by J. M. Madden
“Are they going to stop us from going to Guyana?”
“Fuck, no!” He turned to glare at her, but she grinned.
“I didn’t think so,” she told him, and he realized she’d been teasing him.
“I never expected there to be people there,” he breathed. “I mean, locals maybe, but definitely not the Collaborative. And I certainly didn’t expect them to still be testing on our military.”
“That’s the disgusting part. It’s been two years.”
“Yes.”
She could hear the weight of guilt in his voice and it worried her. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that those men were there other than the company’s. “Do you think they’ve had success? That’s why they’re still doing it?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Before we killed her, Priscilla intimated that they needed the original formula, which only we have. Everything else they’ve come up with is guesswork on the part of the medical personnel that had been helping Dr. Shu with our group two years ago.”
“That’s crazy.” They were silent for a while.
There was something else she wanted to mention, but she didn’t want to piss him off or humiliate him. Maybe she would wait until they were on the ground.
Fontana had always considered the Central Intelligence Agency a bit of a misnomer, but Chief Operations Officer Kevin Rose was proving to be a competent man.
He’d brought a dozen men and women with him, and they all seemed to be just as competent.
By the time they got to Pablo’s airport, the CIA team had landed and set up a triage for the wounded. There was not a bit of confusion, and for that Fontana was appreciative. Stepping off to the side of the ordered chaos, he called Aiden, like he’d promised earlier.
“So, what am I supposed to tell the head fucking spook?” he asked when Aiden came on the line. “Because he’s already looking at me, waiting for his chance to pounce.”
“Tell him the truth, I guess. Don’t incriminate yourself in anything. Wulfe said he already asked about what happened to the Bitch in Blue.”
“That may be easier said than done. We left a bit of a mess back there.”
“Was it bad?”
Fontana sighed, beginning to pace down the tarmac as he talked. He thought about his old abuser. “Yes, but it was good too. I got some closure I didn’t expect to get.”
There was silence for a moment on the other end. “That sounds very self-analytical of you.”
He snorted. “I don’t know about all that, but I think I definitely gained some perspective. And I’m getting a broader feel for the situation in general. We need help to do this and I guess the CIA will have to be it.”
“Wulfe says Rose is a decent guy.”
Fontana glanced up the tarmac at the man still staring at him. He wasn’t in a suit or anything, but the khakis and button up shirt spoke to some kind of department affiliation. No one else in his group wore anything identifying them as CIA either. Smart.
“Well, it’s a good thing I trust Wulfe because I’m going to have to take his word on that.”
Aiden snorted. “We both are. Make decisions we can live with.”
“I’ll do my best,” he said softly.
The thought of exposing themselves and perhaps being put back into another cage, or another testing program, made his balls shrink. And that’s exactly what the government would want to do with them. They would want to try out the super soldiers. “How do we keep ourselves out of their clutches?”
Aiden sighed over the line. “I’m not sure exactly. I guess the only advice I can give you is to try not to admit to anything you don’t have to.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll try not. Later, Will.” Laughing, he hung up the sat phone and glanced around at the rest of the people milling about. Madeira was doing something underneath the helicopter, her uncle leaning in beside her. He wanted to go over and see what she was doing. Not that he knew anything about helicopters; he just wanted to hang with her. He had a feeling that as soon as he headed in that direction Rose would intercept him.
Might as well bite the bullet and get it over with.
Fontana headed toward the triage area. Pablo had opened one of the big hangar bays, the massive door slid to the side. A red and white plane that had been there was now parked on the tarmac, and inside the shaded space several people were working on the survivors they’d brought in. Fontana started walking toward the hangar, he wanted to check on everyone and make sure they’d gotten them out in time.
Officer Rose intercepted him as soon as he cleared the doorway. “Mr. Fontana.”
He paused, knowing that he had to talk to the man. And he had to try not to piss him off. They were going to be relying on him for help. “Officer Rose.”
The well-kept, dark-haired man grinned at him, looking a little disheveled. It’s wouldn’t be obvious to most people, but Fontana could tell that this was not what the man had planned to do today. The clothes he wore were a little too corporate office wear, or something. They weren’t necessarily jungle or adventure clothes. It was like he had a ‘go’ bag, but it wasn’t exactly what he’d needed.
Rose reached out a hand and Fontana took it reluctantly. The tight, competent grip surprised him.
“When Wulfe called me and offered me this mess on a golden plate, I didn’t believe him. Were you the ‘boots on the ground’ that found the compound here?”
“Yes.”
“I have a team still working on excavating the mass grave, but we’re already found American identification. We’ll need to debrief you at some point. As well as your team.”
Fontana sighed inwardly, knowing that they would have to have some kind of documentation when— or if— they went public. “Fine. Might have to be in a few days.”
He moved to step around Rose, but the officer held out a hand. “Wulfe said there were three locations.”
He paused. “That we know of.”
“And you just came from the second?”
“Yes,” Fontana said.
“Where’s the third one?”
“Guyana, supposedly.”
Fontana didn’t want to supply any more information than he had to before he had to.
“I want to send a team in with you when you go.”
There was an excited gleam in the officer’s eyes. Not necessarily avaricious, but he’d seen the expression before. Officer Rose was a man working his way up the food chain. If he had any idea who all was involved in this mess, he would be all over Fontana. It didn’t appear that Wulfe had given him a lot of details yet.
“I’ll give you the location of the camp we just left. There are still Brazilian Army and hired guns there, as well as a med center where they were testing on the men. And woman, it looks like.”
“I would appreciate that,” Rose said, “But even more than that I want to go into the last camp with you.”
Fontana glanced around the hangar, his eyes spotting the men from LNF. They were heading toward the house, and Madeira was across the way now working on some piece of equipment. “The six of us work well as a team. If we need backup or cleanup, we’ll call you.”
Anger flashed in the other man’s eyes, but it was gone quickly. “I don’t think you have any idea of the assistance we could give you. If you find more prisoners like these ones, you’re going to need help. Medical, tactical.”
“And you expect me to put my life, and that of my team, in the hands of a team I know nothing about? Yeah, not happening.”
Rose planted his hands on his hips. “We’re not novices. This is exactly what my team was built for.”
“I’m not risking my people. Period.”
“It wouldn’t be a risk. We have to be better than that.” Rose waved a dismissive hand over to where Madeira now had her head lowered over Payne’s prosthetic arm, and he was motioning to something in the elbow. Even as they watched Madeira reached behind her for a tiny little screwdriver to adjust something in the joint, and the scarred side of her
head was exposed.
Fontana fought the anger which surged in his gut and looked the officer up and down dismissively. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. I would take both of them, or either one of them, over you and your team in a heartbeat. You’re beating a dead horse, Rose, and beginning to piss me off.”
Fontana skirted around him and headed toward the hangar where Payne was now flexing his prosthetic and nodding at Madeira. She looked up at Fontana and grinned, her glance flicking quickly past his shoulder to the officer, then back. “Is he supposed to be that purple?”
“Probably not. We just had to get a few details straight.”
Her eyes danced with humor and he wanted to lean down and drop a kiss to her lips, but he held himself in check. It had to be because he was so tired.
Jordyn reached out and touched his arm. “The guys headed inside to get something to eat and catch some sleep. Payne is going to stay out here with Pablo and keep watch on everything. They’ve already been questioning my uncle, but he doesn’t have any information to wheedle out.”
“But they’ve tried, huh?”
She nodded.
Fontana looked at Payne, assessing the other man’s alertness. His dark eyes were narrowed against the bright sunlight and he had a fairly heavy dark beard coming in, but he seemed fine. “If they do anything noteworthy, can you come get me?”
Payne nodded. “They might be flying the prisoners out.”
“That’s fine. If they can provide the medical care needed, I want them to.”
“Did you get all the information you needed from Aksel?” Jordyn asked him. “Did he know how many men had been taken to the next camp?”
Fontana shook his head, feeling drained. “Let’s go talk to him.”
Aksel was drinking what appeared to be chicken broth from a cup, both hands wrapped around the heat, even though it was heading toward eighty degrees in the shade of the hangar. He looked up when they stopped in front of him, and his eyes filled with emotion. He set the cup aside and struggled to stand, the line of an IV trailing from one hand.
Fontana helped him stand but didn’t understand why he needed to until Aksel wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Fontana was surprised at how tall the man was. He hadn’t seemed that tall when they’d been in the camp.
“I’m sorry,” Aksel told him, pulling away. There were tears in his eyes as he looked between Fontana and Madeira. “I had given up hope. We were there so long.”
Jordyn reached out a hand to rest on his arm. “It’s okay. You don’t have to thank us.”
“You don’t understand,” the survivor shook his head, sorrow lining his face. “We were forgotten.”
“You weren’t forgotten,” Fontana said firmly. “And I do understand. I was there two years ago.”
Aksel stared at him, blinking. “You were in the camp?”
“Yes. I was there for eight months before we broke out.”
Aksel’s watery hazel eyes widened. “You were the ones? The ones that changed everything?”
Fontana shrugged. “Maybe. Don’t tell Officer Rose.”
Glancing around, Aksel nodded. “I will not.”
“What do you mean we were the ones that changed everything?”
The survivor wavered and they urged him to sit down again. Fontana knelt in front of the man’s cot and Jordyn came down beside him.
“I wasn’t there when you broke out,” Aksel said, “but two men were. They said you had taken a chance to get out and it worked. At the time, they weren’t able to go with you and they didn’t blame you for leaving them behind.”
“Are they still alive?”
Aksel shook his head. “Don’t know. They got moved.”
Fontana looked down at the concrete floor. It had been one of the hardest things to do; walk away from the camp knowing there were other men there. When they’d left, though, he honestly hadn’t believed that they would survive very long, and they hadn’t been able to communicate with them.
“How long have you been at the camp?” Jordyn asked.
“I’m not even sure,” Aksel told her. “I think three, four months. Not very long.”
“And how many different men have you seen go through the camp?”
Aksel was quiet for a long time, and he looked down at his hands, obviously naming people off in his head. “Drieëntwintig. Um, twenty and three.”
Twenty-three men. “And the woman?”
Looking over at the unconscious woman on the cot, he shook his head sadly. “Not military. But they tested on her same.”
Anger surged in Fontana’s gut. It had been hard enough to be tested on when you were trained for it. He couldn’t imagine a civilian going through what they had. He looked down at his hands, remembering all the broken bones and needle pricks and nausea from things they’d given him or done to him.
A rough hand covered his own and he looked at Jordyn. There was a look in her eyes like she understood what he was thinking. He appreciated that she tried. If he told her everything, she’d probably run for the hills, even with her military experience.
Aksel was lost in his own thoughts. He had lain down on the cot, and Fontana could see the weariness in his posture. “Thank you for answering my questions. I think the team is going to fly you out and they will get you back to your country and family if they can.”
Tears filled the man’s eyes and he buried his face in his hands, weeping softly. Fontana squeezed the man’s shoulder, then pushed to his feet. Jordyn leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of Aksel’s face, murmuring softly to him. Fontana saw him nod, but he kept his face covered.
After the man made it home, he would be sure to check on him.
Weariness pulled at Fontana, making his feet heavy. His bad leg was throbbing again. Probably because he’d been using and abusing it. It would heal. He just needed some rest.
Jordyn moved to one of the women caring for the dark-haired survivor and started talking. There were several nods passed back and forth, and the woman made a note on a portable tablet with a stylus. She smiled at Jordyn and took her hand. Fontana thought she might be promising to take care of the woman, but he couldn’t be sure until he talked to Jordyn.
Kelle Mattox, the dark-haired Collaborative nurse was sitting beside one of the men, holding his hand even though he didn’t appear to be conscious. She was dozing off. Fontana thought they’d made the right decision in bringing her back with them. If she had the kind of information in her brain he thought she did, she was worth her weight in gold to the CIA. Jordyn had been right about that when she’d convinced him to bring her.
Fontana found himself waiting for the compact woman. Though he was tired and dying for food and a bed, he wanted more time with her as well, but she had to be just as tired. It had been hell getting out of the jungle. Then she’d had to have the concentration to fly them home. Most of the men in the back of the chopper had nodded off.
He watched as she moved from bed to bed checking on the survivors they’d gotten out of the camp. Eventually, she returned to him. “Are you ready for some rest?”
He nodded, almost too tired to walk back to the house. When she moved close and wrapped her arm around his waist to walk toward the shaded back patio, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he pulled her tight against him.
Chapter Eighteen
Jordyn knew Fontana was about to crash. His eyes had been alert when he was talking to Aksel and gathering information. Now they seemed dull. He’d reached his wall.
As they walked through the kitchen she grabbed a bottle of water and twisted off the cap. “Drink this.”
He guzzled it down, like she expected him to, then handed her the empty bottle. “I’m going to go hop in the shower,” she told him. “Why don’t you grab a sandwich or something?”
He nodded and moved toward the fridge.
Jordyn felt bad leaving him there, but she seriously needed to get some trail dirt off of herself. Digging through her pack she threw her damp cloth
es into the washer. She’d check later with the rest of the men and see if they had things to wash. Then she drew out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.
The hot water felt amazing as it streamed over her body. She hoped that the people that they’d rescued would be okay. Aksel would be fine eventually, but he would need the care of his family and a lot of understanding. The unconscious woman was a different story; recovering from rape and torture like that would take a strong heart and iron determination. Jordyn knew that for a fact.
Hopefully the medical staff would take care of her appropriately and they would figure out who she was. So far, the woman hadn’t regained consciousness, and they couldn’t pinpoint exactly why she wasn’t waking. They would be flying her to their base later today, wherever the hell that was. The woman Jordyn was speaking to had been very cagey about where the team had come from, as well as where they were returning.
Rinsing her hair with cool water, Jordyn left the shower stall and toweled off. The bathroom was steamy, and it was a little hard getting her clothes on, but it would feel good when she stepped out into the cool of the house. When the blinds were drawn like her uncle liked to keep them, the sunlight couldn’t overheat the interior. Then, the fans were on high all the time, keeping the air moving.
When she left the bathroom, she took her dirty BDUs and t-shirt to the washer. Once Fontana was done with his shower she would start a load of wash.
Jordyn peeked into the bedroom, but he wasn’t there yet. Moving back out to the kitchen, she stopped in surprise. Fontana had finally stopped moving and the tiredness had caught him. There was a half-eaten sandwich in his hand resting on his thigh. Fontana’s head drooped over his chest, his hand lax. He was sound asleep.
Jordyn didn’t think she’d made any noise but he jerked his head up, his gaze latching onto her immediately. She held her hands out in front of her. “Hey, just me. Why don’t you go clean up?”
Fontana stuffed the rest of the peanut butter and jelly into his mouth and nodded, pushing up from the chair. He wavered on his feet and Jordyn reached out to grab his arm. “Maybe you can wash up later.”