If the Saint Squad really had been stranded rather than captured, he could think of only one place remote enough that they wouldn’t have been able to find a mode of either transportation or communication by now—Canaima National Park.
Granted, the area was huge and rugged, but it was also impossible to get in and out of without air support, and it was largely uninhabited. Even if they ran across any indigenous people, they likely would not be able to communicate with them or get help from them because they lived so simply.
Damian didn’t know how to find their exact location, but one thing was certain: he wasn’t doing them any good sitting in an office.
Leaving Paige to her files and sticky notes, he headed down the hall to Kel’s office and knocked on the open door.
“Come on in,” Kel said, looking up from a mountain of papers on his desk. “What have you got?”
“My best guess is that the pilot dropped them in Canaima National Park.” He went on to describe the isolated, rugged area.
“The question is how do we find them? From what you’re saying, that’s still a lot of area to cover.” Kel drummed his fingers on his desk. “And that’s assuming they weren’t really captured . . .”
The unspoken words or killed hung in the air. Damian wasn’t going to entertain such thoughts. If they were dead, there was nothing he could do, but if they were alive, he had to do everything he could to find them. “Assuming they are okay, I have to think our search radius is shrinking. There are hotels by Lake Canaima and a small airstrip where a jet plane can land when bringing people in and out of the area. I think the squad would try to head there.”
“That makes sense.”
“Kel, I want to go in and try to find them.”
“Damian, it’s too dangerous. I can’t send you in there, especially not alone.”
“He won’t be alone.” Paige’s voice sounded from the doorway.
“Excuse me?” Kel rose at her entrance.
“He won’t be alone. He’ll be taking his new girlfriend home to meet his grandparents.”
“Excuse me?” Kel repeated. “I can’t send you two into an unstable area, especially not knowing what we’re facing. We need more information.”
“That’s why we need to go,” Paige said. “I speak Spanish but not well enough to do this alone. Someone has to go to Venezuela and get Vanessa and the Saint Squad safely out of there.”
“No offense, Paige, but it makes more sense to send in someone from the local field office to get her home. You aren’t exactly trained for this.”
“Normally, I would be the first to suggest having someone with more experience make contact, but we can’t be sure who we can trust. The man who tried to pick her up from the airport might be telling the truth, or he could be working with Morenta. We don’t know who else is involved or why they’re trying to get to Vanessa in the first place.”
“I have people under my command who I trust. If I do let Damian go into Venezuela, I’d feel more comfortable sending him in with another SEAL, someone who has language skills,” Kel countered.
“But none of your SEALs will be able to recognize Andrea Kemper, and they won’t have access to CIA intel.”
“We have Andrea Kemper’s personnel photo.”
“She’s a master of disguise. That photo isn’t going to do you any good.”
“What makes you think you would recognize her, then?” Kel asked.
“I spent three months counseling her father. He was proud of her abilities and often brought in photos of her in various disguises. I’ve seen dozens of photos of her, and I know her background through her father,” Paige said. “I’m your best shot at finding her.”
“She’s right,” Damian said. “If Vanessa really is the target, we need to get her out of the country without Andrea Kemper getting to her first.”
“And we need to figure out if Andrea is working with anyone. Even if we get everyone home safely, there’s no guarantee someone won’t try to go after the Saint Squad again to get to Vanessa,” Paige said.
“I don’t know how I’m going to get approval for this.” Kel shook his head. “Especially in a way that we can keep it under wraps.”
“Maybe all you need to do is approve Damian’s request for leave,” Paige suggested.
“I don’t know—”
“I’ll have my leave slip on your desk in ten minutes,” Damian said before Kel could finish his sentence.
Kel fell silent for a moment. “Okay, here’s the deal. I’m going to have one of the other squads fly out to the USS Harry S. Truman to be on standby for when we make contact with the rest of the Saint Squad. If you two really want to do this, I want you to focus on getting Vanessa out of there.”
Even though Damian would have preferred to go straight to Canaima, he found himself agreeing. After all, once he got Vanessa and Paige safely on a plane home, he could search for his squad himself.
“How soon do we leave?” Damian asked Paige.
“If we catch the red eye to Miami tonight, we can be in Maracaibo by noon tomorrow.”
“Paige, can you get me the flight information you were looking at so I can book the tickets?” Kel asked.
“I’ll go get it right now.” Paige started for the door.
“Thanks,” Kel said. “When you get back, we’ll go over some basic procedures and come up with a plan.”
As soon as she left, Damian asked, “Is it okay if I call to let my family know we’re coming, or should I just show up unannounced?”
“Actually, I’m going to make a hotel reservation.”
“Why? I have a lot of family who would let us stay with them.”
“I understand that, but the main reason Brent decided to leave you behind on this mission was because he was worried your family connections might complicate things.” Kel motioned to his computer. “For now, let’s make sure you and Paige have everything you need for a successful mission. As soon as I finish briefing you guys, you’ll both need to go pack.”
“Yes, sir.” Relief, anticipation, and trepidation pulsed through Damian. He was going on his first mission. And he was going without his team.
* * *
Paige rolled four shirts together to keep them from wrinkling and put them in her suitcase. She had no idea how long she would be gone, but she remembered one pointer Vanessa had given when Paige had sat in on her class: learn to pack lightly.
Terrified at the thought of being noticed in a foreign airport, she concentrated on making sure everything she needed could fit into her carry-on.
As soon as her suitcase was packed, she started loading her backpack. She slid her laptop and charger inside. She then retrieved the envelope Ghost had given her and dumped the contents on her bed.
Her eyes widened when she saw a bundle of currency, a mixture of U.S. bills, Mexican pesos, Venezuelan bolivars, and Colombian pesos. She grabbed it, flipping through the U.S. bills to see there were several thousand dollars.
What in the world had she been thinking when she had suggested she go with Damian to Venezuela? The fact that she could identify Andrea Kemper hardly made her qualified to work undercover. Even if she did find Andrea, would she know what to do? With more cash in her hand than she had ever seen in one place before, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was getting in over her head.
Setting the money back on her bed, she began sorting through the other items. A ballpoint pen, a hardback book, a power converter, her new passport, a credit card, and several other random items that seemed to have common uses. Tucked beneath the book, she found a folded piece of paper and slid it free.
The heading read “Travel Clean.” Eager to learn anything she could before going overseas, she sat down on the edge of her bed and began reading. The first section outlined basic travel procedures, including making sure she left all identification behind. Kel had given her that direction when he had briefed Damian and her earlier.
Next was an inventory list with basic specs. The hardback
book wasn’t really a book at all. Paige lifted it to find that it had been hollowed out and was to be used to hide the currency. The identity on the credit card matched her fake passport and could be used when cash wasn’t feasible. Other items were actually surveillance equipment and things she might need while traveling.
Paige cleaned out her wallet, securing her own identification and credit cards in the small safe she kept in her closet. She then took the other items and packed them in her bag so they looked like they truly were everyday items.
She was debating whether to take her personal cell with her when the other phone rang. She answered it to find Vanessa on the other end.
“Vanessa. Are you okay? I’ve been worried sick about you.”
“I’m fine, at least for now,” Vanessa said, though she sounded distracted. “Did you see Ghost?”
“Yeah, and he decrypted those photos.”
“Do you know who they are yet?” Vanessa asked.
“One of them is one of our operatives, Andrea Kemper. She was undercover with Morenta but supposedly died at sea six months ago.”
“What about the guy who tried to pick me up at the airport?”
“He works in the local field office out there. It’s possible he was just a decoy or a pawn who was unwittingly helping out Andrea,” Paige told her. “The station chief questioned him, and he still has no clue why you didn’t go with him.”
“Have you heard anything from my husband or his squad?”
“No, nothing,” Paige said. “Damian thinks they might have been dropped off deliberately in a place called Canaima. I guess it’s a rugged area only accessible by air.”
“Why did you send me that message that you think I’m the target?”
“We think someone was deliberately trying to draw you out in the open by going after Seth’s squad. Apparently, that day we met them at the restaurant, someone had sabotaged the rappelling tower. We think they were hoping someone would die so they could find you at the funeral.”
“I knew they were keeping something from me. Any idea why someone wants me?”
“I was hoping you would know.”
Vanessa fell silent. “Let me know if you find anything else out. I’ll call you in a day or two.”
“Okay, but—” Paige didn’t get the chance to tell Vanessa she was coming to help. The phone went dead. She tried calling her back only to have the call go straight to the generic voice mail.
Paige’s other phone buzzed when a text message came through. She picked it up and saw a message from Damian, offering to give her a ride to the airport.
Remembering the way Ghost had disabled the disposable cell phone’s GPS, she responded to Damian’s text and then set her phone on her dresser. Better safe than sorry.
Chapter 24
Damian knocked on Paige’s apartment door, a suitcase in one hand and a pizza in the other. The curtains in the window beside the door shifted when Paige looked out, and then the door swung open. “What are you doing here? We don’t have to leave for the airport for another three hours.”
“I brought dinner. I hope you haven’t already eaten.”
“No, actually. I just finished packing.” She stepped aside to let him in.
Damian led the way into the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I just got cheese.”
“That’s great, actually.” Paige retrieved two paper plates from her cabinet.
“What is your favorite kind of pizza?” Damian asked, eager for any conversation that wasn’t about their mission.
“Pineapple.”
“Just pineapple?”
She opened the box and pulled out a slice. “I know. Everyone always thinks I’m weird.”
“Well, yeah. Most people at least add ham or Canadian bacon to their pineapple pizza.”
“But I don’t really like ham or Canadian bacon.”
Damian chuckled. He took a slice for himself and settled into a chair in her kitchen. They chatted comfortably over dinner, both of them choosing to stay on safe topics that didn’t have anything to do with the task they were about to undertake. It wasn’t until the leftover pizza was passed along to the next-door neighbor that the topic turned professional.
“Did Kel arrange for a car to take us to the airport?” Paige asked.
“Yeah. A taxi is going to pick us up here at nine thirty. You don’t care if I leave my truck parked here while we’re gone, do you?”
“No, that’s fine,” Paige said.
Damian glanced down at his watch. They had almost two more hours until they needed to leave and he struggled against the abundance of nervous energy that had built up inside him throughout the day. Hoping for a distraction, he asked, “Did you have any other plans for tonight?”
“Just unpacking boxes . . . or pacing around my apartment, pretending I’m not nervous.”
“Any chance I might be able to distract you while we’re waiting?” Damian asked.
She looked a little wary. “Maybe. What did you have in mind?”
“Come with me to the range. I can teach you how to shoot and show you guns aren’t as bad as you might think.”
Paige instantly took a step away from him. “I can’t.”
Damian saw the absolute terror on her face, and he found a sudden sense of clarity. Paige didn’t just dislike guns; something in her past was causing her to truly fear them. He studied her for a moment, searching for the right words to put her at ease once more. Then he realized maybe he should take the direct approach he had seen her take so often.
“What happened?” he asked. “Why do guns scare you so much?”
She kept her eyes on his, and he could almost see the internal debate going on in her mind. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Then he took her hand in his. “Just tell me. I said last night I wanted to get to know you better. Let’s start here.”
Still, she wavered, and he found himself analyzing what he knew of her. “Does this have anything to do with why you left nursing?”
“No, it has more to do with how I got into nursing in the first place.”
Taking her response as a positive cue, he tugged on her hand and led her into the living room so they could sit together on the couch. She settled down beside him and still seemed to hesitate.
“Talk to me,” Damian said, shifting to face her. “What can it hurt?”
* * *
What can it hurt? Paige repeated Damian’s question in her mind. Just the thought of that day her sophomore year of high school caused her stomach to clench and made her yearn to go back and erase the images. Yet, she also knew that if she kept hiding from her past, she would never truly be free of it.
So many times she had encouraged others to face their fears, but she often struggled to take her own advice. Not once since leaving high school had she trusted anyone with her past. But knowing she had to try, she let the memories come. “There was a shooting at my next-door neighbor’s house when I was in high school,” she began, not sure how much she could reveal or even how much Damian really wanted to hear.
“What happened?”
“My friend Ellie came over, her arm bleeding. I found out later that her older brother had cut her with his hunting knife when she ran outside.”
Damian didn’t ask for more details. He waited patiently, holding her hand in a silent gesture of support.
“We called 9-1-1 and went to her house. We were right outside the door when we heard gunshots.”
“Who was shot?”
“My friend’s brother. Russell, Ellie’s older brother, had cornered their mother in the kitchen. She had cuts on her arm, apparently from when she tried to fight him off. When he wouldn’t back off, she grabbed the gun over the stove and shot him.”
“Did he survive?”
“Yeah. His mom shot him in the leg, and she managed to get around him once he fell to the floor. Unfortunately, her first shot went wide. She didn’t see her twelve-year-old son come aroun
d the corner. He was killed instantly by the stray bullet.”
“That’s awful. Do you have any idea what caused the older brother to go after his mom like that?”
“He had drugs in his system. He had some sort of paranoid delusion and was convinced his mom was going to kill him in his sleep. He decided to kill her before she could get to him.”
Damian rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “That sounds really traumatic, but I would have thought you’d be just as afraid of knives as you are of guns.”
“I was, actually. It’s taken me a long time to get to where I don’t feel like I have to lock up my kitchen knives.”
“Did you know the older brother well?”
“He was my sister’s boyfriend.”
“What?” Damian’s eyes widened.
“Well, ex-boyfriend, really. When she found out he was getting into drugs, she broke up with him. When she heard what happened, she really struggled with guilt, convinced it was her fault for not telling his mother what was going on.”
Paige gathered her thoughts before continuing. “Ellie and her family had a lot of post-traumatic stress. So did my sister and I, but my struggles didn’t seem that bad compared to what they went through. I spent the next couple years watching both of them go in and out of the mental hospital while they learned to cope.”
“Are they okay now?”
“My sister is doing great. It took a little while, but she eventually came to grips with what happened and that it wasn’t her fault.”
“And your friend’s family?”
“They’re . . . still struggling.”
“That’s too bad.” Damian looked at her intently. He stretched his arm out along the back of the couch, his fingers toying with her hair and sending an unexpected ripple of comfort through her. “And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“It sounds like you spent an awful lot of your high school years trying to take care of everyone else in addition to dealing with the memories of what happened. That had to have an impact on you.”
“Mostly I learned how to look for cues. Ellie tried to commit suicide a couple of times during our senior year, and I never knew when my sister was going to act like herself or when she was going to pick fights because she didn’t want to deal with life.” Paige’s shoulders lifted. “And I developed an irrational fear of guns.”
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