by Jordan Dane
Southeast Cuba
Sierra Maestra Mountain Range
The armed man hauled Joselyne by the wrist and dragged her away from the other children to the far end of the camp. He yelled before he reached down to yank her hair. And when he tossed her under the tented tarp, he shoved her to the ground. Her knees were scraped, and they stung. And her eyes had to adjust to the darkness.
It was dusk, and nightfall would soon come. Only a glimmer of light shone through where the tent met the ground. It took her a moment to see. When she did, Joselyne cried. She crawled across the makeshift tent toward the body under the blanket.
The body of Sister Kate.
She barely recognized the nun’s face. She’d been beaten. Joselyne reached toward the body with trembling fingers. Despite the heat, she touched lifeless skin that felt cool. The body reminded her of the day her mother was buried. But when the bloodied swollen face twitched, and a low moan came from the sister’s throat, Joselyne jerked her hand back and cowered in the shadows.
Sister Kate opened her eyes and stared into the darkness. Her blank empty expression scared Joselyne. The life had gone from her eyes.
“Sister?” she whispered. “Are you…alive?”
Kate heard Joselyne’s voice, and the sound brought her out of a stupor. The girl crawled to her in the dark, and she felt a timid touch on her cheek. When the child finally came into focus, Sister Kate felt the warmth of tears on her face. She opened her mouth to speak and choked. Her throat was parched. Joselyne vanished into the shadows and came back, holding something in her hands.
“Here…drink this.” The girl held a cup to her lips and raised her head so she could drink.
“I’ve been worried…about you.” Kate struggled to speak. She stared at the small girl edged in shadow, unsure if Joselyne were real or imagined. She raised a hand to the Haitian girl’s face. Kate never thought she’d see her again.
“Me? You were worried about me?” The child’s sweet voice did more to lift her spirits than anything she could imagine. When the girl sobbed, all Kate wanted to do was hold her, but she couldn’t sit up. She wasn’t strong enough.
“We thought you were dead, Sister. We never saw you after the night they took you away. And when we moved camp, you weren’t with us. What happened?”
“I don’t remember much. I was carried to a village by two of his men. I have no idea why he didn’t…”
Kate stopped before she blurted out her true thoughts. She didn’t know why he hadn’t killed her. Memories of that night flashed through her mind, a blur of painful attacks. Her face ached in throbbing waves. And she could barely open one eye. Her lip was split and hurt when she moved her mouth. The girl dipped a hand into the water bucket and washed her face with small fingers, careful not to hurt her. Her tenderness broke Kate’s heart. Joselyne made the rest of her pain fade.
“How are the other children?”
“They’re scared…but okay.”
“How is George…the wounded man? Is someone taking care of him?”
“He’s gone, Sister.” Joselyne shook her head. “I never saw them take him, but I think they…” The child struggled to tell her. “I heard them talking…after.”
Kate ached down to her soul for George and his family. To endure two tragic deaths from violence was too much to bear for those back home. And she hated that Joselyne had seen such horror. No one, much less a child, should have to witness such cruelty.
“Tell me what you heard, Joselyne. Please.” She reached for the child and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I must know what happened to George, for the sake of his family.”
“When you didn’t come back, none of us could sleep,” Joselyne whispered. “And after the storm came, we saw a light in the jungle. Those men. They were filming someone else. We didn’t know who, but later…that’s when I heard what they said.”
“If this is too hard, you don’t have to…”
“No, please.” Joselyne grabbed her arm and squeezed it, pleading with her eyes. “They laughed, Sister Kate. Those men laughed at what he said when he died. They made fun of how he begged for his life…and talked about his son. And they stole his wallet…and other things. Why? Why did they do that?”
Kate not only saw the distress on the child’s face, she saw her relief in being able to talk about it. The girl had seen things she did not understand. Kate didn’t comprehend these brutal men any more than the child did. Being captive, none of them were allowed to say much to each other. Misery and fear got bottled inside. Kate knew what it meant to speak freely. She felt the same, especially if talking allowed her to console Joselyne.
“I’m sorry…for all of this.” She kissed the girl’s hand. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“None of us should be here.” A tear rolled down Joselyne’s cheek. “I miss my father.”
“I know you do, honey.” Kate opened her arms, and the girl collapsed onto her chest. “Your father loves you very much. And if I have anything to do with it, you will see him again. I promise you.”
Kate knew she had no business making promises she couldn’t keep, but when she had stared into Joselyne’s eyes before, she had seen a child with a broken spirit. And she wanted to make things better, even if it required a goodly amount of wishful thinking for both of them.
“While it’s quiet, and it’s just the two of us, I want to…” Kate felt the sudden urge to tell Joselyne things that would die with her if they were never rescued.
Her stomach twisted with the knowledge that George had felt the same when he talked about his son. The man knew he was going to die and had come to accept it. Kate didn’t want to delve into her own motivation too deeply. Talking to Joselyne felt like the right thing to do, but she had to find a way to talk to the girl so she wouldn’t be scared.
“…I want to tell you about the dreams I’ve always had for you,” she began. The little girl rose and cocked her head, looking confused, but she listened and didn’t interrupt. “If I had a daughter, she would have been just like you.”
The child finally smiled and nestled back into the nun’s arms, laying her head on her shoulder. Kate talked about the future, the dreams she had imagined for Joselyne and the other children under her care. She wanted the girl to know that she could have choices in her life if she wanted them.
And woven into the story were her own hopes, her ambition to make a difference. Images of the young woman she had been flashed through her mind. Her family. The first boy who had ever kissed her. And her devotion to God when she knew what she wanted to do with her life. Kate had so much more to accomplish, but she had a sickening feeling that she’d run out of time.
“It’s important to have dreams, Joselyne.” She stroked the child’s hair. “Do you have dreams, honey?” When the girl nodded, she said, “Tell me about them. I want to know everything. I want to hear your sweet voice…for as long as I can.”
In the muggy heat of the tent, she listened to the child in the dark, ignoring the pain in her body. She imagined them both safe and far away from their ordeal, but on the edge of her mind she wondered why Joselyne had been allowed to see her. She closed her eyes and held her, stroking her hair and whispering reassurances in her ear until a chilling realization hit her.
One man had made the decision for her to see Joselyne. And she had learned his name after he’d beaten her the other night.
On the surface, permitting her to see the girl might have appeared an act of kindness on his part. She knew better. In the brutal world of Abdul Kabir Sayed, the terrorist leader, everything had strings attached and a price to be paid.
In her quiet way she had resisted him, and that made him more enraged. She saw it in his eyes every time she stood before him. He expected her to bend to his will and accept his control over her fate. Kate wasn’t sure why her submission mattered to him, but it did.
And because the children meant a great deal to her, they would become unwilling pawns in Sayed’s mind game. Reuniting her with Joselyne had
only been a first step in a battle of wills that she wasn’t sure she had the strength to fight anymore.
New York City
Sentinels Headquarters
Without wasting any time, Jess had called Tanya Spencer, who directed her to take Seth to Garrett’s office. Tanya had met them on the way. Behind his closed office doors, Garrett hit a button that opened a safe room near his private elevator. Inside that reinforced chamber, he had a bank of high-tech computers with a control panel, a futuristic-looking conference table, and a weapons room. She also saw food and water reserves, oxygen tanks, gas masks, first-aid and other miscellaneous supplies—a small self-contained command center.
“You’re full of surprises.” Jess stepped into the chamber, sliding her fingers across the conference table.
“Honey, you have no idea,” Tanya said as she keyed data into a computer. “I’m putting in the coordinates Seth gave us for that video uplink.”
A low hum echoed in the room—sounding like Star Wars light sabers—and the center of the conference table lit up into an array of glowing pixels suspended in space. The holographic shape cast eerie shadows onto the faces of everyone in the room.
“Oh, no way.” Seth grinned and stepped closer to the table. He swiped a hand into the light and imitated Darth Vader. “Luke, I am your father.”
Tanya ignored him. “Now I’m pulling in an overlay of a topographic map of southeast Cuba.”
Holographic lights undulated and layered into the mountainous terrain of Cuba in a computer-generated mass. Jess joined Harper at the table, her mouth open like a kid on Christmas morning. A bright yellow dot of light glowed from a 3-D canyon to mark a specific location.
“Is that the bad guys?” Harper asked. He pointed to the glowing dot, pretending to crush them between his fingers.
“Yeah…your coordinates,” Tanya replied without looking up.
Jess was impressed by the technology. When she glanced at Garrett, he had his jaw clenched, and he looked anxious to assess the situation. The light show was only a tool for him to make decisions. Real lives were at stake.
“When I located the high-density bandwidth in Haiti and tracked that signal to Cuba, I noticed other cell phones in the area,” Seth told him. “That wouldn’t have surprised me in Chicago, but in a remote area in the mountains of Cuba, all the cell traffic seemed out of place.”
“That part of Cuba is host to a number of terrorist camps. And these groups have connections to their handlers in other parts of the world.” Garrett narrowed his eyes. “Alexa is behind enemy lines and operating in a global fishbowl of piranhas. She’s got to watch her ass and play it smart.”
While Tanya worked the keyboard, Garrett continued, “We haven’t been able to contact her. The hurricane has disrupted communications. The storm shifted north before it hit land; otherwise, things would have been much worse.”
“Yeah, but she’s got a tracking beacon with her. Let’s try that,” Tanya pointed out. “I loaded her signal ID. It should be coming up…now.”
A pinpoint of red light shone from the top of a mountain. It blinked in regular intervals, a live signal. That seemed to please Garrett. If he couldn’t talk to Alexa, at least he could track her position. It was more than he had.
“Try her SAT phone,” Garrett told Tanya. “If her tracking-beacon signal is strong, maybe her phone will come in now.”
“Yeah, you got it.” Tanya picked up a safe-room phone and gave an order to one of her people. “Contact Marlowe ASAP and patch the call into Garrett’s safe room when you get the SAT connection.”
But a faint light flickered in a valley below the summit. Jess was the first to notice it. “What’s that? There’s another beacon out there. Are they both from Alexa?”
“That’s odd. She has more than one beacon for emergencies, but with a small team, I can’t see her splitting up like that.” Garrett’s expression grew solemn. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Why is that second beacon flickering?” Jess asked. “The signal looks weak.”
“For two reasons. That gorge looks pretty steep,” Garrett told her. “Mountains could block the signal, especially if the satellite is low on the horizon. And that part of Cuba is dense with trees. A tracking beacon works best with a clear view to the sky.”
“Give me time to confirm that second signal,” Tanya said, working the keyboard. Jess knew from her training that a Sentinels’ tracking beacon would have identification embedded in its signal. It wouldn’t take long to ID the property assigned to Alexa’s team.
“Come on, Alexa. Talk to me,” Garrett muttered as he glared at the light show in front of him.
Jess knew what he was thinking. He could mobilize a backup team to assist Alexa, but he’d have no idea which tracking beacon would be hers. And the signal locations were far enough apart to make a difference. If he picked the wrong one to launch his support and guessed wrong, it would expose his intentions too soon and make it worse for Alexa and her team. And as close as the faint beacon was to the terrorists, by the time he rallied help, any skirmish could be over.
They had to talk to Alexa. Now.
“If that’s Alexa on the ridge, she’s got ground to cover before nightfall. Whoever has the second signal in the valley, they’re practically on top of those bastards.” Jess shook her head, not taking her eyes off the holographic image in front of her. “But they’re too far apart and out of position to launch a simultaneous strike. What the hell is going on?”
I sure hope you know what you’re doing, Alexa.
CHAPTER 15
Southeast Cuba
Sierra Maestra Mountain Range
Jackson Kinkaid hunched behind a tree with his back to a rock cliff. He leaned against the hard surface to catch his breath. Fever had robbed him of his usual stamina. He shrugged out of his gear to locate his meds. And he palmed more antibiotics and sucked down water from his hydration pack.
Overdosing on antibiotics was the least of his problems.
He retrieved his thermal infrared binoculars to get a better look at the village beneath his position. Four armed men stood guard with AK-47s on the outskirts of a clearing, and a lone sniper had taken a spot on a ridge with a bird’s-eye view of the canyon. Shanty houses were nestled along the tree line, with smoke curling from some of the stone chimneys. A communal fire pit burned in the center of the village, and makeshift tents made of worn tarps, cinder blocks, and corrugated metal were on the perimeter. Food preparation and the smell of burning wood wafted in the evening air as men with dark skin primed for a meal. Most of the inhabitants wore paramilitary gear, and so far he hadn’t seen a woman in the camp. By the looks of the weapons and the setup, he’d found another terrorist training camp.
And the tracks he’d followed since the afternoon had led straight to the camp.
With his binoculars, he searched the shacks and tents for any sign of the hostages. The hovels on the edge of the village had the most potential. The armed guards concentrated their patrolling duties around a particular group of dwellings. For the sake of efficiency, he thought the hostages would be together.
Come on, Kate. Show yourself. Where are you?
Nightfall was closing in, and soon it would be too dark for him to identify the hostages. He’d seen enough to know these men held captives. A young girl had been hauled from a tent by a guard and moved to another hovel. She wore a tattered party dress.
He’d seen the girl before at the fund-raiser. Although he didn’t remember her name, he knew she was one of Kate’s students. And the guard had moved her to where more children were held. Since he’d seen Kate with four kids on the beach in Haiti, Kinkaid had little doubt that wherever the children were, the nun would be held, too. She was headstrong enough not to be separated from them. With confirmation of hostages, he worked on a rescue plan.
Alone, he knew he might not save them all, and that he’d have to improvise to do what he could. He didn’t want to think about innocent lives snuffed out on his wa
tch or be forced to leave anyone behind; but given the situation, that reality was a highly likely scenario.
With the sniper positioned on the ridge at nightfall, he figured the man had night-vision gear and had to be taken out first. And the guards nearest the children’s tent would be his next targets. His assault rifle would be a weapon of last resort. Any killing would have to be done in deadly silence. He wouldn’t get another chance.
Not knowing where Alexa and her team were, he couldn’t count on them for backup. He’d be on his own.
Targeting the sniper, Kinkaid made his way up the hill and took the long way around so that the guards wouldn’t see him. In his condition, the climb took longer. Sweat stung his eyes, and his vision blurred. And in the dark, his depth perception was off, a reaction from the infection. He wiped a hand over his face and blinked to clear his sight. His head ached, and a steady, incessant ringing in his ears hampered the use of his other senses. He was insane to attempt this rescue alone, but Kate and the other hostages had no one else. Not now.
On the ridge, Kinkaid stopped dead still when he smelled something on the muggy air. The sniper was smoking. To confirm his suspicions, he used his own surveillance gear and watched as the guard took another drag. A dull red ember glowed in the dark. The bastard had the nerve to smoke on duty.
His nasty habit would cost him.
Kinkaid set down his pack—grimacing with the pain—and ditched his gear close by. He slung his assault rifle over his shoulder, carrying the weapon only as a backup plan. When he slipped his bowie knife from its sheath, the blade whispered its lethal hiss, and he crept toward the enemy sharpshooter.
The man never saw him coming.
Sticking to her plan, Alexa had traveled the mountain ridge until her trackers saw no more fresh signs. Before it got too dark, her team had started to descend into the gorge with each man alert and moving in silence. She suspected the canyon had hostiles, and she’d given her orders. Rotating their duties, her men would launch a series of reconnaissance missions to locate their target. No fire. No food prep. No rest. They’d work through the night to make up for lost time. She sensed they were close and hoped luck would be on their side.
