"I think someone took a shot at us as we were leaving. Do you think Van Slyke could've beaten us to the airfield?"
"It's possible." Ricardo studied the display with a grim expression. "We could turn back," he suggested.
"That's probably what they're hoping we'll do." Sam glanced back at Maddy and found her hugging herself again, her face twice as pale. There wasn't any question she'd heard what he'd said. "What other options do we have?"
Ricardo sighed. "The second tank is full, but based on the mileage we've gotten so far, we won't make it all the way to Asunción, not with the wind in our face."
"Are there any landing strips between here and there?" Sam asked, but he already knew the answer.
"No. We'd be forced to make an emergency landing."
Sam's intestines knotted. The terrain could be worse. They could be flying over a jungle instead of a desert-like Savannah, but the odds of none of them getting hurt weren't good. He didn't fancy being battered to death in a crash any more than he'd wanted to be buried alive in a tunnel.
"You two could jump," Ricardo suggested, "but I've only got one parachute. You'd have to share it somehow."
"Shit!" Sam swore, not liking any of the options.
Ricardo snatched up the radio handset. "Let me advise air control at Asunción. Maybe someone has a better suggestion."
Sam listened to him hail the air traffic controller at their destination field. The radio crackled and hissed, its reception poor at best. Ricardo tried again, speaking in fluent Spanish and receiving a broken reply.
Seeing Maddy's face in her hands, Sam dropped down next to her. "Hey, we're going to be okay," he said.
She dragged her fingers down her cheeks, revealing impossibly wide eyes. "This is exactly what happened to my mother. Except there was water in her tank, not a leak. And no parachute. My God, Sam," she added with horror in her voice. "It makes me wonder..."
"What?" he pressed her.
She shook her head. "Nothing. Nevermind."
Whatever she was thinking it had put her into shock.
"I won't let anything bad happen, Maddy," he insisted. Oh, hell, no. After the trouble he'd gone to snatching her out of Matamoros, then wresting her from the terrorists, he sure as hell was not going to let her die at her uncle's hands. "I've jumped out of a plane hundreds of times. If we go that route, we'll be just fine, even sharing a parachute."
"I think I'm going to puke," she managed to choke.
He snatched a vomit bag out of the pocket in front of her and shoved it in her hands. But she didn't throw up. Instead, she fixed her lagoon-like eyes on him and said, "What if Uncle Paul sabotaged my mother's plane, too?"
He considered it a distinct possibility, but he wasn't going to tell her so. "Don't think about that right now. We're not going to die, Maddy. We've got plenty of fuel left. We can make an emergency landing if we have to."
Only Ricardo wasn't having any luck getting through to Asunción.
"Something's wrong with the radio," the case officer called, ripping off his headset and tossing it aside with disgust. "The antenna's been compromised."
They would have to set the plane down without any input from air traffic control, then, counting on topographical maps to find the best place for a landing. There'd be no emergency vehicles lying in wait to tend to them if anyone got hurt. At least they had Maddy's satphone. Once they were down, their location pinpointed by Accutracker, they could summon help.
He made up his mind. A SEAL never abandoned his teammates. "We're staying with you, Ricardo. I guess we'll see how good a pilot you really are," he added, needling the case officer playfully. "Maddy, switch seats with me," he added, moving her farther from the leaking wing.
She slid over wordlessly and buckled herself back in, her movements stiff with fear.
"We'll be all right, querida," he promised her, pausing to stroke the top of her head. Then his training kicked in. Rifling through the cabin, he came up with a fire extinguisher and a first aid kit. He laid the single parachute at his feet, just in case. He didn't let himself dwell on the odds of all three of them arriving back on the ground safely. That was something only God knew the answer to, right along with whether he and Maddy had a shot at a future together, considering their very disparate pasts.
* * *
Maddy closed her eyes and prayed. The plane was going down—not in the theatrical way she'd envisioned her mother's plane floundering, but a smooth descent disturbed only by occasional air pockets that launched her stomach repeatedly into the air.
Through her haze of panic, she gleaned that Ricardo had chosen a place for them to land by studying a map stored under his seat. The area lay two hundred kilometers outside of Asunción. After they landed, they could call for help using her satphone, which Sam had taken from her purse and put in the first aid pack for protection.
At least the terrain wasn't marshy here, like it was in the Pantanal, where her mother's plane had ripped open the instant it hit a swamp.
"Two thousand feet," Ricardo called, announcing their altitude so they wouldn't be caught unawares. "Fifteen hundred," he added minutes later.
Sam remained with Maddy in the back seat. "Hug your legs, Maddy," he instructed, grim but calm. "Keep your head as low as you can."
Obeying, she thought of Lucía and baby Isabella and prayed for Ricardo's safety.
Is this what it was like for you, Mom? Had her mother prayed for deliverance only to perish the instant her plane struck the earth? Don't let that happen to us, please.
She stole a peek at Sam, wondering if this was the end for them. Would she never get to hear him say her name again or, for that matter, the words I love you, Maddy?
Unlike her, Sam wasn't braced yet in a crash position. He watched their descent out the window, a first aid pack on his back and a fire extinguisher on his lap—poised for whatever calamity came their way. There wasn't any question he would do everything in his power to get them out of this predicament alive. Her mother hadn't had Sam to protect her, but Maddy did. Once again, her mother seemed to be watching over her.
"I see the ground," he announced, preventing her from saying anything.
"Roger that. I see it, too," Ricardo countered, his tone unnaturally calm, though she was sure he was praying and thinking of his little family back in Mariscal Estigarribia.
Maddy forced her body to relax. The impact would hurt more if she was all tensed up.
"We're looking good. I'm going to bank and come back around so the wind's at our back," Ricardo warned. "Two hundred feet."
The little plane abruptly listed, causing Maddy to flash out a hand and grope for Sam. He caught it and held onto it, his grip reassuring.
The plane slowly righted itself. Even though she couldn't see outside in her present position, she could sense their descent, could feel the land rising up under them, rough and unpredictable.
"Any second now," Ricardo announced controlling their descent.
Maddy stole a peek at him, saw only the tense line of his shoulders, and squeezed her eyes shut.
"Easy, easy," Sam called out to Ricardo, his tone full of warning, like he'd suddenly caught sight of something in their way.
Ka-BAM!
In the next instant they slammed into the earth, rebounded into the air, and crashed again. The top of Maddy's head struck the seat in front of her as their momentum kept them careening forward, bouncing hard and landing again. The sound of hydraulic brakes combined with the thunder of wheels reverberating over brush and sand.
The wing on Sam's side caught on something unseen—a small tree, perhaps—and the plane spun around, its back end lifting into the air. Maddy screamed. The tail described an arc in the air and the entire plane flipped, striking the ground with such force that Maddy's world went black.
It took several seconds to surface to reality. She roused to silence that had her gasping in horror and peering into the dark in fear. She hung practically upside down while Sam lay in an unconscious heap
against the window, now below her, his head and shoulders outlined by the lighter expanse of Plexiglass window.
"Sam!" she cried his name, stretching out a foot to nudge him, but he didn't stir.
"Sam, wake up!" she repeated in a voice hoarse with fear. What about Ricardo? Turning her stiff neck, she realized that the nose of the plane was crumpled, leaving the pilot squeezed between the instruments and his seat. The engine, built inside of the nose, was smoking. Wisps of it rose through vents like thin ghosts, conveying a chemical smell.
The pilot stirred. "Ricardo!" Maddy cried, sobbing in relief when he released his seatbelt and slipped out of the deathtrap. A larger man might have been crushed to death.
Groaning, Ricardo righted himself, bracing his feet on the side of the plane which was now beneath them. His dark eyes took stock of their situation. "Sam!" He crouched down with a grimace, picked up the fire extinguisher and gave Sam a shake.
Sam lurched to wakefulness, freeing Maddy to breathe again. "What happened?" His gaze locked on her. "You okay?"
"We're both okay," Ricardo answered for her. "But the engine's smoking, and even though the fuel is in the wings, we should probably get out of here." Reaching over Maddy's head, he released the lock on the door and tried to throw it open, groaning in defeat when it didn't budge.
Maddy's heart lurched into a painful trot, the way it had in the car earlier. My God, what if they were trapped inside and the plane caught fire?
Sam rose to a vertical position then stepped in front of her to help Ricardo. The door yielded with a moan, and cool air wafted in. Maddy filled her lungs with the fresh scent and her pulse subsided.
It was Sam who released her from the seatbelt that strapped her in. She fell into his arms with a grateful sob. Ricardo exited first, climbing out of the opening onto the side of the plane. Sam hoisted Maddy through the opening next. She sat a moment on the slick hull then slid into Ricardo's waiting arms. Sam leaped lightly down beside them, taking Maddy's hand as Ricardo carried the fire extinguisher to the damaged engine.
The smell of low leaded gas permeated the air, competing with the clean grassy fragrance of the savannah. Sam drew Maddy to a safe distance as Ricardo hosed the engine with foam. Maddy's heels sank into the soft ground. Tough, calf-high grass scratched her bare calves, but she had never been more aware of the steady flow of blood through her veins, the gentle warmth of Sam's big hand as it cradled hers.
Fifty feet from the fallen plane, they stopped and looked back. A crescent moon hung low over the horizon highlighting the single white wing that jutted upward. The plane lay in an endless field, without any sign of civilization visible in any direction.
But Maddy wasn't afraid. Her gaze rose in gratitude to the brilliant and innumerable stars glittering in the sky above them. I'm alive, she marveled. Her entire life still lay before her, brimming with possibility, blessed with the potential of love.
She tugged at Sam's arm to get his attention. "After that, I think we can handle anything that comes our way, don't you?" she asked.
Rubbing a spot on the back of his head, he spared her a distracted glance. "I like your optimism," he said, sliding the pack off his shoulders. "Everything's easy after that. Just remember that in the hours to come."
A splinter of uncertainty slid beneath her skin. "Who can we call for help?" she asked. "My father's not going to get to Paraguay until tomorrow."
He glanced up at her sharply. "Do you always call your father when the going gets tough?"
Something in his tone had her taking a closer look at him. "Not if I can avoid it," she retorted. "But you've got to admit, my father has contacts."
"No doubt about that," Sam clipped. "I'm sure Ricardo knows someone who can help us," he added on a kinder note.
As it turned out, Ricardo did have an idea. Using Maddy's satphone, he contacted an asset living in Asunción. Maddy's number provided their exact coordinates. The asset instructed them to walk due east about five kilometers until they ran into Highway 12. He would pick them up in two to three hours.
By the first kilometer, Maddy's feet had begun to protest. "I should never have worn heels tonight," she lamented, but who could have guessed how her dinner with her mother's brother would end? She stopped to shake sand out of her shoes. "Can I walk barefoot?"
"Not a good idea. Here, have a seat." Sam laid the first aid kit on the ground and patted the earth beside it. "We'll put some bandages on your feet to keep you comfortable. Just remember, it's mind over matter. Everything's easy after that crash, right?"
"Right," she agreed, helping him to locate and cover up all the spots that were rubbing raw. Then he took each shoe in his hands and snapped off the four-inch spikes.
"How's that?" he asked when tried on the new flats and stood up. Ricardo had gone ahead of them a short ways, giving them a modicum of privacy.
"Much better," she said, resolving not to complain again, regardless of how bad it got. She was alive, in one piece—they all were. That was what mattered most.
To distract herself from her discomfort, Maddy hummed a folk song she had learned in Thailand.
"You've got a nice voice," Sam commented with surprise. "What's that tune?"
"It's just something I picked up in Thailand when I helped clean up after the tsunami. The villagers used to sing it to keep their spirits up."
"Sing it louder," he invited.
"I'm faking half the words. My Thai is very rudimentary."
"Just sing," he said. So she did, and then she sang a song that a little orphan girl had taught her back in Haiti.
"Music is a gift from the gods," she reflected. "It gives us all a tool for coping, don't you think?"
"Absolutely. We even use it in the military."
She pictured Sam and his SEALs singing folk songs. "You're teasing me, right?"
"Not at all. What are cadences if not songs?"
"Oh, I guess you're right. What's a good cadence? I need something to keep me going," she huffed, her toes and heels burning.
"All right. Here's one we use for the War on Terror:
Some say freedom is free
Well I tend to disagree
Some say freedom is won
Through the barrel of a gun
My daddy fought in Vietnam
Went to war with the Viet Cong
My granddad fought in World War Two
And gave his life for me and you
"There's another six or seven verses, but I've never memorized them all."
"I hate to say it," Maddy interjected, "but the premise is all wrong. There wouldn't be a War on Terror in the first place if we treated our neighbors as we treat ourselves." She warmed to her argument. "Put an Afghan and an American on an island in the middle of nowhere and you can bet they'd become the best of friends."
"Yeah, but the world's not an island. You can't change a thousand years of hatred by being kind to your neighbor."
"You'd be surprised," Maddy replied, panting with the effort it took to slog across the soft soil. "The schools and hospitals we've built in Afghanistan and Iraq have done more good for the people than either war has."
"I agree with that," Sam said, without a hint of defensiveness. "That's why I like being a SEAL. Precision targeting means we take out only the bad elements and leave the rest. Plus we work closely with tribal and religious leaders to help them oust the Taliban who terrorize their villages. There are some things SEALs can do for people that humanitarian aid workers can't."
She considered the laments she'd heard from Bosnian refugees asking where help had been when their family members were being raped and killed. NATO military intervention had put an end to the bloodshed, not the Red Cross.
"I think you've got a point," she admitted, casting him a sidelong glance. "So we're both doing our best to make the world a better place."
His teeth flashed in a brief smile. "Like a tag team," he agreed. "We're here by the way," he added, pointing to a spot ahead of them where Ricardo stood starin
g down an endless expanse of highway.
"Thank God," Maddy sighed, quickening her pace to get there. The heat was still rising off the asphalt from the previous day's warmth. It heated Maddy's backside as she collapsed on the edge of the road along with her companions. It had been 11 PM when Ricardo first called his colleague for assistance. They'd walked at least another hour over the rough terrain. She wished fervently that she was back in her condominium safely tucked into bed.
Sitting next to her, Sam and Ricardo had fallen silent, no doubt taxed by the ordeal of crashing and the lateness of the hour. Sam scooted closer, shielding her from the breeze that whipped at her hair.
"Have some water," he invited handing her a bottle from the pack. He handed Ricardo a second bottle.
Maddy assessed Sam's thoughtful expression as she tipped her head back to drink. "Are you okay?" she asked, handing back the bottle for him to share. Something seemed off about him.
"Hit my head pretty hard in the crash," he explained. "It's nothing."
Concern shot through her. She lifted a hand to feel the spot he'd pinpointed, and her fingertips encountered a lump behind his ear the size of an egg. "Oh, Sam," she exclaimed. "Is there something in the pack for that?"
"It's nothing a little Tylenol and sleep can't cure."
"There's got to be Tylenol in this pack somewhere." She sifted through the contents until she came up with several foils containing acetaminophen. "Here, swallow these," she instructed, handing Sam a packet. "What about you, Ricardo?" she asked, turning toward her former colleague. He'd stretched his entire body out across the concrete. "Would you like pain pills?"
"Maddy, it would take a full bottle of rum to kill the pain I'm in," he rasped.
"I'm so sorry, Ricardo." Stretching out a hand, she clasped his ankle. "I'm sorry about your plane, too. I'll get my father to buy you a new one."
Sam snorted with derision practically in her ear.
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