“Not knowingly,” he soothed. He looked down at his dusty boots. “Damn,” he swore softly.
She tilted her head. “What?”
Matt rose, picking up his aluminum plate. “I have the poorest timing in the world,” he muttered.
Perplexed, she fell into step with him. “On what?”
“Nothing. Come on, let’s drop these off at the chow hall and go over to see our zealous police commandant.”
* * *
Alanna’s spirits rose even more when she excitedly reported to Matt that the commissioner had discovered some partially dismantled crates out in the jungle. Matt had spread a map out on an excuse of a table in the bright sunlight and was hunkered over it with the Costa Rican official. Painstakingly, he forced the policeman to pinpoint the spot. Just as Matt was going to say something, the radio he carried on his belt blared to life. She stood to one side, listening intently to the conversation. It was Captain Jackson asking Matt to meet him at the base camp immediately. Matt pursed his mouth, signing off.
“Ask the commissioner to send his best men out to that spot and get photographs for me, Alanna. Tell him I’ll be back in about four hours.” His voice deepened with authority, and he gave her a measuring glance. “In the meantime, you stay put, understand?”
“Of course,” she answered, stung by the accusing tone in his voice. She relayed the information to the commissioner, and Matt seemed satisfied.
“I’ll see you in a while,” he promised, and then turned, jogging back down toward the center of the village to the chopper landing area.
Alanna waited until the helicopter disappeared down the side of the mountain and turned to the commissioner. She smiled disarmingly, pulling her official papers from Washington out of her briefcase.
“Por Favor,” she began, watching his dark brown eyes light up with instant interest. “I would like to go with your men to this site. I also need photographs for my boss, the exambassador, Senator Thornton.”
“Sí, sí, señorita. I personally know your illustrious ambassador to our great country. I would be honored.” He bowed his head, giving her an oily smile.
Alanna cringed inwardly, hoping that the trio she was to travel with wouldn’t be so unctuous. “Gracias,” she murmured, demurely lowering her lashes and avoiding his openly hungry expression.
Within half an hour, they had begun their trek to the east of San Dolega. Almost immediately they were swallowed up in the dense forest of towering mahogany trees. Alanna doggedly carried her briefcase, trying to keep up the pace that the policemen had set. Each man wore a heavy pack resembling the one she had seen Matt carry. A stray thought hit her as they struggled over another steep hill which led into a ravine on the other side. How far away was this place where the crates had been found? She pushed a stray tendril of hair away from her eyes, perspiration running down her temples. Well, it was too late now. More than anything, she wanted photos of the area. She didn’t trust the Costa Ricans’ ability to take the shots that might end up extricating Matt from this whole messy affair. Luckily, she always carried her own pocket camera in her briefcase and a few rolls of extra film.
The sun’s light dimmed as they progressed toward their destination and evening approached. The thick jungle foliage and ever-present vines forced them to use their machetes. In those moments Alanna was able to stop and catch her breath as they hacked a narrow trail through the undergrowth. She noted that each man carried a side arm, but no rife.
As the cape of darkness slid across the jungle, Alanna drew to a halt. The team leader motioned his men to put down their packs and make camp for the night. She found a clear spot and put her briefcase down, sitting on top of it. Pulling off the ruined shoes, Alanna tenderly rubbed her aching feet. A sense of despair fell over her. Memories of sharing Matt’s small shelter surfaced in her mind. She had felt safe with him. As she looked at each of the men with her, she felt no sense of safety. The team leader had, on more than one occasion, tried to strike up a conversation with her. She had politely dismissed his attempts. But now his almond eyes expressed a more direct interest in her. Where would she sleep tonight?
Unhappily, she reviewed the choices, and none were pleasant. She remembered what Matt had said about a lone woman out in the jungle. Goosepimples rose on her arms, and she rubbed them briskly. It can’t be helped, she thought. I’ve got to get good photos. How do we know they’ll take the proper shot or the right angle? What if they miss something that I might find? But knowing she had made the right decision in coming didn’t help her to cope with the niggling fear she felt.
The team leader, Juan, offered to share his food with her. Starving, Alanna had no choice but to accept the tidbits. Morosely, she huddled near the open fire, trying to stay warm in her jeans and blouse. Why hadn’t she brought a coat? It always grew chilly and damp here at nightfall. What had she been thinking of?
After dinner, the policemen huddled around a well-worn map, consulting it and then checking their compass reading. Finally, after two of the three crawled into their small tents, Alanna talked with Juan.
“How far must we go to reach the crates?”
He shrugged dramatically. “Far, señorita, very far. You must be very tired, no? You must sleep so that you can make the trip tomorrow, eh?”
“How far is far?” she demanded, her voice hardening.
Juan scratched his stubbled jaw. “Another five kilometers, perhaps. But it is over the roughest terrain, señorita. I think you should use my tent.” He grinned, the gap in his front teeth showing. “It will be cold tonight, and you cannot stay out here alone.” He bowed elegantly. “We are honored to be of service to Ambassador Thornton. I would not want to bring shame on our country by allowing his lovely assistant to be mauled by jaguars.”
Alanna gasped. “Jaguars?”
“Sí, señorita, they roam only at night. That is why we keep a fire going, to scare them away. They fear only fire, not us. You will be safer in the tent tonight, no?”
Suddenly, the night vibrated with a piercing, almost human cry that seemed to echo throughout the blackened forest. Alanna whirled around toward the sound, hands against her mouth.
“Jaguar!” Juan whispered hoarsely.
Immediately, the other policemen tumbled out of their tents, their pistols in hand. Excitedly, they talked for a few moments in Spanish, casting uneasy glances around the forest. Alanna realized they were just as frightened as she was. The fire threw a small ring of light around the camp; shadows like writhing ghosts waited at the edge of darkness to haunt them all.
Alanna had turned toward the jungle, the policemen and tents behind her. She blinked, her heart pounding in her chest and her throat constricted with fear.
Without warning, Alanna sensed rather than heard something coming out of the jungle to her left. Half turning, her eyes widened. Matt Breckenridge seemed to materialize out of the jungle like a silent ghost with another Marine close behind him. One of the policemen gave a cry of fear, and the others whirled around. Matt’s angry gaze swung to her.
“Tell them to put those damn pistols down before they kill me or themselves with them,” he barked at her.
Alanna stumbled over the order. She watched as the Costa Ricans took a deep breath of relief as the Marine colonel and a tall corporal entered the circle of light, shrugging off their field packs near the fire. Matt’s upper body was bathed in a fine sheen of sweat, his shirt darkened beneath the armpits and down the front of his chest. Giving orders to the corporal to set up the tent he carried, Matt swung toward her and in two swift strides gripped her arm.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, giving her a small shake and then leading her away from the main group.
She opened her mouth to speak, stunned, the anger in his eyes incredibly frightening.
“I told you to stay at the village. Instead you run off with these idiots. Dammit, Alanna, sometimes you don’t have a brain in your head! Do you realize that there might be guerrillas in the area w
here those crates were discovered? Did you ever think that you might get killed in a firefight?” He released her, his teeth clenched. “I suppose you had to go,” he ground out, “to get proof for your dear senator.”
Her eyes stung with tears. “No! I mean—” she choked.
“Weren’t their photos good enough for you?” he growled.
Anger finally overcame her initial shock. “Don’t yell at me, Matt. Yes, I did come along to get pictures. I—I didn’t want them taking just a few photos and maybe taking the wrong angle. Or—or maybe missing something that I might see…anything to keep Senator Thornton from accusing you.”
He put his hands on his hips, disbelief etched in his fiery, silver eyes. “Tell these men to go to bed, will you?” he ordered tightly. “You and I have a few more things to discuss without them gaping at us like idiots.”
Quickly, she conveyed his orders, watching them retreat gratefully back into their individual tents. The corporal who had come with Matt crawled into his own tent, pulling down the flap. Hesitantly, she returned her attention to Matt. He had opened the pack and was setting up his tent opposite those of the Costa Ricans. Chewing on her lower lip, she shuffled over to where he knelt.
“I asked the police commissioner to tell you where I had gone. He said he would do it.”
He glared up at her. “That bastard didn’t say a thing. I sent Cauley all over the damn place trying to find you. Your dear commissioner left hours earlier without so much as a good-bye.”
She rubbed her forehead in consternation. “I didn’t know—”
He jerked the shelter halves upright, tying the last rope, making it taut. “You drive me crazy, Alanna. One minute you’re a mature woman and the next you’re a thoughtless child.”
“I am not a child!” she cried, stamping her foot.
He jerked the sleeping bag out of the pack and the blanket. “Your actions prove that, lady. For two cents I’d take you over my knee and paddle your rear.”
“I said I was sorry! I can’t help it if the commissioner didn’t convey the message to you. Why are you so angry at me?” she rattled, tears blurring her vision. Her voice trembled. “All I wanted to do was to make sure that we had good photos. I didn’t think any of these policemen were trustworthy photographers.”
He dragged the pack alongside the tent and unsnapped the webb belt around his waist which carried a .45 pistol. “Yeah, and you can get killed just as easily for all your good intentions,” he snarled, placing it on the blanket inside the tent.
Alanna choked back a sob, clenching her fists. “At least I’d die doing something right for a change!”
He turned like a lithe jungle cat, gripping her arms, his face inches from her own, his breath hot. “Dammit, I won’t allow you to put your life in danger!” he rasped. “You silly little fool!” He released her just as suddenly, and Alanna stumbled backward, hand against her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Shadows danced over the planes of his face as he glared across the short distance between them. “Heroics are for fools,” he breathed harshly. “Your life is worth more than any damn picture you might take, even if it is the one that could save my career.”
Her emotions were in utter chaos. She felt naked before him, a naughty child caught doing something wrong. Anger mixed with her confusion, and she knew she had to defend herself.
“You think all of the people who work on the Hill are cheats and liars. Well, they’re not! I’m after the truth in this mess, Matt. And if it means I go out tramping around in a jungle to get the evidence, then I’ll do it. I’m no heroine, believe me. I don’t want to die. But I also believe that you are innocent, and I want to prove Senator Thornton wrong. How can I do that by sitting back in San Dolega? What if these policemen accidentally destroyed some evidence that might help vindicate you?”
He shook his head, running his fingers through his damp hair. “You don’t understand, do you? God, you’re like so many of those young men who went over to Nam, volunteering out of some idealistic sense of right and wrong…. This world doesn’t give a damn if you ride a white horse and fight on the side of justice, Alanna. That doesn’t mean a thing anymore! And if you went to that site and got killed, do you think Thornton would drop one crocodile tear over your death?”
She stood frozen, her chin high, eyes blazing with a sense of righteous wrath. “Of course he would!” she defended.
Matt swore vehemently. “Quit being so naive! He doesn’t care if you get hurt, maimed, or tortured as long as he gets evidence against me! And I refuse to have you hurt because the bastard wants my head on a platter!”
“I’m not being naive. And you’re wrong about justice being nonexistent in this world. My God, has the military destroyed that much of your faith and trust in people?”
He stood there, silent and brooding. “The military didn’t do it, war did.”
“Well, I can’t understand that, can I?” she hurled back bitterly. “War is foreign to me. I can only work from my reality and what I know to be true. I think war has warped your whole view of human beings, Matt. You’re distrustful and jaded.”
His mouth compressed into a single, thin line as he looked past her into the darkness, the silence icy and brittle between them. “That’s how you see me?” he inquired softly, a razor edge to his voice. “A warped, emotionally crippled human being who views the world through jaded eyes?”
Alanna realized the dangerous ground she was treading on. Oh, God, why had she flung words at him without thinking first? Paul’s dreary advice came back to her: Bridle your temper just long enough to think before you act, Alanna. That way, you won’t be misunderstood. She spread her hands out before her in a gesture of apology. “Please,” she whispered, “I’m tired and—and I got angry. I spoke before I thought out what I wanted to say.”
His eyes glittered with animal ferocity. “Sometimes the truth comes out in anger.”
Her shoulders, stiff with tension, slumped in exhaustion. “I told you once before, we’re aliens to one another. You’re from a different world. I’m trying hard to understand, Matt, but you put up so many walls between us. You talk in riddles.”
His eyes lost their harshness, but he maintained his tense stance. “Such as?”
Alanna shrugged tiredly, hanging her head. “Like the statement you made about the soldiers going over to Vietnam thinking of themselves as knights rescuing someone in distress. I don’t think it’s fair of you to say that. Sure, I know a lot of soldiers probably see themselves that way. But what’s wrong with fighting for something that you believe in?” She met his unreadable gaze. “Why did you go over?” she whispered.
He exhaled harshly, allowing his hands to drop to his side. His face lost its hardness, and there was raw emotion in the depths of his gray eyes. “I was one of them,” he began, strain evident in his voice. “I made every mistake in the book when I arrived over there. You’re right, you know, about the white knight on the charger. Hell,” he rasped, shaking his head, “we were all nothing, but a bunch of Don Quixotes tilting at windmills.”
“So?” Alanna cried. “Why do you have such contempt for yourself for being that way?”
“I was one of the few with that attitude who survived. It took one tour to change my mind, and all my friends were dead by that time.”
Alanna moved within a foot of where he stood, unsure, but sensing the importance of the moment. “You said you were there for two tours?”
He frowned, avoiding her gaze. “That’s right,” he repeated without emotion.
She was bewildered. “But why? If you were disillusioned, Matt…oh, God, I feel so helpless when I talk to you,” she admitted, unable to bear his closeness for one more second. She started to turn away and felt a restraining hand on her arm.
“Stay,” he commanded softly, pulling her back toward him.
Alanna felt the heat of his body. So close…so vital and strong. She swayed back against him, vaguely aware of his arm sliding around her waist.
“Oh, Matt,” she whispered brokenly.
He held her tightly, his head resting against her own. They stood there for a long time, and she felt the ragged beat of his heart. Closing her eyes, she was aware of the anguish within him.
Finally, he forced the words out, low and tortured. “I was married once, Alanna. I came home after the first tour and married Rachel. I guess I don’t do things on the spur of the moment because I had known her for five years before I asked her to marry me. Now…” his voice faded. “Well,” he began heavily, “it’s too late now. She became pregnant, and I was on top of the world. I had finally found a woman whom I could love just as fiercely as she loved me. Then, because of my previous military record and my training as a Recon, I got ordered back to Nam for a second tour. He halted, resting his head against her shoulder in the gloomy darkness. “I was out on a mission when—when I got word that Rachel, our child, and my parents had died in a car crash.” His embrace tightened. “I couldn’t even fly home to see them buried, it was too late. I never got to see our baby daughter…just photos of her that Rachel had sent right after she was born. I took my leave right away, and all I could do was place flowers on their graves.”
Tears flowed freely down her face as she turned around in his embrace. Slipping her arms about his waist she murmured, “I’m sorry, Matt, so very sorry. No one…no one deserves that kind of agony. Not you, not any human being.”
A grimace tugged at the corner of his mouth. He absently brushed her cheek dry of the tears. “There’s more,” he warned her briefly.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I want to hear it.”
His eyes were dark as he studied her in the gathering silence. “I’ve never talked to anyone about all of this,” he admitted. “Funny,” he mused. “You have a lot of strength to stand here and listen. Either that or—”
“I care enough to listen, Matt,” she returned, her voice firm. “What happened next?”
He rested his hands on her shoulders, gazing back into the darkness. “I lost it, in three simple words. After their deaths I went back into the bush and turned all my grief into hate for the enemy. I damn near lost my men near the end of the tour. Fortunately, Cauley rescued us against my orders.” He sighed heavily, returning his gaze back to her upturned face. “I was a madman of sorts over there. I volunteered for every mission that had a high probability of enemy contact. I wanted to die myself.”
Captive of Fate Page 10
