by Vanessa Kier
Kris stared at the phone, feeling a sense of loss as he replaced the receiver. Shaking his head, his picked up the second line. “Hello?”
It was one of his newer lieutenants reporting on the successful drive to oust the rebels from one of the country’s regional capitals. After taking the man’s preliminary report, Kris hung up and changed the flag on the map from red to green. Finally, for the first time in weeks, WAR had a tangible success. That team would be busy for the next day or so rounding up the last stragglers of the rebel army, helping release and evacuate prisoners, and establishing order so that normal daily activities could resume, but their primary objective had been achieved.
The recent influx of foreign soldiers was having a noticeable effect on WAR’s ability to achieve its military goals. Some of the newcomers were probably only temporary allies—they needed WAR’s help in righting wrongs that had been done while serving in West Africa—but Kris didn’t care. As long as they stayed focused while carrying out an assigned mission, he’d exploit their abilities in order to achieve WAR’s objectives.
Right now, that meant stopping the rebels from gaining more power. Retrieving the weapon before Dietrich turned it over to the rebels’ buyer was one more victory in the attempt to stop West Africa from succumbing to anarchy.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Republic of the Volta
West Africa
THE NEXT MORNING, Max held onto the stability handle as Emily expertly swerved the Jeep around another pothole. They’d made it without incident to the minor north-south road last night, then driven another half hour before pulling over to sleep. Kris had called at dawn, telling them to meet a contact of his at the next village. The man would help get them safely over the border.
Kris had also warned that sources claimed Dietrich had purchased two Mil Mi-8s with thermal imaging capabilities, which meant the jungle would no longer provide a secure hiding place. In return, Max had told Kris his suspicion that one of the helicopters had been shot down last night.
Now, after two hours of slow, yet uneventful driving in the morning drizzle with no sign of any helicopters, Max thought they might actually make it to safety.
Emily straightened the Jeep and gave it gas. The tires slipped a bit on the muddy surface, but she handled the skid like a pro. “You really—”
Max squinted at the side view mirror. He thought he’d seen… Yeah, there. “Shit.”
“What?”
“We’ve got a helicopter coming in from the southwest. Pull over.” The fact that the helicopter wasn’t coming from the direction of the capital, but from the crash site, didn’t bode well.
Emily did as he said, then glanced over at the jungle and bit her lip. “There’s not enough cover over the road to hide the Jeep, and the spaces between the trees are too narrow for us to drive into the jungle.”
“I know. The thermal imaging will detect the engine’s heat anyway.” Max grabbed the maps and other items from the console and the glove box, then reached for the door handle. “That’s why you’re going to hide in the jungle while I lead them away.”
“No! Max, I’m not leaving you.”
“Yes, you are.” Leaning heavily on his makeshift cane, he hobbled back to the cargo compartment. He stuffed everything essential into Emily’s pack, including the phone and its charger, then thrust it at her.
Emily clutched at his arm. “Max. What are you planning?”
He closed his eyes and rested his cheek against her temple. Knowing that she cared for him made what he was about to do worth it. “Em, we can’t outrun them and I can’t move fast enough on foot to escape. One of us has to stay alive and free to get the briefcase to the underground movement. That’s you.” He stepped back and handed her the Mylar blanket from his pack. “Find a thick system of above ground roots. Hide deep inside. Get as close to the tree trunk as you can. Put your backpack in front of you, then the briefcase, and drape this blanket over you. It will help diminish your heat signature. This drizzle and fog will also reduce the thermal camera’s effectiveness. Once it’s quiet again, call Kristoff. He’ll send his contact down here to help you. Don’t come after me. I need you safe.”
She took a deep, shuddering inhale. “Max, please don’t ask me to do this. I—”
He took her chin in his fingers, turned her face toward him, and kissed her. The salt on her lips from her tears made his heart ache. “I—”
The sound of the helicopter grew louder.
Emily flinched.
“Quick, take the pistol.” Max snapped the holster to her belt. He pressed the briefcase into her arms. “Go. Now.”
He gave her one last, quick kiss, then turned her around and pushed her away from him. She threw a frightened look over her shoulder. “Don’t you dare die on me, Max Lansing. I love you.”
His heart soared. Strength flooded him. He met her eyes. “I love you, too. Now go!”
With one last glance, she turned and fled.
He watched for a second to make certain the jungle showed no sign of her passage, then climbed behind the wheel and drove north as fast as the Jeep and the muddy road allowed. Minutes later, the helicopter appeared over the nearest trees. It spotted him and turned to follow. When the helicopter fired at the road behind him, Max swerved to the left, slammed on the brakes, snagged his cane, and climbed out.
Hobbling as fast as he could, he pushed his way past wet branches into the jungle.
The helicopter arrived, its rotor wash ruffling the tops of the trees. It made one, two, three passes over the jungle before gunfire erupted back where he’d left the Jeep. Didn’t the shooters know no one was inside? Or were they simply destroying what they thought was his best chance at making a speedy escape?
The sound of the helicopter changed. It was hovering. Probably dropping soldiers.
Max continued limping along, choosing the most difficult path. No sense in making this easy for his pursuers. Still, it took longer than he’d expected before men burst out of the jungle behind him. “Halt!”
Max slowly turned around. Keeping one hand on his cane, he raised the other over his head. Now he understood what had taken them so long. These weren’t the ragtag, undisciplined rebel soldiers that had accompanied Ziegler at the way station. These were Dietrich’s private troops. Which meant they’d carefully canvassed every foot of the jungle between their entry point and this spot instead of rushing in haphazardly like the rebels.
A man stepped out from behind the row of soldiers.
Ah, shit.
“Hello, Max,” Ziegler said. His eyes roamed from Max’s upraised hand to the end of his cane jammed into the jungle soil.
Max tensed. Did Ziegler hate him enough to order him killed in front of all these witnesses, despite Dietrich’s order to the contrary? Because Dietrich would want Max held for questioning about the briefcase. Never mind settling their personal feud.
But Ziegler just gave an evil chuckle. “You have an annoying resiliency, Herr Lansing. After all we have done, you should be dead by now.”
Max raised his brow. “Yeah, well, can’t say that I’m sorry to disappoint you.” He made certain to show no fear and no pain when he met Ziegler’s icy blue eyes.
“I will never understand why Dietrich has been so patient with you. He should have ordered you killed months ago.”
“Like you tried to do at that way station, instead killing an innocent girl?”
Ziegler’s eyes narrowed. “Ah, so you were close enough to see that, were you? A pity you didn’t step forward to save her. It would have prevented so many other deaths.”
Max didn’t comment. He wouldn’t succumb to Ziegler’s mind games. He knew Ziegler wanted Max to be weakened by guilt over the deaths. But Rene, Kristoff, and Emily were right. Ziegler and his rebel buddies had done the killing. There’d been no warning. No chance for Max to give himself up. The deaths weren’t his fault.
So Max kept his head held high and his gaze locked with Ziegler’s. Finally, Ziegler signaled with his hand
. “Take him.”
Max felt movement behind him. Before he could turn, something hard connected with his skull and the world went black.
EMILY LIFTED HER head from her bent knees. According to Max’s watch, it had been over an hour since he’d left her to play martyr. She’d heard shooting not long after he left and it had taken all her willpower not to go rushing after him. Yet Max had trusted her with the briefcase. She needed to prove to him that she wasn’t impulsive and emotional. That she could think strategically and follow directions.
Her decision to stay put had been justified when the helicopter began to fly back and forth over the area. Probably searching for her. Thankfully, the Mylar blanket seemed to have done the trick. Or maybe it was the thunderstorm that hit forty-five minutes ago. Whatever the reason, the helicopter passed right overhead. Then, fifteen minutes ago, the sounds of the helicopter had faded. The rain stopped and the jungle settled back into its usual rhythm. Insects buzzed. Birds called. A snake slithered past her foot, completely ignoring her. Trusting that the critters knew it was safe, she slowly unclenched her body and crawled out of her hiding place.
Grief, fear, and anger had long since hollowed her out, and she climbed to her feet with a blessed sense of numbness. So detached that it might have been a stranger brushing leaves and mud off the blanket, folding it and packing it in her rucksack. But the numbness vanished when she went to pick up the briefcase.
Max had given himself up to Dietrich’s men because of this damned case. He’d willingly allowed himself to be put in a position to be tortured again so she could get to safety.
Clamping her hands over her mouth to hold back the sound, Emily dropped to her knees and screamed in rage. When her throat was raw, she pounded her fists over and over against the unyielding surface of the briefcase. It wasn’t fair. She’d finally found a man who loved her. Who accepted her as she was and encouraged her to draw on her inner strength. Yet Dietrich might have already killed Max. Might—
A sharp bite of pain in her hands brought reality crashing back. She sat back on her heels and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She couldn’t help Max, couldn’t do anything if she damaged herself in a fit of temper.
A wave of exhaustion and despair hit her and she swayed.
No. Unacceptable. She had to stay strong. She had to get help for Max.
She grabbed a quick drink of water and some dried mango. Giving her rucksack the evil eye—if she never again had to feel its weight bearing down on her sore shoulders that would be fine with her—she lifted it and slipped her arms through the straps. Then she picked up the briefcase and headed toward the road. Once there, she checked that no one was around, then poked her head out and studied the road’s surface. Nope. She didn’t see any telltale human footprints in the mud to indicate that Dietrich’s soldiers had brought Max this way. There were just the usual footprints of small jungle creatures and birds and what she thought were the nearly washed away tire tracks of the Jeep.
Okay. She’d follow the road in the direction Max had been heading. Ducking back inside the jungle, she kept to the protection of the trees as she walked. When she found a spot where the trees thinned enough to allow a somewhat clear line of sight to the sky, she pulled out the sat phone. After raising the phone’s antennae, she called the number for Kristoff.
“Max, you bastard,” an American voice snapped, “what is it now?”
“Um… This isn’t Max, sir. He’s been captured.”
“Ah, f—” The man cleared his throat. “Sorry. My name is Kristoff. You’re Emily?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Details, please.”
She explained about Max’s decision to play decoy while she hid. That she believed Max had been captured. She refused to give voice to the possibility that he was dead, in case speaking the words made it true.
“But you didn’t set eyes on the helicopter or the soldiers?”
“No, sir. The helicopter was just a silhouette against the clouds when I left the road. But Max thought it was one of Dietrich’s. With thermal imaging.”
“Okay. Are you someplace safe?”
She shrugged, then answered, “I don’t know. I’m in the jungle just off the road. The helicopter left the area about twenty-five minutes ago. I don’t see or hear any soldiers. I haven’t even spotted our Jeep yet.” She kept walking, picking her way across the soggy ground. “I’m heading north, aiming for the rendezvous point with your contact.”
“Forget that. Our man didn’t check in last night, so it’s not safe for you to continue. I want you to head deeper into the jungle and find a place to hide. Then text me the coordinates and stay put until I can free up a team to extract you.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw metal glinting in the ray of sunshine peeking out from the threatening clouds. Was that—? She moved closer to the road. Yes.
Their Jeep sat at the edge of the jungle on the opposite side of the road. It had been shot full of holes and had four flat tires. Okay. She wouldn’t be driving away. Scanning to check that no one was nearby, she saw fresh ruts in the center of the road that had filled with water. She darted across to the ruined Jeep and crouched beside it. Waterlogged footprints surrounded the Jeep, then led into the jungle. A bit farther up the road, the footprints emerged from the jungle and stopped at a set of deep tire tracks.
Just as if a group of soldiers had been picked up by a large truck. Her spirits lifted.
The sun disappeared behind the clouds and thunder rumbled in the distance.
“With all due respect sir, no. I’m not going to hide in the jungle,” Emily said.
“Excuse me?”
“I just found our Jeep and there’s a bunch of footprints and tire tracks in the muddy road. I’ll bury the briefcase and send you those coordinates later. I need to follow the tracks before the storm that’s threatening wipes them out.” The sun made one more valiant attempt to break free of the clouds, but was immediately swallowed up.
“Emily—”
“Look, sir, I’m not suggesting that I try to rescue him. I know I’m just an inexperienced civilian.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth. “But I’m not leaving Max alone out there. I’ve become quite adept at moving through the jungle. I can find out where they’re holding him. Text you those coordinates so your team can rescue Max first. The briefcase won’t be going anywhere. ”
There was a long pause. “You…surprise me, Emily. That’s still a risky endeavor.”
“So? I love him. I’m not leaving him to be tortured and killed.”
“O-kay.” This time she heard admiration in his voice. Along with a tinge of amusement. “But you have to promise to text me your coordinates every hour, so that we can keep track of you. As long as you can see the tracks from inside the tree line, stay under cover. And use that Mylar blanket to hide your heat signature the second you hear a helicopter again. Something tells me that Max will have my skin if anything happens to you.”
“Agreed. I don’t have any wish to join Max in captivity.”
“Right. If you don’t need anything else, I’ll see about that rescue team.”
She managed a faint smile. “No, I think that’ll do it for now. I’ll text you the coordinates once I’ve buried the briefcase.”
“Good luck, Emily.”
“Thank you, sir.” She disconnected the call and slipped the phone into her pocket. She hoped the sun reemerged sometime soon, because the phone was almost out of power and without a vehicle to plug into, she’d have to use Max’s solar travel charger.
“All right. Let’s do this.” With a sharp nod to give herself confidence, she headed deeper into the jungle, looking for a place to stash the briefcase.
MAX WOKE UP with a splitting headache and found himself chained to stakes stuck in the dirt inside a tent. No surprise there. Ziegler wasn’t the most original jailor.
This time, they’d stripped him of all clothing and his watch. Leaving him no way to check how long he’d been unconscio
us. Plus, without his belt and his shoes he wouldn’t be able to retrieve his hidden weapons and tools in order to escape. Rolling his head from side to side—which ratcheted his headache from painful to excruciating—he saw that the tent was empty. Outside, he heard what sounded like guys hammering on metal tent stakes.
So. He was being held in a camp in progress. Not a lot of help. He didn’t even know what country he was in.
Besides, what he really wanted to know was if Emily was safe. The fear that maybe Ziegler had captured her, too, and she was staked out in a nearby tent made cold sweat trickle down his brow.
No. He had to believe she was free. That was the only way to keep his head in the game.
He tried to sit up, but the world whirled around him and he flopped back down, waiting for the dizziness to pass. It took him three times before he managed to sit up with a determined heave. He choked back a groan, but damn, that hurt. Ziegler’s men obviously hadn’t cared if Max got knocked around during transport. Even parts of his body that shouldn’t hurt, hurt.
So much for instantly freeing himself, then escaping. At this point, not only wasn’t he at maximum strength, but the iron chains running from the stakes to the manacles on his wrists and ankles weren’t long enough to let him stand up. He had just enough play in the chains to lay his wrists across his bent knees.
All right. First thing. Regain his strength.
Second. Break out of here.
Third. Scope out the camp for Dietrich’s tent.
If there was no sign of Dietrich, he’d disappear into the jungle and wait for the man to show up. Then Max would find a way to take him down.
Uh-huh. Right.
He eyed the manacles. If he had a thin piece of metal, he could pick the locks. He eyed the ground closest to him, but saw no convenient piece of metal sticking up.
Okay. For now, unlocking the manacles was out. He’d just have to wait and watch for an opportunity to get the tools he needed. In the meantime, if his previous captivity was any indication, he’d better mentally prepare for a shitload of pain.
