by Cindy Dees
He translated into plain English. "Once you point the RITA rifle at a target and its computer locks on to that person, the gun doesn't miss. Ever."
"That's impressive and all, but can't a good sniper do pretty much the same thing?"
Tex scowled. "There's something else about the RITA rifle I didn't tell your journalist buddies about because it's classified. Highly classified, in fact."
Her gaze swiveled to his. What could be so special about a rifle that it merited its own security rating?
"When we get back home, you're going to have to sign a bunch of documents promising not to reveal what I'm about to tell you."
She nodded impatiently. "I know the routine. I've sat in on classified sessions of Congress before."
"Oh, yeah. I forgot. Daddy pulls strings for you, too, doesn't he?"
"My father doesn't lift a finger to help me," she retorted, stung. "Truth be told, he'd be happy to see me crash and burn."
Tex looked at her a long time, his mental wheels clearly turning over that tidbit of information. Eventually he shrugged. He was close enough for her to feel the heat from his body. As always, it lured her near with its sexual promise.
She blinked and tried to refocus on the discussion at hand. "So. What's so special about this gun?"
"It can fire through bulletproof glass."
"And?" she asked, waiting for the big revelation.
"And?" he asked incredulously. "If that technology falls into the wrong hands, nobody in the world will be safe anymore! No bank teller will be safe from robbers, no head of state will be safe in his limousine. Hell, the Pope will be at risk in the Popemobile.
"The whole nature of personal security will have to change. Any terrorist group or rich bastard with a grudge could hire a sniper with a RITA rifle, and anybody, absolutely anybody, could be killed pretty much at will. The chaos that would ensue…I don't even want to think about it. Some terrorist group with one of those rifles could knock out every key world leader and then sit back and enjoy the fun while countries scramble to secure the reins of power. Not to mention the armies and nuclear warheads at stake…. And then there are the little guys. What about DEA or FBI agents who rely on armored cars and bullet-proof vests to do their jobs day in and day out? Or congressmen like your father, whose desks sit in front of bulletproof windows and who ride in bulletproof cars? Jewelry stores, security guards in office buildings, cops who rely on Kevlar vests in a firefight…. Do you have any idea how many people's lives would be put at risk if that gun's technology got out?"
"Okay, I get the point. A lot of people would be put in danger."
He stared darkly at her. His next words, spoken flatly, without any emotional inflection at all, made her flinch.
"And I just handed that rifle over to the Gavronese rebels."
She stared at him as comprehension dawned. While she'd been clinging for her life to the cliff, he'd thrown one of the rifles down the rock face to get rid of its weight. It had been the big sniper rifle he'd tossed.
She glanced over the edge of the cliff in reflex.
"It's gone," he assured her. "Believe me, I've looked hard. They got it."
That was bad. But there wasn't a darn thing they could do about it up here. In a perfect world, they'd walk out of the jungle and call in a small army to retrieve the rifle, walk out…
The secondary implications of what he'd said began to hit her. She gazed hopefully at Tex.
"Then, if they were really after the rifle and not me, that means they won't chase us if we get out of here. We can walk out to the nearest road and get out of this bloody jungle! Then we can call in some help and get the gun back."
Jubilation coursed through her. Thank God. Their nightmare was over! Tex's jaw looked tight, the expression in his eyes harsh. Why wasn't he as thrilled as she was?
"Let's go home!" she cried.
"It's not that simple."
She stared at him, surprised. What was so hard about going home? Okay, so maybe they'd have to avoid towns and people sympathetic to the rebels. There was probably some risk to that, but nothing like what they'd been up against.
"Why not?" she finally asked. "What's so hard about getting out of here? All we need to do is get to a telephone. A couple phone calls and it'll all be over."
"I can't leave yet," he said heavily.
"What do you mean, you can't leave?" She pushed herself up on to an elbow to stare at him.
"I mean, I can't take you home yet. My job's not over, here."
A horrible sinking feeling rumbled warningly in the pit of her stomach. "What are you talking about, Tex?"
"I have to get that rifle back."
She stared in shock. "You're one man. An army just grabbed that thing. Are you nuts?"
"Maybe. But I have to try. I lost it, I have to recover it."
No. No, no, no. He couldn't detour to chase after a gun. He had to get her out of this mess first. She tried to reason with him. "That's crazy, Tex. Let's walk out to the nearest town. You can call in the Marines, and they can go get the darned thing back."
He shook his head. "The United States has a strictly hands-off policy down here. If we brought in Marines, both sides in the Civil War would accuse us of interfering and they'd both turn on us. It'd be another Somalia all over again."
Panic shortened her breath. But they had to get out of here! "So, call in the rest of Charlie Squad. Don't you guys sneak around in war zones all the time? Don't you specialize in doing stuff like taking on entire armies?" Desperation pulled the muscles across the back of her neck tight. She wanted to go home. To safety. Now!
"It'll take Charlie Squad a while to get down here. For all we know, the rebels will ship RITA out of here the second they get back to civilization. Some off-continent manufacturer could take it apart and learn its secrets in a matter of days."
"Surely you're exaggerating the threat…"
He cut her off with a withering glare. "Besides, deploying Charlie Squad down here could be, uh, a bit sensitive. We were down here not too long ago and made quite a splash. Neither side in the Gavronese war likes us a whole lot."
"What did you do to tick everyone off?"
"We blew up Gavarone's only international airport in its entirety, which the Gavronese government is miffed over. Then we killed a couple hundred rebels on the roof of the American Embassy while we rescued the U.S. Ambassador, preventing him from becoming the rebel's juicy political hostage. For some reason, the rebels are pissed off at us over the incident."
She stared at him. "How do you destroy a whole airport?"
He grinned briefly. "We blew up the above-ground fuel storage tanks. They ignited a secondary blast that blew all the underground fuel pits. The whole tarmac and a couple big chunks of the runway are smoking craters now. Most of the Gavronese Air Force was parked on the ramp when it blew, too."
She shook her head in amazement. "Six guys did all that?"
"Six guys and one woman. An American military attaché was with us. It was her idea. I'll introduce her to you when we get home, if you'd like."
She blinked at the way he said it. As if there was a tacit understanding that they'd see each other again once they got out of here. His voice rang with straightforward certainty, as if there was no question about it.
Suspicion flared in her gut. She'd spent a lot of years in Washington learning that anyone who pretended to be that sincere, wasn't. In fact, in her experience, the more honest a person seemed, the more dishonest they usually were.
She'd been a naive, idealistic kid once, who might have bought that utterly convincing ring in his words. But that had been a very long time ago. He was running a con on her. She just didn't see his angle yet.
Tex's voice interrupted her turbulent thoughts.
"The U.S. government promised the Gavronese government that it wouldn't send Charlie Squad into Gavarone again for a good, long time. Which leaves just me on the ground and in place to deal with this."
"Alone," she retort
ed. "Why can't they come in here in the role of a rescue team?"
"By the time you and I can contact them, we probably won't need to be rescued."
She rolled her eyes. "A technicality. Tex, I'll be the first to admit that your skills and training are impressive. But come on. You're not John Wayne! You can't do this by yourself!"
He lifted a single lazy eyebrow at her and drawled, "Are you offering to help?"
"Me?" She recoiled. "Certainly not. I'm going home. To a hot shower, clean clothes, new shoes, and dinner at the best restaurant in Washington. And I'm never setting foot in another jungle as long as I live!"
Tex gestured with his hand at the ground far below, hard cynicism in his eyes. "Be my guest, Kimberly. Nobody's forcing you to stay with me. Feel free to go home right now, by yourself. But even in a best case scenario, it'll take Charlie Squad some time to get down here, and every second may count right now. I'm going after that rifle now."
She glared at him, severely annoyed. "This isn't fair! I'm stranded up the side of a cliff, and you know darn well I can't get down it by myself."
"Fine," he snapped. "I'll take you down. Let's go."
He picked up the AK-47 from the ground beside him and stood up. He rigged some sort of harness out of bits of rope and tied it around her. She watched dubiously while he secured the end of the longest rope to an outcropping of stone behind him.
He moved over to the edge of the cliff and gestured expansively. "Your ride awaits you," he said with false politeness.
She glared at him and shimmied over to the edge of the cliff.
"Hang on to the rope and use your feet to hold you away from the cliff. I've got enough line left to lower you past the vertical face. When you get to the broken rocks beyond the smooth stuff, step out of the harness and free climb the rest of the way down."
She looked up at him in dismay. "You're not coming with me?"
"I need to bring the rope along. We don't have much gear, and I don't want to waste what we do have. Once you're down the cliff, I'll untie it and climb my way down."
"Isn't there another way? That sounds awfully dangerous."
"Darlin', I free climbed up the damn thing carrying you. Going down it is going to be a cinch."
She supposed he knew what he was doing.
She paused in the act of lowering herself over the edge. "By the way, Romeo, girls like balconies that won't break their necks if they fall off them."
His grin flashed. "Picky, picky, picky."
Pushing any thoughts about what she was about to do out of her mind, she took a deep breath and slipped over the edge of the wall. She hung on to the ledge for as long as she could, easing her weight gradually into the makeshift harness. She held her breath as the rope accepted her weight, stretching and creaking ominously. Oh, God.
She hung on for dear life as Tex lowered her slowly down the granite wall.
Yet again her safety and well-being rested completely in his hands. The vulnerability of owing her life to him like this was incredibly intimate. It struck her anew how deeply she trusted him. Earlier, on the way up the cliff, she'd let go of that rock face and climbed onto his back. And just now she'd stepped, literally, off the edge of a cliff without hesitation because Tex said it would be all right.
How could he make her so mad one minute and then command total trust out of her the next? He was the most confusing man she'd ever met, with the possible exception of her father.
Her father and Tex. Boy, now there were two birds of a feather. Military men, driven by some inexplicable, demonic need to be heroes. Her father had broken under the strain of the demands he placed upon himself and had spent years lashing out in unreasoning anger over it.
And here was Tex, losing himself in his own hero complex before her very eyes. The idea that he could find that rifle and get it back all by himself was patently absurd. The fact that he'd even consider trying it astounded her. And she was helpless to stop him, to protect him from himself. He'd end up just like her father.
The rope hung up for a moment, then lurched as it jerked free from a snag in the rock. Her heart raced and she felt light-headed with the burst of adrenaline that hit her.
The rope felt pitifully thin in her hands, not nearly strong enough to support her weight. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and added rock climbing to the list of things she was never, ever, going to do again as long as she lived.
Finally her feet struck a protruding rock and the wall grew uneven beneath her cheek. She'd made it past the worst part. She shimmied out of the rope harness and called up to Tex, "I'm clear of the hard part and the rope's free."
The line disappeared quickly as he hauled it back in. Now that there was nobody chasing her, she took her time climbing down the rest of the wall. She tested each handhold and foothold carefully before shifting her weight lower.
It seemed to take forever to get down the cliff. How had they ever gone up it so quickly before?
Finally her feet touched solid ground once more. She'd made it. She sighed in heartfelt relief. Suddenly her arms were so exhausted, she didn't think she could lift them if she had to.
She looked up the wall and saw Tex clinging to the smooth granite cliff. How he was staying on the rock face, she had no idea. He looked like he ought to slide off it any second.
She held her breath each time he moved. Fear for him surged through her and she felt like she'd made the descent again by the time he dropped lightly to the ground beside her.
For some reason she was struck anew by how big and powerful a man he was as he strode up to her.
"Still here?" he growled. "I thought you'd be on your way home to D.C. by now."
She scowled back at him. "I don't happen to know which way it is to Washington or I would have been gone already."
He pointed over his shoulder toward the cliff. "North's that way."
"Gee, thanks."
He turned and walked away from her quickly. He glanced up once at the cliff, as though taking a bearing, and veered off into the brush.
"Where are you going?" she called after him.
"To search the guy I shot."
She made a face of distaste, but morbid curiosity propelled her after him. She pulled up short when she burst into a clearing. Tex was kneeling over the body of the Gavronese soldier, going through the guy's pockets. The sight turned her stomach. There was something really wrong about touching a dead person.
"Bingo!"
She jumped at Tex's sharp exclamation. He held up a small, black object. It looked like a cell phone.
A rustle sounded in the bush close by. Tex threw her the phone and whirled, the AK-47 coming up into a ready position in his hands, almost as if by magic.
"Make the call," Tex ordered tersely over his shoulder as he plunged into the brush toward the noise.
Frantically she dialed the phone number he'd made her memorize. Static filled her ear. Please, please, please, let this thing work out here in the middle of nowhere.
A faint ring sounded. God bless communications satellites!
"Identify yourself," a man barked in her ear.
She jumped at the sharp command. "My name is Kimberly Stanton. Tex Monroe gave me this phone number."
"Jeez! Stand by." There was the tiniest pause and a clicking noise. "You're on speaker phone. Go ahead with your location."
"Uh, I don't know. Tex thinks we're in Gavarone. We've been walking north for three days."
"Say your status," a deep voice cut in.
"My status? Uh, we're both fine. Although soldiers—rebels—wearing red berets have been chasing us."
"You've escaped your kidnappers, then?" the deep voice asked.
"Yes. Tex did that right after he woke up. He freed us before I regained consciousness."
"Stay on the line, ma'am. We're attempting to locate your signal as we spea—"
A burst of static filled her ear.
"…old model…no triangulation. Still there, Miss Stanton?" the deep voice asked ur
gently.
"Yes."
"Can you put Captain Monroe on the line?"
"He's not here. He heard someone in the brush and went after them. We got this phone off a dead guy—"
She waited out another burst of static.
"…and Tex threw it at me and said to call you."
"Did he ask for any support?"
"No, he said there'd be some problems sending any help for us into Gavarone." She hesitated. "Something important has happened that I think he'd want you to know about. Can I say something classified, at least I think it's classified, over this line?"
Surprise resonated in the deep voice. "This is Charlie Squad headquarters, and I'm Colonel Folly, the commanding officer of Charlie Squad. Anything he said to you, you can say to me. Your phone line isn't secure, but under the circumstances I'm willing to take the risk. Go ahead."
"Tex thinks I wasn't the target of the kidnapping. The RITA rifle he had with him was. When the rebels caught up with us this morning, Tex dropped the rifle. They took it and left, even though they had us cornered."
A long silence greeted that announcement.
"Are you still there, Colonel Folly?" she asked in dismay.
"Yes, ma'am. Did Tex say what his intentions are?"
"He said he's going after the gun to get it back. He said he thought the U.S. government couldn't send in Marines after the gun, and he didn't think Charlie Squad could get here in time."
"If you're in Gavarone, Miss Stanton, we can be there in eight hours. But we need an exact location on you. Do you have any idea where you are? Have you passed any distinguishing landmarks in the last few days?"
"No. Just tons of jungle. We crossed a little stream yesterday afternoon that flows to the north. I'm standing in front of a really big granite cliff. It's part of a box canyon the rebels used to trap us. The cliff wall faces south."
"How big's the canyon?" the colonel asked.
"It took us over an hour to run the length of it, I think."
"Anything else, Miss Stanton?"
She racked her brains but couldn't think of a thing to help. The static was getting worse.
She barely made out Colonel Folly's voice as he said, "Tell Tex we'll be in theater tonight. As soon as he can get us a position fix, we're coming in to provide support to him and pull you out. Tell him to get the gun back…"