Running from the Devil

by Jamie Freveletti

  “Ms. Caldridge? Sumner? Who? Why do you say that?” Kohl looked astonished.

  Miguel barked an order to the team to prepare to march to the fire.

  “You asked me what I’d do if I were in their shoes? Well, I’d burn something to indicate my position.”

  “They’re indicating their position to the guerrillas, too,” Kohl pointed out.

  “Something tells me they’ve got them on the run. We’re deep in their territory. Even guerrillas don’t burn their own homes. That fire is a sign that something disastrous happened.”

  Miguel whistled to Boris. “Hope that nose works just as well in the dark as it does in the day, boy.”

  Within fifteen minutes, Miguel and his troops were on the move. Boris trotted in front, his head swinging from side to side. Miguel estimated the fire to be five miles ahead. The path currently ran in a straight line, with only a slight rise. If the path stayed straight, and there were no switchbacks, Miguel hoped to reach the burn site in an hour and a half.

  The exhausted men fanned out behind. They were used to pushing through exhaustion, and none complained, but Miguel would have to allow them to rest soon.

  Forty minutes into their march, a man stumbled out of the bushes and onto the path.

  Boris barked once, and the soldiers dropped to the path and took aim.

  Miguel saw the man’s tattered civilian clothes. “Hold your fire!” he shouted. He walked up to the man, who swayed in place, and then fell to his knees.

  “Do you speak English?” the man said.

  “Major Miguel Gonzalez, United States Special Forces. Who are you?”

  The man burst into tears.

  They helped him to a nearby tree stump and gave him some water. He gulped it down and wiped his eyes.

  “Sorry. I never thought I’d hear English again. I’m James Barkett, from Flight 689.”

  “Where are the rest?” Miguel said.

  “Scattered in the jungle. When the woman started shooting, we all ran for our lives.”

  “What woman, and how did she get a gun?”

  Barkett shook his head. “I don’t know her name. She was captured later, with Mr. Sumner.” He described Emma and told Miguel about Rodrigo threatening to kill Sumner unless she told him what he wanted to know.

  “Jesus.” Kohl breathed the word.

  Miguel’s face hardened. “Do you know which way Rodrigo went?”

  “No. I don’t think he’s far, though. It’s even possible that she grazed him.”

  “What about Sumner and the woman? Do you know which way they ran?”

  Again, Barkett shook his head. “I don’t, I’m sorry. When she started shooting, I dove for cover and then ran like hell. I assume they started the fire, though. That’s the watchtower burning.”

  “Any idea where the other passengers are?”

  Barkett waved at the jungle. “Behind me. We should see them in a few minutes. It takes time to get down the path because of the land mines. There are lines strung all over that path.”

  “Any idea how many lines and at what levels?” Miguel said.

  “They seemed to run in patterns. Mostly low, but some higher up.”

  “Five to one, I’ll bet.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Barkett looked confused.

  “Five low lines, then one higher. It’s a good rule of thumb when stringing land mines.”

  Barkett stared at Miguel. “I’m a manager of a small office-supply store, so I’ll have to take your word on that.”

  Miguel smiled. “You’re making jokes. Guess you’re feeling better.”

  “Oh, yeah. Now that I’m with you guys, I’m feeling a whole lot better.”

  Miguel used the field phone to call for helicopter backup.

  “I expect to have most of the passengers here with me soon, but at least two are still out there. Cameron Sumner and Emma Caldridge.”

  “Mission’s over. We’ve already dispatched two copters to extract you. We’ll load up and that’s it,” a soldier with the Southern Command, and Miguel’s liaison, said.

  “Banner said I had twenty-four hours. These two managed to free the passengers, and they’re close. They deserve to be rescued.”

  “I don’t think you understand what’s happening. The cartels and the guerrillas are blanketing your area. Our helos have been fired on twice already. Frankly, they’re going to set down fast, load up, and get the hell out of there. I suggest that you do the same.”

  “And the two?”

  “The Colombian special forces are on their way.”

  “Are these the good ones, or the bad ones?” Miguel didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

  “I hear your frustration, Major, but there isn’t much we can do. The army has been ordered out of Colombia. We’re not wanted here.”

  “I want to talk to Banner. He’s in charge of this operation.”

  “His jurisdiction extends only as long as the Department of Defense wants it to.”

  “Has the DOD pulled the plug?” Miguel said.

  There was a short silence. Then the phone crackled. “Not yet, but we expect it to very soon. They’ve been negotiating with the pipeline executives. Apparently the executives believe that they will be summarily executed by the guerrillas once the special ops guys are pulled off the detail. The DOD agreed to evacuate them first out of the pipeline area.”

  “I need to speak to Banner.”

  “He’s not available.”

  “Then get Carol Stromeyer from Darkview on the phone and call me back when you have her.”

  Miguel snapped the phone shut.

  He turned to look at the passengers huddled together on the path. Kohl stood next to Boris, patting him on the head. Miguel waved him over.

  “We leaving without her, sir?” Kohl said.

  “Washington pulled the plug on Colombian aid, and Colombia pulled the plug on our mission. Helos are on the way to pick us up. I want you to load everyone on and stay with them until they are out of this godforsaken country.”

  “What about you?” Kohl said.

  “I’m waiting for a call from a very important woman.”

  Kohl stared at him for a moment. “If you stay, I stay.”

  Miguel shook his head. “You can’t stay. It would be in defiance of a direct order from Southcom.”

  “Isn’t that what you’re doing?” Kohl said.

  “I’m falling back on a technicality. I’m operating under different orders issued by Edward Banner under a joint operation between the DOD and his private security company.”

  “I don’t see how that changes anything,” Kohl said.

  “I haven’t been ordered out by Banner yet.” At least that’s what Miguel would argue if and when he would be dragged in front of the powers that be. He was pretty sure Banner would cover his ass.

  “I’m not leaving,” Kohl said.

  Miguel sighed. “Don’t get stubborn on me. I’m old enough to get out without much flak. You’re too young to mess up your career.”

  “I’m not leaving until we find Ms. Caldridge, sir!” Kohl snapped to attention and stared forward.

  The phone rang, sparing Miguel from having to respond.

  “Let me guess, you want to stay until the party’s over.” Carol Stromeyer’s voice poured out from the field phone.

  “Yes, ma’am, I do,” Miguel said.

  “Don’t you ma’am me.”

  Miguel grinned at the phone. “Banner led me to believe that I have some more time. Do I?”

  “Hold on a sec.” There was a clicking noise in the background as Stromeyer typed on her keyboard.

  “Technically, the order to suspend your rescue operation has not come down.”

  “Excellent,” Miguel said.

  “But I can’t assure you of any further support from Southcom once those extraction helos leave. That’s the bad news.”

  “What’s the good news?”

  Miguel heard some more clicking noises from Stromeye
r’s keyboard. “Under a general order issued to Darkview as an authorized contractor, Banner has the authority to man and run a covert operation and two helicopters into any listed hot area in cases of an emergency.”

  “Is Colombia listed as a hot area?”

  “It is.”

  “Great! Can you send them in to get me in, say, twenty hours?”

  “The bad news—”

  “Wait, you already gave me the bad news.”

  “The other bad news is that the helicopters can be manned only by Darkview personnel. No regular army.”

  “Just a private company running a private operation, huh?”

  “You got it. No chance of the host nation getting their panties in a bunch over what might be viewed as unauthorized U.S. military involvement.”

  “Any Darkview personnel available to run the operation?” Miguel heard the whap whap sound of a helicopter’s propellers in the distance.

  “Plenty, but Banner gave me strict orders not to let any of them go. He said he wouldn’t be responsible for their deaths.”

  Miguel sighed. “Can I speak to Banner? Do you think he’ll change his mind if I tell him I’m not leaving?”

  “I’ll ask him. When I do, I’ll get back to you.” Stromeyer rang off.

  Over the next hour the passengers straggled into the clearing. Each one cried when they saw the soldiers. A short reconnaissance revealed ten more wandering in the jungle, all still with their arms tied in front of them. It was as if they had no energy to free themselves. Twenty minutes later, eight others appeared on the path. All of them greeted Miguel and his men with a tired elation. Two women started crying in relief. The entire group acted as though the ordeal was as good as over.

  Miguel didn’t have the heart to tell them that the firepower of a small army was headed their way.

  38

  LUIS STOOD IN THE JUNGLE AND WATCHED THE WATCHTOWER burn, pinpointing their location like a huge torch. Mathilde and a somewhat recovered Alvarado stood next to him.

  “Now the Cartone cartel comes, eh?” Mathilde said.

  “Time for us to go get our ace in the hole,” Luis said.

  Alvarado hid his dismay at Luis’s comment. His “ace in the hole” was an asset that he’d sworn he wouldn’t use until things were dire indeed.

  “That is a drastic measure, Luis. Do you think it is necessary?” Alvarado said.

  “You tell me, Alvarado,” Luis said. He pointed to the sky. In the distance, just emerging from the dawn mist, flew a Blackhawk helicopter.

  “The Americans,” Mathilde said.

  “So soon they found us?” Alvarado was shocked. “Luis, you said they would never track us.”

  Luis gave Alvarado a measured look. “Are you afraid, Alvarado?”

  Mathilde eyed Alvarado.

  Alvarado watched Luis finger the hilt of the knife he kept attached to his belt.

  “Let’s go get your ace in the hole, Luis.”

  “And when we are done, Luis, we find that gringo woman,” Mathilde said. “She must be killed, Luis. I hate her.”

  “Yes, Mathilde, we will kill her and the man.”

  Alvarado sucked in his breath. “Luis, think. We can’t kill her. She’s worth too much.”

  “I want her dead, Luis,” Mathilde said.

  Alvarado started to protest.

  Luis put up a hand to quiet him. “We find the woman, get the Americans that want her to come with the money, and when they do, we ambush them and kill them all, including the woman. Is this sufficient for you, Alvarado?”

  “Yes. But we kill the man, too.”

  Mathilde’s eyes shifted to the side, and she said nothing. Rodrigo didn’t notice her reaction, but Alvarado did. His stomach twisted with jealousy.

  “We should kill the man, too. Shouldn’t we, Mathilde?” Alvarado prodded her.

  Mathilde shrugged. “It is no concern of mine.”

  Alvarado lit a cigarette and watched the sky.

  39

  BANNER LISTENED TO MR. CALDRIDGE’S STORY FROM BEGINNING to end without interruption. Stromeyer had produced a cup of the strongest coffee he’d ever had outside of Europe and sat in a nearby chair while the story unfolded. Banner said nothing for a few minutes after Mr. Caldridge was finished. Stromeyer let him think, not speaking. It was just one of the things that made her invaluable to him—her ability to gauge what he needed at just the right time.

  “Where have you been staying?” Banner said to Mr. Caldridge.

  “Here and there. I took a drive up the East Coast. I was headed to Jacksonville when I heard about the plane going down.”

  Banner nodded. “Why don’t you continue that way. Stay out of sight.”

  “What about my daughter? What do you intend to do?”

  Banner stood up to escort the man to the door. “I intend to get her out of there.”

  Mr. Caldridge gave Banner a frank, assessing look. “Then I guess I can’t ask for more. You strike me as the kind of man who does what he says he will. But just remember, she’s as smart as they come and stubborn as hell. She won’t quit until she’s completed whatever she went down there to do. And she won’t let anyone control her. Those DOD men made a mistake when they messed with her.”

  Banner smiled. “Spoken like a father who knows his daughter.”

  Mr. Caldridge nodded. “She’s special. Bring her home.”

  When Mr. Caldridge was gone, Banner turned to Stromeyer.

  “I have to wonder about Margate’s order to pull everyone out of Colombia, including Miguel and his troops. He knows that Caldridge and Sumner are still stuck down there, but he doesn’t seem to care.”

  “It’s one way to isolate her. Gets us out of the way so he can track her down,” Stromeyer said. “And now a comment made by Caldridge’s boss keeps circling through my head. He said that the Mondrian Chemical Company was looking to license her new plant-altering technology.”

  Banner finished the coffee and reached for the carafe sitting on the table. At least he thought it was a carafe. It looked like a piece of modern art.

  “Wasn’t Margate a member of the Mondrian board of directors before he took his political post?” Banner said. He tried to pour the carafe, but nothing came out. “Damn, is the coffee gone? That was the best pot I’ve had in days.”

  Stromeyer reached over and unscrewed the cap two turns. “You have to open it first. How is it you can pilot anything that flies, shoot every weapon invented, and kick the shit out of most men, but you can’t operate a coffee carafe?” She picked up the pot and refilled Banner’s cup. “And yes, Margate was a member of Mondrian’s board.”

  “I can’t open the carafe because it’s a ridiculous design.” He took a sip of the coffee. “I don’t like the connection between Margate and Mondrian. It stinks, doesn’t it?”

  Stromeyer nodded. “Yes, it does. But the real question is, what are we going to do about it?”

  Banner downed the cup. “Can you keep our contract alive for a few more days? Slow the withdrawal order somehow?”

  He watched Stromeyer ponder his question. “I used to date a man who’s now the undersecretary to the Office of Diplomatic Security. Its jurisdiction runs to contracted security forces in foreign nations. If the DOD pulls our contract, he could issue one of his own. I’ll call him.”

  Banner frowned. “I don’t want to put you in an awkward position.”

  Stromeyer grinned. “Not at all. He’s a nice man.”

  Banner felt annoyed. “Fine. Just don’t let him blackmail you into anything.” He put the coffee cup down with just a little more force than was necessary. Stromeyer raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. Amusement danced in her eyes. Which annoyed him more. He tamped down the emotion.

  “I’ll get ready to head out.” He’d made it to the door, when Stromeyer called to him.

  “Banner.”

  He turned.

  She looked grim. “Be careful down there.”

  All his annoyance melted away. “I
will. Thanks.”

  40

  EMMA RAN UNTIL SHE SAW A HUT. ITS TIN ROOF SHONE IN THE sun. The house sat at the end of a field of coca.

  “Great. Another coca farmer,” she muttered. She didn’t hear the footsteps behind her until it was too late.

  It was a woman, one of the indigenous peoples. She wore roughhewn clothes that appeared homemade, and she carried a cloth bag slung over her shoulder. Her brown hair flowed down her back, like a young woman’s, but her eyes held the sad, somber look of a much older person. She stared at Emma, a wary look on her face. She glanced at the gun slung over Emma’s back.

  “I’m from the U.S. I need to talk to the police,” Emma said.

  The woman said nothing.

  Emma’s Spanish was nonexistent. When she’d moved to Miami, she had intended to take a language course, but somehow life had gotten in the way and she never found the time for it. Now she wished she had.

  “Do you have any food?” She mimed eating.

  The woman nodded and waved Emma toward her. She turned and headed into the jungle, following a small footpath no wider than her shoulders.

  Emma followed the woman for half an hour, before she came upon a small village. Several children, also in homespun clothes, ran around in circles, barefoot in the dirt. Six huts, all in a semicircle, formed a small encampment. A fire burned merrily in the center. It was all Emma could do not to run to it and drop before it. Despite the heat of the jungle, she felt chilled to the bone. The woman watched her, a curious look on her face. Two children ran up to her, one about six and the other four. The woman seemed too young to have children that age or that many. She might have been twenty years old. The camp was devoid of men or any other women.

  “Are the men out planting?” Emma said. She pretended to rake the soil.

  The woman nodded.

  The children stopped playing and surrounded Emma.

  “Candee! Candee!” they said. They held out their hands.

  Emma laughed. “The universal child’s word, eh?”

  She plunged a hand in the pockets of her cargo pants. Luis and his men had taken her wallet, passport, and cell phone. They’d left the lipstick testers, two packets of gum, and a roll of mints.