by Ward, H.
“You’re optimistic,” Victor laughed sourly. “Mariana—get the gentlemen something to eat.”
Mariana was stingy with the portions she served, and Amber felt guilty looking at the amount of food in her lap. Victor was definitely treating her differently, and she didn’t know if it was because he thought she could help them, or because he simply wanted to bed her. She continued eating, though, knowing that the best way to help Tomás and Paco was to keep at her plan to convince Victor she was on his side.
Victor addressed the group, first in Spanish and then in English, “We’re going to stay camped here one more night, to let the rest of our comrades catch up to us.” He smiled at his hostages. “There will be some Americans you can get to know—guests of ours for some time now. They can…mentor you.”
“I’m not sure I want to be a professional hostage,” Paco quipped. “My mother always hoped for a doctor in the family.”
“I like a sense of humor,” Victor chuckled. “A good attitude—a cooperative attitude—will help insure that your mother eventually sees you again.”
Mariana went to Amber and jerked her to her feet. “You wash now.”
Amber tried to swallow the last bite of her beans and rice without choking. How would she wash without Mariana finding the gun? She wondered if she was just going to have to shoot her and make a run for it. If the boats were still moored near where they were washing, maybe she could try to get to one of the Embera villages, but she loathed the idea of putting other people at risk.
Victor shook his head. “Stay here Mariana. I’ll take her.”
The steam coming off of Mariana was practically visible. The sergeant was pissed. Mariana shoved Amber toward Victor. Tripping in her hobbles, Amber fell, smacking her bruised knee on a tree root. It started to puff up almost immediately.
Victor took one look at the knee, and then slapped Mariana, hard, across the face. He started yelling at her in Spanish, “Look what you’ve done. How is she supposed to hike in the jungle with a swollen knee? If you don’t stop acting like a puta and start acting like a sergeant, you’re going to be sorry.”
Mariana rubbed her stinging cheek, her head hanging in submission. “Sí, Lieutenant,” she answered meekly. The flash of anger from Victor gave Amber a good idea of what he was capable of doing. She felt sorry for Mariana, who probably loved Victor, but sleeping with your boss is invariably a bad idea.
“Okay,” Victor said to Amber as he gently raised her to her feet. “Can you walk?”
Her knee throbbed, for sure, but Amber exaggerated the limp. “I—I’m sorry, I think I need to sit down until the swelling goes down.”
Slipping an arm around her waist, Victor held one of her hands as she hopped on one foot. He led her to a soft, mossy place and eased her to the ground. “Mariana,” he growled, “Bring her some aspirin.”
Amber sighed with relief. Mariana had done her a favor in preventing her from having to get undressed in front of Victor. Even if she could have gotten rid of the gun first, disrobing in front of the lieutenant was not a savory prospect.
“Take it easy,” Victor smiled at Amber. He stroked her hair as he spoke. Mariana dutifully brought two aspirin and a canteen and handed them to Amber.
“Gracias.” Amber took the pills and swallowed, chasing them with a long drink from the canteen before handing it back.
Victor then grabbed Mariana by the wrist, hissing softly in her ear in Spanish, but still Amber caught it. “Come on, you jealous little puta…you want me so much, well you shall have me—but don’t expect it to be pleasurable.” He pulled on Mariana roughly as he barked at the other two soldiers to watch the hostages while he and Mariana washed up at the river.
As the pair disappeared into the foliage, Amber felt doubly sorry for Mariana, knowing what was it store for her—and knowing she could be in the same situation if she wasn’t extremely careful. At least now she could speak freely to Tomás and Paco for a little while since neither of the other guards spoke any English.
“He’s quite the host,” Paco said, sarcastically.
“Charming,” Amber replied. “Look, while we have a minute, I need to tell you guys a couple of things.”
“You have an idea how to escape?” Tomás asked.
“Sort of. First, I have a loaded revolver in a bra holster.”
“No shit?” Paco smiled.
“Well, I do—until Victor decides to feel me up.”
“Fill you up?” Tomás said, puzzled.
Amber sighed, “Not fill me up, until he decides…to cop a feel.”
“Oh,” Tomás blinked, with sudden comprehension.
“But I think our best chance is for me to win Victor over. Make him think I’m succumbing to Stockholm syndrome. He already believes that I launder money for the cartel they sell their coca too.”
“What? Why would he think that?” Tomás continued to look perplexed.
“Long story,” Amber brushed off Tomás’ bafflement, “Suffice it to say, I’m persuading him to turn you guys over to Panamanian law enforcement since he thinks the Hungarian government will pay for hostages to be released.”
“What about you?” Paco asked.
“He turns me over to the pilot that’s flying the coca and money around, so the cartel doesn’t get pissed at FARC.”
“Cal works for a drug cartel?” Tomás said in amazement.
“Who’s Cal?” asked Paco.
Amber rubbed her head. She wanted to tell them that Cal was undercover for the DEA, but that was the kind of information that could result in a life or death situation if it was divulged at the wrong time to the wrong people. Not knowing how far Victor might go, or how easily Tomás might crack, she felt like she needed to keep that card up her sleeve.
One of the guards walked over, nervous that so much talking was going on in a language he couldn’t understand. He told them in Spanish to shut up, but he gave Paco a deck of cards.
“Go fish, anyone?” Paco said, as he shuffled the cards.
###
“I’m going to speak off the record, if I may.” Cal cleared his throat. The three marshals sitting around the table nodded.
A guy with a heavy, southern drawl, named Duke, spoke up. “Sometimes…when you’re going after the big fish…unorthodox methods are called for.” He was a middle-aged man, trim and wiry, with short, salt and pepper hair. He took a sip from his beer.
The group was sequestered in a private dining room at the hotel’s restaurant. Empty plates littered the table, and the marshals seemed relaxed, almost as if they were on a real vacation. Ramiro nodded at Cal to continue.
“FARC is getting bolder—which I’m guessing means they are more desperate. In trying to obtain hostages to use as bargaining chips, they’ve come deeper into Panama than we’ve ever seen. They grabbed up a Hungarian backpacker and his Panamanian guide two days ago, and then they snatched an American from right here in La Palma last night.”
“That is pretty bold,” Duke commented.
“Anyway, there’s a good chance they are still in the area and we thought, maybe, you guys might enjoy doing a little hunting in addition to fishing…while the plane is getting repaired.” Cal coughed a little, uncomfortable with lying to US Marshals.
“We’re going beyond our…parameters…we’re supposed to be worried about the cartel and the drugs and not about FARC. This is total black ops stuff, I mean, nobody but the people is this room can ever know about it,” Ramiro added. “But people in the area know us as operating a tour business, and what better bait for FARC than three American tourists?”
“If you guys aren’t comfortable bending the rules, then we’ll all just forget this conversation ever happened and continue into Colombia on Tuesday,” Cal finished.
“Doesn’t sound to me like bending,” Duke raised an eyebrow. “Sounds a lot like breaking.” Duke glanced at the other two marshals who both had smiles creeping over their faces. “Well, we do have a little bit of experience tracking fugitive
s,” Duke laughed, with false modesty. “And if it means freeing civilian hostages, it seems like it’s our humanitarian duty to help…not that we’d be representing the Marshal Service or anything. We’re just…three guys on vacation.”
Cal breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe they would get Amber back.
Chapter 16
Cal…where are you? I miss you so much. I know if you were here, lying next to me in the dark, you would want to know what it was about you that I had missed…and I’d have to answer, ‘Almost everything.’
I miss the feel of your strong arms holding me, I miss the gentleness of your kisses, I miss the passion that ignites when we make love. I miss your steadiness, and your devotion to your father, and the way you shield your mother. I miss the fact that you are brave, and that you have chosen a life that’s about helping good triumph over evil. I miss the way you protect me, and teach me, and the way you give me confidence. I miss feeling like I’m a better person when I’m with you. And most of all, I miss your love.
If you were here, a prisoner in the jungle, you wouldn’t be passive, you would take risks, and you’d do that without jeopardizing innocent people. I look at Tomás, silently fearful, doing nothing, hoping that somehow, someone else will save him. And it’s completely clear to me now why I chose you. I may have to do something terrible here in the jungle…I might have to kill someone, or have sex with a man who repulses me. You’d forgive me for that, right? You’d forgive me for doing something terrible if it saves our lives?
I wish I had my pepper spray and my kubaton, but I do have my gun, and I thank you for making me practice everything over and over, the way you did. Now I understand—if you have a gun, you better know how to use it.
Wish me luck Cal, I’m going to try to get us out of this and find my way back into your arms. And ask Ramiro to say a prayer, since he seems to be on good terms with the Man upstairs. Just don’t give up on me Cal, don’t think that I ran away because I was pissed. Don’t ever believe that I want to be with anyone else except you.
###
The morning sunlight was beginning to penetrate the dense canopy formed by the tropical trees surrounding them, Amber realized, as she tried to not be disgusted by Victor’s hand on her butt. Victor stirred next to her, awakened too by the voices filtering toward them from the direction of the river. He sat up, and seeing that Amber was awake, put his finger to his lips to quiet her. She nodded that she understood, and Victor stood up, drawing his side arm. He walked the few steps to where Mariana and his other men slept, and quickly awakened them. In an instant, the group had rifles silently aimed toward the approaching voices.
Amber eased her hand under the hem of her shirt, ready to pull her gun to help if the voices belonged to rescuers, or to protect herself, Paco and Tomás if it came to that. She didn’t plan to go down without a fight. She thought of the poachers that had taken the potshot at she and Cal, and thought if FARC took them out, she probably wouldn’t shed any tears. Her fear, though, was that it might be innocent Embera villagers, although a hunting party surely wouldn’t be so noisy. But who else would be out there in the middle of nowhere?
Suddenly the branches parted, and the man at the front of the group started laughing, putting his hands up in mock surrender. “Lieutenant!” he called, “I’ll gladly be your prisoner in exchange for some beans and rice!”
Victor laughed, and the others put down their guns as they recognized the man, and a moment later, two more soldiers appeared, pushing along two prisoners in front of them. The captives looked gaunt, and they both had scraggly hair and beards. Along with the dirt and blood on them, the unkempt hair made it impossible to determine the age of the men, or whether they were Latin or Anglo. They collapsed in a heap, and Victor embraced the leader of the other group. Victor snapped his fingers at Mariana and called for her to make food, and Amber could see something like a glint of hate flash in Mariana’s eyes. Whatever Victor had done to Mariana when they went ‘to wash up’ must have been bad; she had hardly said a word since they returned to camp the previous day, and her contemptuous gaze now seemed focused on Victor, rather than Amber.
Wordlessly, Mariana banged and clanged pots as if she was trying to make as much annoying racket as possible, but Victor said nothing. He turned his attention to the two, arriving hostages.
“Welcome!” Victor spread his arms in an expansive gesture, “I missed you so much, I had to find someone else with whom to speak English!” He gestured delicately toward Amber, Tomás, and Paco. “Sadly, he’s a Hungarian, and that one is a Panamanian. The beautiful one, well, she is an American, but she’s seriously considering taking up the cause of the revolution.”
Amber had no choice but to play along; she smiled sweetly at Victor.
One of the men gave her a steely stare. “Then don’t trouble yourself to introduce us to her.” He spat on the ground, out of need or editorial comment, Amber wasn’t sure.
Tomás regarded the new arrivals with a mix of fear and respect. “How—how long have you been in the jungle?”
The two men looked at each other and the second one answered, “Two years, two months, eleven days.” A look of horror swept over Tomás’ face.
Paco asked, “So what did you guys do to end up as guests of the revolutionary front? I was just taking this guy backpacking.” He jerked a thumb toward Tomás.
The first guy shrugged, “I guess our classified status has long been declassified. We are—we were—US military contactors.”
“Ironically, we were helping negotiate a release of hostages.” The second one coughed a humorless laugh. “Silly us.”
Amber’s mind was racing. Cal’s father had been a military contractor. And he’d been taken negotiating a hostage release. But there had been three men in the picture that Cal showed her. Amber’s stomach rolled over with a sickening lurch. She tried to call up the picture of Cal’s dad, but she had only seen it once. These men were thinner, and even more unkempt than the men in the picture she had seen. She had no way of knowing if one of them was Cal’s father, short of asking them their names.
Victor kneeled down by Amber, putting an arm around her neck, his hand dangling inches from where the gun rested between her breasts. She sucked in a breath. He turned to look at her face, “What is it chica? Is your knee hurting?”
Amber nodded, willing to do anything to deflect his attention. She tried to sound like someone trying to sound brave, “But—it will be okay.” She lifted her chin to underscore her point.
Victor kissed the top of her head, “Yes, it will be.” He chucked her under the chin, “But you need a new name, one that doesn’t reek of your dubious past.” He thought for a moment. “You will be Tania.”
“Tania?” Amber echoed. “It’s beautiful, but why Tania?”
“She was a great revolutionary, a protégé of Che Guevara. You know who Che is, yes?”
“Of course, one of the greatest revolutionaries.”
“Not one of…the greatest revolutionary. Until your government killed him in cold blood.” Victor stood up, “Men like these two…those are the kind of men who killed Che.” He looked down on Amber benevolently, “But we’ll rest here another day and night so that your knee gets better before we start our march.”
“Do you think that is wise, Lieutenant?” his subordinate inquired. “People are bound to come looking for them.”
Victor took the pistol in his hand and hit the man across the face with it. “Are you questioning my decision?” he bellowed. The man, whom Victor had embraced only minutes before, cowered, “No, of course not.”
The lieutenant waved the pistol at the rest of the group, “Anyone else have anything they want to say?”
“I’m absolutely in favor of your decision to stay here,” Paco said.
The cloud over Victor passed, and he laughed, “I do like you, even if you are capitalist scum. You’re much livelier than those two. They have no sense of humor at all.” He waved the gun in the direction of the two mil
itary contractors.
Amber wondered how she could intervene to help the two men, and somehow find out if one of them was Cal’s father.
“Maybe they would be in a better humor after a bath and a haircut?” Amber offered.
“You are too tenderhearted, Tania, but for you, I will grant this.” Victor waved at two of the soldiers, “Clean up these capitalist pigs.”
As they stood up, one of the contractors gave her a spiteful glare while the other had a softer, more appreciative expression.
The first contractor, the ill-tempered one, turned back, “Come’on Ruston, we might as well see if we can drown some of the lice.”
When Cal’s dad passed by Amber, she heard him whisper, “thanks.”
When the contractors reappeared a short time later, Amber almost wished back the layer of dirt that concealed their condition. They were covered in insect bites, scratches, and bruises, and their arms looked painfully thin for men of their height. Their eyes were sunken, and their skin looked sallow despite their weathered tans. Clearly the last two years, two months and eleven days had not been a picnic.
“Tania,” Victor called, and it took Amber a moment to respond to her new nom de guerre, “How are your barbering skills?”
One of the soldiers handed her a clunky pair of scissors that looked better suited for shearing sheep than giving a human a hair cut. Amber stared at the shears, and was seized with the desire to plunge one of the blades into Victor.
“Tania is injured, though, you must come to her,” Victor commanded.
The first contractor looked at Victor, “Tania can go to hell.”
“Shut up, Wilson.” Cal’s dad said, putting himself between Victor’s anger and Wilson’s face. He struggled to his feet, “I would gladly have Tania cut my hair.”
“A cooperative person, I appreciate that,” Victor said. “Please.” He made a grand sweeping gesture, and Cal’s dad hobbled over.
“I’m Bill,” he said, as he sat down in front of Amber. The ground was sloped, and he was slightly lower.