Storm Surge (Delta Stevens Crime Logs Book 6)

by Alex Westmore

  She pointed to the person in the middle and said, “Delta.” Then, she wiped away each man, one by one, until there was none left. Itka looked at her and nodded solemnly. Perhaps his thirst for revenge was not so deep as his desire to see that Shaman received a proper burial, which would be very hard to do if all the warriors were with Delta. She had gotten them into this; she would get them out of it. Period.

  Rising, she pointed to the hut and followed Itka back to the center of the room. If it were possible, Shaman looked worse after just a few minutes.

  Opening one eye, he coughed, rolled his head, and spat blood into a gourd on the floor. Then, with all the effort his dying body could exert, he pointed to his open eye before succumbing to unconsciousness again.

  “I am so very sorry,” Delta whispered, reaching out to touch his cheek. By tonight, he would be dead, and for what? For what?

  Backing respectfully out of the hut, Delta was surprised by two warriors who motioned for her to follow. On the other side of the bonfire sat a prune-faced little man mixing something in a bowl. As much as she wanted to, she did not have time for another ceremony. She wanted revenge against the bastards who could do that to an old, harmless man. She wanted to fertilize the jungle floor with their body parts, water the plants with their blood. She wanted death.

  Delta knew she had it in her. It was that dark side of her character she questioned most.

  Delta had killed men before and had struggled in the aftermath with the notion that it made her a killer—no different from the scumbags she arrested. Delta knew the taste of death; she knew what it took to snuff the life from a man. More importantly, Delta knew she had it in her to bring down Zahn and his men; to shed their blood, to extinguish their lives.

  At that moment, Delta knew it was time to come to terms with the truth about her soul, the truth that Delta Stevens was capable, and willing, to kill again. Perhaps that was what being a warrior really meant.

  Standing in front of the prune-faced man, Delta realized this was no ritual. The little man had prepared for her curare tips. Poisoned arrows. He handed her a bag of arrows and a blowgun before dipping his fingers into some bluish muck. Stepping up to her, he opened her shirt and smeared the paint over the top of her chest. She still carried a light blue line from the last body paint job she’d received from the Bri. It must have worked, because two bullets and a 300-foot drop later, she was still here to talk about it.

  When the man finished painting her chest, he chanted a few words, sprinkled something that smelled suspiciously like marijuana over her shoulders, and tapped her with a stick. When he was finished, he turned her toward the other two warriors, who inspected her arrows and nodded. Flora’s arrows passed inspection, and they added the curare tips to her quiver and handed her the blowgun. She was their warrior now, outfitted with their weapons, protected by their gods. Delta was the only one who could bring them the justice they deserved, and she relished the thought of administering that justice.

  Armed with a knife, a bow, a blowgun, and poison tips, Delta was at last ready to take on General Zahn. Now she just needed to find out where he was.

  “Where are they?” Connie asked as she paced back and forth in the little house Bianca’s uncle owned. It was a nice place, actually, with a screened-in porch, a beautiful pocket garden, and an airy, open kitchen. It was too hot to cook indoors, so most kitchens in Costa Rica were set up on the porch, where people from all over would gather to share stories, drink cervezas, and enjoy each other’s company.

  “It’s only been three hours since you arrived, and you’ve been here before. Rivas is not so easy for others to find.”

  Connie stopped pacing and stared at Bianca.

  “Sixteen,” Bianca answered before Connie could ask. “And age doesn’t matter.” Bianca turned from the window and grabbed some nuts for Kiki. “They’ll get here. If they’re anything at all like Delta.”

  Connie sat in front of Eddie and dialed up the Internet using the phone line while Bianca looked at the screen over her shoulder. Though Costa Rican by birth, Bianca’s father was a Canadian diplomat, and she attended one of the finest boarding schools in Canada.

  “The net, eh? Cool. What are you looking for?”

  Connie quickly jumped out of the Internet and accessed some other online screen. “Not looking. Manipulating.”

  “My computer teacher at school says that data stored is data changed.”

  Grinning, Connie nodded. “Something like that.”

  Bianca glanced out the window and announced the arrival of a jeep. “Someone’s here!”

  Connie leaped from the chair and ran to the door.

  “It’s some cute guy.”

  Opening the screen door, Connie held it ajar for Carducci. “I was getting worried,” she said, peeking in the bag he was carrying.

  “I suspected a tail, so I drove around for a while.”

  “A tail? You sure?”

  Carducci nodded. “Yeah, but these guys suck. They may as well be wearing signs.”

  “So you lost them?”

  Carducci nodded. “Absolutely.” Carducci suddenly saw Bianca, and his whole demeanor changed. “Well, hello there.”

  Connie shook her head, remembering what a boy he often was. “Tony, this is Bianca. Manny’s little sister.”

  Tony, surprisingly, caught Connie’s inflection. “How little?”

  Bianca took Tony’s hand and shook it. “Never mind.”

  Connie shook her head. “Sixteen, Tony.”

  Carducci released Bianca’s hand as if he’d been burned.

  “I’m sixteen, cowboy. It doesn’t mean I bite.”

  Connie chuckled as she moved the bag’s contents around so she could see everything in it. More ammo, more supplies. He and Josh had done an excellent job of seeing they were well armed.

  “I’m surprised the others aren’t here,” Carducci said, “man, is this place bee-u-tee-ful or what? Wish this were a vacation.” Carducci looked out the window at the variety of plant life, and shook his head. “This sure isn’t like San Jose. But then, I guess a capital is a capital no matter what country you’re in.” Watching children playing by a rushing creek, he sighed. “As weird as this is gonna sound, it sure is peaceful here.”

  Bianca walked up to him and looked out the window. “Here in Rivas, or here in Costa Rica?”

  “Both,” Carducci answered without looking at her. He couldn’t stop staring at an orange flower nestled in the crook of a tree branch next to an enormous pink flower.

  “Rest up, Tony, because the jungle you’re about to enter is just as dangerous as it is beautiful.”

  Bianca nodded. “Just remember that the brightest colored creatures are the most venomous. Don’t be afraid of the green or brown animals or insects, but stay away from anything blue, yellow, or red.”

  Carducci sat on the worn couch and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Well, that’s easy to remember. In my life, it seems everything that’s good-looking is dangerous.”

  Connie thwacked him on the back of the head. “You’re impossible. You know that, don’t you?”

  Carducci nodded. “So I’ve been told.”

  It would have been nearly impossible for Delta to decide which way the Colombian camp lay. The two warriors who had escorted her out of the village had managed to find the old camp, but it had already been abandoned. Wherever Zahn and his men were, Delta didn’t have a clue as to which direction they might have gone.

  After rifling through the old camp, Delta turned to the two warriors and signaled for them to return to the village. Shaman’s burial ceremony could not begin without them, and Delta knew in her heart that the old man was dead. He needed his warriors more than she did. With a slight reluctance, the two men shook her hand before disappearing quietly into the jungle.

  Sitting on a log about one hundred yards from the old camp, Delta could hear the loud cawing from the scarlet macaws as they flew overhead. She didn’t blame Megan for her involvement in pr
otecting such a grand species from extinction; especially after Delta had seen the way the birds were treated after being caught by greed-driven poachers.

  Delta had been pleased that Megan had found a cause she could get involved in, even to the point of risking her life. It had helped Megan to understand why Delta loved her job so much, and why she was willing to take the risks she took.

  Fanning herself with a palm leaf, Delta rose and decided she would travel to her left; a decision she always made whenever there was doubt and boy, was she suffering from a huge case of it now.

  Before she could take five more steps, she heard the sound of one single, measured macaw screech.

  Turning completely around, Delta was surprised to see a single, scarlet macaw perched on a palm branch about twenty feet off the ground. Delta knew they mated for life, and if they aren’t mated, they hang out with other single macaws. Rarely do they travel alone, unless… No, her mind rejected that thought immediately.

  Delta walked closer and squinted to get a better view of the bird, which stood proudly in the sunlight, its yellow and blue wings spread wide as if to get her attention. It was unusual to see one down so low, since they favored the warmth and safety of the top branches. It wasn’t until the bird turned its head that Delta jumped back. “You!” she said, seeing the one eye. Could this possibly be the same bird she had saved from the poachers? No, that would just be too much of a coincidence.

  Then she remembered.

  Shaman had pointed to his one good eye shortly before she left. He was trying to tell her something. He had called this bird, and it had come to help her. Delta did not question how she knew this, any more than she would have questioned her instinct on her beat. It was an inexplicable knowing, like a mother’s sense when her child is injured or ill. There were some things that science just couldn’t explain. This was one of them.

  Delta had been a non-believer and a disbeliever of a thousand things in her life, until she became a Bri. In that single, mind-jarring, life-changing ceremony, Delta learned there were things to believe in, and she believed them. All of them.

  Stepping as close to the bird as she dared, Delta smiled up as it blinked its one good eye at her.

  “Hello, again,” Delta said quietly. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.”

  The bird made little grinding noises with his beak before ruffling its feathers. It looked much healthier than it did the day Delta and Connie had cut duct tape off its beak and feet after saving it from the poachers. Megan had explained that domestically bred Scarlets might cost anywhere from one to three thousand dollars in the States, but an illegally imported one sold for only hundreds. It was illegal as hell, but poaching was still alive and well in the jungle.

  “So,” Delta said. “What now?”

  On cue, the bird flew to a tree fifty yards away, perched, cawed, and waited. As soon as Delta caught up, it took flight to the next tree. They did this dance for nearly three hours until the macaw landed on a branch with its head turned in one direction. It appeared that this was the end of the line, and Delta looked up at the macaw and smiled.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, and then, as if it had accomplished its task, it ruffled its feathers once more, shook out its long, scarlet tail and took flight.

  “Thank you all,” Delta whispered, to the macaw, to Shaman, to Miles. When she looked up, she saw the entrance heavily guarded to Zahn’s camp. All she had to do now was get to that phone and let someone, anyone, know she was alive.

  “You still alive?” Connie asked Tony as she shook him awake.

  “Huh? What?”

  “Josh and Sal just arrived, and Josh wants to see you outside.”

  Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Carducci padded barefoot through the front door.

  “You look worried,” Bianca said, watching Connie stare out the window.

  “I’ll be better once Megan and Taylor get here.”

  Bianca set a glass of lemonade by the computer as Connie returned to the table to put Eddie through his paces. “You know, I hesitated coming back here. I honestly didn’t want to put you in the middle of anything.”

  Bianca poured herself a glass of lemonade and stood next to Connie. “If innocent people are being killed and my brother chooses not to help them, then he’s made the wrong choice. Maybe I’m the balance of the universe. You know, offsetting the things he does.”

  Connie grinned as her fingers flew across the keyboard. “How’d you get so smart?”

  Bianca shrugged. “Old soul.”

  Carducci re-entered and pulled up a chair next to Connie. “Weapons are ready. Josh and Sal are going to fill the canteens.”

  Bianca quickly chugged her lemonade and wiped her mouth with the back on her band. “We’re on our way. It will only take about thirty minutes to get everything ready.”

  As Bianca headed for the door, Connie called to her. “Bianca?”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re right, you know.”

  Bianca grinned. “I know.”

  “Bright kid,” Carducci said, drinking from Connie’s glass. “Hard to believe she’s just sixteen.”

  Connie nodded. “There’s a lot that’s hard to believe down here.”

  “I’ll say. Are you all set?”

  Connie cocked her head to one side and studied him for a moment. She was liking him more and more. “Yeah, so far. I think that should do it. All we need is the rest of our little party, and we’re set.”

  “Great. I’m itching to get going. You think Gina and Logan have hooked up yet?”

  Connie shrugged. She hated the thought of sending Gina to the Caribbean side of the country all alone, but they had little choice. They couldn’t afford to cut any of the others loose.

  Connie’s plan was simple. Gina and Logan would wait off the coast on a fishing boat until they saw the flare. Then, they would send multiple faxes to every national and international police agency in Latin America, telling them of a paramilitary group in the jungle that was using Costa Rica as the staging area for drug sales. That way, if this whole thing turned sour on them, there would be some serious help; somebody out there would do something or, at the very least, investigate the claim. The faxes would be untraceable, and the little rescue troop would be able to slip into the Caribbean virtually unnoticed.

  It was a good plan, but Connie knew no plan was foolproof, and this one, especially. There were simply too many variables.

  Carducci looked at the screen. “So, is that what you’ve been doing, pounding on the keyboard, finding numbers for government agencies?”

  Connie grinned and nodded. “May the wonders of the information super highway never cease to exist.”

  “Con, it’s a good plan. I sure hope it works.”

  Connie turned and stared at him. “Are you having doubts?”

  Carducci leaned forward. “Frankly, yes. I don’t like the idea of women going into this kind of no-holds-barred combat, if you know what I mean.”

  Connie rolled her eyes. “Tony, your macho slip is showing.”

  “My… oh, I get it.” Carducci blushed. “Sorry. Bad habit. Delta hasn’t managed to break them all, you know.”

  “You know, Tony,” Connie said. “It’s quite possible we could get in and out without killing anyone.”

  Carducci shook his head. “When pigs fly. There’s no way those guys are going to let us waltz in there and take their laborers. No, I’ll be surprised if all of us make it out alive.”

  As much as she didn’t want to hear the truth, Connie couldn’t disagree with him. Unless there was a more peaceful, quiet way to go about this, guns were going to blast, bullets would be fired, and people were going to die. She just hoped it wouldn’t be any of them.

  Carducci studied Connie for a moment before sighing.

  “What’s on your mind, Tony?”

  Carducci looked down at his bare feet as a pink tint rose on his cheeks.

  Connie nodded to him. “What’s going on?”

&n
bsp; Carducci very quietly said, “I was just wondering, you know, about the baby?”

  Connie turned to fully face him. “What about her?”

  The pink tint suddenly darkened. “Aren’t you worried? I mean, you know how kids are. They can be so mean.”

  Connie smiled warmly at Carducci. “You think the kids will be mean because she’s going to be raised by two moms?”

  Carducci nodded.

  “Tony, kids are being raised by all kinds of configurations now. Blended families, single parents and their children living together, even communes haven’t died out completely. This child won’t suffer any more than a kid being raised by just a dad or a grandparent.”

  Carducci sighed. “I just hate the thought of kids coming down on her, that’s all.”

  Connie smiled at him. Delta may not have broken him of all his bad habits, but she had certainly opened up his little mind. “People, in general, are cruel, Tony. It takes a village to raise a child. Our baby will be surrounded by people who love us and who will adore her. By the time she’s old enough to go to school, she’ll know the good people from the jerks.”

  Carducci nodded as he listened. “What if it’s a boy?”

  “Are you speaking in terms of a role model?”

  He nodded.

  “There will be plenty of those, regardless of the baby’s gender. What makes a good role model has nothing to do with gender. It has to do with ethics, morals, and principles. Our child will have many good, loving role models, like yourself.”

  Carducci’s face lit up. “Really?”

  “Hell, yes. Tony, you didn’t have to come down here and risk your life, but you did because you’re a good person and you care. You’re just the kind of person I want around my child.”

  The kindness of Connie’s words turned the pink to a dark red, as an ear-to-ear smile spread across his face. “Wow. You mean, you’d let me take him to a ballgame or out to shag flies or fishing?”

  Connie laughed. “Well, I don’t know what shagging flies is, but as long as it isn’t pulling their little wings off, sure, why not?”