Intimate Danger

by Amy J. Fetzer

  “Go back!”

  Clancy shifted quickly, but the vibrations grew stronger, the ground rolling beneath her feet. Then she stopped.

  Mike was behind her. “Keep moving.”

  “We can’t!” She twisted and met his gaze. “Look. The waterfall!”

  Over her shoulder, Mike saw a blast of white water shooting straight out from the fall, and filling the cave. The twigs were already floating. Rocks tumbled into the opening and took away the choice.

  “Oh, Jesus, Mike!” Water bubbled around the rocks in the crevasse, flowing closer. The tremors made the stone shift and bobble, and sandwiched between, he felt the pressure on his chest. His breathing labored as he braced his hands on the wall, barely enough room to bend his arms, and he pushed as if he could move five hundred tons of stone.

  Then it did—and brought more water. Mike jerked his hands back, stunned.

  “There are round stones under it!” Clancy said, and Mike only heard the terror in her voice.

  He pushed again, yet the wall refused to move as white foam rushed around them, soaking them to the knees. It’s filling the cave. Mike inched to the edge, then reached back for her hand. He squeezed, then let go as he forced his body through the opening, feeling the vise on his rib cage and chest. His fingers curled around the edge of the rock and water streamed down on his head. The fall was above them, he thought, and the quaking earth collapsed the stones. Mike knew if he didn’t get out, Clancy would be crushed to death, and he strained, squeezing his body through the opening, then shoved hard against the stone.

  He popped out of the crack like a stopper from a bottle and stumbled, then reached for Clancy. For a moment their eyes met, his fingertips grazing hers before he fell backward into the dark unknown—without her.

  Jansen listened to the CIA agent, and knew it was time to blow the hinge off this ugly door. Gannon couldn’t be reached. The reality of an entire team vanishing made him accept information from any resource, including Howard Gantz.

  “I’m getting the pictures.” Hank watched the screen download and frowned.

  “I can find lots on this guy, but not who sent him.”

  Jansen recognized the face.

  There was no reason to send someone like Denner after her, either. On another computer, he sent the picture into his database, and received instant information. Cook had signed off on the last two neutralizations while in Spec Ops, the bastard.

  “I’ve got his cell phone.”

  Hank’s brows shot up. “The last call was to the medical facility, Army. Right?”

  “Yeah,” Gantz said carefully.

  Cook didn’t route his calls? You’re smarter than this, Carl. What do you have up your sleeve to save yourself with? Hank knew Cook would have someone in his back pocket to ensure that he’d come out with, at the least, his retirement and an order of silence. Hank preferred hard labor in Leavenworth.

  “Where was the call to? To which office?”

  “Primate lab. Francine Yates, major, U.S. Army.”

  Mike sailed through the air, then hit the ground, tumbling down an embankment like a kid rolling down a grassy hill. He grappled for anything to stop the rush, but there was nothing but loose dirt and rocks. Then he hit something solid, and before the pain registered, Clancy’s body slammed into him. He grunted at the impact, then instantly grabbed her to him, rolling, and protecting her from the rush of water and mud.

  Water splashed around them, covering them, and then Mike struggled to keep her head above the surface, their bodies sliding with the force. Clancy grappled in panic, clinging to him, and Mike braced his feet against the flow and held her tightly. Their bodies a dam, water rushed past.

  “I have you, I have you.” The tremor ceased, but rocks still tumbled.

  “I’m really tired of this down-the-rabbit-hole crap,” she muttered into his chest. “I just got clean!” She pushed out of his arms, the water flow draining off, and Mike looked around for the flashlight. He spotted a faint beam several yards away under layers of mud and crawled to it, digging it out. It still worked but was fading fast. He moved to her.

  “I lost your pack. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, staggering in the mud. “I lost the rifle.”

  She gave him her weapon. Mike shined the light over the cavern. Water spilled from the fissure they’d passed through, the pour constant and high. Yet the water wasn’t rising around them. Mike stood and with the flashlight, followed the flow. It hit the barrier and coursed left and right, and while it was still coming, it wasn’t knee deep anymore. With the light, he chased a stream farther and saw it spill in tiers. He nudged her and shone the light on them.

  “Stairs.” He moved nearer. “It flows into an aqueduct.” He pointed into the darkness below, and Clancy crawled on muddy hands and knees to see a narrow canal of cut stone that went off somewhere into the dark. Mike followed the path with the flashlight, its beam draining the last of the power as he leaned over the barrier.

  Suddenly he ducked low, shut off the light, and crawled back to her. “Don’t get excited, but we’re not alone.” The noise of the water and the sloshing mud drowned out any sound but its own.

  Clancy gave him a wide-eyed stare. He motioned over the stone barrier. “Stay low,” he whispered and Clancy carefully peered over the wall of stone—and saw people. More expressly, Indians. Holding torches, several men rushed into a courtyard in a little panic over the tremors, all shouting the same phrase.

  “They seem darn pleased by all that seismic activity.”

  “Guess they didn’t get that the mountain could fall on them.”

  “They’re painted like that Indian who protected me.” Green, brown, and black sweeping strokes resembled the fronds and leaves of the forest.

  “The best cammo paint job I’ve seen,” Mike said. “If you’re into that whole naked dick-swinging thing.”

  She snickered to herself, then looked up to the ceiling. “These chambers would have been side by side.” She gestured to the crack they’d come through that was now smaller than ever. “It’s a pyramid.” The slab they’d slid down before, it must be the top of the mountain. “Those were doors once, look.”

  Mike glanced behind, more interested in getting them out than the architecture. But she was right. Over the centuries, it had collapsed in on itself. The section he’d moved wasn’t as big as he’d thought. Though over twenty feet tall, it was only a few inches thick, and from here he could see the long tube-shaped stones under it. Most were crushed or broken, but like with the Incas, it was a balance of stone with weighted levers. There was nothing left of it now, but the fat counterweight that was still wrapped in animal-hide rope. He inched to look over the curling wedge of lava stone.

  They had a ringside seat. The immense chamber was like the other cavern, only larger, and looked untouched by time. Crudely carved columns posted like guards in each corner, the aqueduct surrounding the right side and disappearing under more rock. There were two levels, a dais, and below it the wide uneven red stone floor.

  “Amazing. You think it’s new real estate or a fixer-upper?”

  “Fixer-upper,” Mike said. “There’s a Moche dig nearby, I read it in the papers.”

  Then she latched on to one thing. “They know a way out.”

  “We can’t ask.”

  “I don’t speak the language, but I’m sure we can get across—”

  He was already shaking his head, then urged her to look again.

  Clancy did and swallowed her tongue. “Denner?” The fair-skinned, light-haired man looked like a Yankee in Florida on spring break.

  “He’s not a prisoner, he’s a participant.” He was dressed like some of the Indians in a dirt-colored tunic and headdress that was a helmet with a thin hammer shape on the top. It looked heavy and he was armed and carrying a torch.

  She scowled deeply. “Inducted. How? Why?”

  “Your options are no choice or willing.”

  “He’d have to earn
it. A white guy in this tribe? Not hardly.”

  “He was a sweeper, Clancy. He could probably do the job and be on a plane and in the air before you’re dropped.”

  She wasn’t sure if she liked that he knew those things, but she believed him. “His word or reputation means nothing here, so he’d have to prove it. Look at all those tunnels.” No less than three were spread out and leading into darkness.

  “See the one on the far left? Notice the stone carvings outside it?”

  Clancy looked, then scowled at him. “I can’t see that far. I don’t think anyone without binoculars could either.”

  It hit him like a slap. The nano, and it worked.

  He met her gaze and she pursed her lips. “Coming in handy, isn’t it?”

  He didn’t respond to that, but said, “Those wall carvings are like the ruins on the cliff.”

  “So we have a tribe following the traditions of a society that perished two thousand years ago.”

  “Looks that way.”

  The oblong doorway wasn’t large, and his gaze narrowed as more men filed into the courtyard.

  “They were ready to come into this place, Mike. Did they expect the earthquake? Praying it would? Or did they think that was an answer from their god?”

  Mike didn’t like the sound of that. It meant the tribe was pumped, and that would be the equivalent of Medal of Honor–type bravery. There were two of them, and the only way out was past the tribe.

  “If they worshipped the mountain, isn’t it safe to say they protected it too?”

  “Yeah.” He saw where she was going with this.

  “I bet this is why those soldiers died. They trespassed.”

  “So did we.”

  “But I had a boyfriend who protected me. We’re in drug territory. How could Richora not know about this?”

  “It’s a damn big mountain, honey.”

  She remembered Richora grilling her over what she saw. “He didn’t want me seeing anything, so what could we have missed?”

  Mike thought for a moment, then told her about the crates the three men died over. “And then there were the kilos. No self-respecting drug lord wants proof that close to him. But, Irish, I think he’s on a revenge high with you.”

  The man she shot on the river, Clancy thought. “True, but the processed kilos mean there’s a drug factory here, and with that amount of cargo, it’s a big lab.” That’s got to be a year’s worth of product, she thought, tugging her chin for a second, quiet.

  Mike simply waited, enjoying her analytical mind.

  “You said water was a way out? What’s beyond here?”

  “The Rio Marñón. It becomes the Amazon.”

  “That’s how they are getting the kilos out, by the river, hiding it in here.”

  “Too simple and too visible. Peru Navy patrols the rivers. Their DEA watches the drug trade everywhere.”

  “They killed those troops, Mike. The crashes, we’re in their territory too. We got a free pass because of boyfriend, but if Richora put his transports near tribal boundaries, he’s got autoprotect.” She tossed her thumb toward the hall below.

  “His own private little army,” Mike said. Richora could move anything.

  The sound of drums drew them back, and Mike knew that with the torches lighting the areas, the tribe couldn’t see much beyond, so for the moment, they were still undetected. He started to rise when he heard Clancy moving and glanced, tried to reach for her, but she was crawling toward the tiered stairs. “Clancy!”

  She put up her hand as if to say “just a second,” then lay flat, reaching, and nearly tumbling down the stairs. She came back with his pack.

  “Good recon. Don’t do that again,” he said. Everything was there, soaked, but aside from his knives, and some explosives, he had one pistol and little ammo. Shooting his way out of this wasn’t his first choice. They were outnumbered and the Indians knew how to get out of here. A quick stampede, he thought, then tried the GPS for some accurate direction, but the screen staggered. He shut it off.

  The drums grew louder, more steady, and they focused over the edge. Suddenly, Mike dropped down. He stared blankly, then rubbed his face.

  Clancy searched the faces, her heart breaking. “It’s Nathan and Sal!”

  Nathan Krane and Salvatore DiFazio were tethered like animals, stripped to their boxers and barefoot. The Indians yanked them toward the center of the courtyard with several other prisoners. “Where are Valnik and Palmer?”

  Mike joined her. Then suddenly he grabbed her and covered her mouth.

  She shrieked behind his hand, and they huddled on the stone, helpless as the ritual massacre began.

  Eighteen

  The screams were chilling.

  Clancy sank to the ground and cringed at each shriek of agony. Then she heard a gunshot and saw Mike sliding back down to the ground.

  “That ought to confuse them.”

  “And it will signal Nathan and Sal,” she said.

  But the shot only startled the battle, the horrible sounds dying down for a breath, then increasing with bone-racking horror. The chance that he could have just killed them with a ricochet tore at Mike as he stood. Clancy was breathing hard as she joined him, a death grip on his arm.

  Mike aimed and fired. A man about to cut Sal’s throat dropped to the ground. Nathan and Sal grabbed the curved knifes from their tormentors, and Mike watched helplessly as Nathan Krane cut his own bonds and unleashed on his attackers.

  His speed was astounding. He spun, his leg shooting out to connect with an Indian’s throat and knock him back. Then he went in for the kill. Within a moment, his immediate area was cleared. Mike glanced at Clancy, and her horrified look made him pull her down behind the boulder.

  She swallowed repeatedly, her eyes wide yet staring at nothing. He knew what she was doing. Reliving it. “Clancy, baby, look at me.”

  She did and he kissed her, squeezed her.

  “Enemy territory,” she said. Clancy had seen this before, been in it, but oh God, it was still unbelievable. Then Mike was gone, moving down the tier. She scrambled after him. “No, no, Mike. Please don’t.” All she could hear was the clash of weapons, the tortured screams, and wanted him nowhere near it.

  But she knew. He couldn’t leave them to die.

  He eased carefully down the tiers slippery with moss and steep. Half the stairs were shielded by broken slabs of stone, but for several yards to the doorway they’d be exposed. He took careful aim and fired, then moved his arms to the left and fired again. Then he hurried out of her line of vision. Clancy slid down a couple of steps, grappling to stop herself, then looked. She shouldn’t have. Mike was fast and lethal, and she jerked back, closing her eyes and washing the image from her mind. Guns were one thing, but hand-to-hand was ruthless and brutal.

  She couldn’t help. Without a weapon, she was defenseless.

  Then someone touched her shoulder and she flinched, batting them away.

  “Clancy?”

  Her head jerked up and she sighed with relief and launched into his arms. “Stop scaring me,” she said softly.

  “I’m trying.” He helped her over the aqueduct.

  “Nathan,” Mike called, and Krane spun, defending with two curved knives. It took a moment to register. “Krane. It’s me. At ease.”

  Nathan lowered his arms, then glanced at Sal standing at his back. “Fazio,” he said. “Look who showed up.”

  Mike grinned and crossed to them, gripping Nathan by the arms, then giving him a bear hug and the same to Sal.

  “Thanks for looking,” Krane said.

  He was about to thank Clancy when he turned for her. She kept her gaze locked on Mike as she crossed over bodies to him.

  “Where are Valnik and Palmer?”

  Krane frowned at her, then Mike.

  “Clancy McRae. Long story, you can trust her.”

  “Valnik is dead and Palmer, we haven’t seen him since the crash,” Nathan said. “He didn’t get captured with us.”


  Clancy would think of the young man alive until she had to, and her gaze bounced all over the men. She was more than curious. She’d spent years of her life working on a technology that would keep military alive in battle. Now she got to witness it.

  “Don’t mind her,” Mike said, turning toward the doorway. “She’s—”

  “Damn glad you’re alive.” She pumped their hands, smiling brightly.

  Mike tapped her and inclined his head. “That’s going to alert some more,” he said, and she came to him, grabbing a knife off the ground and swiping the blood on a dead man. She stopped short, looking around at the dead.

  “Clancy, don’t look at them, look at me.”

  She waved that off. “What’s that?”

  Mike came to her and stared not at the dead man, but the small shield he had over his wrist. Mike slid it off and held it up. The outside had the distinct black numbers of registration.

  “The dismantled Hellfire,” Krane said.

  “All of it?” Mike said.

  Krane moved quickly around and Clancy made herself look at the weapons and not the bodies, but one person stood out. Denner lay dead at her feet. She reached for a wire braided around his throat as Krane came back with earrings and adornments.

  “They used the guidance, chips, wires, all of it.” He held them out for a look, then tossed them aside. “Probably left the good parts on the mountain.” Fuel and explosives. Clancy knew if it was whole, Mike didn’t have enough explosives to follow orders and blow it up.

  “You know how to get out?” Mike said to Nathan.

  He shook his head. “It’s a maze of tunnels and rooms. They scattered that way.” He flicked his hand toward gaping doorways edged in stone carvings.

  “How many?”

  He looked around. “Sixty maybe. Less now.”

  “Women, children?”

  His brows drew down. “We heard them, but never saw any, so they must be kept elsewhere. They eat vegetables so they have to leave this place somehow.”

  Mike opened his pack and handed over food. They devoured the protein bars and water in short order. All he had left was a bit of explosives and a single detonator.