by Dinah McCall
Macie grabbed the shoulder of Ruger’s jacket.
“What is it?”
The news had put Ruger in such a good mood that he actually smiled at her.
“They found McAllister.”
“Alive?” Carl asked.
“Yes. He was a little out of his head, but he kept repeating the same set of numbers over and over. Sugarman checked an aeronautical map. It matches an abandoned airport on the coast.”
Macie’s fingers curled into the fabric. “How far are we from there?”
Ruger looked to the pilot who checked his bearings, then looked at Carl puzzled that they’d missed the location.
“We’ve been too far inland. It’s about thirty minutes north,” Carl said.
Ruger nodded, satisfied with Carl’s explanation. Thirty minutes. Macie could only imagine what could happen in that space of time.
“Please,” she said. “Please hurry.”
Ruger understood her panic. “Yes, ma’am.”
With that, the chopper banked to the right, then veered closer to the coast and began to retrace their flight path.
Footsteps sounded outside the room; then a thin sliver of light appeared beneath the door. Jonah sat at the foot of the small cot, placing himself between Evan and whoever was coming in.
A lock turned; then both of the men who’d brought Jonah here were standing in the doorway with rifles drawn. They looked startled to see him so near and took a defensive step back.
“You, get back!” one of them ordered.
Jonah stood up. “Not as long as you’ve got those guns aimed at my son.”
They looked at each other. It wasn’t going any better than they’d expected. Still, the padrone was coming, and they had to make sure there would be no surprises from this man when he walked into the room.
The bed squeaked behind Jonah. Evan was awake.
“What’s going on?” Evan asked.
Jonah held out his hand. “Get behind me.”
Seconds later Evan’s hand was on his back, letting him know he was there. Together, they moved to the right, giving the two guards room to come in.
“The place is a little crowded,” Jonah said. “And someone needs to let the landlord know the plumbing is backed up. Otherwise, the accommodations are just fine.”
Ignoring his sarcasm, the guards tore the mattress off the small bed, then turned the bedframe upside down. Once they had decided that there were no concealed weapons there, they glanced toward the small bathroom.
One guard waved his gun toward the room. “You look. I will keep them covered.”
The other guard snorted. “No, you look. I will keep them covered.”
Jonah laughed. “Come on, guys. No guts, no glory.”
They shuffled nervously, uneasy with a man who could laugh in the face of his own death.
“We go now,” they both said, then quickly left the room.
Jonah heard the lock turn, then the sound of receding footsteps.
“What was that all about?” Evan asked.
“I don’t know, but let’s put the bed back together, what do you say? You can get some more rest.”
Together they reassembled the cot; then Jonah shoved it into a different corner of the room.
“Why did you do that?” Evan asked.
Jonah grinned. “The room is out of balance. I think the bed looks better against this wall. Now all we need is a table and a lamp, maybe a stack of good books and a cooler of Cokes, and we’re good to go. You know that Feng Shui stuff really works. I think those guys would be a lot easier to get along with if they’d just rearrange a little furniture.”
Evan laughed as he eased down on the side of the mattress, unconsciously cradling his hands as he sat.
Jonah noticed but didn’t comment. For now, there was nothing he could do to help ease his son’s pain, but the time was coming. He wouldn’t let himself believe that they’d come this far for it to end badly.
“Feel like talking?” Jonah asked.
“Yeah, sure. About what?”
Jonah sat down beside him, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“We’ll catch up on your favorite music and food later. For now, what can you tell me about the people who brought you here?
A slight frown knitted its way across Evan’s forehead.
“Not much. There was the guard you…uh…”
“Killed. Say it, Evan. And know this. For what he did to you, I would do it again, only slower.”
A muscle jerked at the side of Evan’s jaw. “I don’t think I said thank you, did I?”
Caught off guard, Jonah didn’t know quite what to say. He’d expected Evan to be horrified, even disgusted, by what he’d seen him do, but it had been a knee-jerk reaction to everything that Evan had already been forced to endure, and as he’d just said, he would do it again.
“It’s not something a kid like you should have seen,” Jonah said.
Evan was silent for a moment, then mumbled, almost beneath his breath, “I’m not a kid anymore.”
Jonah sighed, then laid his hand on top of Evan’s head.
“Yeah, I know. I’m still sorry, just the same.”
“It’s okay,” Evan said. “As I was saying, there was the guard…oh yeah…and the woman who came to try to make me eat. There was another man with her, but I think he was sort of like her bodyguard or something. They were the only faces I saw.”
Jonah thought of the woman he’d known in Colombia who’d never been far from Calderone’s side and guessed it was her.
“Probably the same one who posed as the nun,” Jonah said, more to himself than to Evan.
“What nun?”
“Never mind,” Jonah said. “She wasn’t really a nun, and she helped Calderone escape.”
“Who’s Calderone?” Evan asked. “The one whose son you killed? What did he do?”
Jonah frowned. “He’s a very powerful drug lord from Colombia. Besides running drugs all over the U.S., we’ve suspected him of being involved in a plot to assassinate the president.”
“Wow,” Evan said, eyeing Jonah with new respect. “And you helped capture him.”
“Yes, but you and your family paid a very high price for what I did.”
“Dad, Aunt Macie told me something once that I never forgot. She told me that I can’t be responsible for other people’s mistakes, so neither can you. It’s not your fault you didn’t know about me, and it’s not your fault that man, Calderone, is evil.”
Jonah didn’t bother to hide the pride he was feeling.
“You’re quite a man, aren’t you, son?”
Evan met Jonah’s gaze. “I don’t know, Dad. Am I?”
“Hell, yes,” Jonah said gruffly, and then gave him a quick hug. “Now, back to the nun who wasn’t a nun. Is there anything else you can remember.”
Evan frowned. “Well…the woman I saw sure didn’t act like a nun,” Evan said. “She was yelling and screaming at me, and pretty much having a fit. Finally she left.” Then he added. “Oh, yeah…there was someone else who was here a couple of times, but I only heard his voice. He was American, though.”
Jonah’s stomach knotted. Was he the link he’d been trying to find? The traitor who’d given up Jonah’s real name and family to Calderone?
“How do you know he was American?” Jonah asked.
Evan shrugged. “He didn’t speak Spanish to them. Besides, I could tell by his voice.”
“Would you know it again if you heard it?” Jonah asked.
Evan frowned. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Did he say anything distinctive? Maybe he had an accent you would recognize?”
“No accent. The only thing I heard him say was when he was leaving. Something about not taking any wooden nickels.”
“That’s a pretty common phrase,” Jonah said.
“Yeah, I know.”
“That’s okay,” Jonah said. “Just keep his voice in your mind. If you ever hear it again, I don’t want yo
u to let on.”
Evan nodded, then asked, “Okay, but then how will you know?”
“How about a code word?” Jonah asked.
Evan’s eyes widened. Jonah could tell he liked the idea of being secretive.
“What word should we use?” Evan asked.
Jonah thought a moment. “You remember what I asked you on the phone…when I needed to know it was really you I was talking to?”
“Yeah, you asked me what Mom’s middle name was.”
“Right. So how about if we use the word Laura—for her first name?”
“Good choice, Dad!”
“Right.”
“It’s a deal,” Evan said.
He was still smiling when Jonah heard something that brought him upright.
“What is it?” Evan asked.
“Sssh,” Jonah said, then ran to the boarded-up window and pressed his ear to the crack. “Listen.”
Evan cocked his head sideways. For a few seconds he heard nothing but the sound of distant waves crashing against the shore. Then he, too, began to hear it. The familiar popping sound that only the rotors of an approaching helicopter can make.
“Someone’s coming!” he cried.
Jonah turned abruptly and looked toward the door.
“Yes, someone’s coming,” he said.
It was less than ten minutes to daybreak when Carl picked up a blip on the screen.
“I’ve got him!” he yelled. “By God, I’ve got him!”
Ruger gave them a thumbs up, then leaned over and said something to the pilot as Macie grabbed Carl’s wrist.
“Can you tell if they’re okay?” she asked.
Carl wouldn’t tell her that the screen would register the same whether Jonah was lying dead somewhere or still standing.
“I wasn’t as briefed on this as McAllister was. All I know is if Jonah is still wearing the shirt, it will give us his whereabouts, right down to an inch of where he’s standing.”
“I can’t bear this,” Macie said, and covered her face with her hands.
“Don’t quit on him now,” Carl said. “Now when you’ve come this far.”
Macie shook off the panic as she looked out the window toward the horizon and the faint crease of light to the east.
“It’s almost dawn,” she said.
“A brand-new day,” Carl said. “So think positive.”
She nodded, but her stomach was in knots.
Ruger turned around. “Miss Blaine, when we set down, I’m going to ask you to do something for me.”
“Anything,” Macie said.
“Stay in the chopper with the pilot.”
“Yes, of course. I’m not foolish enough to think I should go charging in on the kidnappers, but as soon as you can, you’ve got to let me know if…you must promise to—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Ruger said.
Macie leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes.
Ruger figured she was praying. God knew they could use all the help they could get, and the tremor in her voice had pushed him beyond his anger at her to understanding. The past few days had been hard on everyone, but especially for her. This was her family that had been decimated. Of course she was desperate to know if they were alive.
He keyed the radio in the cockpit, checking the ETAs of the backup choppers. One was less than ten minutes away, the other less than five. That was good. They were going to converge on the old airstrip at almost the same time.
The repetitive thump of the helicopter blades was like a pulse. Calderone imagined it beating in rhythm with his own as he stroked the blade of the knife in his hands. He held it firmly, yet lovingly—as lovingly as he made love to Elena. The metal was warm, the edge honed to perfection. He shuddered, anticipating the give of flesh and bone as it yielded to the finest steel. His nostrils flared, and his eyelids fluttered shut as his heartbeat began to pulse against his eardrums. Killing was orgasmic to Calderone. For him, the thrust of his penis into a woman’s body was like thrusting a knife into her womb. He craved the sensations, knowing he held the power of creating life or taking it. He felt Elena’s hand on his thigh, then the whisper of her breath against his cheek as she spoke against his ear.
“My love, we are almost there.”
Calderone took a deep breath and then opened his eyes. Sunrise was imminent. Already the depths of night were giving way to the day, the light now casting shadows where there had been only darkness.
“There! See? On the horizon are the rooftops of the buildings.”
Calderone’s gaze remained motionless. Suddenly he turned, grabbed Elena by the back of the hair and yanked her forward, raking his mouth across her lips. The pain was sudden and vicious, and she reveled in knowing that she could give her Miguel what no other woman could bear. Like him, it was pain that made her come. She shivered with longing, imagining the fierceness of their lovemaking once his revenge had been slaked.
He turned her loose as suddenly as he’d taken her. When the chopper began to descend, he smiled.
“Who is it? Who’s coming?” Evan asked.
Jonah wouldn’t lie. Their lives depended on Evan being able to react.
“I don’t know for sure,” Jonah said. “But either way, you’ve got to promise me something. When I tell you to run, you will run. And you won’t look back.”
The hope in Evan’s eyes went blank.
“Evan?”
“I heard you,” Evan said.
Jonah took him by the shoulders, feeling the gangly length of him and yet knowing that a fierce heart beat within his chest.
“Can you do that for me?”
“Yes.”
“If it’s not the right people, you head for the beach. It can’t be far. Better to die in the water than by their hands. Promise me, Evan.”
Suddenly Evan threw his arms around Jonah’s neck. He wanted to cry but instead just held on.
“I promise,” he mumbled. “I won’t let you down.”
Jonah’s arms tightened as, for a few seconds, he allowed himself the luxury of the embrace.
“Maybe it’s the authorities,” Evan whispered.
Jonah felt sick. “Yeah, maybe so,” he said softly, and silently cursed whatever Fates had caused their plans to go awry.
Evan pulled back abruptly, then looked at Jonah. It was obvious that he was struggling with something. Then he blurted it out.
“Uh…I need to say something,” Evan said.
“Okay.”
“I’m really proud that you’re my dad.”
Jonah groaned inwardly. “Thank you, son. More than you will ever know, but know this. I’m the one who’s got bragging rights. You’re one hell of a man, Evan Blaine.”
Then footsteps sounded outside their door. Jonah shoved Evan behind him as they turned toward the sound.
18
Miguel Calderone was swaggering as he walked through the old hangar, his footsteps echoing with every step he took. The way he looked at it, he had a right to swagger. He had tricked the United States government—the strongest power on the face of the earth—and was free to tell the tale. The armed guard in front of him stopped and then pointed to a door.
“In here, Padrone.”
“Open it,” Calderone ordered.
The guard took out a ring of keys and inserted one of them into the lock. Seconds later, the door swung inward and Calderone found himself once again face to face with the man who’d killed his son.
“So…we meet again,” Calderone said.
Knowing that Calderone enjoyed a verbal battle as much as a physical one, Jonah chose to say nothing.
Calderone’s eyes narrowed. He had expected a response, not a cold, emotionless stare.
He marched forward—then drew back his hand and slapped Jonah’s face.
“Have you no anger?” he demanded.
Jonah blinked, his cheek stinging from the force of the blow. For a few seconds he said nothing, and then he smiled.
It was the last thin
g Calderone expected to see. In that moment, he knew that once again he might have underestimated his opponent. He pulled his knife, brandishing it in the air like a little boy wielding a pretend sword.
“Take the boy!” Calderone yelled. “We’ll see if he still smiles.”
Jonah’s muscles bunched. Behind him, he could hear the frightened gasp of Evan’s breath as the two guards started toward them.
“Evan?”
“I remember,” he said.
“For me, son,” Jonah said, then yelled, “get down!”
Evan dropped to the floor as Jonah erupted in a motion almost too swift to see. One moment one of the guards was standing, and the next thing Evan knew, Jonah was in the air. He thought the heel of his father’s boot caught the man on the chin, but he couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that there was one less man standing than there had been a second before.
Calderone gasped and took a quick step backward. Before he could get out of harm’s way, the man he’d sworn to kill had his arm around his neck, with his own knife held to his throat.
“Kill him!” Calderone screamed. “Shoot him now!”
“You move and your padrone’s tongue is going to fall out of the hole I put in his neck,” Jonah warned.
The men were motionless, uncertain what to do next.
Calderone kept screaming out his orders, but no one would move. Then he remembered the boy.
“Shoot the boy! Shoot the boy!” he shouted, as he struggled to free himself from Jonah’s grasp.
Jonah shoved the blade of Calderone’s knife into his throat. Not enough to kill, but enough to hurt. Blood spurted, then flowed down the front of his shirt.
“Aaiiee!”
Calderone’s shriek was a combination of shock, rage and pain. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen.
Suddenly there was movement at the door and Elena was there. She was looking at Jonah, but her gun was aimed at Evan’s chest.
“Turn him loose,” she ordered. “Turn him loose or I will kill the boy.”
Before they could react, the sound of more approaching helicopters could be heard. The shock on her face told Jonah all he needed to know. If they weren’t expecting backup, then it had to be Ruger. She glanced over her shoulder, her features contorted in anger and disbelief. It was then that Jonah made his move.
