Drop Zone

by Traci Hunter Abramson

He shuffled his weight slightly like he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to say. He looked at her. “I hope you find him.”

  Vanessa nodded. “I hope I don’t need to.”

  * * *

  Seth stood at the edge of the river and looked at the surrounding jungle. Upriver he could see cliffs spearing up above the foliage, but behind him all he could see was a thick tangle of trees and undergrowth. He had spent over an hour trying to put together a communications unit out of the pieces of all five of the broken ones. Unfortunately, one of the key components was ruined in all of them.

  “What do you think?” Brent stood beside him, his eyes also sweeping the area.

  “I think our pilot took a left when he should have taken a right.”

  “I agree. How in the world did he get the wrong coordinates? There’s no way anyone could be this incompetent.”

  “I don’t think its incompetence. It has to be sabotage. All of our transponders are missing, all of our communication gear is busted, and we’re a thousand miles away from where we’re supposed to be.”

  “What would anyone have to gain by dumping us out here in the middle of the jungle?”

  “Maybe Morenta paid someone off to keep us out of his way.”

  “Maybe.”

  Quinn stepped out from behind a thick palm tree. “I think you guys need to see this.”

  Curious, Seth and Brent followed Quinn along the water until the river curved around to the left and widened. Quinn pointed at the high cliffs in the distance. “Look familiar?”

  “Not really,” Seth admitted.

  “Here. Try looking through these.” Quinn handed him his binoculars.

  With the image magnified, Seth could now see the white water cascading in a tall, narrow waterfall over the high cliff.

  “That’s Salto Angel,” Quinn said. “Angel Falls. The longest waterfall in the world.”

  “Which is located where exactly in Venezuela?”

  “On the western side of the country near Brazil and Guyana. In other words, this confirms we’re on the exact opposite side of the country from where we’re supposed to be.”

  “We’re going to have to find a way to hike out of here,” Seth said.

  “That’s the other thing.” Quinn paused. “Based on the location of the falls, we’re in the western part of Canaima National Park. It’s filled with plateau mountains and is only accessible by air.”

  “There’s got to be some way out.”

  “I came here once after I finished my mission in Caracas. There’s an airstrip for bringing in tourists, but from the angle we are to the falls, we’re probably a good fifty miles from there. If we watch for planes coming in, though, we should be able to track what direction to head.”

  “Set up a rotation for lookouts today. If our ride doesn’t show up tonight, we’ll head for the tourist area.”

  “That’s another thing.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not sure there are flights every day. It may take some time to figure out which direction we need to go.”

  “In that case, I suggest you do what you can to get your bearings. We can try to head in the general direction until we have a fixed point to focus on.”

  “I think this would be a good time for all of us to pray for some extra inspiration,” Quinn said. “But I’ll do what I can.”

  Chapter 16

  “I don’t understand.” Paige watched Vanessa. At Vanessa’s instruction, she had followed her back to her home and now stood in her bedroom taking notes while Vanessa packed a suitcase. “I canceled next week’s class like you asked me to, but why do you want me to work at the naval base until you get back?”

  “You’ll be the liaison between the CIA and the navy. We’ve found from past experience that we work better together in tense situations when we have people working side by side rather than trying to figure out who has the information we need. You’ll also communicate with Warren if I run into any problems. If you ever can’t get in touch with him right away, call Maryanne.”

  “Maryanne? His secretary?”

  “That’s right. She understands the situation well, and you can have her relay information if Warren is ever unavailable.”

  “I feel like everyone else knows a whole lot more about what’s going on than I do,” Paige said.

  “Not really. Warren and Maryanne have some historical knowledge you aren’t privy to, but they are among the very few people at CIA who know my full case file. Warren assigned me to my first long-term assignment. Maryanne was hired on as his assistant while I was undercover, so she ended up in the circle of need-to-know.”

  Vanessa held up two shirts, studied them briefly, and then packed one and hung the other back up in the closet before she continued. “After you drop me off at the airfield, I want you to report to Commander Kel Bennett. He’s the commander for SEAL Team Eight.”

  “It’s already two o’clock. Do you want me to go over today?”

  “Yeah. He’s going to need some of those intel reports.”

  “Why didn’t you call and give him the information yourself?”

  “There are some things I’d rather not discuss on the phone, and I don’t want him to have all of this until I’m already en route.” Vanessa didn’t wait for Paige to question her motives before adding, “Kel Bennett used to command the Saint Squad. He won’t want me going after his squad, and I’m not going to waste time convincing him that I’m their best option.”

  “Does the commander know I’m coming?”

  “He will,” Vanessa said. “As soon as he finds out I’m going after the Saint Squad, I’m sure he’ll want your help.”

  “Vanessa, I appreciate the trust you seem to have in me, but I’m not an analyst. I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

  “I expect you to be my eyes and ears while I’m away. When I call in, I expect you to have answers to my questions, and if you don’t know them, find them.”

  “I’ll do the best I can.”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear.” Vanessa closed her suitcase and zipped it shut. Hefting it off her bed, she set it upright and then crossed the room and opened the top drawer of her nightstand. She retrieved a key and a cell phone from inside and handed them to Paige. “Use this cell phone to contact me. Never use yours. I don’t want my clean phone to be connected to anyone from the agency.”

  Vanessa proceeded to give Paige the phone number to program into the memory.

  “What’s the key for?”

  “It’s my spare house key. If there’s ever a time you lose contact with me or have an emergency, come over here and call the number that’s programmed into my phone under number seven.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier for me to just write down the number?”

  “That’s not how it works. If you call from any number other than here, the person on the other end won’t answer.”

  “And who would I be calling?” Paige asked.

  “A friend. After you make the call, you’ll go on a little shopping spree, and my friend will give you further instructions.”

  “You definitely live an interesting life.”

  “Hopefully, we won’t have to use any of the precautions Seth and I have put in place.” Vanessa closed her fingers around the handle of the suitcase and added, “My husband tends to be a little paranoid.”

  “It sounds like he has reason to be.”

  “I guess we’ll see soon enough. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  “Did anyone find anything?” Amy asked as she entered the boardroom.

  “Maybe,” Commander Dunnan said. “We did find a few traces of blood near the scene and more near the fantail of the ship.”

  “Was anyone seen there last night?”

  “One of the night watchmen said he saw movement in that area but couldn’t say who it was.”

  “Does he know when?” Amy asked.

  “He said it was only about forty-five minutes after the helicopter returned.” Commander
Dunnan handed her a preliminary report. “He also said it looked like a man, and he wasn’t wearing a uniform.”

  “A civilian?”

  “That’s right, but it’s possible he changed his clothes to throw everyone off in case he was spotted.”

  “If it was someone in the military, we’ll have a hard time narrowing it down.” Amy rolled this latest information over in her mind. “How many civilians are on board right now?”

  “That’s the thing. Besides you, we only had five civilians on board when the pilot was murdered. Three of them were working together upgrading our communications software.”

  “And the other two?”

  “They were preparing to leave the ship. They hopped a COD twenty minutes before the body was found,” he said, referring to the carrier onboard delivery aircraft that were used to transport people to and from the ship.

  Amy hadn’t considered that the murderer could have possibly left the ship so quickly. “Who were they?”

  “Derrick Hazelwood and Terrance Gunning. Gunning was only aboard ship that day. Hazelwood was here for six days helping with maintenance on our F-14s.”

  “What was Gunning here for?”

  “I’m honestly not sure,” Commander Dunnan said. “He was cleared by someone in the Pentagon. My guess is he was with intelligence.”

  “I’ll check it out. Thanks.”

  “Let me know what you find.”

  “I will.” Amy waited for him to leave and then picked up her phone. She tried to take the direct route by calling Vanessa, surprised to find that Vanessa didn’t answer her call.

  Resigned to follow normal procedures, she logged on and sent several e-mails to various contacts within the intelligence community, requesting information on Terrance Gunning. She tried to get comfortable in her chair despite the worry eating at her. Answers would come eventually, and she was determined to wait at her computer until they arrived.

  * * *

  “Everything is going as planned.”

  “What’s happening with the SEALs?” Morenta asked the woman beside him.

  “My guess is they’re sitting around waiting for someone to show up and get them, assuming they’re still alive.”

  “I thought I made it clear that I wanted an assurance that they’re dead.”

  “If the poison in their food doesn’t get them, the jungle will. They’re more than fifty miles from the closest village. There’s no way they’ll be able to find their way out of there,” she said. “They’ll die eventually, but it will be slow and painful. I thought you’d like that.”

  “Don’t underestimate them. These are the same men who ruined years’ worth of planning the last time we crossed paths,” Morenta said.

  “Even if they don’t eat their food and can find their way to the airport, they won’t be able to leave Canaima without us knowing about it.”

  “Maybe you should consider a challenge for them that goes beyond trudging through the jungle.”

  “What kind of challenge?” she asked.

  “Perhaps one that would include dodging bullets from a Venezuelan fighter plane.”

  “How would the pilots find them?”

  “Like you said, they’re probably sitting around waiting for their ride.”

  * * *

  Damian spent three unproductive hours with NCIS at the rappelling tower, going over every detail of that terrifying day the week before. According to Larry Steinert, the lead investigator, NCIS was still trying to identify everyone who had come onto the base in the two weeks prior to the incident, but because of the holidays, it was unlikely they would be able to use that resource to identify any suspects.

  Steinert also confirmed that the only fingerprints found on the damaged area of the rappelling tower belonged to Brent, who had picked up a piece of it. The lack of other physical evidence suggested the culprit wore gloves, but little else was known about his or her identity or motive.

  After NCIS dismissed him, Damian stopped at the mess hall for lunch before returning to his office. Already, he was dreading the paperwork Kel had assigned him. The idea of reading someone else’s mission reports and debriefings set him on edge. He should be in the field right now, not reading about what others did.

  He stopped to check in with Kel but found he wasn’t in his office. He continued down the hall to the office he shared with Tristan and Quinn. His teammates’ desks were evenly spaced and faced the door; his own desk was shoved into the corner next to the printer table. He sighed. His office was just one more reminder that his team had yet to make room for him.

  He unlocked the vaulted safe where he had secured the file Kel had given him. Taking the file to his desk, he flipped it open and started reading. What he had expected to be boring paperwork instantly caught his attention. This wasn’t just any case file. It was one of his own squad’s mission reports from several years earlier, or rather, it was from the original Saint Squad.

  Kel had been in command of the squad at the time, and Jay had not yet joined them. The mission had been for Seth to make contact with a CIA operative in the Dominican Republic, a woman he had known previously. Damian started to lean back in his chair to get more comfortable only to bolt upright when he saw the name of the operative: Vanessa Lauton. Could that be Seth’s wife?

  Damian was completely engaged in the reports when a knock sounded. He looked up to see Paige standing in the doorway.

  “Sorry to interrupt.”

  Damian stood and dropped the file on his desk. “Hi, Paige. What are you doing here?”

  “Apparently we’re going to be working together. Kel said I should take one of the desks in here.”

  Before Damian could question her further, Kel walked in. “Oh, good, Damian, you’re back.” He closed the office door and motioned for everyone to sit. Paige set her purse and the files she carried on Tristan’s desk and lowered herself into Tristan’s chair. Kel wheeled Quinn’s chair closer so he was sitting between Damian and Paige.

  “We’ve got a situation, and you are two of the few who will have access to all of the information.”

  “What’s going on?” Damian asked, noticing some tension in Kel’s voice.

  “We have intel reports of a phone conversation between Morenta and one of his men that indicates they have captured the Saint Squad.”

  “Captured? No way.” Damian shook his head.

  Kel didn’t give his opinion, but Damian could tell by the expression on his face that he wasn’t sold on this intel either.

  “Where was their insertion point?” Paige asked.

  “Thirty miles inland of Maracaibo, Venezuela,” Kel said. The muscle in his jaw tensed before he added, “The pilot who dropped them off in Venezuela was murdered shortly after returning to the ship, so we don’t have anyone who can verify their status when they inserted.”

  “Their pilot is dead?” Paige asked incredulously.

  “I’m afraid so. If the Saint Squad really is missing, I have to think the two situations are related.”

  “Kel, you’ve known them all a lot longer than I have. Do you think there’s any way the whole squad could have been captured?” Damian asked.

  “Not unless they were surrounded the moment they were dropped off. Even then, it’s unlikely,” Kel admitted. “My concern is the report that the transponder on the helicopter stopped functioning right before it entered Venezuelan airspace. The navy has no way to verify if they were even dropped at the correct coordinates.”

  “What are we going to do? Has anyone tried communicating with them?”

  “Brent was supposed to check in after landing, and that never happened. Right now, we’re hoping that when the helicopter goes in to extract them tonight, this will all prove to be a false alarm.”

  “But you want us to be prepared in case it isn’t,” Damian surmised.

  “Exactly. It’s already getting late, so for today, just familiarize yourself with the file. I want you both here tomorrow at oh six hundred. If they don’t make th
e rendezvous, we have to come up with some options.”

  “Got it.”

  “And make sure you get some sleep tonight. If things don’t go well, it will be a long day tomorrow.”

  Chapter 17

  Amy wasn’t surprised that the CIA was the first to respond to her inquiry about Terrance Gunning, but the source of the phone call she received stunned her.

  Warren Harris, the deputy director of operations, called personally to give her the man’s background. “Terrance Gunning was in the navy for six years. He left the military and began working as a civilian contractor for naval intelligence four years ago.”

  “If he’s only worked for the navy, I’m surprised the CIA has any information on him.”

  “He applied to work for us when he left military life, but he didn’t make it through our initial screening.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “His foreign language skills were limited to Spanish, so professionally, he wasn’t a good fit. At the time, we weren’t looking for specialists in Latin America. Personally, his debt level was higher than it should have been, and his psych profile showed some areas of concern.”

  “Like?”

  “I guess you could call it the James Bond syndrome. He had a glorified view of what CIA life is like, and his spending habits indicated image was his priority.”

  “Do you have any idea why he was aboard the Truman yesterday?”

  “I don’t. One of my people contacted the Pentagon, and no one seems to know who actually authorized his travel. We think he may have managed to put in a ghost travel order.”

  “Meaning he authorized it himself.”

  “Exactly,” Warren confirmed. “He also hasn’t been to work since leaving the ship.”

  “Does anyone know where he is?”

  “Negative. My people checked the GPS signals on his phone and car to find both were at his apartment, but when I sent someone over there, he was nowhere to be found.”

  “Great,” Amy muttered.

  “I’ll let you know if we find anything else out.”

  “I did have one more question for you.”

  “What’s that?” Warren asked.

  “Have you heard from Vanessa Johnson lately? I tried calling her, and she’s not answering.”