by Chuck Holton
“Yeah, remember what happened in training?”
Footsteps sounded on the stairs as Coop and Doc came to investigate.
Rip stepped up to the window and pulled out his tactical flashlight. Its xenon beam illuminated a crumpled red-haired woman chained to a pipe in the far corner of the room, squinting up at them as if she’d been awakened from a deep sleep.
Excitement and dread mixed in his chest to make breathing difficult. That’s Phoenix, all right.
Then her eyes went wide, and she tried to say something, but Rip couldn’t hear her through the door. He turned to the other men. “Shut up for a minute, man! She’s talking.”
The team listened. Phoenix was shaking her head. Then she croaked, “Don’t open the door!”
Rip craned his neck to peer through the little window, shining his light around the inside of the room. In the corner opposite Phoenix, he spied the pile of explosives, and his mouth went dry.
“Guys, this place is wired to blow.”
Panama City
HELP THEM.
Fernanda sat straight up in bed. Until that moment she’d been enjoying her first real sleep in a week, brought on by a shower and a mug of chamomile tea.
What is it? She looked around the darkened room, straining her ears for any sound other than the tick-tick-tick of the overhead fan. Nothing. But what had awakened her?
You must help them.
It was just a whisper of a thought, but the command was unmistakable. She blinked and rubbed her face with one hand, annoyed with herself for not being able to turn it off—the worry, the sense of dread. She looked over at the clock—4:37 a.m.
She flopped back down on the pillow and shut her eyes tight. Just stop thinking. You have to stop these thoughts from twirling around. Let it go!
She pulled the pillow over her head, trying to shut out the need to constantly be doing something. She had to get some rest or she would die.
I’ve done all I can. What more can I do? She couldn’t stand the helpless feeling. Just days ago she’d lamented about having so much, but now it seemed that everything she had was worthless. Nothing she owned could fix the situation for Zack and Carlos. Not her money, not her looks. Not even her education. Hope for her friends being found alive was waning by the hour.
The whisper got louder.
Help them.
She pulled the pillow back and sighed. “What can I do?” She didn’t feel wealthy anymore. Or smart. She felt like the little girl back in Santa Catalina—dirty, hungry, poor beyond words.
God had never felt so far away. “What you have loses its value if it isn’t shared.”
Was that it? She’d never shared her faith? Could faith lose its value?
You admit to being a Christian, but have you ever told anyone why?
A tear rolled down her cheek, losing itself in her hair.
But I’m a good person! I don’t drink, sleep around … Isn’t that enough proof of my faith?
Just having to ask the question was all the answer that was necessary. She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow.
Hedi was a good person too, but she’d never been to church. In fact, lots of people avoided vice for a thousand different reasons apart from a faith in God, so was her life really that different? What is faith worth, really, if it’s nothing more than a convenient excuse to pass on a beer now and then? If she was a health nut instead of a Christian, wouldn’t her life look the same?
She’d never told Hedi what being a Christian meant to her. Or Carlos or Alex. How many hours had she spent with them in the last year? Had she ever once mentioned to either of them the relationship with Christ that had changed her life?
Or to Rip?
“What you have loses its value if it isn’t shared.”
Fernanda thumped the mattress with her fist. “How?” The question echoed off the walls of her tiny bedroom. “How do I share it with them? I might never see any of them again!”
Pray. The prodding was more insistent this time.
Her heart pounded in her rib cage, almost as if it had an urgent message to deliver.
Pray? How is that sharing my faith?
An image flashed in her mind, an image from the island.
It was Rip, smiling at her just after she thanked him for saving her life. What had he said?
“Maybe someday you’ll return the favor.”
Understanding hit her with the force of a blow. This is urgent.
She had to pray. Now.
She swung out of bed and went to her knees.
“Just leave me and go!” Mary’s hoarse voice pleaded through the door.
Rip and Coop looked at each other. “We both know that’s not going to happen,” Coop said. “But maybe we shouldn’t keep everyone down here, just in case.”
Rip nodded. “I’m staying, bro.”
“Me too,” Frank said.
“I ain’t leavin, boss,” Sweeney drawled.
“I guess we’re all staying then,” Doc said.
Coop shook his head, his face a determined block of granite. “Look, men, there’s not room for everyone down here. I know we all want to stay, but we still have work to do. Frank, I want you to go up and photograph everything in sight, get some video, then get outside with that camera. Sweeney, go back outside with Doc and pull security while you send the major a sitrep. Tell them we’re going to need a medevac one way or another. Rip and I’ll figure out a way to get her out.”
Nobody budged for a moment. Then Frank pulled the camera from his vest and held it out to Coop. “I respect your wishes, but I think you have to admit that I know more than anybody about these kinds of devices. So I should stay with Rip and you take the pictures.”
Coop stared for a second, his expression intense, his jaw muscles tight. “Okay. You’re right.” He took the camera and headed down the hall. “Sweeney, Doc, let’s go. Frank, I’ll be back to check on you two in a few minutes.”
Doc Kelley and Sweeney both frowned at each other. Then the medic looked back at Rip and Frank. “You guys stay safe, okay?”
“Yeah, git ’er done,” Sweeney said, as he slapped Rip on the shoulder. The two turned and jogged back upstairs.
“All right, bro. What are we going to do?”
Frank sucked his teeth for a second. “Let’s see what Phoenix can tell us.”
Rip dropped to the prone and shone his light under the door. There was about a quarter-inch gap. “Hey, Phoenix, it’s Rip. Can you hear me?”
“Don’t open the door, Rip. There’s a laser beam across it that will detonate the explosives.” Mary’s voice was shaky.
“Okay, just tell me exactly what you see.”
“First tell me what time it is.”
Frank checked his watch. “It’s 4:53.”
“There’s only a few minutes left. Please go. There’s no way you can get in here before it explodes.”
Rip shook his head. “Just tell me what you see. Hurry.”
Mary quickly described the setup. “I can’t see much now, though, because the lights went out. But it’s just a cheap laser pointer. The batteries might go out any second anyway.”
“How far is the beam away from the door?” Frank asked.
“It’s hard to tell. Maybe four inches?”
“Far enough to get the door open a crack?”
“Maybe. Like I said, I can’t see it now.”
Frank pushed to a sitting position and leaned against the wall. “If breaking the laser beam will set off the explosives, there’s no way for us to get the door open unless we can move the laser to the other side of the door without moving the beam. That would be nearly impossible, and I wouldn’t even try it without being able to take a good look at the diode that it’s pointed at. Some of those things can get pretty tricky.”
Rip sat up too. “We have the saw. Why don’t we just cut a hole in the top of the door above the laser beam and climb in that way?”
Frank shook his head. “That’s too risky. I
f even one piece of debris from the door falls through that beam, we’re toast. Even smoke or sparks could set it off. If the beam was up high, we could cut under it, but as it is …”
Rip snapped his fingers, then dropped back to the prone, speaking under the door. “Hey, Phoenix, how high off the ground is the laser?”
“He set it on a box, but it’s still pretty low. Maybe eight inches?”
Rip looked up at Frank. “What if we cut a few inches off the bottom of the door? That would give us enough room to get a look at what we’re dealing with.”
“That might work, but even the vibration from the saw could set off the explosives. You want to run it by Coop?”
“Nah, let’s get on with it. She said he used a standard laser pointer. We don’t know how much time those batteries will last.” He stood and reached for the saw. He knocked on the door. “It’s gonna get loud for a minute, Phoenix!”
Then the light came on. Literally. The bare bulb in the hallway burned to life, and the fluorescent lights inside the room flickered on.
“Hey, how about that?” Frank said. “Light!”
Coop’s voice echoed down the stairs. “I found the generator. How’s it coming down there?”
“That will help!” Frank shouted back.
Rip stood up and looked through the door at Phoenix. “Hola, chica.” He smiled.
“Get me out of here.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Listen.” Phoenix brushed her hair away from her face with her still-bound hands. “I can see it better now. The laser is about four inches away from the door. You might be able to get it open just a little. I’m not sure how that will help, though.”
Rip looked down at Frank. “Want to give it a try?”
“Sure. Everybody’s got to die somehow.”
“Shut up, bro.” Rip carefully turned the knob on the door and shouted at Phoenix. “I’m going to open it a couple of inches to see what we’re dealing with.”
“Be careful!”
Rip eased the door open about an inch. He and Frank peered through the gap.
“Okay.” Frank looked carefully at the device. “I see it now. Looks like a rudimentary photocell. A cheap one at that. That’s the good news. It’s not very sophisticated. The bad news is, it’s tiny.”
“How do we disable it?” Rip asked.
“We don’t have time. The light hitting the cell keeps the current flowing, and when the light goes out, the impedance is greatly increased and the current stops. That must be what triggers the detonator. If we could move the laser, maybe we could get the door open and get Phoenix out.”
Rip thought for a moment. “What if we point a different laser at it? Would that set it off?”
“A second laser? Like your laser target designator?”
“Why not?”
“That might work. But there’d be no way of knowing until we actually tried, and if we’re wrong …”
Rip was still sweating. “We’re going to be in trouble any minute anyway, bro.”
“Okay, but our designators are infrared. That won’t do it. We need a visible laser.”
Rip’s eyebrows shot up. “Sweeney has one on his pistol.”
“I’ll get it.” Frank turned and dashed up the stairs.
Rip ran behind Frank to the top of the stairs, where he found Coop still taking pictures. “How’s it coming?” He asked Rip as Frank ran past him out the door and down the hallway, yelling for Sweeney.
“Get out, John! This thing could blow any minute!” Rip started tossing equipment on the floor, looking for something that would hold Sweeney’s laser stable in the correct position.
“What are you looking for?”
“A stable platform for the laser!”
Coop looked around him. “How about this?” He held up a wire clamp made for holding test tubes over a Bunsen burner.
Rip snatched it out of his hand. “Perfect. Now get out, bro. Seriously!”
Reluctantly, John jogged off toward the surface just as Sweeney came puffing down the corridor, disassembling his pistol on the run.
“Where’s Frank?” Rip said.
“Shut up. Take this.” Sweeney handed Rip the laser pointer.
The two men pounded down the stairs to the room where Phoenix was. “We’re gonna get you out, Mary!” Sweeney shouted through the door.
“Gimme your tape, Bobby.”
The muscular sergeant produced a small spool of green duct tape from his vest. “You’re lucky I carry all this high-speed stuff.”
Rip looked at the spool. “I hope this is enough.”
Dropping to their knees, the two soldiers taped the firing laser into the articulated clamp, then carefully slid it through the crack in the door.
“Hurry!” Mary pleaded.
Sweeney lined up the laser beam so it pointed exactly at the photocell.
“How stable is it?” Rip asked.
“As good as we’re going to get at this point.”
“Do you really think it’ll work?”
Sweeney gave him a grim smile and wiped his brow. “ ‘It’s appointed unto man once to die, and after that the judgment.’ ”
“What?”
Bobby shook his head. “Come on, man. Didn’t you ever go to Sunday school? It’s in the Bible.”
Gallows humor notwithstanding, Rip really wasn’t sure if he was ready to die. He said nothing for a long moment.
Am I ready? What will Mama do? And Gabi?
He looked back at Sweeney. “I never thought I’d hear you say that, but we’re in it now, bro. So let’s do it.”
Rip looked through the window again at Phoenix. “Okay, chica, we’re coming in. We’ll try to get you out as quickly as possible, all right?”
“Get on with it.” There was a note of resignation in her voice.
Rip held his breath and grasped the door handle, then pushed. The door swung inward.
Nothing happened.
“Gracias a Dios.” It was the most sincere prayer Rip had ever uttered.
“Let’s go!” Sweeney pushed the door open and went to Mary. “Get the saw, Rip.”
He picked up the cutoff saw and carried it inside.
Bobby was inspecting Mary’s wrists. “We don’t have time to try and get the cuffs off. There might be a secondary timer on the explosives. Just cut the pipe, and we’ll worry about the cuffs later.”
Rip hefted the saw. “Get ready, Mary. This is gonna get loud.” He pulled the starter and the saw roared to life. Sparks flew as he applied the blade to the metal pipe, making two quick cuts above and below her hands. Sweeney caught the piece in the middle and slid it out of the way.
Before he even had a chance to shut off the saw, Mary was already running for the door. “Come on!”
The two men pounded after her, up the steps, where she stopped to gape at the laboratory. “Oh my …”
Sweeney grabbed her arm and pulled her to the exit. “We got pictures! Keep going!”
Rip checked his watch as they ran out the door and down the hallway. 5:04 a.m.
As they sprinted into the first rays of morning, a rumble sounded in the earth.
Isla Coiba. 0545 hours
THE WIND SIGHED through the trees on the island, making them undulate in waves that matched the sea far below. The guttural shouts of a troop of howler monkeys floated down from the ridge overlooking the sea.
Birds of every color, impossibly bright, swirled in carefree circles overhead like sparks from a bonfire, their varied calls mixing into a riotous symphony of color and sound.
On the horizon, God was busy painting a masterpiece in an explosion of citrus hues as the morning sun exploded out of the horizon.
He stepped over the twitching body of the dark-skinned one, having said hello to the spirits on the man’s behalf. This one had fought his release from this world particularly hard, despite his bound wrists, which had been tied with the same sort of bracelets the girl had broken.
The dying man gurg
led a farewell to the island, and the Indian was alone again. He wiped his blade on a leaf and returned it to its place at his side. Then he picked up the machete from where he had left it.
After one last look at his victim, he turned and walked slowly to the rock that overlooked the edge of the earth. Far below him, the bitter water crashed against the rocks, singing to him in its own way. He let the song carry him back to his people, his village.
He would never see them again, for his life force was weakening. He was old, too old to hunt much longer. He had eluded the death-spirits for a time, but he could not run from them forever. They would find him.
He looked at the machete. It was heavy, and he did not like it. Besides, he had no way of keeping it sharp. He had survived for years without one, so with an underhanded toss, he watched it fall down, down, until it was swallowed by the waves.
Looking up, he saw birds silhouetted against the bright red orb of the sun as it crawled slowly out of the sea. He wished that he had been braver. Then perhaps he could have joined his fathers in the sun when it was his turn to leave the island. Now it would not be so.
But for the time being, he was at peace with himself and with his destiny. With one last look at the rising sun, he turned his back on it and melted into the jungle.
Panama City. 1800 hours
The waitress in the don’t-bend-over skirt leaned across the table to set the heavy platter of cheese-drenched french fries down where everyone could reach it.
The Artist Formerly Known as Prince crooned from the speakers overhead, a little too loud for Rip’s taste, not to mention about ten years behind the times. Actually, he would have much preferred to celebrate at one of several other restaurants anchoring the Multicentro Pacifico mall in downtown Panama City, but he and Fernanda had been outvoted by Hedi, Bobby, John, and Frank.
Nothing was going to ruin his mood tonight, though. It wasn’t just that surviving a life-or-death situation tended to make a guy appreciate everything a bit more. He put down the glass of Coke he’d been sipping and looked over at Fernanda.
She looked fantastic, sitting next to him in a simple scoop-neck yellow T-shirt and jeans. As far as he was concerned, she couldn’t have looked better in an evening gown.