But there was nothing. Can he hear me? This time she spoke louder. “Winter, do you copy?”
A static tone rang through her ear, then sparked to life. “Fox! Where the hell are you?”
“Lying flat in the jungle, you?”
“Trying to find you in the Jeep.”
“Is that you approaching a tall tree? Rolling slowly toward me?”
“I assume so, but I can’t see you and I don’t dare turn on my lights.”
“Then keep coming, I’ll make my way toward you.” And she did so, now army crawling toward the rolling tires.
She was close, approximately ten feet away now, and she figured, if this was the enemy, even in the darkness, she could slip by undetected.
“Stop!” she instructed. From her brief recollection of the vehicle, she and Winter had joked about the Jeep’s squeaky breaks as it came to an abrupt stop. When Winter hit the brakes, both the squeak and the red brake lights gave away his position.
Damn, that was close. She strolled toward the Jeep thinking she was in the clear when a barrage of hellfire began to rain down.
The sound of bullets contacting metal boomed in the night. Fox took two bounding steps, forced the door open, and leaped inside the Jeep.
“Go! Go! Go!” she instructed Winter, as if he needed the directive.
Winter floored the gas but drove without headlights; he couldn’t flip them on, not until they were out of harm’s way. Maybe he could lose them, maybe the enemy would give up, if his vehicle was camouflaged by the darkened sky.
That was wishful thinking, because immediately three other Jeeps blasted their headlights, illuminating Winter’s Jeep as he drove away.
“Holy shit!” Fox stared out the back windshield. “Floor it.”
“It’s floored.” He shifted into fourth gear. “There’s only so much we can do on this terrain.”
Fox bobbed in the back seat, catching air over each bump they hit. The path was untamed and rocky, nearly impossible to maneuver smoothly, especially without headlights. In fact, Winter drove on with no compass, no idea where they were headed. To another road? Perhaps deeper into the jungle, the grasses thicker, where it would be impossible to navigate.
Winter slowed.
“What they hell are you doing? They’re gaining.”
“It’s getting thicker here, and I think there’s a descent up ahead.”
“How can you tell?” She forced her body forward, coming parallel with the front seats, and strained her eyes looking through the windshield.
“A hunch.”
Fox swallowed hard.
“There’s only one way to find out for sure,” Winter said.
Fox knew it too. She turned back around, and the other vehicles were far off but still gaining ground. “Do it.”
Winter spun the dial and flipped the lights on, which spurred the chasing vehicles on even faster. Winter proceeded slowly, and within ten yards, they could see the obstacle ahead: a cresting mound.
“I’ve got an idea, but it’s . . .”
“It’s what?”
“Crazy.”
“What is it?”
“I’ve get essentials in the rucksack in the back. I say we hoof it from here.”
“On foot?” Fox said.
“Why not? It’s the best chance we’ve got. The Jeep won’t make it through here, or down the other side of that hill, for that matter. We’ve got the darkness on our side, at least for another few hours before sunrise. If we haven’t made it out of here by then, we’re dead anyway.”
Winter was right, and Fox knew it.
She took one more momentary glance behind them. The other vehicles were closing in; it was now or never. “Let’s go.”
Winter and Fox leaped from the Jeep, gathered their belongings, and sprinted down the hill, in search of their escape.
13
IN THE PASSENGER SEAT, Payne held onto the dashboard as Jabar sped over the uneven terrain.
“They’re there. Just ahead, do not lose them,” Payne ordered, staring at the stalled Jeep.
Jabar led the way; as all three SUVs stopped, the men unloaded with their automatic weapons raised, expecting an attack or a standoff.
Payne walked toward the Jeep, holding no weapon, showing no sign of dominance. When he reached the vehicle, it was empty, ransacked, with stuff strewn about inside the back seat. Indiscernible things, perhaps blankets, but nothing of consequence. He moved forward along the passenger side—again no sign of anyone—and finally he made his way to the driver’s seat.
He let out a huff, and stared forward, following the beam of headlights that flashed over the cresting hill. He walked toward the hill, halting at the abyss into darkness.
Jabar joined him by his side. “What is it? Where’d they go?”
Only one word was needed. “Down.”
Jabar lowered his weapon and flicked on the flashlight on top of his automatic rifle, scanning the area all the way to the bottom of the sloped descent.
Payne lifted a cigar from his case. He struck a match and let the match burn down. When it reached his finger, only then could he release his fury. “Find her. And bring her to me.” He turned and walked back to the SUV while all six of his men began their hunt of an unknown enemy.
AT THE BOTTOM OF THE decline was water, and water meant life. It was a river, not rushing but trickling, more like a creek but significant enough to follow to safety, or so they hoped.
Winter set the pace; it was fast, but slow enough they could sustain it over a long distance. They ran along the shoreline, listening for the dribble which acted as their guide.
“Do you know where you’re going?” Fox whispered as they ran.
“No, but I know we’re traveling south, and south should lead us back toward the city, and ultimately our hotel.”
Fox started to respond, but in that moment, they needed to be smart and conserve their energy. It would be tough enough without wasting breath on meaningless conversation.
After five minutes of running, Winter stopped abruptly, and Fox slammed into his back. “What the hell?” she said.
“Shh. You here that?”
Fox turned her ear. It was faint.
The noise of traffic.
“We’re almost there.” Winter started in a sprint, faster now that the road was close.
They could see headlights in the distance. Now they were even closer. From the brightness of those lights, both could see the creek lead under the roadway. A small mound was to their right. They climbed the hill and pushed through the brush that separated the jungle from the roadway.
On the shoulder they paused to gather their breath and their bearings.
“Any idea?” Fox said.
“Not a clue,” Winter said.
“Really?” She grabbed his arm, spinning his attention toward her.
“Well, yeah, what did you expect? This is my first trip to Africa. It’s not like I vacation here.”
“So, what now?”
Winter stared at the passing cars. Surprisingly there was an abundance of traffic, considering the late hour. “Now we find our way back.”
“What if Payne sends his goons after us?” Fox said. “You know he’s gonna have connections all over this place.”
“Hey, I wasn’t the one who made my face known.”
“So, what, this is my fault?”
Winter was quiet.
“That’s it, you’re blaming me here?” Fox said.
“You made the mistake of looking at the body, risking getting caught. This mission may be blown, and I don’t think Collar, or the director, is going to think too highly of your decision-making skills.”
Now it was she who was quiet.
“I knew you weren’t ready for duty,” Winter muttered in frustration.
“Bullshit.” She would defend herself to her grave. “I made the right call.”
“Tell that to Collar and the director.”
“Wait.” She squeezed Winter’s a
rm. “You’re not going to tell them.”
“You’re right, I won’t,” Winter said.
Elation moved across Fox’s face until . . .
“You will.”
JABAR CLIMBED TO THE top of the hill but waited to approach Payne sitting inside the SUV. He returned empty-handed, and that meant failure. He gulped, then took two steps forward.
“They . . . they got away.”
“I assumed so, by your lack of company.”
Jabar stood by, awaiting his next order.
Payne exited the SUV and moved to the abandoned Jeep. He circled it twice. Then a third time.
“This doesn’t look local. This was the work of a professional. A hidden Jeep, near our location, an escape plan, but why? Why didn’t she attack?”
Then a guard spoke up, the one who saw Fox standing over the corpse. “I think . . . think there may have been two.”
Payne turned sharply. “Then yes, this was definitely professional. Could you identify her if you saw her in daylight?”
“Maybe. I mean . . . I think so.” Payne made up the distance between him and his guard, and peered in his eyes. Then the guard returned with a definitive “Yes. She was white. An American, or European.”
Payne spun back around and gathered only Jabar. “Get word into town, if anyone spots a white woman, they let me know instantly, or there will be pain. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
“Good. Now get me out of this jungle and back to my tent.” And in the passenger seat he was alone with his thoughts, and all he could see was the white woman, the one who accompanied Lord. His gut said it was her.
ONCE WINTER AND FOX returned to the motel, it was nearly three a.m. Standing at the door, Winter slid the key in the slot, and both entered. Sharing a room, they kept up the charade of traveling as husband and wife, and their strife, the rift between them, played into that act perfectly; only the discord wasn’t phony.
“You need to alert Collar and the director,” Winter said.
Fox stared at the clock. “It’s three.”
“Not in Virginia.”
“It can wait.” Fox slid out of her pack and dropped it on the bed.
“Not with a man like Payne. If his guard got a look at you, I mean any semblance of a glance, you’re blown.” He handed her the burner.
She ripped the phone from his hand and stared up at him from the bed.
There was only one ring.
“Fox? It’s after three. What is it, what’s wrong?” Collar said.
She was silent at first until Winter kicked her foot for a start, and she stared at him scornfully.
“I’m afraid, there’s been . . . an incident.”
“What kind of incident?” Collar’s tone was harsh.
“Winter and I were doing recon on Payne and his team. He was at a camp nearby, and we, well, I messed up.”
“Messed up, how?”
“I was seen.”
“By Payne?”
“No, by his guard.”
“How? Why? This was reconnaissance, do you know what that means?”
“I do.”
But Collar decided to answer for her to make it even clearer. “It means investigation, no contact, ever.”
“I know, but I . . . I.”
“You what?”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s unacceptable. Make it right.”
Confusion lingered in Fox’s face. “What do you mean? How can I make it right?”
“By doing your job? Complete your mission. Gather intel on him and the professor.”
Fox stared at Winter, assuming he heard the conversation, as if he knew what she said, but what she was saying wasn’t making sense, at least in her mind.
“What if I’m spotted or his guard recognizes me?”
Collar replied immediately, “Then you’ll be dead, and your moronic indiscretion will be paid for in full.” Then she hung up.
14
Outside the city limits of Freetown, Sierra Leone
NIKI ROLLED AROUND restless in her tent. The nylon cot she lay on was thick and worn with nothing to act as a cushion. She stared at the ceiling having no idea what time it was, but back home, it couldn’t have been later than nine p.m. She grabbed the pillow and screamed into it. As her body was unwilling to make an adjustment and fall asleep, a thought played on repeat in her mind. Think, Niki. How can Lord be connected to Payne? But the thing that doesn’t make sense is, if he’s loved by the locals, why would he collaborate with any terrorist group? He seems too . . . too perfect.
The thought steered her legs to the ground. After she slipped into her shoes, she pushed the flap of the tent open and scanned the area. To her surprise, a small light, like that of a candle or a lantern, shone from the infirmary.
She crept toward it, being careful not to be spotted or heard. She recognized voices, whispers. Pushing herself against the side, she strained her ear.
“Has he been back?” Lord said.
There was a pause.
Has who been back? Payne?
“No. But he will be soon,” Vali said.
“Why?”
“Because he’s opened another conflict mine.”
“How do you know that?”
It is Payne. Niki couldn’t be certain, but who else could they be talking about? Who else would be running a mine there?
“My cousin told me.”
“Your cousin? The one with . . .” Lord didn’t finish his thought.
With what?
“That’s right.”
“So why would he come here?”
“He’s in need of more workers, more forced labor.”
Niki brushed against the tent. She wanted to burst through right then, to confront both of them and find out everything they knew about Payne. But from the sound of their conversation it didn’t sound like they were working for Payne, but rather, trying to avoid him.
What’s the connection? Why would Collar have me here? Our intelligence is foolproof. There must be something Lord isn’t telling Vali. Something he’s protecting him from. Or maybe he’s playing him. Him and the rest of the village. Niki’s thoughts stalled at her disdain. No. Can’t be. That would be an ultimate betrayal. A deception beyond imagination.
Niki ground her teeth, irate that Lord would do that. But she had no proof, only bouncing thoughts of injustice. Either way, she would find out more. But she would need more information before confronting him.
The sound of a chair being pushed from a table forced Niki to retreat. She sprinted on her toes back to her tent, peeled back the doorway and climbed onto her cot and closed her eyes. He wouldn’t dare check on her; he wouldn’t come in, not after she booted him out and made him find another dwelling. But just in case, Niki feigned sleep. Besides, the sun would be up in a few hours, and she had to try to get at least some sleep if she wanted to have her wits about her when she awoke.
SUN BROKE ABOVE THE horizon, and the slicing rays warmed her tent as they broke through its opening. Niki opened her eyes, but they were out of focus. She blinked rapidly and rubbed them to regain her sight. She stretched and yawned, rolling over and shutting her eyes once again. Her eyes still felt heavy; she could use another four or five hours of sleep, but that wouldn’t happen.
Giggling began. She forced her eyes open again to witness three African children staring at her through the doorway of her tent. She grinned, which caused the arousal of more laughter as three others joined them. She uncovered herself, put her feet to the floor and waved them inside. The children ran to her bedside, with the littlest one, a boy, leaping into her lap. She let out a yelp as he landed on her stomach and took her breath away. She looked at each child, but refusing to speak, they simply stared in awe with bulging eyes and permanent smiles.
“What are you going to do today?” she asked.
“Play soccer,” an older girl said. She was no more than nine or ten.
“I thought you were playing soccer yester
day when I arrived?”
“We were. We play every day.” The girl smiled, showcasing a full set of perfect white teeth.
“Oh.” Niki was shocked at how happy they were. Happy to be alive, to have their health. To have a ball and a game to play alongside other children.
“Do you want to play with us?” the boy on her lap asked, with the cutest face she’d ever seen.
Niki felt weak and tired, but she couldn’t say no. “Of course I’ll play with you.”
“Great,” the girl said, and grabbed her hand and pulled her from the tent.
Gleeful, all ran toward an open field nearby. Niki followed on their heels and shared in their joy. A ball lay on the field. It was torn, leather ripped from the stitches, but it didn’t hinder the air capacity inside.
Once the little girl reached the ball, she kicked it high into the air, and with force. Niki had never seen such a strong leg on a nine-year-old girl. The ball came to rest just beyond a set of rocks.
The little girl turned around to see Niki’s face. “That’s one,” the girl said, smiling.
“One what?” Niki said.
“One goal.”
Niki looked over the little girl’s head and saw that the rocks set in the distance were the markings for the goal posts, and her shot went through, directly in the center. Niki’s competitive nature kicked in. She jogged passed the girl in search of the ball. Once she reached it, she kicked to another small child, and he passed it to another, then another. They passed back and forth up and down the field. They didn’t need teams, rules, or boundaries. Just a ball and some rock goal posts. This was unadulterated, unsupervised fun that could go on for hours.
Niki frolicked with the children for nearly an hour before her belly ached to be filled, and her thirst to be quenched. She joined Lord on the sidelines, who was taking in the sight of children at play. He handed her a water bottle.
“Thanks.” She grabbed it, twisted off the top, and swallowed the entire contents.
Second Best: A Niki Finley Novel (A Niki Finley Thriller Book 2) Page 7