by Vanessa Kier
Either Layla’s Foundation had been very thorough in providing an escape route for its employees, or someone had set the clinic up so that it could send and receive traffic with no one the wiser.
Traffic such as weapons? He rubbed at a sudden ache in his chest. Had Dr. Kirk been lying to him the entire time?
Shining his torch into the tunnel, he saw no signs that anything had been dragged or wheeled along the dirt floor. That didn’t prove Dr. Kirk’s innocence, but it was another mark in her favor and the ache in his chest eased.
He took several photos of the space, then returned to Tony.
“Anything?” Tony asked, holstering his weapon.
“No. There’s an escape tunnel, but I saw no signs of recent use.”
“Another dead end.”
“Most likely.” Lachlan pressed the button to close the back wall of the closet, then followed Tony into the hall and down to the kitchen.
Stationing himself so he could see out the back door, Lachlan pulled out his sat phone and called HQ.
Kris listened patiently to Lachlan’s explanation. “All right. I’m not happy about what went down, but it sounds as if you made the best decision under the circumstances.”
Lachlan felt a weight lift off his shoulders.
“I’ll run interference if word of this gets back to Azumah and causes problems,” Kris continued.
“Thanks.”
“So, there’s still no sign of the weapons?”
“No. David’s prisoner admitted that he occasionally drove the lorry with the weapons away from the airfield, but he only transported them to a rendezvous point, which changed each time. He has no proof of where the weapons went from there, although he assumed that Natchaba’s men were taking the weapons up the hill to the mansion.”
“You’re lucky there weren’t boxes of ammo being stored at the mansion when it went boom.”
“Yeah.”
“Was the prisoner able to give you a headcount of Natchaba’s troops?”
“Four blokes would meet his lorry to transfer the boxes, but he was ordered to remain in the cab. He only ever saw the leader’s face, so he didn’t know if the others were the same each time or different.”
“All right. It was too much to hope for that we’d receive the precise intelligence we needed.”
Making a sound of agreement, Lachlan nodded to himself and stared out the window. “Any word on when we’ll be extracted?” Dusk was falling and the setting sun painted the bottom of the growing mass of clouds the color of blood. A rising wind stirred up dust and threw it against the side of the clinic. He’d have to use the clinic’s transistor radio to check the weather report. “It appears another storm is brewing.”
“That’s what I hear,” Kris said. “If the weather clears in time, Marcus expects to be able to land at your airfield sometime tomorrow afternoon. If, of course, you can manage to avoid explosions or confrontations with angry mobs, he’ll fly you down to the capital so Dr. Kirk can work with the sketch artist to put a face to Natchaba.”
“Brilliant. Now I just have to get the doctor to agree to accompany us.”
“Good luck with that. You’re going to need it.”
After a few more minutes, Kris signed off and Lachlan updated Tony. While they were eating a meal of the MREs from their rucksacks, Lachlan’s phone pinged with an incoming text. He glanced at it, grunted, and typed a reply.
“What now?” Tony asked.
“The bomb squad from the national government is en route. They want us to meet their helicopter at the airfield.” He paused before hitting send, then went to look out the back door. “Ah. Brilliant. Dr. Kirk left the SUV.” He sent the text, then turned to Tony. “Do you want to stay or come along?”
“What? And miss the chance to be bored out of my mind here?”
Lachlan chuckled. “Aye. That’s what I expected.”
Ninety minutes later, with Tony riding shotgun and the bomb squad technicians in the back seat, Lachlan pulled up to David’s house.
“I don’t know what makes this region so important all of a sudden,” one tech said quietly to Lachlan as David led them to the place where the prisoner had buried the explosives, “but you’re certainly keeping us busy.”
Lachlan exchanged a glance with Tony. “We have reason to believe it’s personal revenge,” Lachlan said.
“Well, then.” The tech nodded. “That would explain it.”
“Any word yet on the type of explosives used in the other attacks?” Lachlan asked.
“No, it’s too early,” the tech replied. “Your boss will get the report when it’s ready.” He knelt down beside his partner.
Lachlan and the others—Tony, David, and the two leaders from the nearby villages—moved back as the bomb techs worked. Once the techs confirmed that the device was not about to go off, they secured it in a containment unit. “This one wasn’t as interesting or as sophisticated as the others,” the tech told Lachlan as he watched his partner carry the unit to the SUV. “But the explosion would have destroyed the nearest four or five houses.” He glanced round. “How certain are you that this was the only one?”
Lachlan thought back to the interrogation. “Reasonably certain. When we informed the man that he would be held here in the village until your lads take him into custody, he was quick to insist that he’d only planted the one device. He didn’t strike me as the martyr type.” Oh, the man had spouted plenty of rhetoric, but he’d been terrified of pain. “I doubt he’d willingly blow himself up.”
The tech nodded.
“I’m sorry that we can’t offer you fellows a ride,” the leader of the bomb squad said when Lachlan and Tony dropped the men off at the airfield. “But we have barely enough room for ourselves.”
Lachlan waved off his concern. “No worries.” It would have saved time to accompany the government’s men back to the capital, but Lachlan couldn’t leave without Dr. Kirk.
Once the government’s plane took off, Lachlan and Tony drove a perimeter patrol. With night falling, and the explosives gone, the village had become one giant party.
When Lachlan and Tony pulled up behind the clinic it started to rain. As they entered and Lachlan flicked on the lights, he felt a twinge of guilt. The past few days had been hard on Dr. Kirk. Being kicked out of the place she’d worked so hard to rebuild, plus having it turned into a place of torture, had to have hurt.
The guilt continued to niggle at him as he and Tony checked that the clinic was still secure, played cards, and ate another meal. Finally Lachlan sent Tony off to get the first sleep. He cleaned his weapons, listened to the radio report the progress of the storm, and thought about today’s events.
The more he went over what had happened, the more he felt the need to check on Helen. Not that he was going to apologize. He’d done what he thought was necessary. But maybe she’d let him explain his reasoning.
And just why do you care what she thinks of you? You accused her of being a weapons smuggler.
Aye, well, he no longer believed that. If they were to move forward as allies, he needed her cooperation.
By the time Tony woke and joined him in the staff room, the rain had turned into a deluge.
“How’s the leg?” Lachlan asked.
Tony set his crutches aside and sat on the cushion they’d set up on one of the chairs for him. “Sore. Tolerable.” He raised a brow. “What’s gnawing at you?”
Lachlan flicked his eyes toward the back door and shrugged. “I should check on the doctor. She already had that head injury and David clocked her pretty hard.”
“Makes sense. If, you know, you’re finally convinced she’s not the enemy.”
Lachlan leveled a glare at Tony, who just gave him an innocent look. “As if you didn’t have doubts yourself, mate,” Lachlan grumbled.
“I did. But I never put bruises on her wrist.”
Lachlan cursed and stood up. “Aye, well, I’m not proud of it, am I?” He nodded. “So I’ll just make my way over
there and apologize.”
“Good idea. I doubt the villagers are going to leave their festivities to tromp through the rain and wreak a little havoc on the clinic. But if they do,” he nodded at the assault rifle Lachlan had just finished cleaning. “I’ll be armed and ready. If anyone’s of the mind to cause trouble, they’re more likely to go after the doctor. After all, she banned David and his cronies from the clinic. You can use the bodyguard excuse for her to let you in.” Tony’s mouth twisted as he tried to hold back a smile, then he gave in and grinned. “Go apologize to the lady doctor, Lachlan. I like her. Not many people would stand up for their convictions when faced with a mob of angry men thirsting for violence.”
Remembering how fiercely Helen had defied David’s orders, her green eyes on fire and the bandage on her head giving her the look of a pirate, he nodded. “Aye. She has a warrior’s spirit, she does.”
Mind made up, he pulled on his rain gear and stepped into the storm.
CHAPTER TWELVE
STANDING IN FRONT of the two-burner electric stovetop in her tiny kitchen, Helen spooned thick bean stew and fried plantains onto a scratched plastic plate, covered it with a second plate, then pulled up the hood of her rain jacket. Every time it rained she wished her bungalow had been designed with more convenience in mind. It hadn’t been raining too hard while she’d used the shower and toilet facilities across the uncovered courtyard. But in the few minutes it had taken her to heat the stew and plantains, the rain had turned into a torrent. For a moment she watched the rain pouring off the roof and vanishing down the drain in the middle of the courtyard. Then she took a deep breath, picked up the plates, and dashed into the rain. As she came even with the gate into the courtyard, a flash of lightning revealing a man walking toward her bungalow’s door.
Helen screamed and slammed to a halt. She bobbled the plates and nearly lost her grip on them before the man stepped forward to steady her.
“Careful, doctor.”
MacKay. Didn’t it figure? As if she didn’t have enough to deal with, between the pain in her head and the ache in her jaw where the back of David’s hand had hit her.
“What do you want?” She tried to move around MacKay, but he reached the door first, opening it and ushering her through. Before she could tell him to go away, he stood inside.
Too close.
Ignoring the water dripping off her rain jacket, she circled the dining table. Feeling safer with it as a barrier between her and Lachlan, she set her dinner down.
“Easy, lass. I’m not going to hurt you. I came to check that you’re all right.”
“I’m fine.” Thunder boomed and she tried to hide her wince as the sound reverberated in her aching skull. “You can go away now.” She motioned toward the door.
“Please, doctor. You and I need to talk.”
Helen hesitated. MacKay’s presence made her jittery. She didn’t want him anywhere near her. Her nerves were still too raw.
“Be a bonnie lass and let me stay.” He gave her the first genuine smile she’d seen since she’d met him, changing his face from intimidating into something gentler.
“Drop the charm,” she snapped. “I don’t want you here. You’re a killer. A torturer.” The same as her mother. MacKay didn’t care who he hurt as long as he achieved his objective.
“I’m a soldier. I’m not going to apologize for doing what I felt was necessary to save lives. But I’d still appreciate the opportunity to discuss our differences before having to head back into the rain.” He gave her a pleading look that said she’d be a heartless woman to send him into the storm.
“Don’t try to manage me, MacKay.”
He held up his hands. “Sorry. So, may I stay?”
Lightning flashed, followed immediately by a crack of thunder. “Fine. It seems Mother Nature wants to keep you here. But I don’t have enough stew for the both of us, so you’re going to have to watch me eat.”
“No worries. I’ve already eaten, lass,” MacKay said, with a small smile of triumph.
“Really? Eaten what?” she asked as she peeled out of her rain jacket. “The kitchen at the clinic only has a few digestive biscuits, tea, and powdered coffee.”
“We brought rations with us.”
“Rations? That’s not real food.”
“We’re used to it.”
She glanced over at him and discovered that MacKay had also removed his rain gear and was standing on the towel she kept on the floor for just such weather. She’d forgotten how tall and muscular he was. But having him stand in her tiny dining room in just a damp t-shirt and cargo pants, his feet bare as he hung his socks over the tops of his muddy boots to dry, she was acutely reminded of her first impression of him being a barbarian warrior.
Well, she’d nailed that one, hadn’t she?
A frisson of some unidentifiable emotion ran up her spine at the thought of eating in MacKay’s presence. To hide her sudden unease, she asked, “Where’s Jacobs?” but thunder drowned out her words. Once the noise had faded, she repeated her question as she sat down and uncovered her food.
“Jacobs is back at the clinic, on guard in case David or the other villagers decide to cause trouble.” MacKay shrugged and sat down. “Besides, I walked here. It would have been tricky for him on his crutches in the mud.”
“I’m sorry. I should have checked his bandages tonight. I didn’t think.”
“No, doctor. He’s fine. There’s no sign of infection and I changed the bandages myself.” His eyes darkened as he studied her face. “You’ve put ice on that bruise?”
She nodded and forked up a bite of plantain.
“I’m sorry I didn’t stop David from hitting you,” he said.
“I—” She started to shake her head, remembered her headache, and gave him a half shrug instead. “It wasn’t your fault. I had no idea he would strike me or I would have moved out of range. I—” Helen ate another bite.
MacKay watched her with an odd expression on his face. Part curiosity. Part…satisfaction?
No. She had to be imagining that. Right now he might be acting all friendly, but his actions made it clear that he didn’t like or respect her. Which meant the real reason for his visit had nothing to do with checking on her. He wanted something.
“So,” she said, fighting resentment as she scraped the last of the stew from her plate with a piece of plantain. “Tell me why you and Jacobs are really here. What information do you think I’m withholding this time?”
His lips tightened and for a moment she thought she saw remorse in his eyes. Then the electricity went off. She sighed and reached for the lantern and matches she kept on the table, but MacKay was faster. A moment later, the flame from the kerosene lantern flickered to life. Uncomfortable with the cocoon of intimacy the light created, she was relieved when MacKay stood up and walked over to the window next to the door.
“Don’t worry about Jacobs,” she said. “The clinic’s generator will have kicked on.”
MacKay chuckled. “We’ve slept out in worse. As long as he has a roof over his head, he’s happy.”
“So you’re part of some military force?”
He shook his head. “Not anymore. We belong to a private security group.”
“What does that mean?”
“Can’t tell you that. But I can tell you that our primary objective is to stop the rebels.”
“Oh. Right. I remember David mentioning that after the attack. But why did you come here? There’s never been any rebel activity in this region.”
He turned to face her, standing at parade rest. “We received reports that weapons were being smuggled to the rebels through your airfield.”
Betrayal wrapped familiar tentacles around her, squeezing out all of her air. Dammit, she’d been right. Lachlan’s real mission was the smuggling. Only not in the way she’d originally thought. “And of course, you decided that I was guilty.” She winced at the bitterness in her voice.
“Aye. We had a photograph showing what appeared to be
boxes of weapons being unloaded from a plane, with you and Kwesi in the background.”
She blinked, having expected him to mention her mother. “To the best of my knowledge, I’ve never even seen a box of weapons.” She frowned. “I suppose it’s possible that Kwesi unloaded the weapons as I was getting ready to leave with my medical supplies and I assumed the boxes were his usual luxury goods.” She sighed and rubbed at the ache in her temples. “Or do you still believe that I knew about the weapons?”
“No. We’ve found no physical evidence tying you to the smuggling. Plus, if you were truly involved in illegal activities, you wouldn’t have worked so hard to treat the victims after the attack. You wouldn’t have patched up Tony while you yourself were in pain. And you wouldn’t have stood up to David with such righteous fury in your eyes.”
A tiny ray of warmth spread through her, until she thought about the fact that his first reason for believing her innocence had been lack of evidence of wrongdoing. Her personal work ethic had been a secondary consideration. When to her mind, the type of person she was should have pointed immediately toward her innocence.
His lack of trust hurt more than she’d expected.
The cold, hard truth was that MacKay inflicted violence on others. She healed the victims of violence. There could be nothing but heartache and betrayal between them.
The thought of what MacKay and the others might have done to David’s prisoner turned her stomach. She’d patched up victims of the rebels’ torture before during her work at a hospital near the front lines. It was a miracle she didn’t still have nightmares as a result.
“So what information did you come over here to get tonight?” she asked.
“You wound me, lass. What’s to say I didn’t want to see for myself that you were safe?”
“Let’s see… Perhaps because deep inside you still consider me an enemy? Or at the very least a naïve, idealistic obstacle?”
“Don’t be putting words in my mouth, doctor.”
“Why not? Isn’t that what you were thinking today? That I was a pesky do-gooder getting in the way of your macho display of aggression?” As the fury and helplessness of that afternoon flooded back, Helen felt too vulnerable sitting down. She pushed to her feet, then moved behind her chair, wanting an additional barrier between them.