Lynn Ames - Beyond Instinct

by Lynn Ames

  “Afraid so,” Justine said.

  “It’s not a problem. It may work to our advantage—less people around and fewer questions. I can probably get you a small airplane with a private pilot. I doubt I can find you the kind of medical expertise you’d need inside Mali.”

  “If you can get me someone who can take off right away and get me to…” Where did she want to go? Where could they get Vaughn treatment? Torgensen’s involvement meant that she couldn’t trust any CIA safe houses or clinics. “Sabastien? Can you hold on a minute?”

  “Sure.”

  Justine put Vaughn’s phone on the passenger seat. She dug in her own pocket and pulled out her cell phone. Barely glancing down, she hit redial.

  “Oui.”

  “Hi. I’m Justine, a friend of Jackson’s. I know we were supposed to meet you across the border, but we’ve got a situation, and we can’t make the rendezvous point.”

  “Where is Jackson? Is he hurt?”

  “Dead, I’m afraid.”

  “Ah, merde.” Justine heard the anguish in the voice.

  “I’ve got a gravely injured woman here. I think I can get us a small plane out of Timbuktu. Where can we fly to so that I can get a surgeon to treat a bullet wound to the chest?”

  The man cleared his throat, and Justine gave him a moment to compose himself. “Fly to Nouakchott. It is the capital of Mauritania. I will have someone meet you there with an ambulance on the tarmac. You will be taken care of. I will join you at the clinic and make arrangements to get you out of Africa as soon as the patient is stabilized.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Mademoiselle Justine?”

  “Yes?”

  “You can buy silence in Timbuktu with cash.”

  “Good to know. Thanks. See you soon.” Justine closed her phone and retrieved Vaughn’s cell off the passenger seat. “Sabastien? You still there?”

  “Right here. I’ve been working on your problem. I’ve got you a pilot. He wants $1,000 American cash. He’ll fly as low as you want and he doesn’t care where you want to go. Payment up front.”

  Justine shook her head. “I don’t suppose you had time to check him out?”

  “Actually, I did a preliminary check, that’s how I picked him. He’s a French expatriate—a former decorated soldier who knows how to keep his mouth shut. I thought he might prove useful beyond the flight.”

  “You work fast. See if you can dig a little deeper. If you find anything of concern, leave me a voicemail. I’ll pick it up when we land. Tell him we’re going to Nouakchott.” Justine pulled off the road. They had arrived back at Jackson’s truck. “We should be at the airport in twenty minutes.”

  “I will relay the message. Justine?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Will Elliott be all right?”

  “I don’t know, Sabastien.” Her voice sounded husky with emotion, even to her own ears. “I’ll call you.”

  By the time Justine and Sage had transferred everything to the truck, ditched the car, and settled Vaughn, another five minutes had passed.

  It took them another twenty minutes to find the airport. Vaughn’s breathing was becoming more labored.

  “Is she going to be okay?” Sage asked, as they pulled into a parking space.

  “I hope so,” Justine answered. She lifted Vaughn’s eyelids, took her pulse, and re-checked the tube. She looked up at Sage, noting that her face was very pale. “I need you to stay put for a minute while I go negotiate,” Justine told her. “Keep talking to Vaughn. You’re doing great.”

  When Justine returned ten minutes later, Sage was kissing Vaughn’s forehead and whispering to her as tears flowed down her cheeks.

  Justine bit her own lip. Keep it together. “We’re all set. I’m just going to pack a few things.”

  Justine went to the back of the truck and pulled out a duffle. In it she placed two of the Sigs, ammunition, a knife, some first aid supplies, Vaughn’s briefcase, several changes of clothes for her and Vaughn, and an extra one of Vaughn’s T-shirts for Sage.

  The flight was choppy because of the low altitude at which they were flying, and although Justine used the plane’s emergency system to increase the percentage of oxygen in Vaughn’s blood, her condition continued to worsen. Her skin was clammy, her breathing even more shallow than it had been. Her pulse was thready. The altitude was increasing the pressure on her lungs, but it was a chance Justine knew they had to take. A six-hour car ride would’ve meant sure death. A one-hour flight offered a better chance of survival.

  “Justine?”

  Justine heard the panic in Sage’s voice. It mirrored the panic rising in her own chest. Vaughn was slipping away and there was nothing more she could do for her without proper facilities and a surgeon. “How much longer?” she asked the pilot.

  “We are descending now. Ten minutes.”

  “Thank God,” Sage said.

  Justine said a prayer that Jackson’s friend had arranged everything as promised, and that it would not be too late for Vaughn.

  Ray Dumont paced in front of his office window. He looked at his watch for the fourth time in as many minutes. The sun was peeking over the horizon. Surely, Nassir should have been back by now. He could see no way out of what he had to do.

  He returned to his desk and picked up the phone.

  “Report.”

  “There has been no word, sir. Nassir should have been back by now. I’m afraid…”

  “As you should be.”

  The line went dead.

  As the plane approached the runway, Justine could see the ambulance waiting. Thank God. She hoped the clinic wasn’t too far away.

  Before the wheels even touched down, the ambulance sped forward.

  “Sage,” Justine whispered, “I need you to help the men in the ambulance with Vaughn. These are friends of Jackson’s—they’re our friends. Vaughn needs you to be strong. Are you going to be okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Sage answered, sitting up a little straighter. “I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been at the top of my game. You must think—”

  Justine put a hand on her arm. “I think you’ve been through a horrific ordeal, and it’s not over yet. You’ve done incredibly well. Vaughn would be very proud of you.”

  “I will just need to secure the propellers,” the pilot said, once the plane had come to a full stop. He lowered the steps and went outside.

  Justine took the Sig out of the duffle and tucked it inside her overshirt while Sage’s attention was fixed outside. It always paid to be prepared, although she hoped she wouldn’t have to use it. She checked her phone and Vaughn’s as well. There were no messages.

  “You may exit now,” the pilot said.

  “Wait here one second, Sage.” Justine descended the steps to meet a wiry man with weathered skin the color of fine dark chocolate. “Justine.”

  “Abrim.”

  “We are all set?”

  “Yes.”

  “The patient is very critical.”

  “I understand.”

  “I need you to help load her into the ambulance, then I need to talk with the pilot.”

  “I understand.” Abrim turned back to the ambulance. “Salam, come help.”

  Justine watched as a huge behemoth of a man lowered a stretcher out of the back of the ambulance.

  Justine led Salam onto the plane. She made eye contact with Sage and winked. “You go first. Salam and I will transfer Vaughn.”

  Sage nodded, reluctantly letting go of Vaughn’s hand.

  Once Salam and Abrim had put Vaughn in the ambulance and Sage was safely inside, Justine re-boarded the plane. “I just have to grab my bag,” she said to the pilot.

  “Mmm-hmm,” the pilot said without looking up. He was engrossed in writing in his log book.

  When she returned to the front of the plane, Justine said, “I want to thank you for helping us.”

  The pilot shrugged. “You paid me.”

  “That’s true. How would you like to make a lot
more money?”

  The man shrugged again. “I like money.”

  “In a few days, as soon as my friend is able, we will need to travel again, except this time we’ll be going farther, and we’ll need a jet. Are you interested and can you arrange that?”

  The pilot regarded her shrewdly. “For the right price.”

  “And that would be?”

  “Twenty thousand, American cash, up front.”

  “Done, but you get half when we get on the plane, and half when we reach our destination. Also, I’ll need you to accompany us to the hospital now.”

  “Why?” The pilot’s eyes narrowed.

  “That’s part of the deal,” Justine said. “Take it or leave it. I’ll give you five seconds to decide. We’re running out of time.”

  She didn’t want to kill him, but they couldn’t afford to leave any loose ends. If she couldn’t keep him secure, she would have no choice.

  “Deal. Let’s go.”

  “Bring the log book with you,” Justine said, as she deplaned.

  “Everything okay?” Abrim asked as she joined him at the back of the ambulance.

  “Yes, thanks. We’re going to have an extra passenger.” She motioned in the direction of the pilot, who was waiting at the front of the ambulance. “How long before we get to the clinic?”

  “Ten minutes. Nate, Jackson’s friend, is already there making the arrangements.”

  “I’m glad Jackson has such good friends.”

  “He was a good man.” Justine noted the wistful expression on Abrim’s face.

  “Yes, he was.” She climbed into the back of the ambulance with Vaughn and Sage—it was better that they stay out of sight. Abrim shut them in, directed the pilot to a seat, then slid behind the wheel for the short drive.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Justine was surprised to find the ambulance equipped with oxygen, intravenous fluids, IV needles, a blood pressure cuff, a stethoscope, and bandages. She fixed the oxygen mask over Vaughn’s nose and mouth and put in an IV to run three liters of ringer’s lactate that she found in a compartment next to her elbow. Then she wrapped the blood pressure cuff around Vaughn’s arm, and took her blood pressure.

  “How bad is it?” Sage asked.

  “She’s tough.”

  “You’re not answering me.”

  In truth, Vaughn’s blood pressure was dangerously low, and her pulse was barely discernable. “I—” Justine stopped short. “Shit. Sage, I need you to bang on the glass. Tell Abrim to hurry.”

  “What—”

  “We’re losing her. Vaughn. Damn you, Vaughn, stay with me. You’ve gotten this far, don’t you dare die on me now.”

  For the next five minutes, the only sounds were of Justine murmuring to Vaughn, tires squealing, and Sage weeping.

  Two men in overcoats stood on a pedestrian bridge overlooking the Potomac River.

  “Torgensen has been compromised. I don’t know whether Elliott is dead or alive. I’m sending someone in to mop up.”

  “What of McNally?”

  “I can’t know that until my man gets inside.”

  “I don’t like it, Ed. This has become very messy.”

  Edgar Fairhaven’s jaw muscles jumped. It was messy, and that irked him almost as much as having it pointed out.

  “You promised me this would go away.”

  “It will.”

  “When?”

  “Soon.”

  The ambulance doors were thrown open and Sage jumped in fright. Salam and Abrim appeared.

  Salam moved around Justine to grab the top end of the stretcher. Within seconds, they were gone, moving through double doors at the back of a blind alley and into a non-descript building. Sage followed behind, hurrying to catch up to the stretcher. She barely registered the presence of the pilot, who followed behind at a slower pace.

  Inside, a man in surgical scrubs was shouting instructions to several other people nearby. He asked Justine several questions Sage couldn’t hear.

  They were rushing down a hallway toward what Sage presumed was an operating room at the end. The doors swung shut just as Sage reached them. She watched through a tiny window as strangers surrounded Vaughn. Finally, Sage spotted Justine slumped against the wall; she thought she saw her crying.

  “Excuse me?”

  Sage jumped at the touch and whirled around.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Jackson’s friend, Nate.”

  “Hi. I’m Sage. It’s okay. I’m a little on edge.”

  “You are the one they went to rescue, yes?”

  “Yes.” Tears sprang into Sage’s eyes. “It’s all my fault. If it wasn’t for me, Jackson would be alive and Vaughn—”

  “You mustn’t blame yourself. People like Jackson and Vaughn, they are trained professionals. They knew the risks.”

  “But—”

  “Come with me.”

  “I can’t. Vaughn is in there.”

  “Yes, and she will be for a while. Meanwhile, you look like you could use something to eat and a place to lie down.”

  “I’m fine. I—”

  “Sage, please. Someone will inform us as soon as they know anything about your friend.” Nate tugged gently on her good hand, and Sage reluctantly moved away from the operating-room door.

  “Who is that?” Nate asked, pointing to a man standing off to the side.

  “He was the pilot. Justine brought him here with us.” Sage shrugged. “I’m not sure why.”

  “I see. Wait here. I will be right back.” Sage watched as Nate walked into the operating room. She could see him having a brief conversation with Justine. When he came back out, he spoke to Salam, who escorted the pilot out of sight.

  When Nate rejoined her in the corridor, Sage asked, “How do you know Jackson?” She and Nate walked to a small kitchen down the hall from the operating room.

  “We are, how do you say, peers?”

  “You mean you work together?”

  “I have the same position here in Mauritania that Jackson holds—held—in Burkina Faso. Over the years we became great friends. We have done each other many favors. I owe him my life, so I was happy to repay him.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Sage said, touching the back of Nate’s hand.

  “Thank you. Jackson was a fine man, and he held your Vaughn in great regard. From the way he told it, she turned his life around, gave him skills and confidence as a young man, and helped him get his current job.”

  Sage smiled. Vaughn liked people to think she was cold and unapproachable, but the more she saw and heard about her, the more Sage understood that the front Vaughn presented had little to do with the woman inside.

  “You have affection for this woman, yes?”

  Sage blushed. “What?”

  “You care about her.”

  “Oh. Yes. Vaughn is a special person.”

  “She will be all right. You will see.”

  “Sage?”

  Sage got up so quickly she toppled the chair. Justine was standing in the doorway. Her hair was disheveled and her face looked haggard. “Is she…”

  “She’s resting comfortably right now.”

  “Can I see her?”

  “Sure. Don’t expect much, though. She’s on a ventilator.”

  “Excuse me, Nate.” Sage hurried down the hallway with Justine. “Is she conscious?”

  “No. It could be a few days for that.”

  “Did they get the bullet out?”

  “No. They just put in a proper chest tube. Sometimes that’s a better option than opening up someone’s chest.”

  “So the bullet will just stay in there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow.”

  They arrived at a room just to the right of the operating room. A large bed dominated the space. Two folding chairs sat off to the side. Vaughn lay in the center of the bed hooked up to a ventilator, a tube running out of the right side of her chest, and a nasogastric tube in her nose. To Sage,
she looked impossibly pale and still.

  She hesitated just inside the door.

  “It’s okay,” Justine said gently. “You can sit with her, hold her hand, talk to her. Actually, it would probably be good for her.” And you.

  “Can she hear me?”

  “I’d like to think she can.”

  Sage took several halting steps until she was standing next to the bed. “Hi. You look like hell.” Her hand shook as she reached out to touch Vaughn’s fingers. They were so cold. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.” Once again, tears slid down Sage’s cheeks. “This is all my fault. Jackson’s dead, you’re…” Sage slumped forward until her forehead touched the back of Vaughn’s hand. “And I don’t even know why. Why did all of this happen? What did I do to deserve this? I don’t understand.”

  “Sage.” Justine laid a hand on Sage’s shoulder.

  Sage turned toward her and fell into her open arms. “Why? Can you tell me why?”

  “No, I can’t. Not yet, anyway. Vaughn and I think it’s something you know or something you saw.”

  “I’ve tried and tried to think what it could be, but I just don’t know.” Justine’s hand rubbed her back, and Sage absorbed the comfort.

  “We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”

  “What a mess.” Sage straightened up, stepped back, and wiped her eyes. “Sorry to fall apart…again.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You’re doing great.”

  “Justine?” Sage frowned. “Will they try again? Are they going to keep coming for me? Will I ever be safe?”

  “We’ll keep you safe. I promise you.”

  “Vaughn promised me the same thing, and look what it cost her.” Sage swallowed hard and looked at Vaughn, who was lying there fighting for her life because of her.

  “Sage, look at me.”

  Reluctantly, Sage dragged her eyes away from Vaughn and focused on the compassion in Justine’s gaze.

  “Vaughn made her choice willingly, and I guarantee you she’d make the same choice again in a similar situation.”

  “She shouldn’t have to, and neither should you.”

  “That’s what people like me and Vaughn do. It’s our job. It’s what we know.”

  “Vaughn was pretty mysterious about her background. Maybe if I knew more about her, I’d understand.”

  “I suspect you know everything you need to know in your heart.”