Dangerous Illusion

by Melissa James

  “You’re great at stealth and hiding,” McCall shot back, “not point-blank shooting at a kid holding a damn MP-5 in your face!”

  “Excuse me,” McCall’s boss broke in tersely, “but since the shipment’s less than twelve hours from Dilsemla, I think you two can keep the argument for the jet.”

  “She’s not going, boss. I won’t let it happen!”

  “She and the boy are going to Makanra, Flipper. It’s been a safe zone the past two months, held by the Australian SAS and the Tumah-ra government. A full team will be in situ to protect them while you’re on point, as well as an SAS team within a ten-minute radius. We need you to take point on this—it has to be a SEAL-type mission, and the Malaysian-based SEALs can’t do it. Damn it, Flipper,” he growled as McCall planted his feet, his face dark, “think about it. If the rebels get their hands on some Iglas—”

  Beth saw the tiny shudder rock McCall’s frame. “A full team to protect Beth and Danny?”

  “Eight, fully armed, and right near the jet if they need it.”

  Slowly, he nodded. “We’ll leave the puppy with Countrygirl.”

  As if it were a signal, the Nighthawks dispersed, including Ghost. McCall put his hands on her shoulders. For her comfort, or his? She didn’t know—she had no idea what was going on in his mind. But one thing she had no doubt about now: however he denied it, whatever he said or did to push her away, he cared about her.

  “You might as well say it,” she said quietly. “You can’t do any more damage to my illusions of self-determination after that display of control over my life.”

  He sighed, and pulled her close. “I’m not trying to control you, Beth, I’m worried about yours and Danny’s safety on the island. And that worry will transfer to my concentration on the job, and that will put the entire team at risk.”

  The bald, stark words stopped her mid-stride. “Oh.”

  “It’s a war zone, with the full show—soldiers, rebels, sniper rifles and bombs. Men who’d sell their grandmother for another bullet to pump into the enemy. There’s no guarantee of your safety, or of Danny’s, even in Makanra,” he said quietly.

  She looked up at him. His bronzed face was pale in the ring of light from the veranda, his eyes black as onyx. Resisting the need to wrap her arms around him, she said what needed to be spoken. “Can you give me an ironclad guarantee that I’ll be safe here, that nothing can happen to me if I stay here with Lissa, or if I go home to New Zealand? Tell me Falcone’s men can’t find us here, and I’ll stay behind, and promise to be here when you come back.”

  His eyes burned into hers for a full minute, blazing hot with fury; then his shoulders slumped. “I hate this whole situation. I just need you to be safe,” he muttered, pushing a lock of stray hair back from his face.

  She couldn’t weaken now; too much hinged on this. So she stood straight and still, watching him. “I need Danny to be safe and free. And I believe our best chance of achieving it is with you and your team rather than alone here. They know too much, and I couldn’t put Lissa and her kids at risk.” She sighed. “The truth is, I can’t do this alone anymore. I’m exhausted. I have nothing left. I need your protection.”

  McCall’s head snapped up at her words. His eyes searched hers with intense question.

  Beth shrugged. “Whatever you’ve done to me personally, our best chance of safety is with you. Your people will protect us with their lives—at least until they have the tapes. And a war zone is the last place Falcone will expect us to go.” She held out a hand to him. “So, can we compromise?”

  Before she could react, he pulled her flush against him. “Meeting halfway,” he murmured against her mouth, and in front of the entire team now exiting the house, he kissed her, long and hard, leaving no one in doubt that they were together.

  “Flipper. To the van. Stat.” Ghost tossed him a bag, which McCall turned and caught with ease. “Heidi has your bag, Beth. Danny’s at the jet with Skydancer.”

  The pretty Asian woman tossed Beth her backpack. “There’s a change of clothes, and a shower on the jet,” she whispered as she passed Beth, moving on so that she missed Beth’s vivid blush.

  “What’s going on?” she asked quietly, as they ran for the jet. “You made your feelings clear a few hours ago, yet now you’re claiming us, as if we really are married.”

  “I am. We are.”

  Beth’s head spun with all that had happened to her today. She couldn’t work any of this out. “Why did you change your mind?”

  “Isn’t it enough to know that I did?” McCall led her down the stairs, toward the van that would take them to the local runway.

  She wanted to scream, to hit him. And he’d accused her of playing games with him? “No, it’s not enough. You’re controlling my life again, and I won’t let you without knowing why.”

  He shrugged and kept walking, holding her arm to help her over divots in the long dirt driveway. “You told me you love me, Beth. You want to be with me.”

  She bit her lip, but refused to lie to him; she’d done with lying. “Yes, I do love you. But so does Danny, and he’s an innocent little boy who’ll thinks he’s getting a daddy forever. And I’m not willing to risk you disappearing again, and breaking his heart. Mine I can cope with. Not my baby’s.”

  He led her over the cattle grid to the road. “I wouldn’t hurt Danny.” He sounded amazed she’d even think it. “I’m crazy about that kid. Do you think I’d leave him to the life I went through?”

  “Not intentionally.” She stumbled along beside him, speaking without rancor. She was too tired for anything but bald facts. “But a child needs the stability of parents who also love each other, and while I love you, you don’t love me.”

  They reached the dark, oversize van. She climbed in, finding a space beside Heidi, but one click of his fingers and Heidi, with an apologetic smile, moved to the back. Beth sighed and looked out the window as he moved in beside her, close but not crowding her.

  Not physically, anyway, she thought, scrubbing at her burning eyes with a fist.

  “No, baby. I didn’t make my feelings clear. I didn’t tell you the truth.” His voice was a gentle growl in her ear. “I did set up the op—the escape, and the marriage, even telling you I’d let you disappear—to make you tell us who you are, and get the tape. But I didn’t tell you how I feel about you.”

  “Then don’t now,” she said wearily. “I don’t know what’s lie or truth with you anymore.” When he moved his mouth to her ear, she held up a hand. “People can hear us, I’m too tired for an argument, and I have to explain to Danny yet again why he isn’t getting this sleepover with his friends.”

  She felt him move away, but the reluctance hit her in waves. “This isn’t over.”

  Tell me something I don’t know, she wanted to retort. If she knew one thing, it was that it wasn’t over with McCall. It never would be, until she could forget him. And from her experience in the past decade, that wasn’t going to be an option.

  Chapter 21

  “S econd recon of island’s perimeter before landing, boss?”

  “Affirmative, Skydancer,” Ghost replied, his voice taut with the same exhaustion affecting them all. They’d all caught naps except Skydancer and Panther, who would be remaining behind to guard the jet; but it was sleep fraught with expectation, of preparation for the job ahead.

  McCall had something on the table before him that looked like an oversize laptop but Beth suspected was not. “Falcone’s ship is about 27.4 nautical miles out of the northern port. Two midsize boats are 2.6 nautical miles from port, heading toward the ship—customized Stingray cruisers with full defensive measures.” He speared a quick glance at Beth, with a sleeping Danny in her arms. “This is gonna be ugly, boss—and we have less than two hours to get this done.”

  Beth couldn’t answer. Ever since dawn began breaking ten minutes before, her gaze had been glued to a screen in front of her and she couldn’t make her mouth work.

  This Learjet had high-powe
red video cameras built into the underwings, relaying images to the TV screens inside. Satellites gave up-to-date information on movements of troops and rebels below. Beth kept Danny’s face turned away from the screen, muttering fervent prayers that he would sleep until the jet landed, and he wouldn’t have to see—

  Carnage.

  Horrified, nauseated and with a half-unwilling, this-can’t-be-real fascination, she watched image after image flash up on the screens as the jet rode high over the island’s perimeters. Bodies, hanging on trees or hacked apart by machetes, left to rot or be eaten by wild creatures, or piled high in open-pit graves. People running for their lives from boys who looked no older than fifteen, carrying assault rifles. Girls dragged away by the hair. People begging for their lives, shot without hesitation or mercy. Buildings torched and burning. And every few moments, the silver flash of bullets from automatic weapons, and people fell down…

  And Danny’s father sells these weapons to terrorist groups.

  But for once Beth couldn’t feel personal horror, or adopt her ever-ready defense mechanism of anything to protect Danny. For she’d finally seen the bigger picture McCall tried to paint—she and Danny were not the only ones in desperate need of protection from the conscienceless abomination that was Robert Falcone.

  If I’d gone to the CIA years ago with the tape, those people down there would be alive right now.

  In her frantic need to keep Danny safe—to keep herself free of Falcone’s obsession with her—she’d been responsible for those deaths, and countless others in war zones and under dictatorships around the world.

  “Don’t blame yourself,” McCall murmured for her ears alone. “You had a hell of a decision to make, and a baby to care for.”

  Too lost in the horrors happening right below her to be surprised by his acumen, she whispered, “But they’re Falcone’s weapons. Weapons he wouldn’t have been free to sell but for me!”

  A warm, strong hand cupped her shoulder. “If not Falcone, someone else. There’s always another piece of scum ready to sell weapons to anyone. That’s the harsh reality of life here.”

  “No.” Her voice was scratchy, her eyes growing wider as the nausea threatened to overcome her. “The reality is that I am, by my decision to save myself and Danny alone, responsible for those people who just died. Oh, dear God, and I called Falcone a monster. I go to church. I hear the priest talk about loving your neighbor as yourself, but I never once thought of the people who would die while I stayed hiding in the shadows, believing I was the only victim. All the time I fought you, hating you for not leaving us alone or appreciating my sacrifices, I never once realized what you said—that others could die for my inaction.” Her stomach heaved; she made a distressed sound.

  McCall took Danny from her. “Beth—” With his free hand, he reached out to her.

  She shrank away. “No! Don’t touch me. God forgive me…” She lurched to her feet and stumbled to the bathroom.

  “Right,” Anson said quietly into the feed mike. “Flipper will take point from here.”

  In the gentle light of morning, fourteen nautical miles out to sea from Tumah-ra, McCall cursed the sunshine peeping out from behind the cloud cover he’d hoped would last. The navy ships and choppers were out of unaided sight, but even with the four RIBs—the rigid inflatable boats heli-cast from the choppers, specially made to look as inconspicuous as possible—they could be visible to anyone with strong binoculars. “Our objective is to intercept and take control of the Stingray cruisers six nautical miles from meeting point. They’ve disguised the ship as a fishing hull, but they’ll have sophisticated radar as well as Falcone’s weapons. We have to get in fast, take control, find the weapons and let the navy move in. Disable and disarm attack. Take all possible prisoners.”

  Irish and Songbird, here as medical backup, were lying flat at the back of two of the RIBs, scanning the ocean back toward the war-torn island with high-powered binoculars. Both murmured at once, “Cruisers coming into sight.”

  McCall nodded. “Roger that. Prelim team, mask up.”

  Wildman, Heidi, Nightshift, Braveheart, Phantom and McCall covered their last inches of exposed skin, to protect them from the lethal box jellyfish common to the area. With a nod, he sent them all quietly splashing into the water. With closed-circuit communication McCall spoke to the team as they swam full bore four feet underwater toward the cruisers. “RIB team, set it up.”

  Those left behind in the RIBs got out mock fishing gear to divert any watchers in the cruisers, and give the underwater team as much time as possible.

  “Underwater teams, divide in two,” McCall uttered tersely when the churning of the water let him know the targets were in range and they’d taken the bait. They’d switched direction to check out the RIBs more thoroughly before meeting the ship.

  All six prepared their spearlike grappling hooks for deployment. Heidi, Wildman and Braveheart detached from the other three, heading toward the second cruiser.

  “Prepare hooks. Submerge, and wait for the signal.”

  The six swam deeper underwater, and waited for the cruisers to pass them.

  Beneath, McCall waited. Three. Two. One.

  The boats came over their heads at medium speed, slowing to approach the RIBs. They’re not in full throttle, he thought. And wondered why. “Deploy.”

  “Where are we going, Mummy?” Danny asked as Beth led him away from the safety of the jet.

  Beth gave a quick, fearful glance backward. The sight of Mitch, whom she now knew was Skydancer, following them, his weapons hidden with an understanding smile while Panther and another three Nighthawks—she’d forgotten their code names—guarded the jet, reassured her.

  Mitch said this area was as secure as any in Tumah-ra could be. The government controlled the village, and she and Danny were completely safe so long as they didn’t leave its boundaries, and always had a Nighthawk with them. But if she’d learned anything in the past week, it was that safety and control were as shifting as sand in wind, illusory terms that meant nothing when faced by true strength, or real evil.

  This morning, Beth had felt a terrible, crying need for help—for forgiveness. Brendan and his teams were about to risk their lives to rectify her mistakes. To intercept a shipment of arms that wouldn’t be on its way here if she’d had the courage to speak out. To save people she hadn’t even considered in her fears for only herself and Danny. And as the jet circled the village of Makanra just on sunrise, preparing to land, she’d seen the sign.

  Its denomination was uncertain, its western roof and wall partly burned, its bell tower bordering on decrepit, looking as if it had been ransacked more than once, but it was still a church. And when they got news that Brendan and his aquatic team was about to board the boats of the gunrunners, Beth felt anxiety bordering on panic. She needed strength and peace now.

  “We’re going to church, sweetie,” she whispered back to Danny. “We’re going to pray for Brendan and his friends, okay? But you have to be very quiet, stick close to me and watch where you’re going. There are some bad people around here.”

  Danny, who was as sensitive to her feelings as he was to the atmosphere, merely nodded and said softly, “Okay, Mummy.” He walked subdued at her side instead of in his usual hop-skip fashion, smiling with open uncertainty at the people staring at his fair skin and round eyes. “Brendan said to call him daddy since you guys got married,” he remarked, his little voice shaking.

  Yes, he felt it as much as she did, felt what was coming to them. She could smell it even. Danger….

  God bless him, her baby was trying to distract her, to make her think happy thoughts. “Really, sweetie? Wow, huh?” Though she tried to follow Danny’s lead, she kept casting worried looks right and left, clutching his hand. She scurried toward the church, her apprehension growing with every step she took. Seeing shadows moving where none should be. Finding specters in silence, evil inside the stares of children who were only fascinated by her blue eyes.

  They
’d passed the strange-looking Irish pub—what a crazy place for it—past a school that looked long closed, and had almost reached the tiny church; but suddenly her knees shook, her stomach seized and the hair at the back of her neck lifted. She wheeled back, making Danny yelp as she yanked him around. “Hurry up, sweetie, we’ve got to get to the church…”

  Then the shadows beyond the trees at the end of the village gelled into human forms—forms bearing guns. The villagers scattered without a word, and she didn’t need Mitch’s sudden presence right behind her, or his quiet whisper of, “Run for the church,” to know that they were all in grave danger.

  The SAR-21S amphibious assault rifles he’d specially modified acted as one when the team hit the release buttons. Six spearlike objects shot out from above the sights, blossoming into four-clawed grappling hooks with a steel-tip center, laser sharp and magnetic. Even if the shots weren’t high enough, hitting the boat ensured grip. Four seconds later, the synchronized thuds told the cruisers’ crews that they were under attack. “Seven seconds to deck,” McCall said tersely as he heard shouts from the bow of their cruiser.

  Seven seconds later, the teams were on deck. Twelve seconds, fins off and hooks detached from the SAR-21s, up and ready to intimidate—to shoot if necessary. “RIB teams, U-Teams One and Two successful. Board cruisers at will.”

  “Roger that,” Anson and Irish reported back. “Seems quiet.”

  Yeah—too quiet. McCall frowned. His fighter’s instincts were up and screaming at the continued silence. Gunrunners and their buyers were notoriously paranoid; crews of up to twenty should be here by now, fully armed and ready to fight. Yet no one had arrived on the stern, thirty seconds after they’d hit deck…

  McCall was a man who listened to that gut instinct; it had saved his ass too many times not to. “This stinks, boss. Sniffing a setup here. Call in the navy, stat. Send them to the mother lode with all firepower.”