Club Med employee pass by in a speedboat and approach another sailboat that was threatening to move past the outer buoys. “Even if he did manage to sneak out, these boats aren’t big enough to be safe at night,” Brent said.

  “The guards at the gate would probably know if he was taking a cab out of here,” Amy noted. “It looked like they were logging everyone in and out as they passed through the gate.”

  “I don’t think an Agency man would want someone keeping track of him like that.”

  “You think he had a car parked somewhere nearby?”

  “Yeah.” Brent nodded. “It wouldn’t be that hard to sneak out of here on foot.”

  “So I guess we’re going for a walk next.”

  “With the size of this place, it’s going to be a long walk.”

  7

  Seth drove the tiny rental car along the market district of yet another village near the beach region of Punta Cana. He searched for any place that might make a logical rendezvous point for Vanessa and her handler, still not exactly sure what he was looking for.

  The heat and humidity flooded through the open windows, and Seth wished for the fortieth time that the little car had come with a working air conditioner. It was bad enough that he had to slouch down in the seat to keep his head from touching the ceiling.

  He glanced down at his watch, wishing he had more time. Kel had given him three hours to check out a few of the towns near La Playa while the rest of the squad gathered their supplies for this assignment. Already one of those hours had been wasted when he’d encountered a road blocked by an overturned produce truck. Now he hoped to make up for lost time.

  Even though he knew that spotting Vanessa was unlikely at best, he found himself searching for any sign of her as he drove through the narrow, crowded streets. He still couldn’t quite picture Vanessa as a spy. Then again, he was having a hard time facing the reality that if their mission was successful, he would be seeing her before the week was out.

  Memories of the past, memories he was forever fighting against, were surfacing with painful clarity. He didn’t want to remember the way Vanessa had shown him around town that first day he had given her a ride home or the way their friendship had grown into something more.

  When Seth turned a corner and saw an LDS chapel off to the left, he could only shake his head as yet another memory flooded through him. He didn’t fight this image, the image of Vanessa’s father and the way he had sat him down the night he had come by to pick Vanessa up for their first official date.

  A little smile crossed his face as he remembered her dad’s words when he had explained in no uncertain terms how he expected his daughter to be treated. He had then gone on to explain that they were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and told him a little about their beliefs.

  The Mormon culture had been completely foreign to Seth at the time, and he still marveled at the way the Lauton family had taken the time to get to know him and had ultimately included him in so many of their family and church activities. Then again, the concept of family was foreign to Seth as well.

  Seth’s own family was a disjointed mess, one he barely understood. If his mother knew who his father was, she had never admitted it. Of course, his mother hadn’t exactly been an ideal parent. By the time Seth was eight, she had decided that raising a kid on her own was too much for her and had sent Seth to live with his uncle Patrick. Though he had been hurt and confused at the time, Seth could now admit that his mother’s decision to send him away was probably the best thing she could have done for him.

  Recently retired, his uncle had opened his modest apartment to Seth and given him his first taste of what home was all about. Rather than leaving Seth alone at night so he could go out the way Seth’s mother had, Patrick would walk with him to the park or take him to the library. He had signed him up for karate and football, always trying to help Seth overcome the neglect and poverty he had endured during his early childhood. He had also told Seth stories about his life in the Navy, sparking an interest that had ultimately helped him find his direction in life.

  The experience of seeing his uncle weak and broken in his hospital bed as he lost his battle with cancer had been extremely painful. Patrick had insisted on being at Seth’s graduation from high school, an event that occurred only weeks before his death. Without Vanessa’s support, and the support of her family, he wasn’t sure he would have made it through that difficult time. He also doubted he would have taken advantage of the ROTC scholarship he had been offered for college that next fall.

  He wondered what the Lautons would think now if they found out that he had converted to the Mormon Church. More specifically, he wondered what his life would have been like had he accepted the gospel a few years earlier.

  The familiar old hurt washed over him as he wished for what could have been. He couldn’t be sure why he never seriously considered joining the Church when he was a teenager. Even though he had always admired Vanessa’s family and their lifestyle, the idea that he could have that for himself had never occurred to him. He had felt that religion wasn’t for him. Somehow those feelings had changed when he started working in a profession that forced him to face his own mortality on a regular basis.

  Seth forced his thoughts back to the present as he passed by the church and turned down yet another narrow road. As he looked at the rows of dark alleys and tiny houses, he realized that it might very well take a miracle to find Vanessa.

  * * *

  “It’s got to be around this area,” Brent commented as he led Amy past the tennis courts.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Brent waited to answer her until a group of teenagers passed by them. As soon as they were out of earshot, he walked to the last tennis court and looked around. “This is the only common area that borders the strip of jungle near the road. Not to mention that Granger wouldn’t raise any suspicions coming here since the tennis courts are open all day long.”

  She considered for a moment. “Yeah, but if they were meeting at night, he wouldn’t have a reason to come this way. He wouldn’t want to raise suspicions.”

  “I don’t think it would have been too hard for him to slip past everyone. This place isn’t too far off of the main trails, and it’s well hidden by the trees.”

  Amy nodded as she considered his logic. She stopped by a drinking fountain labeled “potable water” and took a sip. As she stood, she noticed the path continuing past yet another tennis court. “What about down here?”

  “It’s worth taking a look,” Brent agreed, stopping to take a quick drink himself. They moved down the sidewalk, past a tennis court, and emerged next to the archery station for kids.

  He stopped and watched as an instructor assisted a boy of about ten with his stance before letting him try to shoot the bull’s-eye of one of the targets lined up in a fenced area. The high chain-link fence was covered by black mesh for privacy, but it was barely visible through the vines and foliage growing up it.

  Noticing the sign for the main archery station, Brent veered left down yet another sidewalk and slowed once more when they reached the currently vacant adults’ archery range. “Did you want to give it a try?”

  One of Amy’s shoulders lifted. “Sure, why not?”

  They each selected a protective brace from a bin and moved to adjoining stations.

  Amy sat down to fasten her brace and glanced over at her husband. “You know I haven’t done this since I was in high school.”

  “You just have to remember one thing,” Brent said as his grin flashed and he leaned toward her.

  “What?”

  Brent pointed toward the targets. “Aim that way.”

  “Very funny,” Amy said wryly as she stood up and retrieved her bow. Positioning her body the way she had been taught years before, she lifted the arrow and placed it against the string of the bow. She drew back the string, focused on the bull’s-eye, let out a little breath, and released. And watched the
arrow skip right over the target.

  She let out a sigh of frustration before trying once more. This time she aimed a bit lower, but when she released, the arrow ricocheted off of the side of her target and landed in the side of her husband’s target, where he had already placed his first two arrows in the inner ring surrounding the bull’s-eye.

  Brent spared her a glance and struggled against a grin. “Interesting shot.”

  “Oh, be quiet.” Amy stuck her tongue out at him, struggling not to laugh herself. “I’ll figure it out.”

  “Just remember, point that direction.”

  Amy chuckled as she lifted her last arrow and reminded herself to adjust her stance and relax. This time when she released, the arrow connected with the target—kind of. She didn’t hit the actual target, but the arrow embedded into the bale of hay it was attached to. “At least I’m getting closer,” she told Brent as he motioned for her to follow him into the target area to retrieve their arrows.

  “A couple more rounds and you’ll be hitting the target every time,” Brent encouraged, his voice laced with humor.

  “By then, you’ll be hitting the bull’s-eye every time.”

  He pulled his three arrows out of the target and grinned at her. “Planning on it.”

  Amy retrieved her first two arrows, one from her target and the other from Brent’s. She then went behind the targets and scanned the ground for the first arrow she had shot. She made it all the way to the fence and still didn’t see it. Turning around, she looked behind her once more, wondering if perhaps she had walked past it. Still nothing.

  Turning back to Brent, she called out, “I can’t find it.”

  Brent headed her direction, searching the ground as he walked. “I thought it skipped right over the target. It should be right where you’re standing.”

  “That’s what I thought, but I don’t see it anywhere.” Amy ran a hand over the privacy-covering on the chain-link fence. “Maybe it’s stuck in the fence.”

  “It’s got to be here somewhere,” Brent agreed. “I’ll look over here again.”

  He turned to search the area behind Amy’s target once more while Amy searched the fence. She leaned down and pulled back a thick section of vine where she thought the arrow had landed. Behind it was an opening in the fence. The chain-link section had been cut up about three feet high and was pulled wide enough that someone could squeeze through. Sure enough, her arrow lay in the dirt just beyond. “Hey, Brent!” Amy called over her shoulder. “I found it.”

  “Good. Let’s try again,” Brent said starting back toward where they had left their bows.

  “No, Brent. You don’t understand.” Amy waited for him to turn back to face her and then waved for him to join her. He stared at her for a moment, but when she continued to wait for him by the fence he closed the distance between them and squatted down beside her. She looked up at him with a triumphant little smile and said, “I guess I hit the bull’s-eye after all.”

  8

  Seth moved silently through the night, carefully picking his way past palm trees and through the thick underbrush. Kel was moving beside him fifty yards to his left, and he expected that Brent would appear momentarily. Seth glanced at his watch, noting that it was ten minutes until two. Two o’clock in the morning was the time for Brent to check in. Their meeting place was a short distance away from the hole in the fence Brent and Amy had found, and Kel and Seth were currently searching for the vehicle Granger had been using as they moved from the road toward the back fence of the Club Med.

  As he worked his way forward, Seth tried not to let his thoughts wander to Vanessa. But as usual, it was useless. The fact that she had been out of contact for more than a week had created a sense of urgency not only in Seth, but in the rest of his team as well. They had seen enough over the past few weeks to know that whatever was going to happen was likely to happen soon. Seth could only pray they would find Vanessa before it was too late.

  He edged forward, estimating that he and Kel still had another quarter mile to go before they met up with Brent. Their search would have been easier during the day, but they couldn’t take a chance of being spotted. Instead, Kel and Seth each wore night-vision goggles to assist their already heightened senses.

  Seth started to step over what appeared to be a shallow rut in the ground, then stopped mid-stride when he noticed the unusual pattern in the dirt. Squatting down, he ran his fingers lightly over the depression, and a slight smile of satisfaction crossed his face. Standing, he signaled Kel as he began looking for a second tire track. When he found none, he narrowed down the possibilities, realizing that it wasn’t a car they were looking for, but rather a motorcycle.

  Trained to remain silent, Seth didn’t speak to Kel when he approached, but instead pointed to the track in the dirt. Together, they tried to identify the origins of the vehicle they were searching for despite the fact that most of the ground was covered with thick palm fronds and other underbrush that effectively hid the tracks.

  Methodically, they searched through the tangle of vines and fallen palm fronds. The search only took another five minutes before Kel lifted a stack of palm fronds and uncovered a small motorcycle. He and Seth uncovered the bike completely as Brent came into view.

  Kel nodded at the motorcycle. “Did you find anything else at the resort?” he asked Brent, his voice low.

  Brent nodded, pulling several slips of paper from his pocket. “Granger’s gas receipts were neatly organized in his wallet.”

  “His wallet was still in his room?”

  “Yeah, it was in the safe there.” Brent shrugged. “I guess since he’s technically still an employee here, the managers left his belongings in his room.” He held the receipts out to Kel. “Anyway, you should be able to figure out how far he was going based on these now that we know what he was driving.”

  “What should we do with the bike?”

  “Leave it here for now in case Brent needs transportation while he’s here,” Kel suggested. He turned to Brent, and a touch of humor sparked in his eyes. “You might consider finding the key so you don’t need to hot-wire it.”

  “I’m way ahead of you.” Brent grinned and pulled the key free from his pocket. “But do you want me to stay at the resort now that we found what we were looking for?”

  “For the time being.” Kel nodded. “I’ll send you a coded e-mail in a few hours once we figure out our search range. Then we may have you and Amy take a few day trips.”

  “We’ll look into it in the morning.” Brent put a hand on Seth’s shoulder and gave it an encouraging squeeze before heading back the way he had come.

  “Come on,” Kel motioned to Seth, his voice still low. “Let’s get to work.”

  With a nod, Seth followed him back into the darkness.

  * * *

  Vanessa fiddled with the strap of her leather sandal where a small rip had started. She thought of the scissors that were in the drawer in the kitchen and wished she could take the easy way out, but she couldn’t take the chance. She had to make her sandal look like it had broken from simple wear and tear.

  It was silly, really, that she had stooped to using her wardrobe as a way to escape her gilded cage, but she was running out of options. She was also running out of time. One way or another, she had to find a way to get a message out. The question of who she needed to get the message to was still a concern she hadn’t completely resolved, and now that she knew there was a leak, her options were extremely limited.

  Most nights she was still able to make it to the contact point, but her hopes that Granger would show up were fading fast. She was afraid to find out what had happened—especially considering the possibility that one of Ramir’s men had discovered how much Granger knew. Could the leak that Halim spoke of have found out that Granger was the source, and if so, was her cover still intact?

  Vanessa pushed that thought aside. She was only one person, she reminded herself. From what she had learned so far, the terrorist attack that was being p
lanned would affect thousands.

  Over the past few nights, her prayers had been focused on her options and her need for guidance. She had finally decided to try to get a message out to her former boss, the same man who had recommended Vanessa for this assignment in the first place. But first she had to find a way to get away from the resort during business hours so she could get to a computer that couldn’t be traced.

  When a knock came at her door, Vanessa dropped her shoe to the floor and slipped it on, pleased that it looked ratty and in need of being replaced. Her eyes widened when she pulled the door open to find Halim standing on the other side holding three huge shopping bags.

  “This should last you until it’s safe to go out shopping again,” Halim said as he walked into her living room and set the bags down on the coffee table.

  “What’s all this?”

  “You said you needed new shoes.”

  “These are all shoes?” Vanessa asked incredulously. Her pure female instinct was to be thrilled, but the fact that Halim had eliminated her best chance of getting out of the resort during the daytime sent a shiver of panic through her. Every time she figured out a way to leave the resort, Halim countered with a reason she had to stay. She was beginning to feel like a hostage in the very real sense of the word.

  “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, but I’m sure you can find something you like.” Halim motioned to the ragged sandals she was currently wearing. “After all, we can’t have you wearing those when your uncle arrives.”

  Vanessa let her surprise show even as she tried to hide her trepidation. If Akil Ramir was making plans to come to Punta Cana, she might have less time than she thought to get a message out. “Uncle Akil is coming? No one said anything to me.”

  “His plans haven’t been finalized yet,” Halim said quickly as though he realized he had said more than he should have.

  Vanessa let her frustration surface. “Why is it that you always seem to be protecting my uncle from me? He is my family, after all.” She paced to the window and stared out for a moment before turning back to face him. “You know, before the Americans messed everything up, my father trusted me in every aspect of his business. Perhaps it’s time you and Uncle Akil stop trying to shield me from everything.”