WAR: Disruption

by Vanessa Kier

  You wouldn’t be in this predicament if you’d asked for help in the beginning. The annoying voice in his head sounded an awful lot like Kristoff.

  “No freaking kidding,” he muttered. But he still held fast to the belief that keeping his distance had protected Kris and the rest of the team from Dietrich’s sponsor.

  While having backup made sense, Max didn’t regret what he’d done. If he ended up dying here, so be it. At least he wouldn’t be taking anyone else down with him. And he’d have the satisfaction of knowing that he’d done everything possible to stop Dietrich from hurting anyone else.

  As long as Ziegler and Dietrich didn’t have Emily, all was good.

  Please, let Emily be free.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Day Eleven

  THE NEXT MORNING, Emily’s stomach growled as she stared through the lens of her camera at the camp she’d found yesterday. Most of the tents were up now, and the organized chaos of yesterday’s construction had calmed. The black-and-white logo on the uniforms of the men had been proof that the camp belonged to Dietrich even before she’d spotted Ziegler.

  But although she’d been watching the men since dawn, she still didn’t understand why they’d chosen this place to set up what appeared to be a semi-permanent camp. Yes, it was far enough away from the road to be hidden from people passing by. Still, why here? Why not back at the ravine near the plane crash?

  Across the camp, Ziegler exited from the tent where she believed Max was being held. She’d snapped so many photos of Ziegler that once she got home she knew his face would feature in her nightmares for years to come. If she’d seen him on the street she’d never have suspected that he was a cold-blooded murderer. She still thought he looked like a middle-aged banker. He wore a neat business suit that set him apart from the uniforms of the guards. Of average height and weight, he was neither particularly handsome or particularly ugly.

  She snapped another photo. His smug expression made her stomach churn with anger. Suspecting that he’d just been torturing Max, she wanted to march across the camp and shoot him.

  But then Dietrich’s men would kill her, leaving Max at their mercy. So she bided her time. Once Max was free, Kristoff and the others would make Ziegler pay for everything he’d done.

  A guard patrolled a few hundred yards from her tree. Emily checked her watch. She’d been in this spot for nearly an hour. Time to move to another one of her observation posts. She—

  The sat phone buzzed against her hip, startling her so much that she almost dropped her camera. She tightened her grip and bit back a curse, eyeing the soldier to make certain he hadn’t heard the phone vibrating. When he continued on as if nothing had happened, she slowly let out her breath. Once her heart rate had returned to normal, she scooted back on her tree branch and sidled around until the trunk was between her and the camp. Then she carefully, quietly, climbed down the tree and walked several minutes until she was well out of earshot. Only then did she search for a place where she’d get strong enough reception to put through a call.

  “Emily, where the hell have you been?” Kristoff demanded. “You were supposed to check in last night.”

  “I know, sir. I’m sorry. But the phone died not long after I texted you the briefcase’s coordinates. There wasn’t enough light to activate the solar charger until this morning.”

  “Are you safe?”

  “Er…”

  Kristoff’s aggravated sigh reminded her so much of Max, that she teared up. “Emily, what have you done?”

  “I’m not in any immediate danger. But I am outside of the camp where I think they’re holding Max.”

  “Christ, Emily. You’re taking a risk.”

  “I know, but I’ve spotted Ziegler. If he’s here, surely Max is, too.”

  “Yes, that’s probably true. Describe the camp’s setup.”

  Struggling to keep the discouragement out of her voice, she answered, “There are two dozen men in camp at the moment, with more arriving every hour.” How would Kristoff’s team manage to rescue Max with so many armed men nearby? “All of the men wear black uniforms with a black-and-white logo on the pocket. An hour ago, a large truck drove up bearing several crates. A team of men unloaded the crates, then set about raising a large tent made out of white canvas with the group’s insignia on the door flap. The logo is also displayed on the flag flying on the tent’s pointed roof. Once the tent was in place, the men carried the crates inside.”

  “Good work. If they’re setting up a semi-permanent base, this is probably the spot where the deal is going down. What’s their perimeter security like?”

  “The soldiers don’t seem to think this remote spot poses any risk beyond the occasional wild animal, because I’ve only seen them patrolling at the very edge of camp. They seem more concerned about someone approaching from the direction of the road.”

  “Are you taking precautions not to be spotted?”

  “Yes. I’m observing them from up in the trees and I’ve been switching my location every hour. I’m also keeping away from the side of camp closest to the road.”

  “All right. Text me your coordinates. Unfortunately, I still haven’t heard from the man who was supposed to meet you, and the team I was trying to free up to extract you came under fire during a mission. Their helicopter is out of service. We’re working on another way for them to reach you, but it will take time. So stay safe. In fact, now that I know where Max is, I want you to move far away from the camp.”

  “I—” Wait. What was that? She strained to hear.

  The roar of an engine came from the direction of the road. Excited shouts and barked commands from inside the camp suggested the arrival of an important visitor. “Sorry, sir, I have to go,” she said hastily. “There’s a commotion back at camp.” Without waiting for his reply, she disconnected and hurried to the closest tree that would give her a good view of the goings-on. Once she’d climbed high enough to see clearly into the camp, she pulled out her camera.

  A moment later, a small convoy drove into the clearing in front of the tents. The open-topped Jeep in the lead had two men standing in the back, each holding an assault rifle. Several dust-covered black Land Rovers followed the Jeep.

  The camp’s soldiers formed two receiving lines around the edges of the clearing as men piled out of the arriving vehicles and set up their own perimeter guard.

  An older white man wearing a lightweight suit stepped out. Thick gray hair swung just below his jaw, giving him a metrosexual look. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes. From the way every man in the clearing snapped to attention, she didn’t have to be a genius to figure out his identity.

  Dietrich.

  Which meant that the luxury tent the men had erected earlier belonged to him.

  Emily continued to take photos as the group greeted Dietrich and he was escorted to his tent, but her mind raced. Fear tore through her veins. Max couldn’t wait for Kristoff’s men to rescue him. Once Dietrich realized that Max couldn’t give him the location of the briefcase, he wouldn’t have any reason to keep Max alive.

  She chewed on her lip. What could she do?

  After several minutes of staring at the camp, which now bustled with more activity than before, she decided to chance calling Kristoff back.

  As soon as he answered, she explained the situation. “We need to help Max now.”

  Emily heard someone in the background ask Kristoff for an update. He relayed the information, then asked, “How many men do you see outside of the tents? Where are the guards standing?”

  The other person told Kristoff to ask additional questions. “What are the rest of the men doing?” Kristoff continued. “What’s the arrangement of the tents? Where’s the food tent? Is there an obvious supply of water?”

  She described the camp in as much detail as possible, then added, “It looks like they’re preparing for some large gathering. Maybe lunch or dinner with Dietrich and all the men.”

  “Okay.” He conferred with whoever was there i
n the room with him. “Tell me again about the water supply.”

  “Hold on, let me change to another location. I’ll call you back.” Sensing where the conversation was going, Emily slipped out of her tree and snuck through the jungle until she reached the stream to the left of the camp. She found a spot up another tree that gave the phone a signal, and dialed Kristoff.

  “I’m at the stream now,” she explained when he’d answered. “There are twelve, fifty-gallon plastic barrels set up in a line along the riverbank. You know, those big blue barrels that people here use to store the water they pull from their wells.” Her homestay family had used one. “Hoses run from the barrels to a pump in the middle of the stream. Each barrel has a spigot that the guards use to fill up the smaller containers they carry back to camp.”

  “Sounds like a custom filtration system. Are the lids on the containers locked?”

  She used the binoculars to zoom in. “It doesn’t look like it from here.”

  “Right. Give us a minute.” Kristoff’s words were followed by the heavy silence of an activated mute function.

  Emily peered out from the bushes. A thorn caught on her sleeve and she stilled in order to free herself. That’s when she noticed the heavy black seeds on the bush.

  Richard slapped his little sister’s hand away from the bush. “Do not eat seeds. Even small taste make you very sick.”

  Emily stared at the round seeds inches away from her nose, certain these were the same ones Richard, a boy in her homestay village, had said were poisonous. And he’d said something else. Something about the taste. Yes. Not bad, he’d said, admitting he’d gotten sick from eating a seed when he was little. So sick he’d almost died.

  When Kristoff came back on the line, Emily excitedly relayed the information about the seeds. “I could crush the seeds and put them in the water. With the bushes growing close, I’m sure I can sneak over to the containers. No one seems to be paying any attention to this area of camp.”

  “And then what? You’re just going to stroll into camp and waltz out with Max? You don’t even know if he can walk.”

  Emily understood the frustration in Kristoff’s voice, but she refused to give up. “Yes. Why not? If all the men are sick, who’s going to stop me?”

  “Some soldier who didn’t drink any water, that’s who. And what if Max drinks the tainted water?”

  “That’s a chance we have to take. Although, since I haven’t seen anyone bring him food or water since I arrived, dehydration is more of a threat.” She’d deal with that after she got him free. “What else are we going to do? You’re God knows how many miles away. You’re the one who told me to check the water supply. If this wasn’t what you intended, then what’s your grand plan?”

  Kristoff let out a long sigh. “No, you’re right. I’m sorry. My extraction team was supposed to handle this, not you. I’m just worried about your safety.”

  “Trust me, I know how dangerous this plan is. I’m scared to death of being caught. But we can’t wait. Dietrich will kill Max soon.”

  Emily heard the other voice in the background telling Kristoff to let it go. That the risk was necessary. “Yes,” Emily said. “Listen to whoever’s there with you, Kristoff. I have to do this.”

  “I—” Kristoff swore.

  “All right, Emily,” a new voice said. She sensed a barely leashed anger underneath the man’s authoritative tone. “You’re a go. Tell me more about these seeds.”

  “Sir?”

  “Nah, don’t sir me. I’m Wil. Max’s brother.”

  “Oh.” Maybe that wasn’t anger she heard. Maybe it was fear.

  “Kris tells me you’re in love with my idiot brother, so you and I are practically family.”

  Oddly warmed by his comment, Emily relayed everything she remembered about the seeds.

  “Working with the seeds will be dangerous,” Wil warned. “Here’s what you need to do…”

  “HERR ZIEGLER, I am disappointed in you. This is no way to treat a guest.”

  Dietrich’s hated voice roused Max from his stupor. Crap. The big man was here and Max was no closer to getting himself free. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Because Max was too weak to do anything but lie here, fighting to stay conscious, Ziegler had removed all but one of the manacles.

  Max struggled to raise his head from the pool of vomit and blood next to him, and caught Dietrich’s moue of distaste as he took in Max’s bloody, filthy appearance. That’s right, asshole, look what your buddy has done to me.

  After ordering his men to use tent stakes to beat him, Ziegler had personally kicked the crap out of Max. He was pretty sure that not only had the blows deepened the current cracks in his ribs, but had damaged another one or two. As if that hadn’t been enough, then Ziegler had gone to work with his needles.

  “He is withholding information, Herr Dietrich. I wished to have details of the briefcase’s location ready upon your arrival.”

  Ignoring the agony in his bloody hands, Max seized hold of the nearest stake and pulled himself to a seated position. Pain speared through him. He ignored it. He would not pass out in front of Dietrich and he would not lie back down. “Never…asked me…briefcase…” No, Ziegler had just gleefully started in on the torture without saying a word to Max.

  Dietrich frowned, then turned his back on Max. “Johann!” he called.

  Johann Strauss, Dietrich’s captain of the guard, poked his head into the tent. “Yes, sir?”

  “See that our guest is cleaned up and his wounds treated. Then escort him to my tent.”

  “Yes, sir.” The man moved toward Max.

  Ziegler made a choked protest, but Dietrich waved him off. “Herr Ziegler, your personal vendetta against Max has become a liability. Did I, or did I not, tell you that Max was not to be harmed? That I wanted him to be in prime condition when I questioned him?

  “Yes, but—”

  “No.” Dietrich pointed at Ziegler. “I have had enough of your insubordination. The correct answer was, ‘Yes, sir.’ The fact that you continually ignore my orders is inexcusable.”

  Ziegler stared calmly back at Dietrich before finally bowing his head. “I apologize, sir. It will not happen again.”

  “Of course not. I will not allow it.” Dietrich pulled a silenced pistol from his pocket and shot Ziegler once in the chest, then once between the eyes.

  Max stared in shock as Ziegler toppled to the ground.

  Dietrich turned toward Max. “I apologize for the mistreatment you have suffered at the hand of my colleague, Herr Lansing. When you are feeling more yourself, you and I shall talk.”

  Turning on his heel, Dietrich walked out.

  What the fuck? Max didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud until Johann said, “You heard the boss, let’s get you cleaned up.” He called for help and two more soldiers entered. The tent was so small, the men barely had room to maneuver.

  Johann ordered one of the men to undo the remaining manacle.

  Damn. A perfect opportunity to break free, and he could barely—

  Johann and the other man lifted Max off the ground.

  Agony. Darkness. Oblivion.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  WITH SURGICAL GLOVES protecting her hands, Emily gathered another handful of poisonous seeds and placed them in the plastic baggie she’d found among the medical supplies. The bushes she needed only grew here along the river, and after her call with Kristoff and Wil she’d started collecting seeds. Water dripped down her chin from the persistent drizzle that had started half an hour ago. Eyeing the nearly full baggie, she figured this last batch of seeds was enough. Now she could—

  Hearing men’s voices, she quickly backed deeper into the bushes, then dropped to her knees and set the baggie aside. Hooking her right index finger inside the wristband of her left glove, she rolled the glove outside in as she pulled it off, following Wil’s instructions on how to avoid getting the seed’s oil on her skin. Once both gloves were safely off, with their uncontaminated interiors now on the ou
tside, she placed them into a spare baggie she was using for trash.

  Two men exited the camp, carrying Max on a stretcher. They strode to the river’s edge and dumped the stretcher on the bank. Almost every inch of Max’s naked body was covered in blood, dirt, and bruises, yet he didn’t so much as groan at the impact. He just lay there, unmoving.

  Dead?

  Emily’s heart constricted. She shoved one of her fists against her mouth to stifle her screams. No. Oh, no. Max couldn’t be dead. Not now, when she was so close to enacting her rescue plan. Tears cascaded down her face.

  Acting on automatic pilot, she pulled out her camera and snapped off photos to use as proof of what had been done.

  A moment later, a stout, older white man holding a large medical bag joined the group on the riverbank. At a nod from the doctor, the men lifted the stretcher, then set it into the river downstream from the water filtration system. Max moaned and turned his head as the cold river washed over him.

  Emily nearly cried out in relief. He was alive!

  Her hands shook as she put the camera in video mode. She wanted this abuse documented so that none of these men could deny the abuse Max had suffered. Because she was going to make those responsible pay.

  Emily touched Max’s pistol and debated shooting the men. No. The sound of shots would only draw attention from the other guards. Max didn’t appear able to walk, and dragging the stretcher back to her home tree would leave a distinctive trail that would lead Dietrich’s men right to her.

  Besides, despite her fury, she didn’t think she could coldly shoot these men. No matter what they’d done to Max, her mind shied away from the idea of pulling the trigger while their backs were turned. It would be too similar to how Crystal and Sue had died.

  After the doctor cut away Max’s stained bandages, he washed away the blood and dirt from Max’s front. Then the men turned Max over and one man held Max’s face above the water as the doctor cleaned his back.