Down to the Wire

by Lyn Stone

  Oh, God! No room, no way through, no way out. Trapped! She screamed. And shut down.

  Joe grasped Martine’s ankles. She was totally limp. Probably fainted. If he dragged her backward to the right branch of the tunnel, the one she’d scrambled past, her face would be a bloody mess from scraping against the rock. Her hands were probably already ruined. This tunnel was way too narrow for him to crawl up beside her, but maybe he could turn her over and slide her back out of the dead end.

  He pushed his arms up beside her as far as they would reach and gently flipped her over on her back. She didn’t even moan. Joe paused to check the pulse in her ankle, terrified she might have suffered heart failure or something. The beat was fast, but steady.

  He breathed a sharp sigh of relief and wiped the stinging sweat out of his eyes. Then slowly, carefully, he began to wiggle back the way they had come and pull her inch by inch to relative safety.

  Though he had caved for decades and loved it, Martine’s fears were insidious. He had never experienced anything like claustrophobia, but understood how debilitating fears like that could be. Now more than ever since he’d just seen it happen firsthand.

  Martine was no coward. He admired the way she had bravely faced right up to the problem. Before she’d climbed into the tunnel, he had finally seen that look of abject terror on her face that had appeared to him in the premonition. But she had crawled right in to meet her worst fear head-on. Then what she dreaded most had come to pass when she’d reached that dead end. He began to feel a little antsy himself.

  No use speculating what might happen if the other branch of the tunnel was blocked. It was considerably wider than this one after it branched off, but who knew what the years had brought? This was a living cave and living things changed constantly.

  He almost hoped Martine would stay unconscious until he got her out, but accomplishing that would be tricky if he had to drag her all the way. They still had some forty feet or more to go.

  When he reached the turnoff they had passed, Joe backed into it, relieved to have more wiggle room. Ten feet later it widened, almost large enough that they could have crawled the rest of the way on their hands and knees if she were conscious.

  He might be able to bring her around and they could make it out pretty quickly. But he worried she might wake up screaming and they were now too close to the other entrance. If Humberto and his pals were already outside the caves, she could draw them right to the place where he planned to exit. That opening was not as well concealed as the one they had entered.

  He continued pulling her along, wincing as the floor grew rougher and her head bumped. “Sorry, kid,” he mumbled. “You’re gonna have a hell of a headache, but it’s better than the alternative.”

  Joe shifted to a sitting position and let himself collapse for a minute once they approached the opening. He could actually see it, a flattened hole about four feet across and three feet top to bottom. It was filled with blue-gray moonlight and striped with stalks of sparsely leafed weeds.

  He squinted at them. They looked too evenly spaced. It gave him a little jolt, a second’s worth of shock that somebody had actually installed bars. Surely not.

  But he risked leaving Martine alone in the dark while he scrambled over to check, to be certain no one had put up a locked gate. He laughed silently, sheepishly when his fingers touched the stickers along the dead stalks of thistles. He and Martine weren’t trapped. But he knew right then, that very second, that his days of spelunking were all behind him. Those few seconds of panic instigated by Martine’s phobia had done the trick. He could not wait to get out of this cave and into wide-open spaces.

  He scuttled back to her, cursing himself for leaving her there where she might wake up hysterical and get them both killed. Once she was settled in his lap, Joe rested his hand near her mouth in case he had to muffle her once she came to.

  He had until then to decide whether they were safer here or out there bumbling around in the dark.

  Humberto contained his rage outwardly, but inside him it roiled like lava under pressure, threatening to erupt at any second. “I would give my right arm for explosives,” he muttered, shoving Thomas aside to take the lead as they exited the cave.

  He kicked at the weedy ground covering of plants he did not recognize or care to. This was his first time in the wilds of this country. Aside from the major cities he flew into for business purposes—the posh hotels where he had stayed and the carefully manicured golf courses where his contacts often took him for the pleasure of a game—he had seen little of the United States. Certainly nothing this rural.

  Now here he was, virtually ruined, unable to return home and left with nothing but a burning desire to punish the ones who had done this to him. And at the moment, even this final quest of his seemed doomed to failure.

  “I will not give up,” he muttered, looking up at the stars that seemed to mock him, the moon that cast its bluish glow over the alien landscape.

  “What do we do now, Carlos? Wait here for them to come out?” Thomas asked.

  Humberto shook his head, more in frustration than to provide a negative answer. Poor Thomas, for all his bulk, possessed so little intelligence he was incapable of anything but following the most specific of orders. The other cousin, Manuelo, was little better, though he did have an imaginative flair when it came to inflicting pain. A useful talent.

  What a pity these were the only two to be trusted now. Two loyal cousins with barely half a brain between them. But they were family, the only family he had left after that damned DEA agent and the bewitching Martine had destroyed his business and therefore his life.

  Hatred filled his soul and fueled his determination. “There will surely be another exit to that damned hole in the ground,” he explained, his voice tight with the necessity of spelling out everything. “Corda knew where this cave was, so he has obviously been here before. He would not trap himself inside without knowing there was another way out. Manuelo, go and disable the car.”

  “But Carlos, how will we leave this place if—”

  “Disable their car, you imbecile!” Humberto exhaled sharply and rolled his gaze heavenward, praying for patience. “Take this pistol and give me that automatic.”

  “Oh, si,” Manuelo replied, nodding. He quickly switched weapons and then lumbered off toward the vehicles.

  “Thomas, you wait over there. Remain concealed and watch this entrance while I search for the other one.”

  “Good thinking, Carlos.”

  Humberto added, “Hold them at gunpoint if they emerge. Do not kill them.”

  “But if they try to escape, what am I to do?”

  Humberto ground his teeth against a curse. “Shoot at their legs, Thomas. Disable, but do not kill them. That is for me to do? Can you understand this?”

  “Of course, Carlos. You know I am a very good shot.”

  “Thank God for small favors,” Humberto murmured as he stalked off through the weeds, his eyes scanning the rock formations for any possible openings.

  Until he found and disposed of Corda and the woman in the most painful way he could devise, he would not leave this place. All he must do was wait until they emerged. Here in the wilds would be the ideal place to dispose of them.

  Thank God he’d had Ramos plant a transmitter in Corda. He should have done so with Martine, but Humberto hadn’t trusted the man to be in the room with her. He had similarly drugged and tagged all his men, at least all of those with full knowledge of his operations. One must always prepare for an unexpected betrayal. Corda had been the first to fool him. The only one to elicit trust and then prove to be the enemy.

  The transmitter he had placed under Corda’s skin obviously did not project its signal to outside the cave that concealed the couple. However, once out of there, even if they evaded capture right away, they would not be hard to follow. Unless…

  Suppose Corda had deduced how he had been tracked thus far? He was a wily one. If he had somehow found and removed the tran
smitter, this might not be so easy after all. That possibility must be taken into account.

  At any rate, the two were now trapped belowground without food or water. Sooner or later, they would have to come out. And when they did, they would pay for their treachery.

  Humberto knew he could not destroy the entire force of agents who had been regularly and systematically denuding the crops in Colombia. However, this one man had reduced this to a personal battle.

  Joseph Corda had successfully secured his trust. Then, not only had he destroyed the largest shipment of heroin ever attempted out of the midcountry operation, but he had somehow cracked the safe and spirited away the payment received for the last delivery. That had been earmarked for a huge purchase of weaponry slated to arrive from Jordan within the next few days.

  Repercussions for these monumental losses would fall upon the head of the man in charge. Humberto would receive all the blame. A sentence of immediate death would be carried out if he allowed himself to be found.

  There was no way to redeem himself, but Humberto vowed if it was the last thing he did in life, he would make Joseph Corda suffer.

  And the woman. He had found out, of course, that she was the sister of the mercenary, Matthew Duquesne who worked for the Ames Company. Running a check on her identity had been child’s play, accomplished in a matter of minutes on his computer. All he had needed was her prints. She hadn’t even bothered to deny it.

  He had treated her extremely well, offering her no insult, nothing but kindness. He had been confident that Duquesne would pay an enormous ransom to have her back, but that the soldier of fortune would also seek the ultimate revenge if she were harmed in any way.

  It embarrassed him still that he had fervently hoped she would stay with him. He had so admired her cool demeanor, her class and her unearthly beauty. He had even courted her, given her his respect. .He could have loved her. Unlike his wife of fifteen years, Martine would have been his choice.

  But she had also betrayed and made a fool of him. And she would pay. The bitch would also answer for shooting him point blank without even blinking an eye.

  Thank the gods he always wore a vest. He brushed a hand absently over the uncomfortable bulk of the one he wore now. Obtaining it, plus the two AKs, the SIG Sauer pistol and ammo for the three weapons had cost him dearly in terms of risk and dollars.

  The money was running out, but he would conserve what he had very carefully. It only had to last until he accomplished what he had come to do. Then he would notify the general. His father-in-law must understand that he was no traitor, even if the general could not forgive Humberto’s misplaced trust and the losses that resulted. It was all he could do. Then he would disappear forever.

  Chapter 8

  Joe held Martine in his arms. She had awakened with a tremor and one sharp little cry that he immediately silenced. Once she noticed the moonlight shining through the cave’s opening, she grew calm and regained her composure. She didn’t draw away from him, so he simply held her.

  “You took a beating when I dragged you out. How’s your head?” he whispered.

  “Hard as ever,” she whispered back with a scoff. “My hands are sore.”

  He examined them gingerly with the tips of his fingers. “The skin’s not broken much, but they’ll need a good soaking.”

  “Joe…I’m so sorry I—”

  “Don’t be. We made it out, didn’t we?” He cradled her against him and brushed his lips over the top of her head. “That’s all that counts. Will you be okay if I go take a look outside?” he said directly into her ear.

  She nodded and gave him a little push of encouragement.

  Joe crept to the opening and peeked between the tall stalks of the weeds. His vision was limited, but he heard the crunch of footsteps on the ground’s dry vegetation. Not close by, he thought.

  Carefully, he parted the weeds enough to poke his head between them and gain a panoramic view of the sparsely wooded field surrounding the outcropping of rock.

  The silhouette of a man passed a good fifty yards away, headed for a much larger rock formation. Joe could clearly see the outline of an automatic weapon braced in one hand as the man crept toward his destination.

  They could remain where they were, but it would not be safe for long. Humberto had obviously decided there was another opening to the cave and was looking for it. And there were not that many places for him to search. Eventually, almost surely within the next half hour, he would find this one.

  He crawled back to Martine and advised her of the situation. Then he gave her their alternatives. “We could shoot him when he discovers us, but that would bring the other two down on us. Or we could wait until he rounds that rock cliff and then get out before he comes back this way.”

  “What about his friends?” she asked, her voice steady as his now. “Where are they?”

  “That’s the problem. Unless he’s a total idiot, he’s got one with the vehicles. The other’s almost certainly at the primary entrance to the cave. We can’t hope to out-shoot them with only the pistol, so we’ll either have to hide, or run again while we call in help.”

  “I vote run,” she said, squeezing his arm with her fingers. “At least we can lose them now that the transmitter’s gone. How’s your back?”

  He felt her hand slip around him and slide lightly over the back of his shirt. She gave a brief little hum of satisfaction. “It’s dried so it must have stopped bleeding, but we need to get that looked at, get you some antibiotics or something.”

  “Least of our worries,” he said and deliberately set out to make her angry. “Are you steady? I don’t want to take off out of this cave and have to carry you all the way.”

  She stiffened and inhaled sharply. “I can keep up. Just because I lost it back in there—”

  “Save it for later. Right now I want you to do exactly as I do, exactly what I tell you. Don’t think. Don’t question. Got it?”

  “Got it,” she huffed.

  “Let’s go.” He crawled toward the hole in the rock and looked out again. No sign of anyone now. He bent the tall thistles aside, ignoring the prickles of the sharp spines. Silently, he wiggled through them and low-crawled along the ground until he was a few feet from the cave. A glance over his shoulder revealed a messy shock of blond hair emerging from the cave. He pivoted around on his belly and gave her a hand.

  “Stay low and move slowly,” he whispered, knowing he need not add that she should stay as quiet as possible.

  They crawled through the brush, Joe scanning the field in all directions, until they reached the copse of trees some fifty feet distant from the rocks. He leaned close. His lips actually brushed the tender shell of her ear as he rasped, “The car is on the other side of these woods. Stay right behind me.”

  They waded slowly through the undergrowth, virtually soundless as they progressed. Visibility was limited, but he was glad for the leaves that gave them cover. The trees were hardwoods for the most part and if this had been late fall or winter, they would be almost as exposed as they would be on open ground. He halted when he saw moonlight glint off the chrome and the stationary glow of a flashlight.

  A grunt and a foul curse in Spanish emanated from the direction of the vehicle. Joe moved closer, keeping only one large oak trunk between him and the clearing. Both vehicles were there. And one of Humberto’s cronies was half hidden under the open hood of Martine’s Jeep.

  He reached around and patted Martine’s shoulder, then pressed down on it until she sank to the ground. Then he signaled her to wait there.

  Joe pulled her pistol from the back of his belt, checked the safety, then turned it around to use as a club. He couldn’t afford to rouse the other two men’s attention with a gunshot. He moved silently out of the trees until he was directly behind the figure beneath the hood.

  Unfortunately, there was no way he could do what he had to do without giving the man time to yell out. So he waited, listening to the rasp of metal against metal, disgruntled mum
bling and then a final chuckle of satisfaction.

  The bulky fellow emerged from his work, a distributor cap in one hand and a wrench in the other. Joe jumped forward and struck, landing a solid blow directly behind the man’s right ear.

  When the big figure crumpled at his feet, Joe motioned hurriedly for Martine to join him in the clearing. Meanwhile he searched the Colombian’s pockets, looking for the keys to the sedan parked about ten feet away.

  “No time for repairs,” he explained, keeping to a whisper as he stood with the key and the goon’s pistol in one hand, Martine’s Glock in the other. He handed that to her and checked the one he’d just appropriated, wishing it was one of those automatics the other two had.

  Quickly they hopped into the sedan, Joe behind the wheel. With the flashlight, he checked the fuel gauge. “It’s got half a tank. Enough,” he said. “Ready?” All hell was going to break loose when they cranked this baby up. They’d have to tear out of here at top speed and hope the resulting hail of bullets didn’t damage the tires. Or the occupants.

  “Shouldn’t we take that distributor cap so they can’t follow us?” Martine asked, grabbing his forearm.

  “Nope. They’d probably kill someone to get another car. This way, they’ll think it’s less trouble and probably quicker to fix the Jeep.”

  “And we’ll also know what they’re driving!” she said. The girl was no slouch in the brain department. Joe smiled, proud of her. And a little proud of himself that they had gotten this far, he admitted. It bothered him that he felt that way. He was supposed to be looking forward to giving up all this and here he was sort of enjoying it again. Adrenaline did weird things to the mind, he decided.

  “Stay down,” he told Martine. He shoved into neutral gear, pushed in the clutch and accelerator and twisted the key in the ignition. The sound of the engine rent the night, announcing their departure like a noisy brass band. As he gunned the motor and spun out of the clearing onto the dirt track that led to escape, the shooting began from two directions.