His head bobbed slowly as he drove through the streets he had grown up on, realizing his dreams of untold riches were disappearing with each word from the woman’s mouth. “So my brother died for nothing.”
She stared at him. “Your brother died because of a few gold coins that might mean nothing, or might be a clue that leads to part of a long lost treasure. Either way he shouldn’t have died.”
Tladi ignored her implied criticism. If she and her friends hadn’t been snooping around for gold, none of this would have happened.
It wasn’t his fault.
And he wasn’t going to die for it.
He just needed some place to think.
A thought dawned on him and he smiled.
Perfect!
85
En route to Belfast, South Africa
Dawson was content to let Niner drive, Jimmy, Leather, and Reese, escorting the rescued hostages to a rendezvous with consulate personnel and the South African authorities. It had been hard to get the Tasker girl off Acton, she clearly having taken to him in their time together, it sweet how she begged him to keep in touch, as if he were her only friend in the world.
The idea had him dwelling on Maggie once again, and what he’d do if he lost her. He remembered how in Paris he had lost the will to live, not caring if the rioters killed him, tore him apart—he just wanted it all to end so he could be with her once again.
But this time there would be no rampaging hordes of religious fanatics, no ancient cults or forgotten Nazis to take him to the next world.
There would only be him.
And suicide was something that would never be part of the equation. He loved life too much, loved his job too much, loved the guys in the Unit too much. If he were to lose Maggie, it would be the most devastating thing he had ever faced, but he’d face it, work through it, and honor her memory by moving on, continuing to do what he did every day, making the world a better place.
Though it was the job that concerned him. He knew he could become overwhelmed with emotion from what had happened in Paris. He had put his life at risk, and those of the others, by doing what he had. It was wrong, it a nearly fatal, selfish mistake, and it could never happen again.
He’d have to take himself out of the rotation, at least until he could trust himself to not be distracted.
Like now.
They were heading after the ringleader, Tladi, who still had Professor Palmer as a hostage.
Yet he wasn’t planning on what to do, he was obsessing over Maggie.
And that was wrong.
There were too many other people’s lives at stake to be distracted.
He was a soldier.
But he was also a man.
A lover.
And not knowing what was going to happen, was killing him.
He had to know.
He activated his comm. “Control, Zero-One, come in, over.”
“Zero-One, Control, go ahead.”
“Control, we’re less than ten minutes from Belfast. Can I get an update on Maggie Harris?”
“No change in her condition, Zero-One.”
“Copy that. Zero-One, out.” Dawson frowned, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes.
“What’s wrong with Maggie?”
Dawson opened his eyes, turning his head slightly toward Acton. “They think a massive stroke.” His chest hurt, it the first time he had said it aloud.
“Oh my God! Is she okay?”
He shook his head slightly. “We don’t know yet.” He looked away, watching the landscape whipping by, realizing that he was definitely going to have to remove himself from the roster if this was the way it was going to be.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. “Listen, if there’s anything we can do, you let us know. And I mean anything.”
Dawson was torn. The professors were rich. Incredibly rich. They’d be able to provide access to the best of the best, whether that was doctors or facilities, and they’d be willing to do it, no questions asked. They had stepped up in the past without hesitation when his men were in need, and he knew they would do it again.
Yet this was different.
This was asking for a personal favor, for money from civilians. It went against everything he believed in. Before, when he had asked for help, or it had been offered, it was for the good of the mission, for the good of his men. Never had it been for a loved one, for anything personal.
But it’s Maggie!
They could help her. They could save her. Whoever said money can’t buy happiness might very well have been right—hell, he got paid a ridiculously meager salary for saving his country, yet he was happy. Because of Maggie.
But money did buy the best medical care.
Acton pulled his shoulder back slightly, forcing Dawson to turn his head toward the man. “I’ll make this easy for you because I know you’re not the type to ask. We’re not helping you, we’re helping our friend, Maggie, a civilian. Have them contact my friend Greg. You’ve met him. He’ll arrange everything until we’re back to take care of it ourselves.”
Dawson stared into the man’s eyes, a man he had once tried to kill, a man who had killed members of his team while defending himself, realizing at that very moment that this man truly was a friend, and that they would do anything for each other, as he would for any of his men.
Acton was part of the team.
He was part of the family.
And all he could say were two words, not trusting himself to say any more.
“Thank you.”
86
Florence Mokoena Residence
Belfast, South Africa
Reading followed Ndlovu inside, the trembling woman who had answered the door clearly having received a fresh beating. It enraged him. If there was one thing in his entire time as a police officer that had affected him more than all the murders and gang violence, it was domestic abuse. Defenseless women beaten senseless by their husbands, too terrified to press charges because they knew the justice system would simply release their abuser in short order, to perhaps deliver a fatal beating as payment.
The worst was when he’d have to arrest one of these poor women for murdering her abuser, an act of self-preservation nonetheless illegal.
That was why, quite often, a story would be arrived at before a statement was taken.
It wasn’t something he was proud of, but he’d be damned if a woman, beaten within inches of her life on multiple occasions, would go to prison for killing a man who one day soon would have done the same to her.
And right now, he wanted to take whoever had done this to the woman who stood in front of him, and bury him alive.
After he let her loose on him for a while.
“What’s your name, dear?”
“F-Florence.”
“Who did this to you?”
She turned her face away, trying to hide the evidence. “I-I don’t know.”
Reading pulled out a rickety chair, guiding her into it. He knelt in front of her, gently examining her wounds, there nothing life threatening or that might cause permanent damage, at least as far as he could tell, though whether there were internal injuries, he couldn’t say. He glanced up at Ndlovu. “She needs to see a doctor.”
Ndlovu nodded. “I’ll arrange for one.”
Reading looked at her. “Miss, was it someone you know?”
Again nothing.
“Miss, we can help you. Was it Tladi Tsabalala?”
She flinched, the name obviously meaning something to her, a name that elicited fear.
Reading knelt even lower, his knees killing him, his back violently protesting his efforts as he coaxed the information out of the woman with as gentle a voice as he could muster. “It was, wasn’t it? What did he want to know?”
She fingered a medallion around her neck, it appearing new, the luster suggesting a recent acquisition, yet the way she gently caressed it implied a deeper connection than something so new should merit.
Maybe ther
e was something else there before, that this replaced.
He nodded toward the medallion. “Did he want to know about that?”
She finally looked him in the eye. “About one like it.”
“Why?”
She flipped it over, revealing the reversed imprint of something, something that meant little to him. “It-it secret to finding gold.”
This caught Ndlovu’s attention. “You mean the Kruger Gold?”
She nodded, warily eyeing the younger man.
Reading continued, she finally opening up. “What did you tell him?”
“O-only that my father found a coin, and that white people were excited. They go to farm to dig.”
“What farm?”
“Farm my father work at.”
Tires skidded on dirt outside, forcing Reading painfully to stand. “Are you expecting someone?”
She rapidly shook her head, her eyes wide with fear. “N-no!”
Ndlovu was already at the window, peering through a sliver in the curtains. “Two people. One male, local, one female, white. Looks like your Professor Palmer.”
Reading looked about for a weapon, spotting a heavy cast iron frying pan sitting on a woodstove. He grabbed it, taking up position on the other side of the door as Ndlovu drew his weapon, stepping into the far corner to get a better angle on the new arrivals. Reading put his finger to his lips for the young woman’s benefit. She nodded, terrified, as she sat frozen at her kitchen table.
The door swung open.
“Ahh, there you are.”
Tladi stepped inside, Laura in front of him, blocking Ndlovu’s shot. Tladi spotted him, reaching for a weapon tucked into his belt. Reading swung the pan, hard, smacking the man’s head with a deafening thud. Tladi collapsed to the floor as Laura yelped, rushing deeper into the tiny, humble home the moment her captor’s grip loosened on her.
Then she stopped, spinning around. “Hugh!” She rushed into his arms as Ndlovu kicked Tladi’s weapon out of reach, it unnecessary, the poacher out cold. “Thank God you’re here!”
Ndlovu slapped cuffs on Tladi, though not before Laura took a moment to hoof him in the stomach. She returned to Reading, giving him the biggest hug he could ever recall receiving. She pushed back, looking up at him. “Where’s James?”
Reading’s eyes narrowed. “Isn’t he with you?”
87
Belfast, South Africa
Dawson was all business now, any thoughts of Maggie buried deep, there a job to do. Atlas and Acton headed for the back of the location, a shanty, for lack of a better word, on the edge of Belfast. The drone had tracked the poacher holding Laura Palmer to this location, his vehicle parked on an angle out front, the engine still hot.
He was here.
The UAV’s infrared suggested there were five inside, all in a single room. A hostage appeared to be against the far wall, the hostiles sitting around a table in the center of the front room, whoever Tladi had met here clearly friends, perhaps the owner of the rental parked on the street.
He activated his comm. “Okay, quick and clean. Try not to kill the professor.”
“Copy that,” replied Atlas, now out of sight with Acton.
“Execute in three… two… one… execute!”
Niner booted the front door off its hinges and Dawson surged inside to sounds of Atlas and Acton entering from the rear. He aimed his scavenged weapon at the table, then smiled.
“Hold your fire!”
Atlas and Acton rushed into the room, both raising their weapons to the ceiling as Interpol Agent Hugh Reading held up a cup.
“Tea?”
Dawson laughed, Laura leaping from her seat, diving into her husband’s arms, their reunion silent yet heartwarming.
And time-consuming.
He had to get home to Maggie.
Now.
He pointed at the man handcuffed against the wall. “I assume that’s him?”
Laura broke away from Acton’s embrace, nodding. “Yes, he’s the one behind it all.”
Reading gestured to the other man at the table. “This is Agent Ndlovu of the State Security Agency.”
Dawson nodded. “Good. I assume you’re going to handle things on this end?”
“You’ve rescued all the hostages?”
“Yes. The Americans are rendezvousing with consulate personnel, and the South Africans will be handed over to your people.”
Ndlovu bowed slightly. “Then yes, I’ve got this end covered.”
“Good.” Dawson waved the others toward the door. “Let’s go. I want to be stateside as soon as possible.”
88
Somewhere over the Atlantic
Leather had wisely sent for Laura’s private Gulfstream V to meet them in Johannesburg long before the rescue, the man not only a master at tactics, but logistics as well. He and his man were returning on a commercial flight to the dig site in Egypt, Leather having refused time off, despite taking one to the chest, the body armor leaving him with a nasty bruise, but little else.
Young Courtney Tasker had latched onto James, much to the amusement of Laura, when they all met at the consulate in Johannesburg, Courtney’s father in Washington gratefully accepting Laura’s offer of a much quicker flight home in her jet, rather than the back of a Herc, the Treasury Secretary also insisting Dawson and his men provide security for the flight.
That was clearly fine by him, getting him home sooner.
They were all exhausted and clearly concerned about Maggie, Laura noticing the usual joking around between the warriors subdued this time. Everyone had been running on adrenaline for so long, they were all crashing, heads drooping, eyes barely open.
Dawson bolted upright, pressing his finger against his ear.
“Go ahead, Control.”
Everyone was instantly alert, Laura leaning forward in her seat.
“Okay, thank you. Zero-One, out.”
He sat back in his seat, saying nothing. Niner broke the silence.
“Well?”
Dawson let out a long, slow breath, the toughest man Laura had ever met, struggling to maintain control. “She’s going to survive.”
His voice cracked as Laura’s hand flew to her mouth, momentarily relieved, though sensing there was something more.
The others sensed it too.
Niner sat on the edge of the seat across from Dawson, lowering his voice. “But?”
“They don’t know the extent of the brain damage. She’s in a medically induced coma until they can figure out what went wrong.”
The tears Dawson couldn’t let out instead flowed down Laura’s cheeks, her chest hurting as James squeezed her hand tightly. She looked over at the man she loved and pictured how she would feel if it were him lying in a sterile hospital room, hooked up to monitors, with a future of uncertainty ahead of them.
It was crushing.
She rose, walking down the aisle then kneeling in front of Dawson, taking his hand in hers and pressing it to her chin. She stared him in the eyes. “Whatever she needs, she gets.”
A single tear rolled down Dawson’s cheek, it quickly wiped away.
89
Womack Army Medical Center
Fort Bragg, North Carolina
The reunion between Courtney and her father had been a tearful one, and Acton had sensed a change in the girl. She had come over and given him a hug then a heartfelt apology to Laura for the way she had behaved. Laura had hugged the young woman, giving her a kiss on the top of the head, graciously accepting the apology, Courtney appearing genuinely relieved, and genuinely appreciative of the affection shown, Acton getting the sense it was lacking in her home life.
The pampered life of privilege, where nannies raise the children.
The heart-wrenching delivery of her boyfriend’s body to his grieving parents had been something he could have lived without, though he had felt it his duty to witness it, as had the others. Experiencing their grief almost made him thankful he could never go through the loss of a child,
though he recognized some of himself in them as he recalled the pain he had suffered when his beloved students had been killed in Peru by the very men who had just saved them.
He glanced at Dawson and his team, everyone in the waiting room of the hospital. Wives, children, and girlfriends were there, it truly a family, something only those who served, those who were the family of those who served, could understand. The military was a way of life, career military a calling, a lifetime of sacrifice for little thanks, thanks that wasn’t desired or necessary, the reward the job and the knowledge that when they came home, they had done good, they had made the world a better place for the loved ones that waited behind that door.
And now, one of their own lay struggling for her life on the other side of the cold white walls of progress, the most highly skilled warriors in the world powerless in this battle, unable to do anything beyond provide the support only family could.
On their way to find Laura, Dawson had contacted his people, allowing Acton to place a call to Greg Milton who had taken care of everything, a specialist from New York here within hours, though they had yet to hear anything.
Instead, everyone kept each other distracted, small talk and cellphones filling the void.
Niner walked over to them. “So, Doc, you going back for the gold?”
Acton shook his head. “I think I’ve had my fill for now. Professor Ncube will lead a team to search the mines in the area. You never know, he might find it.”
“How much are we talking about?”
“If you believe the conspiracy theories, half a billion.”
Niner’s eyes flew open. “Holy shit!” He turned to the others. “So, umm, I’ve got some leave coming up. Anyone want to go on safari?”
A dozen hands shot up in the air.
Wages of Sin (A James Acton Thriller, #17) (James Acton Thrillers) Page 20
