MURDOCK'S LAST STAND

by Beverly Barton

  When Murdock followed Manuel out into the hall, Catherine knew something was wrong. There was bad news and neither man wanted her to know. Damn! She hated being kept in the dark this way, hated being protected from information, no matter how disturbing.

  Lanny groaned. Catherine glanced at her father. His eyelids fluttered and opened. He lifted his head, then bracing his hands on the bed, he tried to sit up.

  "What are you doing?" She rushed to him, intending to force him gently back down onto the bed.

  "Don't fuss so, kitten." He grabbed her forearms. "Help me sit. I need to talk to you and Murdock."

  Her father was more lucid at that very moment than he'd been any other time since Murdock carried him out of the prison in his arms. His gaze seemed focused, not jerkily darting about the room. Without the least bit of slurring or vagueness, his words were clear and distinct. And physically, he was so much stronger.

  She eased him into a sitting position and propped pillows behind his back. He grabbed her arm. Their gazes met and held. He tugged on her arm, urging her to sit beside him.

  "We're leaving San Carlos tomorrow," she said. "Dr. Constantino has arranged for you to fly out to Lima with some hospital patients. Then Murdock and I will follow on a later flight."

  "Who is Murdock talking to?" Lanny asked.

  "Manuel. He's been a great deal of help to us."

  "He's Murdock's contact?"

  "I think Andres, the proprietor of this hotel, and Manuel are both involved with the rebels and—"

  As Lanny squeezed her hand tightly, his body trembled and he coughed several times. "When this Manuel leaves, I have to talk to Murdock. Alone."

  She eased her hand from his fierce grip. "What's wrong? Why are you so upset? Getting this agitated isn't good for you."

  "I'll be all right. And it's not me I'm worried about. It's you."

  "We're all going to be fine. I'll have you back home in Tennessee soon and I'm going to get you all the medical help you need to fully recover."

  The minute Lanny saw Murdock close and lock the hotel room door, he held up his skinny arm and motioned to him. "We need to talk, bubba. Just you and me."

  "Lanny?" Murdock hadn't expected his old friend to be sitting up in bed and looking, surprisingly, so alert.

  "Don't know what you two have been doing to me, but I'm beginning to feel human for the first time in I can't remember when." Lanny's smile deepened the heavy wrinkles in his face. "I don't remember your getting me out of prison. How long have we been here, at the hotel?"

  "This is the third day," Murdock said.

  "You were terribly malnourished and very weak when Murdock carried you out of…" Catherine patted her father's shaky hand. "You're trembling again. Are you all right?"

  "I wouldn't mind some more of that broth and some bread to go with it," Lanny said. "Maybe you could get me some, while I talk to Murdock."

  "Andres will be bringing supper in a little while," Murdock said. "I don't want Catherine going downstairs alone."

  "Things that bad, huh?" Lanny's glance scanned the room. "Kitten, how about you going outside on the balcony for a few minutes and give me a chance to—"

  "You two are so much alike!" Catherine jumped up. "Protect the poor, helpless female from knowing too much about what a big, hairy, freaking mess we've landed right in the middle of. God forbid either of you be totally honest with me about anything!" She whirled around and flew out of the room, then slammed the louvered balcony doors, placing a barrier between them.

  "A big, hairy, freaking mess? That is what she said, isn't it?" Shaking his head, Murdock snorted. "You should have taught your daughter how to cuss."

  "Girl's got my temper." Lanny chuckled, but the laughter cost him. He coughed and wheezed until his face turned red. "Damn TB!"

  Murdock pulled up a chair by the bed, then crossed his right leg over his left, ankle to knee, and rested his hands on his thighs. "Need some water?"

  "Nah, I'll be okay." Lanny nodded toward the balcony. "She's a beauty, isn't she?"

  "Yeah."

  "Why the hell did you let her come with you?" Lanny's expression sobered as his gaze pleaded for an explanation. "I knew you'd come, once Ramos started selling off prisoners, but why bring Catherine with you?"

  "Ramos's stipulation. Ransom for every prisoner had to be paid personally by a family member," Murdock told him. "Catherine had to deliver the hundred thousand herself."

  "Damn that sorry bastard!" Lanny's face contorted into a vicious frown. "Did you say a hundred thousand? What did you do, hock your soul to get your hands on that much cash?"

  "It was Catherine's money. Seems her husband left her millions."

  "Left her millions, huh?" Lanny asked. "Is my kitten a rich widow?"

  "Yeah, she's worth about ten mil. And her husband died about four years ago. He was a straight-arrow guy. Good breeding. Fine old Tennessee family."

  "That's the kind of man Mae Beth should have married. Not some ole dumb hillbilly boy like me."

  "From what Rick Burdett told me, your daughter didn't hesitate about offering to pay the ransom money Ramos demanded."

  "Damn Ramos! Bubba, saving me wasn't worth putting Catherine at risk. If anything happens to her—"

  "I won't let anything happen to her. I promise."

  "I'll hold you to that promise. Nothing is more important to me than my girl. If you think you owe me anything, then repay me by protecting Catherine."

  "Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?" Murdock asked. "About keeping Catherine safe?"

  "Swear to me that you'll get her back to the States safe and sound." Lanny sought Murdock's hand.

  "I swear." Murdock clasped Lanny's hand in his and held it with the force of his vow.

  "Good." Lanny heaved a sigh of relief. "Now, I need you to get a message to Vincente Sabino. Send it through Manuel or Andres or whoever the hell you know you can trust."

  "What sort of message?"

  "Recently in Prision de las Puertas al Infierno, I got hold of some interesting information." Lanny's gaze searched the room as if checking for hidden spies. "You know that Juan Sabino's brother Raul kept the rebel forces united after Juan's death."

  Murdock nodded. "Yeah, and I know that Juan's son Vincente pulled the rebels together when he was just a kid and kept the fight going after his uncle Raul died."

  "Without Vincente, the rebels would break up into factions and Ramos could regain control of the entire country. The people must have a Sabino to follow."

  "Everyone knows that Juan's son is the glue that holds all the rebel factions together," Murdock agreed. "His taking over after Raul's death is what saved the independence movement in Zaraza."

  Lanny motioned for Murdock to come closer, so Murdock leaned over, in order to hear Lanny, who had begun to whisper.

  "There's an assassination plot against Vincente." Lanny grabbed Murdock's shirtfront. "If someone doesn't save that boy's life, then everything they've been fighting for these past twenty years will have been for nothing. Juan Sabino would have died for nothing! I would have spent twenty years in hell—for nothing!" Another hacking fit overcame Lanny. His sunken cheeks swelled. His eyes watered. And his pale face flushed with color.

  When the spell eased, Murdock poured Lanny a glass of water and held it to his mouth. "How did you find out about the plot to assassinate Vincente?"

  Lanny sighed as the aftereffects of his painful coughing subsided. "In prison, you learn quickly who you can and cannot trust," he said. "Your life depends on it. My friendship to old Juan Sabino is widely known. When it was learned that I might be released, this information was passed along to me by a recently imprisoned rebel. The man hoped that I might find a way to get word to Vincente."

  "Do you know the details about the assassination plot?"

  Lanny sipped the water Murdock had offered, then shoved the glass away. "One of Vincente's right-hand men is a traitor." Lanny lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper. "Domingo Sanchez. Vi
ncente's most trusted bodyguard."

  "Do you know when the attempt on Vincente's life is planned to take place?" Murdock asked.

  "For the day he officially takes control of San Carlos." Lanny gripped Murdock's shoulder. "Find a way to save Juan's son."

  "We can't trust this news to anyone," Murdock said. "How do we know that Manuel and Andres can be trusted one hundred per cent? They're rebel sympathizers, but are they loyal to Vincente or would they side with Sanchez? There's only one thing for me to do and that's go to Vincente myself and expose this Domingo Sanchez."

  Lanny tightened his hold on Murdock's shoulder. "No! Don't go yourself. Don't get back in the middle of this war down here. You aren't a young buck anymore. If you're ever going to have a life, you ought to be finding yourself a good woman and settling down. Don't you think that if I thought I had a chance with Mae Beth, I'd crawl back to her on my hands and knees?"

  "Lanny, about your ex-wife…"

  "You don't have to tell me, bubba. I know she's dead. I've known it, in here—" he thumped his chest "—for a long, long time."

  "Well, you've got a second chance with your daughter. She may huff and puff a lot, but she loves you. She's been taking care of you, day and night."

  "You gotta trust somebody. Either Andres or Manuel. You've got to get word to Vicente, before it's too late." Lanny laid his hand over Murdock's cheek. "But don't you go hunting Juan's boy out there in his jungle stronghold. You get my Catherine out of this damn country. Nothing's more important than that. Do you hear me?"

  "Yeah, Lanny, I hear you."

  Murdock knew what he had to do. He owed Lanny his life. But he owed his life to Juan Sabino and the ragtag band of teenage soldiers he'd left behind that day twenty years ago. He couldn't trust Vincente's life to anyone other than himself. Despite what Lanny said, Murdock knew he had no way of knowing who he could trust. Any rebel sympathizer could as easily be a Domingo Sanchez backer as they could be completely loyal to Vincente.

  Murdock had never forgiven himself for living when others had died—died to save his life so that he could get vital information through to the CIA. He owed something to those boys, to their cause, to the country they had lived and died for.

  But there was no reason to worry Lanny, no reason to share his plans with his old comrade. No need for either Lanny or Catherine to know that Manuel had told him that the first advance of Vincente's troop were headed toward San Carlos at that very minute. And within the week, Vincente would follow, with the bulk of his rebel forces.

  First thing in the morning, they would take Lanny to the hospital so that Dr. Constantino could slip him aboard the medical flight. Then he would personally put Catherine on the afternoon plane from San Carlos to Lima. Once he'd kept his promise to Lanny and made sure his little kitten was safely aboard that flight, he could finally even an old score and repay a twenty-year-old debt.

  He would go up the Amazon and into the jungle to find Vincente Sabino.

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  « ^ »

  Catherine kissed her father's cheek, then released his hand and watched while Manuel wheeled him into the hospital's back entrance. She couldn't bear saying goodbye and leaving Lanny's care to someone else. But she had no choice. She couldn't go with him; she could only follow. She had spent a lifetime wishing things could have been different with her father and now they were being given a second chance. But only if they both got out of Zaraza alive.

  Murdock gripped her shoulder. "We'd better go. And don't worry, you'll be with Lanny again tonight."

  "I know. It's just so difficult to watch him leave without me."

  Slipping his arm around Catherine's waist, Murdock led her away, back toward the old black sedan parked a block away in a dead-end alley. "Come on. Let's head back to the hotel. We can pack our bags and eat a bite of lunch before we go to the airport. We have about seven hours to kill before our flight takes off."

  Reluctantly, Catherine slid into the front seat of the car, but couldn't help glancing over her shoulder at the hospital. She cautioned herself not to waste time and energy on needless worry. There was nothing more she could do for her father until he was safely out of this horrible country. To her, Zaraza had always been just a tiny South American country, a dot on the map, the place where her father had died twenty years ago. But Zaraza was more than that to her now. Much more. This wasn't where her father had died; it was where he'd been held prisoner and subjected to inhumane conditions. Starved. Beaten. Tortured.

  Her ambivalent feelings about Zaraza had changed dramatically. She was no longer uncertain. No longer ignorant of the truth. She had always doubted the horror stories reported on the news and had often wondered if her father had died fighting for an unjust cause. But now after seeing, firsthand, the results of General Ramos's brutality to his captives, her opinion had done a 180-degree turn.

  Once Murdock started the car's engine, Catherine snapped out of her troubling thoughts. She glanced over at the big man beside her. Her father's old friend. Her highly trained bodyguard. Was there any hope for Murdock or was he lost forever to the harsh world of violence? She'd be a fool to take a chance on caring for a man so much like her father, a man who could probably never be satisfied with the safe, the sane, the ordinary.

  "You're mighty quiet," Murdock said, but didn't take his gaze off the road ahead of them.

  "Just thinking," she replied. "By the way, what did Manuel tell you last night?"

  Murdock shrugged, implying he didn't understand her question.

  "Don't play dumb with me. I know something's wrong. Don't you think I have a right to know?"

  "It isn't something that should affect you … affect us," he told her. "What's the point of my worrying you with it?"

  "So there is something to worry about."

  "Why can't you just leave it alone and stop asking questions? Lanny will be headed out of Zaraza within the hour and you'll … we will be joining him in Lima by late afternoon. So what happens here in San Carlos won't concern you."

  Murdock kept to the back streets, knowing danger might meet them at any turn. There were no guarantees, no assurance of safety—not in San Carlos. Not anywhere in Zaraza. Once he put Catherine on the plane to Lima, he'd breathe easier. At least she and Lanny would be long gone before all hell broke loose, before the first wave of rebel troops attacked the capital.

  "Something's going on with the war," Catherine said. "In Lima you said something about the calm before the storm. Is that it? Are the rebel troops preparing for attack?"

  "Yeah."

  "When?"

  "Any day now."

  "Oh, God!"

  He stole a quick glance at Catherine, whose face had paled. "Don't worry. You'll be long gone before it happens."

  "I'll be long gone." She nodded her head in agreement as her mind swirled with doubts. More than once Murdock had corrected himself when he had mentioned that she would be leaving Zaraza, instead of they would be leaving. A frightening suspicion formed in her mind. Murdock wasn't leaving Zaraza! He had lied to Lanny. And he had lied to her. He was planning to stay here in this god-awful country, to help the rebels in some way. Murdock couldn't leave, couldn't walk away and let old debts go unpaid. Even as she wanted to beg him to go with her, a part of her, begrudgingly, admired his sense of loyalty—to Lanny and Juan Sabino, the men who had saved his life twenty years ago.

  "You aren't flying with me to Lima this afternoon, are you?" She knew the answer before she asked the question, but she needed to hear him confirm her dark suspicion.

  Without moving a muscle, his expression unchanged, Murdock replied, "Once I see you safely off on the flight to Lima, I'll be heading down the Rio Negro to find Vicente before he reaches San Carlos."

  "Why?" Her heartbeat accelerated as she waited for his answer.

  "Because Vincente's life is in danger."

  "How do you know that?"

  "Lanny was given some information before he left the prison that
Vincente's most trusted bodyguard, Domingo Sanchez, plans to assassinate Vincente the day he takes control of San Carlos."

  "Why would—"

  "Some people don't want peace," Murdock explained. "Without a Sabino to lead the rebels, they'd splinter back into factions and the war would never end."

  "You can't leave the job of saving Vincente to someone else, can you? You can't let the Zarazaians fight this war without you. Oh, no, not Aloysius Murdock. Not the mighty warrior who's willing to die for 101 causes the world over, but isn't willing to live a normal, decent, unexciting life with a wife and children."

  Where had all that anger come from? she wondered. From the resentment she still felt for her father? Yes. Maybe. Probably. But she had to admit that some of her wrath stemmed from her unwanted feelings for Murdock. She despised the weakness in herself that made her care about this man—this carbon copy of Lanny McCroskey!

  "Who are we talking about here, Catherine, me or Lanny?"

  "Both of you. You're two peas in a pod. Same kind of men. Same kind of reasoning."

  "Care about Lanny," Murdock told her. "He's your father and I think you've got a good chance of rehabilitating him. But don't care about me. I'm a lost cause."

  "Don't flatter yourself thinking I care about you one way or the other, Mr. Murdock."

  "Yeah, sure. You and I don't mean anything to each other, do we? We're together only because of Lanny." Murdock pulled the car into the alley behind the hotel and killed the motor. With one arm draped over the steering wheel, he glared at Catherine. "But care about each other or not, if we stayed together much longer, we'd wind up doing the horizontal tango, just to get it out of our systems."

  She wanted to deny his statement, to tell him that hell would freeze over before she'd ever have sex with him. But denying it didn't change the truth. She did not like Murdock. Did not want to become involved with a man so much like her father. But try as she might, she couldn't tell him he was wrong.

  "Then it's a good thing we won't be together much longer," she said. "Because I'd hate myself if I let you … if we … I don't even like you!"