by Vanessa Kier
Max groaned as he stood under hot, steady water for the first time since his capture. Most of his cuts and scrapes had started to scab over, but a few had been irritated raw by his backpack. Yet it felt so good to be clean, he barely noticed the small stings. He was free. And alive.
Tremors wracked his body and he steadied himself against the wall. Damn. He’d come too close to dying. He’d been completely helpless against Ziegler. Known that Ziegler was going to kill him. How ironic that Dietrich’s arrival had saved him, because the arms dealer wanted Max dead by his own hand.
Yet if he hadn’t escaped, Emily’s friends would be alive.
The memory of the women’s deaths brought Max’s guilt bubbling up in a scalding froth that threatened to send him to his knees.
It should have been me that died. Not those innocent women.
Max leaned his head on his folded arms and let the wall hold him up. For a long while he stood like that with his eyes closed, letting the water sluice over him and carry his tears away. Letting the heat ease the tension in his muscles as he shoved the guilt back into its cage. He couldn’t go back and save them. All he could do was make certain Emily got safely out of the country, then make damn sure that Ziegler went down with Dietrich.
CHAPTER FIVE
AN HOUR LATER, Max sat alone at the safe house’s dining room table, staring into space. His hands were clasped around an empty bowl, trying to absorb the lingering warmth from the tomato and onion stew over rice that Rene had prepared for him. Without the mechanical motions of eating to distract him, and with Rene down the hall in the office, Max couldn’t stop his mind from replaying the moment when Ziegler shot that girl.
“Max?” Rene asked from the doorway. “Is everything okay?”
Max startled, then shrugged. “Ah. Yeah. Just thinking.”
“Hmm.” Rene gathered Max’s dishes and carried them over to the sink.
Max pushed to his feet. “Hey, I got that, man.”
Rene waved him down. “No. Sit. It is my pleasure. Once I have tended to your wounds and you have had a decent night’s rest, then I will allow you to help.” He quickly washed the dishes and stacked them on the drying rack. Then he nodded toward the hallway. “Come, let me—”
Max’s satellite phone vibrated, then the networked house phone rang as the incoming call was transferred. Max glared at it before answering. “Yeah.”
“You at the safe house yet?” Kristoff said without preamble.
Max sighed. “Yeah.”
“Good. Is Rene there?”
“Yes.”
“Put me on speaker phone.”
Max hit the button. “All right, Kris, Rene can hear you now. What’s up?”
Rene leaned back against the sink and crossed his arms.
“Rene already knows some of this, but I want him to be aware of the latest developments. Long story short, on the twenty-seventh—that’s nine days from now—Dietrich has an unknown buyer coming in to take possession of a highly lethal, experimental weapon gone missing from a South African military research facility.”
“I knew Dietrich had a deal coming up,” Max acknowledged, “but I haven’t been able to find out where.”
“We don’t know where either, only when it’s taking place. Unfortunately for Dietrich, the plane containing the briefcase with the weapon’s plans and a prototype went down in the north of the country. Our source said that even after the plane disappeared from radar, Dietrich waited until the courier failed to make his scheduled check-in before sending teams into the jungle. As far as we know, he hasn’t found it yet.”
“Good luck with that,” Max said. “With some of that deeply forested terrain, you’d have to be right on top of the plane in order to find it. Didn’t Dietrich have a beacon or other tracking device on the plane?”
“Apparently it malfunctioned. Or it might have been disabled by the pilot. You know how smugglers are. They don’t want anything on board that could be used by the authorities or by their clients to track them.”
“Yeah.”
“We’ve managed to sneak access to a satellite image of the area, but there’s no sign of the plane.”
Max got a sinking feeling. “You want me to go after it.”
“Yes.”
“Dammit, Kris. That’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“I know. I’m sorry. We tried to contact you as soon as we learned the plane had gone down, but you didn’t answer.”
All too aware that Rene was listening intently, Max said, “That’s because I was captured and spent a few days at the mercy of Ziegler’s temper before I managed to escape.”
“Christ, Max. Rene, is he even up for the challenge?”
Rene gave Max his Serious Doctor look. “I have not yet had time to examine him. At best guess, he has at least one cracked or severely bruised rib. And from what I can see on his face and hands, he has been beaten extensively.”
“Max?” Kris asked. “I know I made this mission a condition of using the safe house, but if you’re seriously injured, I take it back.”
“I’m fine,” Max growled. “I just don’t know what you expect me to do. If Dietrich’s men can’t find it, how do you expect me to? It’s not like I have access to satellite photos and computer analysis software.” Even if he were back in his office at Unit 3 with his full arsenal of analytic tools, finding the plane would be difficult. Jungle vegetation grew fast and would have started to obliterate any obvious signs of the crash within days. “Has there been any intel from the locals?”
“No. That’s the problem. Our source was the only contact we had in the area. With him dead—shot in the back of the head yesterday—we have no one to investigate for us.”
Max snorted. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a white guy. Not exactly inconspicuous. I go up there and start asking questions, Dietrich will hear about it.”
“Dude, give me some credit for not being a moron. I know you’ll stick out, but we don’t have a choice here.”
Max winced. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re not. You’re just being your usual arrogant self.”
Despite himself, Max felt the corners of his lips curl in amusement. Damn, but he’d missed Kris.
“At the very least, I need you to monitor Dietrich’s progress,” Kris continued. “Either steal the briefcase once his men have found it, or call us in so we can take care of it.”
Max ran his hand over his face. “Why aren’t you sending a team in right now? Or one of the guys?”
“Because you’re there. And because the rebels are on the move and WAR’s busy putting out fires. We can’t spare a team unless we have a specific target.”
Max blew out a breath. “Fine. I’ll do it. But before I start, I have to get Emily on the first plane out of here tomorrow morning.”
“Rene can do that. I need you to head back north. In the general vicinity of a village called Bamasi.”
Max closed his eyes and gave a disbelieving laugh.
“What?”
“That’s not far from where I hitched a ride south. I have to warn you, the rebels are working with Ziegler and Dietrich and have already done some killing in that area.”
There was a long pause. “I know. Rene, you didn’t tell him?”
“I have not had the opportunity.”
Max glanced at Rene. “What?”
Rene’s lips tightened before he spoke. “A cell phone video showing Ziegler shooting an American girl, and the rebels killing her companion and several locals was sent to the local media and passed on to WAR.”
The memory hit Max with such force he bowed his head, clenching his fists to fight back the pain.
“Max?” Rene put his hand on Max’s head. “What’s wrong?”
Keeping his head lowered—dammit he did not want Rene’s pity—Max spat out, “Ziegler shot the girl because he thought she was me. I’d just cut my hair that morning. So when the girl turned to run and her blonde hair fanned out behind her, Ziegler shot her.”
“You were there?” Kris asked.
“Yeah. The women belonged to Emily’s tour group. Lucky for her, Emily had gone off alone into the jungle to take photos. She was on her way back when I grabbed her.” He swallowed back guilt. “I stopped Em from getting killed, but wasn’t fast enough to save the other women.”
“Max,” Kris said. “I’ve seen the video. Ziegler drew and fired too fast. The rebel standing next to him fired seconds later. If you were in the jungle, there’s no way you could’ve stopped them.”
“Dietrich wants me alive,” Max said, ignoring Kris’s attempt to relieve his guilt. “He wants to kill me personally. He’s made that perfectly clear. So I never expected Ziegler to react with deadly force in response to someone who might have been me. That puts him in direct violation of Dietrich’s orders.”
“I’m sorry, Max,” Rene said.
“The hell of it is, I don’t know how Ziegler ended up at the way station.” Max wished that Rene would step away and give him some damn breathing room. “I saw no sign of pursuit. I even checked my clothing and belongings for tracking devices and found nothing.” He rubbed his face in his palms. “I suppose it’s possible that a rebel sympathizer was on the tro-tro and had already reported to the rebels that there was a white girl on board before I joined them. Or maybe someone sent a text after I was picked up.”
“Was there enough time for someone at the way station to place a landline call?” Kris asked.
“Yeah. But Ziegler had to have already been on the road in order to arrive when he did. We reached the way station around dawn. I’m estimating that the trip from where I was held prisoner would be a good eight or nine hours by car. But Ziegler showed up roughly five hours after us.”
“It doesn’t really matter how he found you,” Kris pointed out. “The fact is, you didn’t race into the way station yards ahead of Ziegler, leading him to the tour group. You didn’t point Ziegler at that girl as a way to protect yourself.”
“Of course not!”
“Exactly. So stop taking the blame. Ziegler pulled the trigger. Ziegler. Not you. Get over it.”
“She’s still dead because she looked like me,” Max snarled, raising his head to glare at the phone. Couldn’t they see? This was precisely the type of situation he’d been trying to avoid by staying away from Kris and the others.
“Fine, you want another damn incident to add to that load of guilt you’re carrying around, have at it.” Kris’s voice offered no mercy. “Just pull yourself out of your pity party long enough to carry out this mission. Then you can go back to playing Mr. Martyr Man and be miserable all by your lonesome, you stubborn bastard.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, well, when are you going to get it through your thick head that we care about you? You’re family, whether you want to admit it or not. We don’t abandon family.”
“I—”
“Shut it. I’m not in the mood to hear your protestations that you’ve locked us out for our own protection. For the last damn time, we’re a team. That means we’ve got each other’s backs. Through thick and thin. No matter what.”
Emotion lodged in Max’s throat. It was because the team was family that he’d gone solo. Why couldn’t they accept that the level of danger they’d be in was unacceptable? “How many times do I fucking have to tell you? I’m not going to let Dietrich’s sponsor put you on some damn black list so that everyone in the U.S. military or law enforcement is after you. Or—”
“I said, shut it. I’m not arguing with you over this any more. Rene, work your doctor’s magic on Max. Then make sure he gets a good night’s sleep if you have to knock him out with a hammer. Max, check in before you leave tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir!” Max snapped.
“That’s more like it,” Kris said. “Good—”
“Wait! Kris…those women…” He cleared his throat. “God, their families need to be notified before the video goes public. Emily’s family needs to know she’s alive. And she’s worried about the safety of the other three women who were part of the group. They were stationed in the southeast region.”
“Don’t worry, we’re on it. The video was received by one of WAR’s informants. She knew better than to air it. She passed it on to us and then to a contact in the regional police that we trust. We’ll make sure the families are notified in an appropriate manner and look into the status of the other women.”
“Thank you. That will mean a lot to Emily.”
“You’re welcome.” With that, Kris disconnected.
“You heard the man,” Rene said, offering Max his hand. “Come down to the bathroom and I will examine your injuries. The sooner we get you patched up and tucked into bed, the better.”
“Thank you, Dr. Dad.” With a heartfelt groan, Max let his friend pull him to his feet. Damn. His muscles had frozen up after sitting too long and each step was agony.
I can barely walk and I’m supposed to go after Dietrich and this weapon tomorrow? Some superhero I am.
Day Five
“MADEMOISELLE. MADEMOISELLE IWASAKI!”
Emily tried to ignore the unfamiliar voice and snuggle down into the pillow, but an insistent hand shook her shoulder. “G’way.”
“Mademoiselle Iwasaki, you must wake up. The line will be forming soon at the airport.”
Emily cracked open one eye. “Huh?” The man bending toward her had light brown skin, black hair arranged in neat, short cornrows, and heavy lidded, bedroom eyes. It took her a moment to recognize Max’s friend. “You’re the doctor.”
“Yes. I will drive you to the airport so you can go home.”
Home.
That jolted her into full alertness. She sat up. Glanced around the small room that contained a twin bed, a wooden armoire, and a bedside table. But no clock. Purple batik cloth covered the louvered glass window, yet she saw no light filtering through. “What time is it?”
“About five in the morning. We must leave soon if you wish to arrive at the airport in time.”
That’s right, she wanted to be one of the first people in line. She swung her feet over the side then froze, staring at her bare, bandaged feet. Her clean toes stuck out from beneath pristine white bandages. Once again, the humiliation of having the doctor and Max see her mangled feet made her face burn. Yes, nasty, gnarly feet were a badge of honor among some dancers, but Emily had always found them just plain ugly. To the extent that she never wore sandals or open toed shoes.
“How are your feet this morning?”
Emily shrugged, then winced as her bad shoulder flared with pain. She’d spent too many hours in the car with her shoulder hitched up toward her ear. She began kneading the muscles as she replied, “They’re fine.”
He raised an eyebrow and her hand rose to cover the scars on her neck, even though she knew it was too late to hide them.
Why does it bother you so much that someone recently saw your scars and your ugly feet when Crystal and Sue are dead?
Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them back. To distract herself, she glanced around the room. There, in the corner by the armoire, was her backpack. Her sneakers—cleaned of dirt—sat next to it on the floor, but there was no sign of her socks.
The doctor noticed the direction of her gaze. “There were too many holes in your socks. Since you had an extra pair in your pack, I threw them away.”
She turned to stare at him. “You went through my things?” Had she fallen that deeply asleep?
He shrugged, unrepentant. “I would have kept the socks for you otherwise.”
Deciding it wasn’t worth arguing over, she glanced at her watch. “How long until we leave?”
“Twenty minutes. We had longer, but you were quite determined to stay asleep.”
She felt herself blush again. “Okay. Let me use the bathroom and I’ll be right with you.”
She waited for him to leave. When he didn’t, she raised a brow. “Dr. LaSalle, may I have some privacy?”
“Show me that
you can stand on your own and I will go. And please, call me Rene.”
Rolling her eyes at his bossiness, Emily carefully stood up. Yesterday, even the soles of her feet had been sore. The bit about the pins and needles had been true, but the bottoms of her feet had also felt bruised from walking over such rough terrain with only a thin layer of rubber to protect her. But today there was just a mild stiffness from overexertion. She nodded at the doctor.
He gave her a short bow. “Be downstairs in fifteen minutes, please. Oh, and word came in this morning. The other three women made it safely over the border to the neighboring embassy.”
“Thank God!”
The doctor smiled and reached for the doorknob.
“Wait!”
“Yes?”
“Where’s Max?”
“Ah. Max is still asleep. Last night, he asked me to see you safely on your way.”
“Oh.” She glanced down to hide her disappointment. Well, what had she expected? That Max would put his life on hold for her?
No. But at least she’d thought he’d be around to say good-bye. She lifted her head and put on her expressionless pre-performance face. “Okay. I don’t think Max slept much while we traveled, so I bet he was exhausted.”
“Indeed.” After giving her another courteous nod, the doctor let himself out of the room.
Sighing, she made her way down the hall to use the facilities. With her remaining time, she gently worked her feet and body through a short series of stretches. Then, seeing that her time was almost up, she shouldered her backpack and headed out.
Along the hallway to the left, a staircase with an elaborately carved wooden balustrade led down to a sunken living room. The furnishings were all glistening, dark wood and bright silken fabrics. This was by far the fanciest house she’d seen in the country since her arrival.
Just how rich were Max’s friends?
Following the low murmur of voices, she found Dr. LaSalle in the kitchen talking to Max. Max flicked her a glance over the cup of coffee in his hands, but immediately returned his attention to the doctor.
