by Lexy Timms
“Um... maybe we should think about a working vacation.”
Her voice was hesitant. Unsure.
“I’ve been working for two weeks. We’re still trying to find Griselda.” Maybe he shouldn’t have snapped. He regretted his tone the moment she responded, her tone detached. Clinical.
“I wouldn’t think that a woman in her physical condition would last long in the jungle alone.”
“Is that your professional assessment, Doctor?” He strove to make his tone light. To take back the conversation in the seven minutes he had left. To restore what his insecurity seemed bent on destroying.
“Don’t get snotty, pussycat.”
He smiled, relieved that she seemed willing to forgive. To play along. “Ouch. I wouldn’t put anything past that one. She shouldn’t have disappeared in the explosion either, but until there’s a body there’s no proof. So, I’ve been busy.”
There seemed to be no response for that. He’d backed the conversation into a corner and was just opening his mouth to ask how she was, how she really was, when she spoke again, her voice all in a rush, like she was half-afraid to say what she was thinking.
“Taylor, do you remember at Enrique’s wedding? When her father talked about that legend of the boy who...”
“Turned into a jaguar. Yeah. I remember.” He frowned, not sure where this was going.
Another pause. Too long. “I have a lion, Taylor.”
Her words were rushed, tumbling over one another in her haste to get them out. For a moment he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. “Excuse me?”
“She’s fourteen. You didn’t get my email, then?”
He knew that sound. Whenever Angelica got her hooks into something she made that incredulous sound that made him feel like he wasn’t paying attention in school. He was back on shaky ground. “Seen what? I have a three-star general in a room telling me why I might not have a job next year and the only solution is to get funding. Which, I can tell you, isn’t particularly ethical. Never mind legal; we passed that exit hours ago!”
“I sent you a video, you need to see it.”
“I don’t have time for something you chased down on YouTube...”
“Taylor! Make! The! Time! NOW!”
Taylor growled and swore. Years as a field agent undercover in drug cartels had given him several colorful options. He glanced at the closed door and flipped through the phone until he found the email she’d sent. A movie, not a link like he’d expected. It opened on a medical room and this young... girl? She’d said she was fourteen? He restarted the movie; he couldn’t make it out. Even then, he couldn’t fixate on what he was seeing and time was already up. He sighed and leaned against the door, glancing at the phone, knowing that in a minute a general and a whole lot of brass were going to go on a hunt for him, and it wasn’t going to end pretty.
Then the image stabilized.
Holy shit.
Taylor shot upright. He replayed a section. Then he replayed it all.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, of course.” Angelica said. “Charra is a very sweet young lady. I would like you to meet her.”
“I... meet? I can’t. I’m getting my ass handed to me here, I can’t just...”
“I met her because someone broke every bone in her body,” Angelica said sweetly. “On purpose. She said it was a doctor.”
Taylor leaned against the door and closed his eyes. “You’re in Cameroon?”
“Garoua.”
“I should have remembered. I would have suggested Spain for that vacation. There are fabulous beaches... maybe later.” He sighed. So much for vacation time. “In the meantime, I’ll arrange transportation. I can be there tomorrow night.”
He heard her let out a breath she’d probably been holding. He could picture her, hair probably falling down from that knot she tried to scrape it back into, tired and frustrated. And scared to death. He’d heard the fear in her voice. Not of the girl. Of what she’d found out.
“Thank you.” Another pause. Longer. “And Taylor?”
“Yes?”
“I’m not just making this up just so I can see you naked.”
He chuckled. That was more like it. His girl wasn’t one to stay down long. This was no shrinking violet waiting for rescue. This was his partner. The woman who could face down drug lords without flinching. They’d solve this one, too. “This time it’s your turn to be naked in front of the bad guys.”
“That’s a good kitty.”
“Don’t start.”
“’Bye, Taylor. And so you know, I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Taylor said as the door behind him opened. He shifted awkwardly, almost landing on his ass as he got out the final words, the ones that mattered. “Be safe till I get there.”
And he meant that.
“I love you, too, Taylor,” his boss said through the crack in the door, “but since you’ve stopped us cold, I’m going to go piss if you’ll kindly let us out of here.”
“Sorry,” Taylor mumbled and shifted to the blank wall next to the door. “Uh, Randall, uh... Something’s come up. I need that vacation time sooner rather than later.”
“Now?” Randall whispered, closing the door behind them. “Are you fucking serious? Half the Pentagon wants us to be reporting to them, and the other half still thinks we’re spreading leaflets with pro-American slogans on them. I swear it’s like we never left the ‘60s. Congress is breathing down our necks and theirs; we’re fighting each other, and you want to go skiing?”
“No, it’s... I had a tip.”
“A ‘tip’?” Randall asked. “A ‘tip’?” He grabbed Taylor’s wrist and brought the phone up where he could see it. “ANGELICA” was on the screen along with a picture of the former beauty pageant winner and doctor. It had been taken before they’d left the Amazon, at a moment when she still had the fire in her eyes and her hair fell around her face in the disarray that only comes from spending a passionate afternoon with someone you love.
“Hello, Angelica!” Randall called into the phone.
“Hey, Randall!” Angelica’s voice came from the speaker. “How’s Lisa and the kids?”
“They’re worried, actually,” Randall said, “because their husband and father might not be working next year, but don’t let that worry you... your boyfriend isn’t.”
“Randall, please. I have something here that... I need him here. It’s about someone hurting children and I don’t know why. Please.”
Randall looked at Taylor. “Do I look like a charity organization? Do I look like someone who... oh hell, just go. The general just asked for you by name, so I’m sure you can’t be all that important to his plans. But you’re still on the clock when I need you I’m yanking your chain, got that, tiger?”
“Oh, shit!”
“What happened?” Angelica’s voice demanded from the floor, loud enough to be heard even from the vicinity of his left foot.
“I...I dropped the phone,” Taylor confessed.
Randall took the phone from him and spoke to Angelica directly. “Listen, you can have him for a few days, but I need him back in working condition, you get me?”
“Thank you, Randall.”
“Don’t thank me, just save me a seat on the bride’s side. I have feeling the groom will forget to send out invitations.”
“He has to ask me first,” Angelica said, a smile creeping back into her voice that left Taylor stuttering, wondering not for the first time just how often Angelica talked to his boss.
“He will; he’s rather dense, but he will.” Randall tossed the phone back to a bemused Taylor. “You had that coming and you know it,” he said, pointing at him, and walked off before Taylor even figured out how to end the call without inadvertently winding up engaged.
“Thank you!” Taylor called after him. Randall waved with a single finger without turning around and headed for the men’s room.
Chapter 4
Taylor got as far as his apartment in D.C
. There he spent a fleeting time throwing items into a bag and booking flights on his computer. If he was still ‘on the clock’ as Randall suggested, he could charge the trip to the CIA, but at this point he might be pushing it a little too far. He sighed and whipped out his credit card, wondering just how bad the damage was going to be.
He found a connecting flight from London to Johannesburg to Lusaka. Fifteen hours in the air and another four on the ground. He booked a flight at 6:35 AM out of Dulles, and when there was nothing else to be done he took a shower.
He walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, and stopped cold at the entrance to the living room.
If he hadn’t been so distracted he would have heard the intruder. At least that’s what he told himself as he stood there, his hair still dripping, leaving rivulets of chilly water down his back. At the very least his... other... senses should have let him know someone was there.
Damn, I’m starting to wonder if I really do need that vacation.
He composed himself, not wanting his boss to see the surprise he was feeling, and moved easily into the room, going to the bar to pour himself a drink. No point in offering one to his unwanted guest; he was already sipping from a scotch he’d obviously poured for himself.
“What do you want, Randall?” he asked, not bothering with pleasantries.
“I let myself in,” Randall said unnecessarily, lounging back easily in the chair, long legs crossed at the ankles, looking for all the world like he owned the place.
“I see that,” Taylor muttered, lifting his own glass to his lips, feeling the whiskey burn all the way down. “Why?”
“I fired you today,” Randall admitted, sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees. He looked troubled, his eyes evasive, a small frown marring his broad forehead. “The general was quite insistent. He was somewhat disappointed in your sudden absence.”
“So... that’s it?” Taylor asked, setting his glass down with a thud. “I’m fired?”
“Well...” Randall said and shrugged a little, “you will be once the paperwork is processed.” He gulped down what remained of his drink and set it on the end table, missing the coaster by several inches. Not that he noticed. “Unfortunately, I can’t seem to find the paperwork; I must have left it somewhere. No idea where. It’ll probably take days to find.” He rose to his feet and stretched. “Of course, if you return the conquering hero it’s possible that the paperwork might not get anywhere at all and no one would know. And then you wouldn’t be fired at all.”
Taylor threw up his hands. He knew when he was defeated. Right now Randall had him right where he wanted him. Or needed him, maybe. “What is it you want me to do?”
“The opposite of what the general wants. He wants you to do some recon for him in Malaysia. But the numbers don’t add up. There’s nothing there. Just a few remote villages that your girlfriend would love.” He walked over to the bar and poured himself another drink. “Did you know she had a case for you?”
“No.” Taylor shook his head. “We’ve been doing the long-distance romance thing. I called her to ask if she was ready for a vacation. As per your orders, I might add.”
“Damn.” Randall looked askance at him. “Does that really work? The long-distance thing, I mean.”
“Hell, no.” Taylor gave a rather chagrined smile and shook his head. “I only take cold showers anymore. And then I recite baseball stats just to keep focused.”
“Well, the general knew,” Randall muttered, returning to his seat where he settled himself and nursed his drink thoughtfully. “While he was raging and blowing piss and vinegar over your sudden departure, he said something about your being whipped. Being at her beck and call.”
“How the hell would he know she called me?” Even more troubling, what he hadn’t pointed out to Randall was that he was using a new phone. One he’d only gotten yesterday when his old one had gone missing.
A fact which was starting to look more and more suspicious. Like maybe he hadn’t left it sitting on the counter at Starbucks after all.
“Indeed. And might I also point out that he was here, in our midst unexpectedly, suddenly screaming about a budget point no one had ever heard of before.”
“You think he knew about Angelica and what she uncovered? It was 0400 here when she sent that email.”
“I think he knows more than I do,” Randall admitted. “What the hell is so important in the middle of the jungle? And why the hell can’t she go work in a city somewhere? They have poor people, too.” Randall took another slug and shook his head.
“If he knew about the video, he knew I’d probably call her at some point, or more likely she would probably have called me if I hadn’t responded.” Taylor shook his head. “I should’ve checked my email first thing this morning, but I was late, and then you wanted to talk vacation. Not that it matters. What’s important here—”
“—is that she’s under surveillance,” Randall finished. “And when you get there, you will be, too. And whoever is looking that closely has a direct line to a three-star general who just so happens to have some pull with the congressional funds that cover the CIA. I don’t know what your cute little doctor stumbled into...” He left it hanging there, an open-ended question for Taylor to answer.
Taylor didn’t.
Randall shook his head. “Well, whatever it is, you’re in too deep and I hate the idea of sending you out naked on this one.”
Taylor looked down at himself. “I have a towel,” he pointed out.
“Nothing even close to what I mean. You’re fired, you’re off the payroll, even if I ‘lose’ the papers; you’re not getting any help from anyone. Remember that. You and she are both flapping in the wind. I can’t help you, not this time.”
“All right,” Taylor said, and thought quickly. “Then I need a favor.”
Randall laughed. “You must not be hearing me clearly,” he said, putting the glass down. “I said you can’t get help.”
“Not from you.” Taylor said. “All I need is for you to look the other way.”
Randall got up and shoved his hands into his pockets and walked to the door. “You don’t get it. I’m not looking any way. You don’t exist. Call in a favor from the devil for all I officially care.” He opened the door and looked back over his shoulder. “I’ll keep my head down, out of trouble. I suggest you do the same. If things change, I’ll be in touch.”
“In touch?” Taylor asked, turning around to set a bottle back on the bar. “How? I’m persona non-grata.”
But Randall was gone. Son of a bitch should have been a shifter himself for how fast he moved.
Taylor was dressed before he found the satellite phone stashed in his bag.
It was probably a hell of a lot more secure than the one he’d bought just yesterday.
He winced when he realized his prepaid tickets would be wasted. Let whoever was in on this little game think he was flying commercial. He had other options, and if he moved fast he could be well on his way before anyone even figured out he wasn’t showing up at the airport. Taylor dropped the carry-on bag for a duffle. He included two pistols, ammo, and a blade that was pure black and six inches long. Now that he wasn’t flying with the airlines, the carry-on options were limitless.
I’m counting on an awful lot by calling in a favor.
He grabbed the satellite phone as he stepped outside. From the roof of his building it would take some serious tech to overhear his plans. Maybe he was being a little paranoid, but right now that could be a good thing. Trust no one. You’re on your own.
It made no sense what was going on. But his gut told him something was very, very off. So he went with it.
The number he dialed went through a series of clicks and pauses before he heard the voice of the person he was calling. Taylor wasn’t the only one who was paranoid.
“Hey, Dusty. I need a favor. A hot-drop.”
Dusty wasn’t one to ask unnecessary questions. “Where?”
“East A
frica. Kind of remote.”
“The package?”
“Me.”
There was a long silence. “Welcome back to the game.”
Taylor bit back a chuckle. He’d worked with Dusty a couple of years back, a complicated case that didn’t exist on paper. “Easy, boy. It’s just a one-off. Can you do it?”
“When was the last time you jumped?”
“Two years.”
“You’re rusty.”
“Yeah. And we’d have to do it at night.” Hell, how hard can it be? Like falling off a bike. “So, are we on?”
“Your funeral. When?”
“Now.”
“Give a guy some warning.” Dusty paused. There was a sound of keys clacking. Another pause. “Two hours, the abandoned airstrip.”
“Thanks, Dusty.”
But the line was already dead. Taylor grabbed his duffle and tightened the combat boots he hadn’t worn in years. He paused, staring at the picture of her that sat on the table next to the door. Her smiling face in a silver frame. The same he’d had on his phone. He touched the cheek, imagining its warmth under his fingertips. Remembering the way his fingers had tangled in her hair. Her smell.
I can’t lose her.
Please, Angelica, for shit’s sake, stay low, stay hidden, stay safe.
“DUSTY. DAMN IT...”
I should be grateful. I am grateful. The trip would have been the better part of nineteen, maybe twenty hours. Under surveillance. I can do it in five now. Alone. He held onto the strap while the plane took an unsettling dip. The plane shook and rattled as though it had hit a wall up in the clouds. If this piece of shit holds together. I haven’t seen anything this old outside of an airshow—at least those don’t have large areas of rust on them.
The door to the cockpit opened and a man in full combat gear, complete with face-obscuring gas mask, stepped out. He looked at Taylor and held up five fingers. So far, the unknown soldier was his only companion, outside of the guy in the cockpit, presumably flying the plane. If his position was leaked, he wouldn’t have to look far to find it. He stared at the man’s hand and tried to figure out just what he was signaling.