by Lyn Stone
Chapter 6
“Next place you see that could give any kind of cover, pull over,” Joe ordered.
She chose a used car lot, fairly well lighted, and parked in between a truck and a van.
The second she cut the engine, she yanked off the watch and handed it over. “It’s got to be this. Can you tell if it’s in there?”
“Not without tools to open it.”
“Smash it!” she insisted.
“No. We’ll put it on something that’s moving, preferably going south.”
“Truck stop. Back to the interstate,” she suggested and fired up the engine.
She drove top speed, surpassing the limit, but it seemed forever before they reached any place like what they were looking for. A Stuckey’s loomed ahead and she took the exit.
Quickly, Joe jumped out when she stopped, looped the buckled watch over the antenna of the nearest large vehicle and returned to the Jeep.
“Okay, hit it. Only go that way,” he said, pointing away from the interstate.
For hours, they drove, taking turns, saying little, stopping only to refuel once. The back roads took them seriously off the nearest route to their destination in D.C., but the farther away they got, the more they relaxed.
It was nearing noon when Joe suggested they stop and rest. Food was high on his list of needs, but contact with someone who might help them came in a definite first.
When he mentioned that again, she nodded in agreement. “I guess DEA would be thrilled to get their hands on Humberto, especially if they can take him alive.”
“Oh, they’ve had chances before. What do you think I was doing down there trying to get rid of him? They can’t arrest him until he commits some crime on American soil that can be proved.”
“Cold-blooded murder? Duh.”
“Yeah, but if they wait until he succeeds, what good does that do us?”
“Point taken.”
Joe nodded. “They can turn us over to the Marshal Service, get us in the Wit Program on the basis of what we did down there. But you know what that would mean.”
She scoffed, just as he knew she would. It would mean giving up her family, her life, everything she knew. For his part, Joe knew he’d rather have a showdown in the middle of the street and be done with it. If only Martine were not involved. He couldn’t stand the thought of her getting hurt, maybe even killed. She had already faced more risk than she should before they ever reached the States.
“I vote for the nearest police station, maybe call in the State Patrol,” she told him. “I suggested that as we were leaving Atlanta, and now I think I have to insist.”
Joe shrugged. “If I thought they could deal with this, I’d have already done that. But those are fully automatic weapons our boys are using, not something a small-town force would be likely to have or be able to compete with in a showdown. Also, the locals won’t believe us at first— you have to admit it sounds unbelievable—and there might not be time to check our story if the transmitter wasn’t in that watch.”
“Well, I don’t know where else it could be,” she argued.
Joe had a pretty good idea where it was. But he didn’t want to tell Marline that it could possibly be a part of her body now. A transmitter inserted when she was sedated and unaware. The devices were so small now they could be implanted damn near anywhere. He’d made it a habit to check the surface of his skin every morning when he had showered, but who knew? She was simply the most probable carrier.
It had most likely been placed there so Humberto could track her down if she had decided to escape. Or maybe he’d been waiting for her to make contact with someone outside the compound, go out to meet whoever had sent her in to spy.
“How about the FBI?” she questioned. “Wouldn’t they be able to do something?”
“I don’t imagine they have anything more concrete on Humberto than DEA does. I told you that’s why I infiltrated his organization in the first place. My job was to destroy the operation and put the head honcho out of business.”
“Well, you certainly did that,” Martine said, shaking her head.
“Yeah, but before I left to go down there, there were only rumors he was the one running the cartel and trucking with the rebel forces to get the drugs out. He’s been incredibly careful not to break any laws here. Not a one.”
“What about all the drug deals? They must have been big ones with lots of people involved.”
“He met with major dealers all over the place, but someone else made the actual arrangements. Unfortunately, none of them are in custody to testify that they were doing them on his behalf. So, we have nothing to present to any law enforcement agency except our own belief that he and his men are here specifically to get rid of us. We can’t even prove he’s done anything since he’s been here this time.”
“I saw him about to kill you in cold blood,” she said with a shiver.
“Even if he had committed murder there, no one could arrest him for it.”
“He put bullet holes in the back of my Jeep and would have killed us.”
Joe nodded. “Yes, but you didn’t actually see him shooting, did you?”
She sighed. “No. Too bad he’s not a terrorist, everybody would be all over him.”
Well, there it was. Joe laughed and slapped her on the shoulder. “Out of the mouths of babes! My girl, you are something else.”
She shot him a dark look. “Yes, I’m something else all right, not your girl. And definitely not a babe! What is it with you?”
“C’mon, Martine! You’ve hit on something here. Don’t go all PC on me while I’m doing cartwheels!”
“What do you mean?”
“Terrorists. That’s the answer.” He kissed her soundly on the mouth and laughed again when she drew back looking stunned. “We’ll call Mercier. What would you label three foreigners using illegal weapons to shoot up a motel parking lot, endangering American citizens? That fits a terrorist in my book. You know how to reach him?”
“I certainly do.” A smile slowly crept across her features. It was like the sun coming out after a storm. Joe dearly wanted to kiss her again. But they had a phone call to make.
Here was his chance to see what the Sextant Team was all about and whether he wanted to be a part of it. If he lived to be a part of it.
First off, he’d request that they stash Martine somewhere safe until all this was over. Surely they could do that much even if Mercier and his new hires turned out to be desk jockeys, simple window dressing for the new HSA organization, a show to illustrate how well agents from the different agencies could work together.
Chances were pretty good that they weren’t that. After all, they had hired him, a DEA cowboy who had never been particularly photogenic. Or tactful. God help them if they were front men for the new outfit and expected him to deal with the press in any way. He’d wind up in Leavenworth.
“Joe?” She glanced up into the rearview mirror again and then over at him. “There’s a car trailing us about a quarter of a mile back, and it’s made the last two turns I have. If it’s them, I figure they’re hanging back until we stop again.”
“How’re you doing on gas now?” Joe asked as he turned around to look for the tail.
“Quarter of a tank.”
He reached for the 9mm for all the good it would do against an AK-47. “We’ll call in the cavalry later if we get the chance, but it looks like we’ll have to handle this next skirmish by ourselves.”
Martine knew they were outgunned and outmanned. They needed a plan if they were to survive Humberto’s catching up with them when they stopped for gas, which would need to be soon. She had believed that once they unloaded her watch with the transmitter, they’d be good to go. They had crossed the Virginia line about five minutes before and were traveling parallel to Highway 81.
“How do you suppose they found us?” she asked Joe.
Busy checking the weapon again, he merely shrugged.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“The transmitter,” he said. “It’s gotta be an implant. They make ‘em about the size of a grain of rice now. Shoot it in with a hypodermic. Track you with a cell phone or global positioning system using a laptop or handheld.”
A chill ran through her just imagining something foreign within her that she hadn’t even known about. She racked her brain, trying to recall if she’d ever been so out of it that Humberto could have injected her with something without her knowing about it. She was a very light sleeper and as far as she knew, had not been drugged to make her sleep through such a thing.
He glanced over his shoulder again at the car following them. “If we can lose them for half an hour, maybe we can find it and get rid of it.”
She was afraid to ask. “How?”
“Minor surgery,” he muttered.
Martine cringed, imagining what that would involve. She promised herself it was only like removing a splinter. “Funston City’s about four miles away. Maybe there’s a mall there. They’d know we were there, but not exactly where. That would give us time to hide somewhere inside and look for it.”
“And if we can’t find it? Can you imagine the havoc if these goons open fire in a mall? Besides, I don’t think there is a mall in Funston City.”
“You know the place?”
“Been there to buy supplies for camping trips. An old college buddy of mine is from Roanoke. We used to come out this way when we were in college. Beautiful country with pretty good fishing.”
Another idea occurred to her. “How about the police station there? They wouldn’t follow us inside, would they? Surely the cops could help us if they did.”
“Might work.” He didn’t sound too hopeful, however. Humberto would still be waiting for them when they came back outside, even if they were minus the transmitter.
“Somehow we’ve got to get them off our tail until we can stop broadcasting our location,” she said, stating the obvious. “Could the signal be interrupted somehow?”
“In some place where there’s a lot of interference maybe. There’s no way to know how sophisticated the little gadget is. It could be as simple as the one used to track pets when they’re lost or stolen.”
“Or not,” Martine said, almost under her breath.
“Yeah. Or not. But I think we have to hope for that and run on that assumption. You can bet Humberto’s not planning to trail us much longer without making another move. I’ve got an idea.”
“What?” she demanded.
He looked behind them again, then turned around to peer into the darkness ahead. “If we haven’t passed the turnoff already, there’s a place we used to go caving once in a while. I don’t know if a ton of overhead rock will block the signals we’re putting off, but it’s worth a try. At any rate, we ought to be able to evade for a while, even if he can track us. Caves are my thing.”
“Well, they certainly aren’t mine,” Martine muttered, but she didn’t elaborate. This probably wouldn’t be a great time to admit to claustrophobia.
They rode in silence for another ten minutes. Then he pointed at a sign half overgrown with vines. “Yeah, there we go! Peebles Ridge. Cut the lights and hang a right.”
She swerved onto the paved, two-lane side road, blinking rapidly, trying to adjust her vision to the weak light of the half moon.
“Now watch for a break in the foliage. There’s a dirt road on your right about a half mile ahead if I remember right.”
It was less than that. Martine turned too sharply and almost ran into the ditch. “How far?” she gasped once the wheels were straight. “Are they back there?”
He looked. “If they are, they’re running dark, too. Go left when I tell you. Good thing we’ve got four-wheel drive. They don’t, so we’re ahead of the game and should have a little lead time.”
She turned when he told her and after a grueling five minutes of bumping over brush and deep ruts, he ordered her to stop. “We’re here. Come on.”
He brought his duffel and she grabbed her bag and they hurriedly exited the car. Brambles snagged her clothing and branches raked her hair and face as he half dragged her through the heavily wooded terrain.
She’d always been pretty good in the rough, but the last few days had taken their toll.
“Through here,” he commanded, disappearing into a dark hole in the rock, about two feet wide and four feet high. Martine froze.
“Hurry up!” he added when she remained outside. Before she could protest, he reached back out and grasped her arm, yanking her inside with him. “Now stay put until I check it out. Don’t venture farther in yet.”
“Like there’s a chance of that,” she gulped.
Martine clung to the damp wall of the cave while he stepped back out. She heard him break off and drag several dead branches, she guessed to conceal the entrance. What sounded like a huff of relief whispered through the stygian darkness that had swallowed them whole. She shivered and a small whimper escaped in spite of her resolve.
Joe found her hand and gripped it. “We’ll have some light in a few minutes, soon as we get deeper in. Stay stooped over so you don’t bump your head.”
Her head swam as if a rock had already smacked her. She felt disoriented by the total lack of light, but she placed one foot in front of the other as he pulled her along. Walls closed in, damp, fetid as bat guano and scary as hell.
She heard Joe’s shoulders periodically brush the outcroppings of rock, a soft swish of fabric dragging against rough stone. She secured the shoulder strap of her bag and trailed her free hand along the wall to steady herself.
It will not collapse. We will not be crushed. The opening will get larger. There is an exit. Several exits.
She moved her lips with the made-up mantra, but allowed no sound to escape them. Joe could not know her fears. Apparently he had none, the idiot. Didn’t he know they would suffocate and die in here? If the rocks didn’t collapse and kill them first?
She sucked in a deep breath, more or less to prove there was enough air for that. There was nothing for it but to tough this out. If she planned to do this kind of work, she must endure whatever came along. God, even dodging bullets didn’t scare her like this did.
“We’ll have to crawl through here so kneel down,” he told her.
Crawl? A small, hysterical laugh burst out before she could stop it. At the same time, a light came on. At last, the flashlight. Martine almost wept with relief. Then she spied the tunnel he expected her to enter.
“I’ll go first,” he offered.
“You’ll go last, too,” she gasped. “I can’t, Joe. I can’t do it.”
“Sure you can. You have to.” His voice sounded so logical, as if he weren’t telling her she had to do the impossible. “On your knees for me, babe.” The flashlight illuminated his grin from below, giving it a truly evil cast. “Not a phrase I’ll ever repeat if you’re a good girl tonight.”
“You… You’re trying to make me…angry…aren’t you?” she panted, glancing fearfully between him and the small gaping maw that waited for them. She clung to his arm for support because her legs were quivering badly. “Angry…because you know I’m…”
“Yeah, it’ll be okay, though. Is it working? You mad enough yet?” His hand came up to brush her hair back from her face and lingered to caress her cheek and ear. “Where’s that kickass kid who dragged me halfway across Colombia? Is she gonna wimp out on me now?”
Martine took a deep breath and knelt. What else could she do when he put it that way?
He smiled, nodded and went ahead and crawled into the tunnel, taking the light away from the larger corridor where she waited. Through sheer force of will, Martine climbed in behind him.
The temperature must have been around fifty degrees, but she was covered with sweat. Her fingers slid on the slippery rock, wet with its own perspiration.
“This too shall pass. This too shall pass,” Martine kept whispering to herself through what seemed an endless passageway.
Slivers of l
ight dodged around Joe as he held the flashlight in front of him and low-crawled through the narrow opening cut by some ancient underground flow of water.
Several times, he grunted almost painfully while squeezing his wide shoulders past a particularly narrow point. Humberto might fit through here, Martine thought, but given the size of his two cohorts, he’d have to come in alone.
She and Joe seemed to be steadily descending since entering the tunnel. Blood must be pooling in her brain because she could hardly think now. Sensory overload, she suspected. Or oxygen deprivation. She prayed she wouldn’t faint.
Suddenly Joe disappeared. An almost perfectly round exit to the tunnel loomed in front of her and his hands reached back inside to lift her out. She almost fell on top of him.
“Here we are. Careful where you step when I put you down.” He had rested the flashlight on one of the stalagmites protruding from the floor of the cave room they’d entered.
The light only illuminated the immediate area of what appeared to be a very large chamber. Musical plop-plops of water echoed in the stillness as she looked around war-ily.
“Living cave,” he explained, smiling. “Great place, isn’t it?”
She frowned at his impaired mental acuity. His “great place” was her worst nightmare, second only to the narrow space she’d just experienced. “How…how deep are we?”
“You don’t really want to know that, do you?”
“Maybe not.” Her voice sounded very small, the way it had when she’d been a child. That would normally have made her furious with herself, but she was too wrapped up in terror at the moment to spare any other emotion. The vastness of the cave room seemed to shrink by the second. The tonnage of solid rock above and all around them, more threatening.
“Okay. Here’s how I figure it,” he was saying. “They’ll take a while to find the entrance. Then they’ll have to decide which hole we crawled into. We passed a number that are wider to enter, but will narrow too much to get through or will dead-end.”
Martine took a deep breath and made herself pay attention. She could get through this. She could. Be practical. Think. “We should block up this one so that it looks like it dead-ends, too, but I don’t see how we could.” She pointed. “Knock off some of these little tower things. We can block it with them.”