“Guns!” Sarafina cried out.
Timmy floored it and the SUV leaped forward just as the muzzles flashed. Sparks skipped along the road behind us and two loud thunks hit the back of the car.
I ducked and unzipped the next duffel.
“They’re going for the tires!” Ahmed said.
I started throwing out the bound wads of bills. They cartwheeled this way and that, several of them disappearing down the steepening slope on the left side of the road. The lead vehicle closed the gap and the men swiveled their heads to watch the money disappear. But the car didn’t slow. In another moment it would be close enough to fire at us again.
I glanced forward and saw that the road was about to bend to the right. I gathered the nearly full duffel in my arms, lifted it to the sill, and waited. The men were leaning out of the car with their rifles raised when the SUV went into the curve and I heaved the duffel out the window. It slid across the dirt road, the centrifugal force sending it flying over the edge and down the slope.
The sight was too much to bear for the drug dealers. The car swerved to a stop, disappearing from sight as we completed the turn.
“Way to go, Alex,” Timmy said.
Ahmed turned to the boss man. “I guess your boys back there decided you aren’t nearly as important as the money.”
The man glared at him. “We shall see,” he said through clenched teeth. He still gripped the wound on his arm; it wasn’t bleeding much anymore. “This ride is far from over.”
The road took several more turns, and at one point the headlights of the truck were still on our tail. They weren’t that far back and soon enough the two cars would be back in the chase. At best, I figured, we’d bought ourselves a minute or two. Timmy braked to a sudden stop, then backed up and angled the headlights up a steep side road.
“Take it slow,” Ahmed said. “So there’s no dust trail.”
Timmy steered the SUV up the hill, turning off the headlights as soon as we cleared the road. He moved slowly, guided by the streaks of moonlight that pierced the thickening foliage overhead. When we were completely hidden from the road, he cut off the engine.
“There,” Sarafina said, pointing to a flicker of lights through the foliage behind us. We heard the truck’s engine as it sped past the intersection and around the next corner. When the sound of its motor faded away, we let out a collective sigh of relief. Timmy started up the SUV, keeping the lights off as we climbed the narrow road. A minute later, the road leveled off and we found ourselves in a clearing.
“Wait a minute,” Sarafina said, pointing out the front window.
Timmy stopped the car. The clearing looked familiar, and when I saw the shredded remnants of the bamboo cage that had trapped Mama Bear, I knew we’d come full circle.
“It’s the same place,” Ahmed said.
“But why is the cage hacked up?” Sarafina asked. “When we left it was still in one piece.”
The stout bamboo cage bars had been hacked through by a blade so sharp that it seemingly had sheared through in a single stroke. The walls had collapsed, with some of the pieces still tied together at their base, sticking out this way and that. The damage was man-made, and it reminded me of the prickly feeling I’d had when we were here before. Someone had been following us.
“Who cares?” Timmy said. “What matters is that the road ends here. It’s a dead end.”
“Dead is right,” the boss man said.
Ahmed smacked the butt of the pistol into the man’s temple. The man’s eyes rolled and he slumped forward in the seat. Ahmed reached over him, opened the door, and shoved the man out. He hit the ground with a sickening thud.
“Y-you killed him,” Sarafina said, her hand over her mouth.
“Not yet,” Ahmed said, pointing the gun at the prone body. “But I probably should.”
“No!” she cried. “You mustn’t.”
Ahmed frowned, and I knew a part of him wanted to do it. But he lowered the pistol and yanked the door closed. “We have to go back.”
“It’s our only choice,” Timmy said, turning the car around on the promontory so that it pointed downhill. The jungle canopy was bathed in moonlight, stretching to the valley below. There were probably several intersecting roads under all those trees, and one of them would take us to my mom and dad. Timmy turned off the motor. “Keep an eye out. We’ll wait until the other two cars drive by and then we’ll double back behind them.”
“There,” I said, pointing to two sets of headlights flickering through the trees below.
We waited anxiously as the cars wound their way along the road. They sped past the road leading to our position and their taillights disappeared around the corner.
“Whew,” Timmy said. He started up the car and steered it down the dirt road. “It’s about time we had a little good luck.”
We were halfway to the main road when the truck’s headlights appeared around the distant corner. The two cars popped into view behind them. The caravan was slowing as it neared the intersection below us.
“Crap,” Timmy said. He put the SUV in reverse and sped back up the road.
“No,” Ahmed said. “The backup lights will give us away. Shut it down!”
“It doesn’t matter,” Sarafina said. “They’re coming up here anyway.” The truck had turned onto the road, its headlight beams bouncing as it climbed our way. Our four-wheel-drive SUV kicked up gravel and dust as it raced backward up the hill.
“They may know the roads but they’re not going to be any more familiar with the dense part of the jungles than we are,” Ahmed said, his voice jumping as the SUV lurched over a bump. “Put on your backpacks and get ready to run.”
By the time we reached the clearing, the truck and the two cars were a third of the way up the hill. Timmy swerved to avoid the unconscious boss man on the ground and then stopped the car at the far edge of the clearing. We were out of the car in an instant. Timmy scrambled around the back. He reached through the broken window, grabbed the last duffel of money, and ran back to his open door. That’s when I realized the motor was still running. “Head for the trail we were on yesterday,” he said. He threw the bag onto the front passenger seat and jumped in behind the wheel. “I’ll catch up.”
Ahmed said, “What are you—?”
“There’s no time to explain,” Timmy said, slamming the door closed. “I’ve got a plan but it’s not going to work if you don’t hightail it out of here. Go!”
“No way we’re leaving you behind,” Ahmed said, grasping the door handle. But the car leaped out of reach and raced across the clearing. As Timmy passed the boss man, he tossed the duffel of cash out the window.
“Why did he do that?” Ahmed screamed.
“It doesn’t matter. We have to do as he asked,” Sarafina said, taking my hand and turning up the hill. “And pray that whatever he’s planning works.”
Ahmed stomped his feet in frustration, but the act seemed to help him accept what was happening. “May Allah guide you,” he said before spinning to catch up with us. “Quickly.” He took my other hand and tugged me up the slope toward the ridge we’d been on when we first spotted Mama Bear in the cage.
I glanced over my shoulder as we made our way up. I could still make out the SUV’s red taillights as it moved through the trees, heading down the road.
On a collision course with three sets of headlights.
Chapter 26
Rome
JAKE HAD WEAVED A ZIGZAG course to lose the Asian gang pursuing him in Holland. He’d used a tour boat, two busses, a taxi, and a train to travel from Amsterdam to the Rotterdam airport. The trip hadn’t been without incident. He’d nearly lost it when he spotted two men at the airport glancing at an image of his face on one of their cell phones as they scanned the crowds. He’d watched in disbelief as a local police officer approached the duo and they’d flipped out Interpol badges. If they were involved because a BOLO had been issued, it meant every CCTV camera in Europe was searching for Jake. He’d detoured around them, a
mbling toward the ticket counter, grateful he was wearing the same disguise he’d worn on the flight to Amsterdam. He’d used his false identification to board a flight to Rome, all the while wondering how the hell the people after him had mustered the support of European law enforcement.
It was nearly midnight when he slipped into the rear entrance of the three-wing hospital. The long hallway was dark, illuminated only by the emergency lamps above the stairwells and elevator doors. He hesitated in the shadows, listening for any signs of activity as he removed his baseball cap and disconnected its 9-volt battery. Timmy had passed out the hats during one of their prep sessions. The whole gang had been there, including the kids, and they’d gone over the procedures everyone would use if the emergency message ever went out.
“The capabilities of facial recognition software have grown exponentially in recent years,” Timmy had explained. “With more and more cameras being installed in virtually every major metropolitan area on the globe, going off the grid takes on a whole new meaning. But every system has its flaw, and a person’s facial features can’t be analyzed if they’re invisible to the camera.”
The dozen crystal protrusions embedded into the emblem of the baseball cap emitted infrared light invisible to the naked eye, but not to the lens of a camera. The light obscured the wearer’s face, making it glow like a bulb so facial recognition software ignored it. I owe you one, Timmy, he thought, folding the cap and stuffing it into his pack.
He padded to the first stairwell and studied the facility map beside the door. There were six floors, including the basement level. According to the nun who’d answered the phone when he called earlier pretending to be Marshall, Lacey was in room 437. He opened the stairwell door and climbed the steps.
When he reached the fourth-floor landing, he cracked the door open and peeked down the hallway. The lighting was subdued, the hallway was vacant, and he heard heart monitors faintly beeping from the darkened interior of open doorways. A pair of soft voices drifted from around the far corner, where he suspected the nurses’ station was located. He moved forward quietly, counting down the room numbers. When he reached Lacey’s room, he hesitated. The video had been very graphic, with Lacey having suffered severe burns. He braced himself for what he would see then slipped inside, closing the door behind him.
A privacy curtain surrounded the bed, a halo of dim light from the equipment within making it luminous. A heart-rate monitor beeped slow and steady. There was a private bathroom, a wardrobe, two sitting chairs, and a door to what Jake assumed was an adjoining room. Horizontal blinds covered the sole window.
He stepped forward, pulled the curtain aside, and a swell of despair washed over him.
Lacey’s head and face were covered in bandages, a few strands of scorched blond hair slipping through the seams. One eye was covered completely, and the exposed parts of her blistered skin shone with a greasy coating. A thick breathing tube ran into her mouth, connected to a mechanical ventilator. Her legs were covered by a blanket but more bandages were wrapped around her torso and arms, only the fingers of one hand having been spared any direct damage.
Jake had to grab the bedrail to steady himself. This woman, this close friend, filled with more energy and enthusiasm than anyone he’d ever known, loyal, faithful, and immensely capable—reduced to this limp and charred form that lay before him, machines forcing her to cling to a life that would never be the same. She’d been a server when he met her at Sammy’s in Redondo Beach, and he’d been a daily customer trying to drown the pain of the news his doctors had given him. Then his life had spiraled out of control and she—and so many others—had been caught in the vortex, yanked across the globe from one desperate situation to the next, each time surviving by the narrowest of margins.
Until now, he thought, his hands trembling.
All because of me.
His numbed mind didn’t have time to react to the footstep behind him. Thick arms suddenly locked around him, lifting him from his feet and trapping his thighs against the bedrails. He tried to twist free but it was no use. The bear holding him simply grunted, and the vise-like grip tightened to the point that it felt like his ribs might collapse. Jake was about to attempt a backward head-butt when the form on the bed sat up and pressed a pistol into his chest.
Jake froze.
The brute holding him said, “Yer can go standin’ up...or in a body bag.” The hot breath smelled of whiskey.
Jake could barely register the man’s words. He gaped at the bandaged woman, whose single unveiled eye glared at him. The phony breathing tube lay loose on her lap and her exposed lips widened into a toothy sneer. “Gotcha!”
“Y-you’re not Lacey.”
“What did ya think?” the man holding him said. “That we were gonna serve ’er up on a platter for yer? Now listen close, laddie. I’m gonna loosen me grip so I can secure yer arms behind yer back. Don’t be a gobshite and think for a second that my girl won’t blast a hole in ye if ye try anything. Got it?”
Jake nodded, staring dumbly into the unflinching eye of the woman holding the gun. His emotions reeled as the truth sank in: Lacey hadn’t survived the explosion after all. These people, whoever they were, had been waiting for him, which meant the explosion that had killed Lacey hadn’t been an accident.
And these two were responsible.
The realization unleashed a savage instinct within him to exact revenge. He relaxed his body to set the man and woman at ease as he expanded his senses, allowing his mind to absorb his surroundings, flashing through possible angles of attack, predicting responses to each, and finally settling on a course of action.
The brute lowered Jake’s feet to the ground and loosened his grip. Jake faked a stumble and allowed his weight to fall backward into the big man, who took a step back but maintained his grip. Jake didn’t fight it. Instead, he kept his muscles relaxed and allowed the man to pull Jake’s arms behind his body. He smiled inwardly as the girl leaned over the raised bedrail in order to keep the pistol aimed at his chest.
The girl first. Ignore the gun. Knee to the jaw to snap her neck...
The big man adjusted his grip to hold Jake’s wrists together with a single hand as he pulled what Jake guessed was a zip tie from a pocket. The woman’s eye narrowed and she leaned further forward.
Right about n—
The creak of a door hinge stopped him. He heard someone approach. Whoever it was must have been hiding along with the Irish brute in the adjoining room. The beefy grip on Jake’s hands shifted and a zip-tie slid around one of his wrists. He coiled his muscles—
“Jake, is that you?”
The words short-circuited his brain. He turned and blinked. “Lacey?”
“Jake!” she said, charging forward and throwing her arms around him. The brute released his grip and Jake hugged her tight.
“I thought you were dying,” he said, choked with emotion.
“And I thought you were in Amsterdam,” she said, pulling away. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, as if afraid to ask the next question. “Did you find them?”
He sighed. “There was no sign of them. What about Marsh?”
She shook her head, and Jake reached out to pull her back into an embrace. But she stepped back, her expression fierce. “We saw the bastards who took him. They came for me, too. That’s why we faked the accident.” She turned toward the big man and the woman on the bed. “I’d have been taken, too, if it weren’t for my friends. They set the whole thing up. Pete, Skylar, I’d like you to meet Jake Bronson.”
Chapter 27
Rome
“WELL, I’LL BE DAMNED,” Skylar said with a hint of a Texas accent. She lowered the bedrail and slipped to the floor. She wore slim jeans and hiking boots below her bandaged head and torso, giving her an odd look. After tucking the pistol under her belt, she held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Sorry I almost killed you.”
He took her hand and appreciated the strong grip. “Yeah,” he said. “Me, too.
”
“You wish,” she said with a sniff as she reached around the back of her head to unsnap a two-part head mask rather than rolls of bandages.
“Heard a lot about ye, lad,” Pete said, engulfing Jake’s hand in his. “Lacey’s been filling us in.”
“Yeah, well, you can believe any of the bad stuff she’s told you about me, but I’d advise taking anything good she said with a grain of salt.”
The big man had a commanding presence, with a rugged face that would’ve suited a pirate captain on the high seas. Yet his gaze was warm as he smiled at Jake’s comment. “No worries there, ’cause I don’t recall her saying anything good about ya.”
Jake grinned despite the situation. Leave it to Lacey to attract a crew that knew the value of keeping it light. “Thanks for helping her out of a jam.”
“Of course. That’s what we do.”
Motioning toward the bed, Jake said, “So, what was this all about? Why the charade?”
“They took Marsh and you’re the only one who checked in on the secure site, so I figured they got everyone else, too. It was either fake my death—”
“Which is what I advised,” Pete interjected with a scowl. “So ye could’ve stayed out of harm’s way.”
Lacey rolled her eyes. “But I figured it was smarter to keep me alive, so to speak, in order to lure them in to finish the job.”
“Then we’d nab one of them,” Skylar said. She was wiping the makeup and grease off the part of her face that had remained exposed around the mask. Jake guessed her to be around thirty. She had shoulder-length blond hair, a sassy smile, lots of freckles, and one green eye and one blue—that is, until she leaned forward and removed the blue contact lens she’d worn to match Lacey’s eye color.
“You and your friends held yourself out as bait for killers,” Jake said to Lacey. “It never seems to end, does it? I wish Marsh and Tony had never gotten you involved with me in the first place. You don’t deserve—”
“You still don’t get it, do you?” Lacey said, her arms crossed. “You never dragged any of us into anything. Especially me. Life is about choices, Jake, and I’m not going to stand by and let you paint me as some kind of will-o’-the-wisp that changes direction with the wind. I’ve made my own way in the world and I’m proud of it. And being here with you right now is all about the choices I made, not you. And I wouldn’t change a single one of them. Sure, life sucks sometimes, but that’s just the way it goes. Hell, you know that better than anyone...” Her voice trailed off and she frowned, as if regretting the words. The moment passed. “The point is that it’s not your fault we’re in this mess. The only ones to blame are the assholes behind it all.” Her face flushed and she balled her fists. “And dammit, they’re going to pay!”
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