Jungle Inferno

by Desiree Holt

  They all looked at each other, thinking the same thing. They’d done operations like this one dozens of times, always with precise planning and timing. But those had all been for people none of them had emotional ties to. This one was for Joey. The four men had been friends since college and Joey had been the little brother to all of them. The reality that he was now a highly trained sniper didn’t change the fact that to them he’d always be the kid with the freckles, and feet and hands he needed to grow into. It made them all the more determined to pull this off.

  “All right. When we get him back here we’ll work out the shifts. Tonight we’ll do one last check of the electronics and the perimeter security.” Dan picked up the papers from the table and held his hands out for the notes everyone had made. “Got it in your heads? Good.”

  He dumped all the papers in the fireplace and set a match to them. Mike went to the kitchen cupboard took down a bottle of bourbon and four shot glasses. They all raised their filled glasses in the signal of a toast. This would be the last drink any of them would take for a very long time.

  * * * * *

  Mr. Green and Mr. Brown sat in a Ford Expedition with blacked-out windows, in an isolated corner of Rock Creek Park.

  “I feel like a criminal,” Mr. Green said in a bitter tone.

  “You are a criminal,” Mr. Brown pointed out. “Or will be if we can’t put a lid on this whole thing.”

  Mr. Green reached for a cigarette, then remembered he wasn’t supposed to smoke anymore. What a hell of a time to quit. “This thing has been fucked from day one. We just should have figured out how to get the Wolf out of there and scatter Escobedo’s group. Halloran and his men would have found nothing, the mission would have been aborted and we’d be dining at Club 1776 instead of sitting in this stupid car like fugitives.”

  Mr. Brown cut him a derisive look. “Oh, yes, that would have been great. The Wolf does what he wants and Escobedo is…Escobedo.”

  “The serpent.” Mr. Green snorted. “He’s a snake, all right. Getting into bed with him makes me feel slimy.”

  “The money doesn’t seem to bother you,” his companion pointed out.

  “Whoever said money is the root of all evil certainly knew the man calling the shots on this.”

  Mr. Brown barked a laugh. “It’s from the Bible, a book that I’m sure you barely have nodding acquaintance with.”

  Mr. Green shifted in his seat. “We have to get Latrobe out of that hospital before he regains consciousness. I’ve got a place all picked out and the paperwork ready to transfer him. We should have moved him when I said to.”

  “Who knew the damn brother would show up out of the blue? He’s usually so far under the radar he’s invisible, so who in the hell called him?”

  “Someone else who’s worried about our boy for a different reason.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.” Mr. Brown stared through the windshield. “Either leaks are sprung in two directions, or someone’s got a damn good nose at sniffing things out. There’s absolutely no way anyone could get a smell of what’s going on.”

  “Well, either someone did or there are people out there smarter than we’d like to think.”

  “We’ll have to do it tomorrow.” Mr. Brown looked at his watch. “It’s noon. We’ll meet at this time tomorrow at the hospital. Lunch time there’s a lot of confusion and people don’t check things as carefully as they should. Or take time to make objections.”

  “What’s the big deal?” Mr. Green asked. “We’ve got the paperwork. We’re making an official transfer.”

  “I just don’t want to have too many people asking us questions.”

  “You’ve got the doc on standby?”

  Mr. Brown nodded. “And a list of what we’ll need. He’ll get the stuff tonight.”

  Mr. Green drummed his fingers on the dashboard. “Maybe we’d be a lot better just to get rid of the kid the way we planned.”

  Mr. Brown shook his head. “We have to find out if he knows who Halloran might be sending these crazy messages to. We can’t afford to have someone running around like a loose cannon digging into our business. There’s too much at stake.”

  Mr. Green sighed. “All right. Noon tomorrow. The ambulance will be waiting outside and the doc will bring a gurney up with him.”

  “Fine. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

  * * * * *

  Faith was consumed with frustration. Her body was still sore from the pain that had battered it, her mind was in turmoil and no matter in which direction she looked she couldn’t find a thing. Not a clue. Nothing. Apparently you couldn’t just find a website called SpecialOpsRUs and type in someone’s name.

  She’d found the scrap of paper on which she’d scribbled the name of Mark’s commanding officer and she knew he was based out of Fort Bragg. That was it. She should have been smart enough to figure out a click of the mouse wouldn’t just call up the names of the men in his unit. Secrecy meant exactly that—no exposure to public scrutiny.

  It took five tries for her to get through the switchboard at Fort Bragg and reach Major John Gregorio’s office, only to be told he was in a meeting and couldn’t be disturbed. She left her name and number with a pleading message that he call her. Four hours and several additional tries later she still hadn’t been able to speak with him.

  She did manage to cull a lot of general information from both the Special Ops and Fort Bragg websites. The members of SpecOps were considered the elite of the military—Army Rangers now members of Delta Force, SEALs, Force Recon Marines and a very few elite flyboys, all of them with a minimum of four to seven years experience in the service before their applications were even accepted.

  After a second period of selection and assessment, they entered the training that would include their own version of Hell Week, designed to prepare them to survive in any situation. They were then assigned to teams, each with a leader and began building the trust and relationships they would need to take into the dangerous, highly specialized missions that were the hallmark of SpecOps. This was the first time she’d actually understood what Mark did in the military and how hazardous his assignments were. No wonder he didn’t want to promise her anything in a situation where he felt he only contributed uncertainty and loneliness.

  Oh, Mark. I wish I’d known. I could have told you that any relationship with you was better than none.

  She learned one other fact from the Fort Bragg site, the Delta Force units based there were responsible for military actions in Central and South America. Swell. That was a whole hell of a lot of countries and no hint of where to start.

  Mark. Can you hear me? I’m trying. I swear to God. Can you just give me a little more of a hint? Please? I swear I won’t let you down. Somehow I’ll find you.

  By eight o’clock that night she was convinced she wouldn’t be hearing from Major Gregorio any time soon. That meant she’d need help getting in to see him. And help discovering who else was in Mark’s unit. Sighing she picked up the phone again. Time to reach out to people.

  * * * * *

  “I can’t believe I let you drag me away from my favorite television program to hack into government computers.”

  Andy Moreil sat hunched at Faith’s computer, fingers flying over the keys, a cold can of soda at his elbow. Four years ago when computer hacking had been at the core of one of her books, Faith had been referred to him as a resource and he’d given her more information that she’d ever use. Under the condition, of course, she never use his name. Andy did work for corporations and sometimes the government in the field of computer security.

  “If the people who pay me mucho bucks knew I was doing this, not only would they cut off my jobs they’d probably put me in jail.”

  “I swear on a pile of chocolate they’ll never hear it from me.” Faith replaced the empty can with a full one. Andy lived on caffeine, in any form, at any time.

  “Oh, right. That gives me a lot of comfort. You’d eat the chocolate before you ever got
to take an oath on it.” He snorted.

  “Never mind the bad jokes. Just see what you can find. Okay?”

  “Yeah. All right. Jeez.” He ran his hands through his spiky hair.

  Faith perched on the arm of the leather chair beside her desk and glued her eyes to the screen, watching as numbers and letters flew by with dizzying speed. Every so often a screen with a message would pop up. Andy would click some keys and he’d be off with the numbers and letters again.

  “How’s it coming?” she asked finally, unable to contain herself.

  “Holy cow, Faith. Don’t rush me. The government doesn’t make it easy for you to steal their information.”

  “I know, I know. I’m just…”

  “Impatient.” He grinned. “A terminal disease with you.”

  She jumped up and began pacing. “But this time it’s…”

  “It’s what?” he prompted when she didn’t go on.

  Personal, she wanted to say but she couldn’t. “It’s critical to my deadline,” she improvised.

  “Hah.” Andy swigged from the soda can. “When isn’t it? Quit marching around me like the infantry and I might get done sooner.”

  Faith dropped down into the big armchair but she couldn’t make herself relax into its soft leather embrace. She was as rigid as a guy wire and tense enough to nibble on her thumb.

  Mark. Can you hear me?

  Need you…can’t…bad.

  Faith nearly bolted out of the chair, shocked that he’d actually answered her.

  I’m here, I’m here. No one will tell me anything.

  Silence, while she twisted her fingers until they ached and tried to focus her mind to a narrow channel, blocking out all interference.

  Betrayed…can’t trust…

  Can’t trust who, Mark? Someone in your group? Your CO? Who?

  Don’t give up…

  Never. She pounded her small fist on the chair. Never, never, never.

  “Hey, Faith, banging on the chair isn’t helping,” Andy commented.

  “What?” The connection was broken as cleanly as if a thread snapped. Damn Andy, anyway.

  “I said, don’t beat up the furniture. Anyway, I’ve got something for you. Come take a look.”

  Faith went to peer over his shoulder, staring at the information on the screen. “Holy shit.”

  “Yup. I couldn’t get everyone in the Seventh Special Forces assigned there but I did manage to dig around, get the names of the men in Mark’s unit.” He glanced up at her. “That’s all you want anyway, right?”

  “Yes,” She exhaled a breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding. “Can you print this list out for me?”

  Andy hit a key and the printer began to make noises. “Anything else?”

  “Yes. I want you to do a check on each of these men and see if there’s any clue as to where they might be right now.”

  “Jesus, Faith, you don’t want much, do you?” He handed her the empty soda can. I should charge you more than a night’s worth of caffeine for this.”

  “Just…can you do it?”

  He rolled his neck and cracked his knuckles. “Can I do it? Hah. Andrew the Magnificent can do anything.” He accepted the fresh drinks she handed him. “But remember. I’ve got a time limit here. I stay in their system too long and their electronic patrols will catch me.”

  “Damn. Well, just get as much as you can before you have to log off.”

  She went back to pacing while Andy started clicking the keys again.

  “Oh, by the way,” he interjected. “The Seventh Special Forces are responsible for action in Central and South America. Did you know that?”

  “Yes, I did. Thanks but keep going.”

  An hour later Andy pressed the printer button again and sheets of paper began to roll out into the chair. At the same time he went through the process of backing out of the system, wiping away his electronic footprint. When the papers were finished he handed them to Faith.

  “All the men in his unit. Background, families, what have you.”

  Faith’s eyes widened. “You got all of this? How?”

  Andy grinned. “If I told you I’d have to kill you.”

  Faith scanned each of the sheets of paper. “There’s nothing recent on any of them,” she said slowly. “Except this Joey Latrobe. It says he’s at Walter Reed but it doesn’t say what for or how long he’s been there.”

  “You might be able to find out with a phone call. Maybe not.” Andy shrugged. “Depends why he’s there.” Andy stood up and finished the last of his soda. “I gotta call it a night.” He stared out the window. “Or morning, depending on your point of view. Got to meet with a new client at nine and I think at least a shower is in order.”

  “Yeah, yeah, knock ’em dead Andy.” Faith was already engrossed in studying the sheets, her mind spinning in a dozen different directions. “Thanks for everything.”

  “Talk at you soon,” he called as he let himself out. Midnight. No one she could call at this hour. Even a call to the hospital this late might raise someone’s suspicions. And the man she needed to speak to would still be lying in bed next to his wife, hoping today the alarm would let him sleep in.

  Finally deciding she ought to get some sleep herself, she dragged herself to her bedroom, lugging her pile of papers. Not even bothering to undress, she climbed into bed in her jeans and t-shirt, pulled the covers over her head and prayed for a dreamless night. But even as she tugged the covers tightly under her chin, the threads of a memorable weekend reached out to her.

  Chapter Eight

  Four Years Earlier

  The book signing at Barnes & Noble had gone exceedingly well. Faith always experienced warm satisfaction when readers flocked to her with great enthusiasm, discussing her characters as if they were personal friends. The journey from thought process to paper to the reader’s mind was often a convoluted one and she took great pleasure in knowing the end product produced pleasure and satisfaction for people.

  Today people had stood in line for three hours just to have her sign one of her books and maybe exchange a few words with her. The Community Relations Manager had hustled to set up coffee and cookies to feed the inner person of the people waiting, comfort food to take the edge off the long wait. By the time the last person had left, Faith was sure her face would crack from smiling. In addition to the people who came in person, there were more than one hundred pre-solds she signed before the event actually began. Tonight she’d be soaking her hand in a large bowl of ice.

  But she was pleased. Very pleased. The people at the store were beyond gracious and made everything as smooth as possible. But she’d be glad to get back to her hotel just the same. Abigail had found a sumptuous boutique hotel in Chapel Hill, about twenty minutes away. Built and decorated like a Tuscan villa, it offered every amenity a guest could wish for, including total privacy. Tonight she could order from room service and just veg out before she caught the plane home tomorrow.

  She’d wondered vaguely if Mark might show up. She’d sent him one of their by now usual mental messages and backed it up with an email. Usually they stayed away from electronic communications owing to the nature and secrecy of his position. No traces that way, he always said, even as innocuous as their messages might be.

  So she’d opened her mind and focused, hoping he’d get what she was saying. Of course, he could be anywhere in the world on assignment, concentrating on his job rather than nonsense from an old friend. But she could still hope.

  At last she was finished, all her thank yous said, a promise to return with her next release. Gratefully she headed to the parking lot in back, digging in her purse for her keys. When she looked up she almost dropped keys, purse and tote bag. Leaning against her rented SUV was Captain Mark Halloran, out of uniform, wearing slacks, a soft collared shirt and a huge shit-eating grin.

  Faith finally managed to close her mouth. “I was afraid you didn’t get my messages.”

  He uncrossed his arms, moved forward an
d took her tote bag and other gear from her. “You think I’d miss a chance to see my favorite author in my own backyard? Come on, let’s get you out of here. You must be exhausted.”

  Without objection she let him pluck the keys from her hand. Before she could blink she was buckled into the passenger seat and Mark was backing out of the parking lot.

  When she got her mouth to work at last, she asked, “How did you even know which car was mine?”

  He winked at her. “Abigail Loudon is susceptible to my charms. She even had her secretary call the rental agency and get the plate number.”

  Faith couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from her mouth. “So I guess this means you really wanted to see me.”

  The smile wiped itself from Mark’s face. “You have no idea, Tidbit. You just have no idea.”

  She frowned. “Why so serious?”

  “Later. First I think a drink is in order to celebrate the success of the famous author, Faith Wilding. I have some places in mind but where are you staying?”

  “The Siena in Chapel Hill. It’s not too far away and it gives me exactly what I want, besides every amenity in the world. Complete privacy.”

  “I’ve heard of it. Small and elegant.” He honked the horn at a truck that cut too close to their front bumper. “How’s their restaurant?”

  “I only had breakfast there but I think the chef is directly from heaven.”

  “Sold.” He clicked on the signal light and turned at the next corner. “Privacy is just what the doctor ordered.”

  At the Siena he handed her vehicle over to valet parking, then held the door to the lobby open for her.

  “I’d like to take these things up to my room first, if that’s okay. Want to come up with me?”

  He looked down at her, his eyes the dark blue of a storm-tossed ocean. Heat danced in them. “More than anything but if I do we’ll never get dinner.”

  She stared at him, suddenly off balance.

  “Don’t overthink, Faith. Go put your stuff away and meet me in the bar. I’ll get us a table in the corner.”