Boris ran up to him and started licking his face. Miguel felt someone grab him from behind. He started to struggle, but stopped when he heard Sumner speak.
“Get up, Miguel, the beach is on that far side of the hill. You said you wanted to get to the beach, didn’t you?” His voice held a cajoling note. Miguel tried to laugh, but pain shot through his side as he took a breath.
“The wound must be bad, Sumner, because that’s the longest sentence I’ve ever heard you say.”
Sumner’s grin was strained. “I’ll look at it when we get to that boat.”
Miguel let Sumner help him up. Boris danced in front of them, running forward, tail up like a flag, and then circling back to run alongside. Miguel leaned on Sumner and they limped down the beach. A cabin cruiser floated in the water, anchored twenty feet out into the water.
“That thing isn’t a boat, it’s a small yacht.” Miguel could barely get the words out.
“Looks like we’re about to steal a cartel leader’s pleasure ride,” Sumner said.
Miguel wanted to respond but found that he couldn’t. Stars danced before his eyes and his side hurt like a bitch. They reached the beach and Sumner continued forward, plunging knee-deep into the water and dragging Miguel with him.
“Canvass it first,” Miguel said. His voice was so weak that it came out like a whisper.
“No time,” Sumner said.
“You’ve got that right,” a man’s voice said behind them. Sumner turned to look into the face of the man at the airstrip with the two bodyguards.
49
BANNER TOUCHED HIS HELICOPTER DOWN TO REFUEL AT AN AIRSTRIP, where the signing of paperwork ensued. While he stood at the dirty counter in the tiny airstrip, his phone rang with the ring tone he reserved for Stromeyer.
“Tell me some good news,” he said without preamble.
“Everyone’s pounding down my door to speak to you, and none of them believe that I can’t reach you.”
Banner smiled at the phone. “Your reputation for knowing everything precedes you. Now you’re reaping the results, eh?”
He heard Stromeyer’s snort from five thousand miles away and down the phone line. “Margate is losing it. Word just came that the pipeline was blown and two U.S. soldiers were captured seconds later. The implication is that they deliberately blew the pipeline in retaliation for the hostage situation and order to evacuate.”
“What soldiers?” Banner shifted the phone to his left hand to allow him to sign yet another piece of paper that a hangar employee shoved under his nose. “None of ours is anywhere near it, and I thought Margate gave the order to extract the rest.”
“Miguel is one and Sumner is the other.”
Banner stopped writing. “Who captured them?”
“A high-ranking member of the FFOC.”
Banner slammed out of the small office. The sun hit him full force. He shoved on a pair of wraparound sunglasses. Almost smiled at the instant relief they gave him.
“Where are they being held?” He strode quickly toward his helicopter.
“Don’t know. I think at the pipeline. But word is that Miguel is injured.”
“Get me the coordinates for the pipeline. I need to know where to find them.”
“I’ll send them in an attachment to your phone. I’m also going to route Margate to you.”
“Can’t you hold him off a little longer? I don’t feel like dealing with the man.”
“Honestly, I’m afraid if he doesn’t speak to you soon, he’ll give an order that will just make everything harder.”
Banner couldn’t argue with her logic. “Fine. Send him through.”
Within seconds, Banner heard the beeping sound that indicated another call was coming through.
“What did you do, have him on hold?”
“You bet,” Stromeyer said in a sweet voice. “Banner?” Now she sounded serious.
“Yes?”
“I still don’t trust him completely.”
“I know. I’ll tread carefully.”
Banner heard her click off the line before he could respond.
“Banner, explain to me how two of your soldiers got near the pipeline hours after the last soldiers had already been evacuated.” Margate’s anger burned through the line. Banner swung into his helicopter before answering.
“When did Major Gonzalez become mine?” he asked.
“The moment he disobeyed a direct order to evacuate. I’m arranging the paperwork to have him arrested the moment he steps back into the States.”
Banner took a deep breath to avoid snapping at Margate. The man pissed him off to no end, but he needed to keep his cool if he was to save Miguel’s career. “Major Gonzalez operated under a joint order of the DOD and my organization. I have not received the paperwork to withdraw my people, and so he did not leave.”
There was a short silence on the line. “What people? I understood that the only soldiers in the area were regular military special forces,” Margate said.
“General Corvan signed a memo naming my organization as part of the rescue mission. He had to in order for me to be present at the initial meeting.” What Banner said was a technicality only, but he was more than willing to stand behind it to protect Miguel’s decision to overstay his welcome. Now it sounded like Miguel and Sumner were being set up to take the fall for a bombing.
“If he’s under your umbrella, you’d better be prepared to answer to the Colombian government regarding this bombing. I don’t expect them to offer any leniency.” Margate was already working an angle, Banner could tell. But he didn’t care. He’d figure out the details later. Now he needed to get to the pipeline and pull Sumner and Miguel out of whatever nightmare they’d encountered.
“Margate, I doubt they’re responsible for the bombing,” Banner said. “What possible motive could they have?”
“The oldest one in the book, Banner. Money. Colombian government says their pockets were loaded with cash and an entire briefcase of the stuff was nearby.”
Banner stopped fiddling with the helicopter while he absorbed this information. He thought about Gladys’s claim that American businessmen were involved in arms trafficking. He was tempted to tell Margate, but reason prevailed. Time enough to figure out what was going on after he’d located everyone he needed to find.
“I’m sure there’s a good explanation, Margate.”
“Glad you’re so convinced.”
“Where did the Colombian government get their information about the cash?”
Margate coughed over the line. “The FFOC. They’re demanding two million in ransom and safe passage back to their enclave in the south.”
Banner couldn’t believe his ears. “Wait a minute! This accusation comes from the FFOC and you and the Colombian government believe them? Have you lost your mind? Why would you believe anything a bunch of paramilitary killers tell you?”
“I am inclined to believe them because this Gonzalez seems to have gone off half-cocked. He should have evacuated with the rest. When he disobeyed a direct order, it tends to make me wonder why.”
“Your last extraction helicopter was full, so he never had a chance to evacuate. Plus, he’s helping Sumner find Emma Caldridge.”
“I hope you’re right, Banner. If not, then I intend to hang the guy high. The passengers are freed, the military evacuated, and the mission accomplished. As far as I’m concerned, this hijacking has been brought to a successful conclusion. The last thing I need is a couple of rogue soldiers wreaking havoc on our political allies. They’re on their own.”
“And Ms. Caldridge? She’s still stuck out there.”
“She’s a casualty of the situation. I think you’ll agree that losing only one of the survivors is a very acceptable outcome.”
Banner had to clamp his teeth together to stop himself from raining insults on Margate. “I don’t agree at all. I intend to do my best to bring all three of these people back to the States alive.”
“You are free to try, Banner, b
ut we won’t pay Darkview’s expenses from this moment forward, and if you are captured, expect us to deny that you even exist.”
“I’m a contracted security force, Margate. When was the last time you guys acknowledged our existence under any circumstances?” Banner shut off the phone before he felt compelled to tell Margate what he really thought of him.
50
EMMA MOVED TOWARD THE WAITING TRUCKS. THREE OF THE four soldiers milled around near the first truck, leaving the one truck closest to the trees shrouded in shadows. She couldn’t see the fourth soldier.
She checked on Rodrigo. He stood in the village center, as if waiting. I wonder where Mathilde is, Emma thought. Just then Mathilde stepped into the village. It was as if Emma’s thoughts had conjured her.
Emma crept closer to the truck. She heard a footfall behind her. She spun around to see the fourth soldier pointing a rifle at her chest. It was the boy she’d helped escape from the truck at the airstrip almost a lifetime ago. His eyes widened as he recognized her. They stood that way, facing each other, for what felt like an eternity. Emma saw a bead of sweat run down the boy’s face. It dripped into the bandanna he wore around his neck. His lips were parted and he breathed rapidly in and out, as if he’d just completed a run. Emma felt as if she could see his thoughts racing through his head.
Rodrigo’s voice as he spoke to Mathilde echoed through the clearing.
The boy started. He jerked his head toward the truck in the trees. In two short strides he was at its side. He waved at her impatiently. Emma jogged over. Put her foot on the bumper. The boy reached out and supported her arm to help her swing her leg into the truck bed. It was a strangely chivalrous gesture under the circumstances, but it told Emma more about the boy’s character than any words could have. She insinuated herself between the boxes of rifles, moving them gently aside. They were stacked three high. When she was able to lie down, she lowered herself onto her back. She stared up at the sky. The boy hovered over her, worry in his dark eyes. He moved the boxes on top closer together, until a shadow fell over Emma. She could see the boy’s face through the remaining shaft of light shining between the boxes. The boy caught her eye. He gave a curt nod. She felt the truck bounce as he jumped off.
The tangy smell of metal was all around. The flatbed’s steel bottom felt cold against the backs of her arms. She would have given anything at that moment to be able to see what Rodrigo and the others were doing, but she dared not lift her head. Her hands were down by her legs, palms flat against them, straight. She touched the cargo pocket of her pants. Felt the lumpy stones of the rosary. She slid her fingers in the pocket. Wrapped them around the rosary, tight. She thought of Gladys. She pressed the stones into her palm, took a deep breath, and waited.
After what seemed like forever, but must have only been minutes, she heard a man walking next to the truck. His feet crunched on the stone ground. She felt the truck cant to one side as someone stepped onto the wheel well. A shadow fell across her face. She looked up and locked eyes with Rodrigo.
“So, lady, there you are.”
He shoved the boxes aside, grabbed her arm, and hauled her upright. He yelled to Mathilde as he dragged Emma across the back of the truck to one of the huts. He dumped her on the ground. Mathilde sauntered up and kicked dirt at Emma. The bits of earth landed in Emma’s eyes.
Rodrigo gave an order. One soldier stepped forward, uncoiling a rope in his hand as he did. In seconds he had Emma’s hands and feet tied. Rodrigo motioned the soldiers away. They all nodded and shuffled to their vehicles. The young boy soldier moved the slowest. He cast Emma a look full of sadness and apology as he walked by. The soldiers climbed into their vehicles and drove out of the village. Only a few of Rodrigo’s guerrillas remained. They hovered forty feet away, on the edge of the jungle. Rodrigo motioned Mathilde into the hut.
Emma wasn’t alone for long. Mathilde reappeared. She strolled to Emma.
“Rodrigo called the Americans. They come. We will be paid a lot of money for you, but why they think you are worth it, I don’t know.” She yanked Emma’s backpack off her back.
“You won’t need this anymore,” she said. She tore into Emma’s backpack and rummaged through the contents, throwing the various items in the dirt. Emma watched her empty the small side pocket. She pulled out the remaining tube of Engine Red. Swiveled it open.
“Nice color,” she said.
“It’s mine. Don’t use it.”
Mathilde analyzed the lipstick. “It’s new. I shall try it.”
“No,” Emma said.
Mathilde raised an eyebrow. “You don’t tell me what to do.” She went back into the hut. After a few moments, she returned. In her hand was a small round mirror. She smirked at Emma and brought the Engine Red to her lips. Emma lurched to her feet. The ropes around her ankles hobbled her, and she fell to her knees.
“Don’t! It’s poison. It will kill you.” Emma infused the warning with all the intensity she could.
Mathilde flipped her hair. “I will look beautiful while I watch you die.”
“I’m telling you, it’s poison. Do not touch it.” Emma pleaded with her.
Mathilde ignored her. She prepared to apply the lipstick.
“Mathilde, don’t!” Emma was frantic. “You’ll kill us all.”
“Liar,” Mathilde said. “I saw Maria in the forest. She wears it. You gave it to her.” She leaned forward. “We will deal with her later.” Her gaze returned to the mirror, and she rubbed the stick across her lips, leaned back to look at her image. The color complemented her olive skin and dark hair. She threw Emma a superior look.
Within seconds, she started to sway. The blood left her face in a rush, rendering her skin pasty white. She started to cough. She clawed at her neck and made gagging sounds. Panic rose in her eyes. She staggered to the hut’s door, holding her throat, just as Rodrigo stepped out. She dropped to the ground, writhing. Rodrigo asked her a question in Spanish, but all she did was show him the lipstick still clutched in her hand before she pointed to Emma.
Rodrigo rounded on Emma. “What have you done?”
Emma wanted to cry. She shook her head. “I told her not to touch the lipstick. It’s poison.”
Mathilde began foaming at the mouth. Rodrigo stepped back in revulsion. He stormed over to Emma, his machete drawn. He grabbed her by the hair. Placed the machete at her throat.
“Poison. Is it true?”
Emma nodded. “It’s true. It’s a weapons-grade nervous system disrupter.”
“Who made it?”
Emma sighed. “I did.”
“Will she live?” Rodrigo jutted his chin at Mathilde’s prone body.
Emma sighed again. “No.”
“Is there a cure?”
“I can make a liquid that will halt the poison. An antidote. But it would be for us. She is lost.”
“What do you mean, for us?”
“The molecules release into the air, like a miasma. It works as a nervous system disrupter and paralytic.”
Rodrigo pressed the machete closer. “I don’t understand these English words!”
“Think of rabies—you know the word rabies?”
Rodrigo nodded.
“The lipstick kills on contact, but it also kills through secondhand exposure. When the stick is rubbed on warm skin the molecules release into the air like a cloud, affecting anyone in a ten-foot radius. For those of us subject to secondhand contact, death is delayed. We have twelve hours.”
Rodrigo started breathing faster. “Make the cure.”
“I need to get to the Lost City. The only plant that will reverse the effects grows there. I destroyed all the others in my lab, because the same plant can create the weapon.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Emma waved her bound hands at Mathilde. “What’s not to believe?”
“I mean about us. We have not touched the poison.”
“I told you, it’s in the air. You just can’t see it. And don’t tell me that yo
u don’t believe. You were there when the Americans came looking through the hostages. You wanted to know why it was so important that they find me? Well, now you do. They’re arms traders. They’re looking for the poison to sell on the black market.” Emma watched comprehension dawn in Rodrigo’s eyes. He thought a moment.
“The Lost City is a six-hour walk from here. We cannot get there and back in twelve hours.”
“We only have to get there, not back. I’ll make the antidote once we arrive.”
“I tell you, we can’t go there. The path runs through Cartone cartel territory.” Rodrigo shrieked the words into Emma’s ear.
Mathilde started convulsing. Rodrigo shot a look at her, jerking on the ground. He was sweating. Emma could smell his fear. She sought a way to calm him down, to reassure him before he exploded.
“You’re wrong,” she said in a patient voice. “We can go there. We’ll pay the protection money. That’s what the tourists do. That’s what I did when I went there last year.”
“I told you, I can’t go there. It’s Cartone cartel territory. They’ll kill me on sight.”
Now Emma understood. “But I can go there. I have gone there.”
“The cure. Now.” Rodrigo pushed the machete again. Emma felt a sting. A line of warm blood ran down her neck.
“What you are demanding is impossible. I told you, I need to go to the Lost City. You can stay here. Send one of your men with me. They weren’t close enough to be affected. Have one walk with me and another one waiting on the path. The fresh man can run the antidote back to you in time. Or come with me. Perhaps the Cartone foot soldiers will not see you.”
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