by CJ Lyons
Caitlyn left a U.S. five-dollar bill instead. Romero did the eye-roll thing again as she scooped the mound of coins and slipped them into the side pocket of her cargo pants. She didn’t care. This was her first trip outside of the United States and she wasn’t going home without something to show for it.
Then Romero tapped the table and nodded to the window. “There he is. Hector’s leaving.”
Hector had changed out of the designer suit Caitlyn had last seen him wearing and into black fatigues. No insignia, but his new ensemble included a pistol in a holster strapped to his leg. He moved with military precision, his features chiseled into an expression of barely contained fury. As soon as he reached the curb, a black SUV pulled up to him.
Caitlyn and Romero ran for their Land Cruiser. Romero followed the SUV, keeping his distance. “Damn, he’s headed to the helicopter.”
He parked at the entrance to the mercado as Hector’s vehicle continued around to the back. “We’re sunk. No way to follow him now.”
Caitlyn hopped out of the truck and grabbed her pack. “That’s what you think.”
“Wait! You can’t—he’ll never let you.”
“What’s he going to do? Throw me out of the helicopter?” She didn’t give him a chance to reply before she dashed up the steps to the entrance to the mercado.
The shortest way through to the rear of the mercado was cutting through the large open-air sales area. As soon as Caitlyn saw the bustle of eager salespeople and crowds of tourists, she began to doubt if shortest meant fastest. No time to go back, so she plowed into the crowds, jostling her way past men barring her path, their outstretched arms filled with beaded belts, women calling to her to try their jewelry, and even children like the girl she’d met in the café who ran through the place with baskets of chocolate and small trinkets.
Her pack came in handy. Swinging it quickly cleared the aisles as merchants rushed to protect their wares and tourists dodged. She made it through the back exit and ran down the steps until she reached a cracked concrete loading bay. Beyond it was the vacant lot where the helicopter was waiting.
Hector and his men were gathered together, examining a map spread out on the trunk of the SUV he’d arrived in. They all had AK-47 machine guns slung over their chests and carried extra magazines.
“What’s the plan?” she asked brightly, trying to disguise how out of breath she was, as she joined them.
“The plan is for you to mind your own business.” Hector scowled at her. She grinned back. Slid the map closer to her. It was the same area where Maria’s temple was located, only the spot Hector had marked was farther north, upriver from the temple.
“Sorry, Hector. No can do. Not since you made Maria’s safety my business.” Again with the piercing stare. Like that was going to stop her from doing her job? “Did you get a ransom demand?”
“My men have intel on a guerrilla outpost not far from here. We’re going to—” He shifted the AK. “—investigate it.”
Right. And she was Mary Poppins. “You’re not in the Kaibiles anymore. You can’t go in shooting and killing civilians.” What was the phrase Romero used for it? Extrajudicial executions. Not on her watch.
His men alerted at that. Now there were four men glaring at her.
“You won’t do Maria any good if you’re locked up in a Guatemalan prison,” she added.
“That would never happen. I still have friends in high places. Here as well as in the United States.”
“Right, right. Then think of Maria. Go in shooting and they could shoot her—or she could get caught in the crossfire. She might not be held there. What if news of your ‘investigation’ reaches her captors and they kill her in retaliation? What if the kidnappers try to find you here while you’re out on your little expedition?”
“We have rules of engagement.” His men blinked in surprise, one of them shrugging as he exchanged glances with another. “This is a simple reconnaissance mission. No firing unless we’re first fired upon. And the guerrillas’ last message said they’d contact me in the morning. That gives us all night. Satisfied?”
No. It was still an idiotic move. One she couldn’t let him make alone. Someone had to be looking out for Maria’s safety. “Fine. Let’s go.”
“You’re not coming. You have no standing here.”
“No. I don’t. But I have a lot of standing with the U.S. government. Including the IRS, the FDA, and the FTC. All of whom might have a sudden, intense interest in your company if you piss me off.” She didn’t bother with a stare-down, instead she turned her back on him and brushed her hands together. Done deal. “Oh, nice helicopter. What is that, a Bell Ranger?”
They climbed on board, Hector’s men giving Caitlyn a wide berth and staring at her as if she were a zoo specimen. Hector sat up front with the pilot, but Caitlyn grabbed one of the radio headsets and continued her argument against lethal force.
“You know I’m a trained hostage negotiator,” she told him. “Use me to make contact with these guerrillas. Send a man to interpret. Let’s make sure Maria is even there before we commit to anything.”
“This is my daughter. My only child. Do you think I’m going to trust her life to anyone but myself?” Despite the noise of the helicopter’s engine, his voice crackled over the radio louder than in person.
“Okay, fine. You and me. Leave the others behind as backup. Who are these guerrillas? What do they want? Why did they chose Maria?” She knew narcoterrorists used the country to cross from Colombia into Mexico, but this plan to get Maria and now Hector back to Guatemala was much too elaborate for a bunch of drug smugglers trying to stay below the radar.
“They’re animals,” came his answer. “Animals who will stop at nothing to destroy me and everything I hold dear.”
Sounded pretty damn personal. Caitlyn remained silent, hoping Hector would keep talking.
“Leftist pigs,” he continued. “They want the land and everything on it for themselves. Think because they were here first, it’s theirs to do with what they want. Even if that means sitting on it while the jungle devours it and everything goes to rot and ruin.”
Wait. “This guerrilla group is Mayan?”
His men listening in swiveled their faces and bodies, complete with their AK-47s, in her direction. She kept her face neutral, realized the guerrilla forces weren’t the only men with guns she’d need to negotiate with tonight.
“If they’re Mayan, that gives us an edge,” she continued, ad-libbing. “There’s no way they can stand against your squad, not with your superior training.” The men relaxed. A tiny bit.
By the time they took off, the sun had set. The helo left the lights of Santo Tomás behind to fly over complete blackness. Not a single light to reveal any evidence of civilization could be seen as far as the horizon. Caitlyn hugged her pack tighter against her chest. If anything went wrong out here—if she died—no one would ever know.
“One problem,” she told Hector. “It sounds like they don’t want money. And there’s no way you can give them their land back. Do you know what they do want?”
There was a pause before he answered. “Me,” he finally said. “They want me. Dead.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The helicopter descended into darkness. Caitlyn assumed the pilot was using forward-looking infrared radar and night vision to guide their landing but decided it was best not to ask. Sometimes ignorance was bliss.
The helo landed with a thump, shuddering as the rotors slowed their movement. Hector’s men jumped out and vanished into the darkness. Caitlyn debated leaving her pack on board but decided that despite its weight, it was better to keep it with her. Hector had already abandoned her once. Best not to trust him too far.
She climbed down from the passenger compartment and, keeping her head bent low and eyes squinted against the rotor wash, made her way through knee-high grass to the front of the craft, out of range of the blades.
Hector met her there a moment later. “Where to?” she asked.
He didn’t answer but instead began moving through the darkness, leaving the clearing where the helicopter sat and heading toward the trees. Caitlyn followed, pushing her stride a little to stay at his side. His men were behind them, but when she turned to look, they had vanished into the shadows.
Suddenly shouts came from in front of them. Caitlyn couldn’t understand what the men were saying but she was damn sure they weren’t friends of Hector’s. Gunfire echoed through the darkness. Hector raised his AK-47. Caitlyn drew her Glock, scanning the shadows for danger.
A light blinded her, stabbing her in the face. Then more lights. From three directions. A man shouted in Spanish. Beside her, Hector straightened and for a moment Caitlyn thought he was going to fire on the unseen men surrounding them. But he simply unslung his weapon and laid it on the ground.
The man shouted again. “Drop your weapon,” Hector translated.
Caitlyn lowered her gun, raised her hands, empty.
Men rushed them. They took Caitlyn’s pack and service weapon, Hector’s knife and pistol as well as his AK-47 and ammo, then bound their hands behind them with cord and pushed them forward to form a line, single file into the jungle. Caitlyn counted five guerrillas but didn’t see any signs of Hector’s men. Were they dead?
As soon as they entered the cover of the jungle, an explosion rocked the ground. She stopped and glanced over her shoulder.
The helo was engulfed in flames.
*
The day passed quickly and after an elegant dinner with the doctor and Michael that lasted until late into the night, Maria was exhausted. She returned to her room, only to realize that somehow she’d never gotten the chance to ask again about the phones. Despite her trepidation about facing her father’s anger, better to do it now long-distance than to have to face it all when he arrived.
Besides, if she wanted to be treated like an adult, then she needed to take responsibility for herself. Spending a day with Michael and watching his unflinching embrace of life and his own mortality had emphasized that.
She returned downstairs to the doctor’s private study where they’d sipped cognac after dinner. The doors were closed, but she could hear raised voices beyond. She stopped, listening yet not wanting to listen, unsure of what to do. Wait until morning? But her parents would probably be on their way here by then.
“You can’t do this!” Michael shouted. Maria flinched at the anger in his voice. “I won’t let you!”
“Calm down.” The doctor raised his voice to be heard over his son’s.
“No. I won’t. It’s outrageous. Insane. It’s, it’s—”
“It’s necessary. There’s nothing more to be said.”
“I have no say in the matter? It’s my life, after all.”
The voices dropped to a murmur muffled by the wood doors. Maria decided the best she could do was to leave now, maybe try again first thing in the morning. She crept up the steps, reaching the top just as the study door below her banged open.
“Michael, don’t do anything stupid. Stay away from that girl!” the doctor shouted.
Was he talking about her? Why would he warn Michael to stay away from her?
“You do what you want, Father.” Michael’s voice made the term of endearment sound like a curse. “I guess you always have. What I want is meaningless.”
“Don’t talk like that. Everything I do, I do for you. You must believe that.”
Michael said nothing as his wheelchair whirled toward the elevator beside the staircase. Maria pressed back against the wall, hidden out of sight of anyone at the bottom of the stairs.
“Michael,” his father called as he boarded the elevator. “Everything will be all right. I promise. I won’t lose you, son.”
The elevator doors clanged shut and it began its journey up. Maria ran down the hall to her room but didn’t shut the door the entire way. She watched through the crack as the elevator stopped and Michael wheeled out. He made it to his room, across the hall and two doors down from hers, but paused before continuing down to her door.
She flew back across the room and onto the bed, pretending to be reading Helda’s discarded magazine when a tentative knock came. “Maria, are you awake? May I come in?”
“Yes, of course.”
He pushed the door open and came inside. To her surprise, he then shut the door behind him.
“Michael, are you okay? You look awful.” His face was flushed and he seemed short of breath. “Should I call your father or Helda?”
“No. I’m fine.” He didn’t meet her eyes. “And he’s not my father. Not really. Not anymore.”
She sat up on the bed. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know who my father is, but it’s not that man.” He wheeled the chair forward until his feet almost touched hers. “I told you my mother died when I was a baby.”
“Yes.”
“Dr. Carrera adopted me. He’s always treated me like the son he never had, so I never really think about it much. But now…” His voice faded as he searched the shadows below the bed for inspiration. When he finally looked up, his face was dark with fear and regret. “Maria, I’m so sorry. I never realized—the kind of man he is, what he was capable of.”
She laid a hand on his arm. He was trembling. “Michael, you’re scaring me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Footsteps sounded out in the hall. He jerked upright. “There’s no time. You have to leave. Tonight.” He fished a folded piece of paper from his pocket and pressed it into her hand. “This will explain.”
He toggled the chair, steering it away from her and toward the door. Maria left the bed. “Michael, what are you talking about? Why do I need to leave? Where would I go?”
She knew some heart problems caused decreased blood flow to the brain—was he experiencing a mental lapse because of a malfunction in his LVAD? Or maybe a stroke?
Helda’s voice came from the hall. “Michael? Where are you?”
Maria ran to the door, ready to call to the nurse, but Michael grabbed her arm, hard. “You’re in danger,” he whispered. “Terrible danger. Run, Maria. Now. Don’t let him find you.”
She started to protest, but the look on his face stopped her. Fear filled her as she began to believe. She shouldn’t—it was ridiculous, outrageous. And yet … Slowly, she nodded. He nodded back.
“Wait for me at the loading dock behind the clinic. I’ll steal his keys, come for you. I’m so sorry,” he said. Then he opened the door. “Helda, I’m here.” He shut the door behind him and she realized he was giving her time to escape.
Escape what, she had no idea. Why would Dr. Carrera want to hurt her? She’d never even met the man before last night—when he’d saved her life. But Michael, he’d been truly frightened. For her.
Maria remembered the look on Michael’s face and didn’t hesitate. There was no time to do more than grab her jacket from the chair and flee out the balcony and down the wrought iron steps to the courtyard.
The cold night air was an abrupt change from the warmth she’d felt earlier, basking in the glow of the sun and Michael’s attention. The only lights in sight came from the house behind her and a faint glow from the second floor of the clinic building across the courtyard and past the gardens. The only sounds were the waterfall in the distance, the faint howls of monkeys, the screech of birds, chirp of crickets, and a shrieking noise that brought out goose bumps all over her body. Nothing human.
The door from her room opened above her. Maria pressed her body against the cold stone of the wall beneath the stairs, holding her breath as if that would keep the shadows from fleeing and exposing her.
As soon as the presence above her moved back inside the building, she sprinted into the darkness, panic surging through her as Michael’s words repeated through her mind: Run, Maria, run now.…
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Jake’s flight to Guatemala City was the easy part. Getting from there to Santo Tomás got a little tricky. But one good thing about spending a ye
ar and a half undercover working an outlaw motorcycle gang, you got to make tons of friends in various other parts of the federal alphabet soup. A few well-placed friends in the DEA were able to sweet-talk Jake a spot on a drug-interdiction training mission’s helicopter.
He hadn’t been able to reach Caitlyn, but had gotten ahold of her CIA contact. The news wasn’t good. Apparently she’d gone off into the jungle with Hector Alvarado and several of his former army buddies. The CIA officer, a guy named Romero, had no idea where they were or when they’d be back. He’d been less than enthused to hear that Jake was already in country and on his way to Santo Tomás.
The helo was crowded with two DEA guys and a squad of Guatemalan soldiers who seemed a stern bunch, said nothing during the ride. But the two DEA FAST team members more than made up for it. And once they learned Jake was here not just for a case, but mainly for a girl, and that he was putting his ass on the line with the AUSA to get to her, the chance to help a fellow fed screw the system and potentially his girl was too tempting to pass up.
“If she comes to her senses and kicks your ass out of bed, tell her to give me a call!” one of them shouted as they dropped Jake off at Santo Tomás and took off again to patrol the coastline. Jake saluted with his middle finger, tossed his small rucksack over his shoulder, and grabbed his phone.
“She’s out of range,” a voice called from the shadows. Headlights snapped on and a man stepped forward. He was short, bald, and at least ten years older than Jake. Had the bland look of a man who could play many roles—and had. Jake knew that look: you got it after spending a long time undercover.
“You must be Romero.” He stepped forward and offered his hand. The other man nodded and shook it. “I’m Jake.”
“So I guessed. Still not sure why you’re here. My bosses are not very happy about having two feds running amok, not when they’re trying to negotiate with the Guatemalans.”
“Don’t worry about it. My bosses aren’t happy about it either. But everything I dug up about Alvarado’s company led back here, and when you said Caitlyn took off with Maria’s dad, well, I just had to follow my gut.”