Blind-sided

by Monette Michaels

  After marking his place, he closed the binder and shoved it aside. “What is it, Javier?”

  “The San Jacinto chief of staff called. He suspects that two of the volunteer medical personnel, one doctor and one nurse, are DEA plants like that other doctor we eliminated several months ago. What do you want me to tell him to do?”

  Lopez swept the contents of his desktop onto the floor with a vicious swipe of his arm. “Diablo! How did this happen? I thought we had Security checking on all the backgrounds of the volunteers?”

  “We did. They are all who they say they are. Other than that, how can we find out if they have been approached by the DEA? I mean, what are the chances? We thought Julio was an isolated incident.” Javier lifted his hands in supplication. “What more could we do?”

  “You could have bought us an inside person at the DEA. The Colombians have inside people at the DEA. Why can’t we?”

  “These things take time, Dr. Lopez. We are working on it.”

  “I know. These things take time.” Rubbing his eyes, he sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Eliminate them. Make sure they do not leave San Jacinto with any documentary evidence.”

  “What if they have already conveyed information to their superiors?”

  “Without documentation and the witnesses who found the information, the DEA has nothing. The North Americans call it ‘hearsay.’ Thank God for all the protections in the American jurisprudence system.” Lopez closed his eyes and waved his hand in the general direction of the doorway. “You have your orders. See to it. Oh, and don’t waste any body parts. We can always find a use for their organs.”

  “Yes, doctor.”

  Lopez listened to Javier’s footsteps retreat toward the door. Before the door closed, he called out, “What are the names of the soon-to-be departed?”

  “Dr. Scott Fontenot from New Orleans and Rosalie Portero from Miami.”

  Lopez’s eyes flew open. “You stupid bastard. I thought you checked their backgrounds?”

  “We did.” Javier choked out the words.

  “Well, then why is it you didn’t connect the Portero woman to Dr. Calabria, also from Miami? And this Fontenot with Rutherford’s problems in New Orleans?”

  “But doctor, we get a lot of volunteers from Miami, and we did not know of Dr. Rutherford’s problems until that Bennie person called.”

  “I’ll grant you the New Orleans excuse, but the Miami situation should have occurred to you. Don’t make that kind of error again, Javier, or I’ll find a Head of Security who can look at the larger picture. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes. I will take care of the situation, and it won’t happen again. I guarantee.”

  Lopez glared at Javier who swallowed hard, then left closing the door with a gentle click.

  Fools. He was surrounded by imbeciles. And they included his old friend, Rutherford.

  Well, all he could do now was damage control. Javier understood him — the DEA spies would be taken care of. But just in case, he needed to have as much information on them as possible — whom they knew, to whom they might have sent information, and most importantly why they had come to One World and spied on him in the first place.

  The woman’s connection was easy. She was either a Miami DEA operative who just happened to be a nurse or she knew Dr. Calabria and had volunteered to help the DEA find out how he died.

  The New Orleans doctor had to have a connection to the problems Bennie told him about.

  Turning to his phone, he picked up the receiver and buzzed his secretary.

  “Get me Bennie St. James in New Orleans, Louisiana.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Waiting for the call to go through, he decided his next call would be to the U.S. Embassy and his old friend, Ambassador MacNeil. Just in case Javier messed up and the two escaped from San Jacinto. MacNeil would report if the two made it to any of the Brazilian U.S. Embassies.

  “I have Senor St. James, sir.”

  His secretary didn’t wait for him to thank her — that would never happen and she knew it. She switched the call over to his phone.

  “Bennie. How is the search going for Ms. LaFleur?”

  “Not too good. But we have eliminated all the places she isn’t. We’re still trying to get a lead on her through the lawyer suing Rutherford. There is a deposition scheduled in late December. We’re planning on tailing her from there.”

  “I may have some help in narrowing down your search area.” Lopez smiled as he rocked in his leather chair. “See if she has a connection to a Dr. Scott Fontenot. He could be a boyfriend of Ms. LaFleur or maybe an interested party in the law suit against old Byron.”

  “Fontenot, hmm. Hold on a sec. One of my guys had some notes on someone named Fontenot, I think.”

  Lopez heard Bennie ruffling through some papers.

  “Ah, here it is. Scott Fontenot, a surgery resident at New Orleans Charity Hospital. He was a friend of LaFleur’s dead husband. No direct connection to LaFleur other than as a friend since the husband’s death. She’d been dating a Charles Carter until his death. Funny thing, Carter took the poison meant for LaFleur. Bry had to off the local talent who’d botched the deal.”

  Lopez swore under his breath. Byron had gone totally over the edge.

  “Would this Fontenot have any relatives in the New Orleans area?”

  “Let me see. Fontenot is from Manchac in the swamp land. Yeah, that isn’t too far from here. We would’ve checked him out eventually. Guess we should move that item up on the agenda. Didn’t figure she would go stay with non-relatives, but hey, what the heck. It’s as good a lead as any.” Bennie paused. “If you don’t mind me asking, how’d you find out about this Fontenot character?”

  “Let’s just say he has become a thorn in my side, Bennie, and I’m about to rid myself of him.”

  “Do you think he’s on to your deal with Rutherford and is trying to come after Rutherford through you?”

  “Something like that, Bennie. I don’t need you to understand the whys and hows. I need you to eliminate problems and keep my partner from getting any deeper into the mess in which he’s already involved.”

  “What if Rutherford becomes a danger to you, Dr. Lopez?”

  “That’s not your problem. Just take care of LaFleur.”

  “Gotcha, doctor.”

  “I hope so, Bennie, I surely hope so. Has my security man contacted you yet?”

  “Yeah. I’m meeting him tonight. I’ll take him with me to Manchac, and we can check the place out. Maybe we can eliminate the bitch before the deposition.”

  “That would be nice. See to it.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Lopez cut the connection. He dialed MacNeil’s direct and private line himself. If these measures failed to take care of the problem, he would start to distance himself from Rutherford, break down the operations and lie low until it all blew over.

  One nice thing about living in Brazil — it was one of the most corrupt governments in the world and his protection could be easily bought. He would never be extradited for any crimes. Rutherford, on the other hand, wouldn’t escape so easily. If the United States authorities didn’t get him, Lopez would for messing up a sweet deal. Nobody messed up Lopez’s life and got away with it — not even good friends and business partners.

  “Ahh, Ambassador. Manuel Lopez here. How are you? Good. Good. I need to ask a favor…”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  San Jacinto, October 29th

  Scott reached the motor pool first. Rosalie would arrive later. One of them had to show up at the afternoon staff meeting in order to keep suspicions down.

  The motor pool was located next to the hanger. As usual for this time of day, no one was around either building. The guards and mechanics usually took advantage of staff meetings to indulge in siestas or their drug of choice. To be on the safe side, Scott walked around both buildings. No one challenged him.

  Pushing open the rust-covered metal doors, Scott waited until his ey
es adjusted from the harsh sunlight to the dimmer light. The appellation, motor pool, was a bit too grand for the dirt-floored hut and its meager inventory of tools and vehicles.

  The few vehicles One World owned were peculiarly situated to the region’s conditions, mostly four-wheel drives with flotation tires, sealed underbodies, and extra-road clearance. They looked like something a good ole boy in the States would use to compete in monster car rallies, without the exaggerated height.

  Scott walked past all the monster-cars. The vehicle he favored for their escape was the Humvee, the personal pride and joy of the San Jacinto Chief of Staff. Not only did the Humvee have off-road capability, but it had speed.

  He checked the Hummer’s oil, fuel and water. All were good to go. The trip to Sam’s village was only about ten miles, but it was ten miles of rock and dirt tracks covering several elevations, some of which were now under water.

  Scott pulled up a cover in the back of the Hummer to find a semi-automatic weapon. And not just any weapon, but a top-of-the-line personal submachine gun. Plus, enough ammo to wage a small war. Just what every medical Chief of Staff carried in his personal vehicle in a country where the natives were armed with bows and arrows and blow pipes, he thought.

  He removed the weapon and began to field strip it. It was in pristine condition. He reassembled it with swift, deft movements.

  “Scott?” Rosalie’s hushed tones echoed within the metal building.

  “Over here.” He placed the gun back in the vehicle, then pulled the cover back over it and turned. “I found us some more firepower in the Chief’s car.”

  “We’re taking the Humvee?” Rosalie walked over to stand in front of him. “Are you nuts? He’ll call out the regional militia to get that car back.”

  “With any luck, he won’t catch on that it’s missing until after we’re on the river with Sam. I’ll have one of the villagers run back to let him know where it is.”

  “He’ll send the chopper after us. We’ll be sitting ducks.”

  “If he does, he’ll lose his chopper. We have this.” Scott drew back the cover to show her the machine gun. “This little darling can take down a small aircraft or a very large tank. And he’ll know we have it. He won’t take the chance. He’ll send the four wheels after us.”

  “Why don’t we disable them?”

  “Because I want him to have the option of sending the off-road vehicles after us. If I leave him the chopper as his only choice, it would be more dangerous. I’d rather not have a gun battle with a chopper even though I’m sure we’d win.”

  Rosalie nodded, but looked skeptical.

  “Trust me,” he said. “We’ll make it to Sam’s and get on the river tonight. After that, I can’t guarantee what we’ll face. But I was raised in swamp country in Louisiana. With Sam’s guidance, we can make it to Brasilia. It’s what we’ll meet there that worries me.”

  After pulling out a hand gun which she placed in her belt, Rosalie stored her backpack in the rear of the vehicle. “What is there to be afraid of in Brasilia? Won’t we be home free?”

  Scott helped Rosalie into the passenger side. He braced his arm on the roof and leaned in to make sure the harness didn’t cut her across the neck. The ride would be rough and the resultant motion would toss her around. She didn’t need a bruised or possibly even broken neck.

  Assured she was buckled in safely, he addressed her question. “They’ll figure out fairly quickly we are heading for Brasilia. The US Embassy and the Marines stationed there are the closest safe harbor. I’m sure they’ll have a welcoming committee for us. Believe me, the city streets of Brasilia will be more dangerous than the swamps and rain forests.”

  “What about the DEA agents? Won’t they be there to help us?”

  “They didn’t do a lot for Julio, did they? They sure aren’t offering us a lot of support now, are they? Face it, we’ve been hung out to dry. If we make it, fine, then we’ll be heroes. If not, they’ll deny all knowledge of us.”

  “You’re right.” Rosalie turned her head away, but Scott could see the tears forming.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “Let me do the worrying. Just keep your eyes open, and when I tell you to do something, do it. We’ll make it just fine.”

  Scott picked up his pack. Pulling out his handgun, he placed it in the shoulder holster he wore. He took out the satellite phone, then tossed his pack on top of Rosalie’s.

  “Here, you keep track of the phone. For now, plug it into the cigarette lighter so we can charge the battery up to full strength.”

  Rosalie took the phone and plugged it into the adapter on the dash. She avoided his eyes.

  Scott climbed into the Hummer. After switching on the engine, he cast another quick glance at her stony face. He’d insulted her. He’d be wise not to underestimate her. He should’ve learned from observing Jeannie — women weren’t the weaker sex; men just liked to think they were.

  “Rosalie, I didn’t mean to talk down to you. Chalk it up to a male’s over-protective urges. I know you’ll pull your weight on this trip. Don’t hesitate to call me on something if you think I’m making a wrong move.”

  She nodded.

  He backed the large vehicle out of the tightly crammed building. Without asking, Rosalie jumped out to close the metal shed’s door. Hopping back in, she looked at him and smiled.

  “I’m perfectly happy letting you lead, but thanks for the vote of confidence. Julio…” A small hitch in her voice caused her to pause. “Julio treated me like I was spun glass, always protecting me from everyone, even myself. I’d like to think I can carry my weight.”

  “That’s one of the reasons you volunteered, isn’t it? To prove to yourself that you could do this.”

  “Yes. That and to make sure Julio didn’t die in vain.”

  Scott nodded. Valid reasons. He just hoped he could make good on his promise to get them to safety.

  He drove slowly, as if he were out for an afternoon excursion with his lover. He decided to take the back trail out of the camp, then cut across a small water-laden ravine to connect up with the track leading to Sam’s village. It meant going out of their way, but it also meant not driving by the Chief of Staff’s bungalow.

  With any luck, the absence of the Hummer wouldn’t be noted until the Chief called for it. The workers would not think anything of its absence, since the Chief often went out without telling anyone.

  About a mile out of the camp, Scott prepared to cross over the ravine. He’d hiked around the camp a lot in the last couple of weeks and had found a spot which the Hummer should have no problem in traversing. As he turned to go down the small incline, he saw a flash of light in the driver’s side mirror. A stray ray of sunshine had broken through the clouds and was reflected off glass — a windshield, maybe?

  It flashed again.

  “Someone is following us,” Rosalie said, looking out the rear of the vehicle. “No, there are two of them. Both Jeeps.”

  “I saw them,” he replied. “The good news is they won’t have a reception committee waiting for us on the main trail to Sam’s.” He flashed her a grim smile. “Hold on. Let’s give them a rough ride. They don’t have the capabilities of the Hummer. Maybe we can ditch them in this ravine. It’s gonna be rough even for this hunk of metal.”

  Rosalie nodded and braced herself. “I’m ready.”

  Scott shifted down, revving the motor. The Hummer half-slid down the slope into the shallow water at the bottom of the ravine. Gearing down another notch, he straightened out the vehicle. The monster engine growled as it pulled through and over the rocks and gravel bed of the natural culvert.

  He glanced in his rear view mirror. The Jeeps started to follow the Humvee into the stream bed. He laughed. They took the bait. Suckers.

  “Let’s see what this puppy can do.” Scott up-shifted. The well-crafted machine pulled forward like a race horse leaving a gate. The exit he spied a week earlier should be coming up soon.

  There it was.

  H
e geared down for the forty-five degree incline which led out of the small canyon. The Hummer took the slope like an expert rock climber. Within seconds they were safe on high ground, while their pursuers fought the rough terrain below.

  Scott wasn’t hanging around to see if they made it.

  “They aren’t up yet.” Rosalie sounded relieved. “We lost them?”

  “Maybe. But there is only one place we can go. They’ll backtrack. So we need to get there first. All we did was buy ourselves some time.”

  Neither one mentioned the radios in the Jeeps. If it were Scott stuck in the middle of a stream and his quarry getting away, he’d call out the copter to take over the pursuit. Rosalie must have been thinking the same thing, because she reached over the seat and pulled the cover off the submachine gun.

  “Can you use that?” Scott asked without taking his eyes off the rugged ground. The main trail was only a half mile or so away with another eight miles to the river.

  “Yes. The DEA trained me.”

  Rosalie checked out the weapon. She loaded a magazine, locked it, and cradled it in her arms.

  “Good.” Scott gunned the big vehicle up a small incline in top gear and leapt onto the main trail.

  Switching into over-drive, Scott pushed the Hummer up to sixty miles an hour. The machine responded like the hardened thoroughbred it was. So far, so good. No bogies in his rear view mirror.

  No air search in sight — yet.

  He’d counted his chickens too soon.

  “Do you hear that?” Rosalie asked as she lifted her head. “I think it’s the helicopter.”

  Scott didn’t know how she could hear anything above the road noise, the sound of the big engine, and a rapidly building thunderstorm, but he didn’t doubt her. He took the car up to seventy and started to scan above and ahead of them.

  One-handed, Scott reached over and unlatched the windshield on Rosalie’s side, then did the same on his. The windshield now lay flat on the hood of the car. Due to the weight of the tempered glass, it bounced only a little with the movement of the car.