Annamaria and the others bunched behind her. It was sensible. Better to have just one of them taken out, while the others turned and ran, if someone came across them. The women knew where to go if anything happened to her. Calli suspected little would stop them, now they were this close to freedom.
They tiptoed down the basement, passing pillars. The glass doors which closed off the rotunda, with its double helix stairs, was twelve yards away when an Insurrecto pushed open one side of the doors and moved into the basement.
He stopped, his mouth opening.
So did Calli.
Someone gave a soft gasping sound.
No one spoke.
The Insurrecto was older, with a grizzled beard and red-rimmed eyes. He smiled, instantly understanding why fourteen women confronted him. He snatched at his machine gun, cocking it with a dense metallic sound which Calli would remember for the rest of her life. Her belly dropped and copper spit flooded her mouth.
She froze. Her thoughts froze.
Do something! she railed at herself as the submachine gun came up to the firing position.
Then the Insurrecto grunted and threw his head to one side. A black knife hilt stuck out from the side of his neck.
Nick leapt out from behind a pillar, to grab the knife with one hand, the man’s chin with the other. He wrenched the knife in a twisting motion, like forcing a cork screw into a tough cork.
The man sagged and Nick caught him and dragged him out of sight behind the pillar he had leapt from.
Calli still couldn’t move. Her heart rate climbed, until she heard it in her head.
Nick emerged once more, pushing the knife into a scabbard on his belt. An assault rifle hung over his shoulder—the one Duardo had given him, which Duardo had won from an American SEAL who didn’t understand cards as well as Duardo.
Nick was wearing gray fatigues and his dark copper hair gleamed in the pot lights set into the ceiling as he moved right up to her and gripped her arms. He gave her a little shake. “Yes, it’s me. I know it’s a shock—”
“A sh-shock?” she spluttered. She was shaking.
Nick held up a finger in warning. “No. Do not lose it. I need you to hold together for a bit longer. Hear me?” He shook her even harder.
His words and the shaking convinced Calli she was not imagining this. It really was Nick. She saw the warmth in his eyes. His concern. The fake-gruffness of his voice to make her stay cool was just like him.
Calli threw her arms around him. A sob escaped. She clamped down on any other sounds and shivered, instead.
Nick’s arms tightened around her for a moment. Just a moment. Then he pulled her away from him. His indigo eyes moved over her face, assessing her.
“I’m good,” she whispered. “I’m fine now.”
He looked over her shoulder.
Calli turned and waved toward the women, who were all standing and watching with smiles on their faces. “Loyalists, one and all,” she told Nick.
Nick nodded at them. “Do any of you have any weapons, which you know how to use?” he asked softly.
Head shakes.
Nick grimaced. “Ah, well.” He reached around behind him and extracted something from the pack on his back. He held it out to Calli.
“My Glock!” she breathed, picking it up. She looked at him. “You knew you would find me here?”
Nick cupped her cheek for one shining moment, his gaze steady. “You’re the reason I’m here.” He dropped his hand. “No fancy footwork. No agendas. I’m getting you out.” He glanced behind Calli. “All of you,” he added. He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and held it out so Calli and the women could see the screen.
4 hours 3 minutes.
Get out of la Colinas!
“What does it mean?” Calli breathed.
“I don’t know,” Nick said. “I’ve been out of contact with everyone for a few days. I won’t ignore the warning, though. I have a feeling Chloe is behind it. She’s in a position to know things.”
Calli blinked. What on earth had happened since she had been caught and brought here?
Nick put the phone away. “So, straight up the stairs to the back door and out. I’ll take care of anyone who tries to stop us.”
Calli gripped Nick’s arm. “Marisa Roldán,” she said urgently. “We can’t leave her here. She’s somewhere in the Palace, Nick, and I think I know where she is.”
Nick considered her. “There’s no time.”
“There’s an office on the second floor, full of communications equipment and surveillance cameras. There’s a room behind it… Nick, I think it’s where Minnie was held, when Duardo was passing as Zalaya. There are chains and cuffs and ways to contain Roldán there, because she was too much of a disruption in the bordello itself.”
“Cameras?” he asked sharply, his attention caught.
“You were part of Minnie’s debriefing, Nick. Remember what she said about the cameras which could see anywhere?”
Nick nodded, thinking hard. He looked at his watch. “Okay, we’ll show the ladies the door, then find Roldán and deal with the equipment at the same time.” He hefted the assault rifle. “Let’s go.”
*
MINNIE LOWERED HERSELF CAREFULLY TO the floor beside Téra and settled her back against the wall. She rubbed the small of her back, wincing. “Four months and I’m already sick of feeling like a bloated whale.”
“You’re barely showing,” Téra said. “Wait until you’re at eight months.” She rolled her head back toward the windows with the teak blinds. They were new blinds, to replace the old ones, because this was the dining room. This room had taken most of the blast from the car bomb which had killed General Blanco.
Minnie glanced at the closed door. The Insurrectos had herded the women into the room shortly after they had helped Rubén hobble back into the house. That had been hours ago. Most of the women had stopped talking. They sat listlessly.
“What do you think they did with Adán?” Minnie asked.
“I don’t know,” Téra said. She didn’t care, either. She hadn’t felt anything since Zapatero had thanked Rubén Rey for his help.
Minnie glanced at the door again, then slid her hand inside her shirt and withdrew her phone.
Téra looked at it, then looked again. “They frisked all of us,” she said, remembering the groping and prodding she had put up with as they searched her. “Where did you keep it? In your bra?”
“Under my breast, inside the bra. The advantage of pregnancy—swollen, oversized breasts.” She frowned. “The battery is low.”
“We could call for help,” Téra said, turning to look at her. She gripped Minnie’s wrist. “We could tell them what is happening here!”
“And what?” Minnie said, her tone reasonable. “You really want to pull someone away from the fight over there? Duardo?”
Téra dropped her wrist. “You won’t tell anyone?” she breathed.
“I don’t think we should. Look.” Minnie tapped her screen and turned the phone for Téra to see.
3 hours, 58 minutes.
Get out of la Colinas!
Téra’s chest tightened. Her belly swooped. “What happens in three hours?” she breathed.
“I think this warning is for every Loyalist, including Duardo and his men,” Minnie said. “We can’t distract them,” she added.
Téra fell back, her head rapping the wall. “God, I can’t stand this!”
“Patience,” Minnie said. “Something will change, which we might take advantage of.”
“Fuck that!” Téra cried, pushing herself to her feet. The other women stirred, looking up at her. “I don’t want to be rescued. Fuck it. Fuck the Insurrectos. I want out of this place!”
Minnie struggled to get to her feet. “Téra, calm down!”
“No! Fuck it! I won’t sit here and wait for fucking men to rescue me! I’m sick of that. I’m sick of them!” She stalked over to the window and gripped the new teak blinds and yanked. They tore away from th
e wall mounts over the windows with a groaning sound.
“You can’t break the window, Téra,” Minnie cried. “It’ll bring them running, and it’s a sheer drop to the sea, there!”
Téra used the cords on the blind to pull the slats of wood tightly together and bind them. The end result was a solid club of wood that if she swung it with enough force just might be lethal. She circled around the room, as the other women scrambled to get out of her way with mutters and little gasps.
The last window on the north side of the room was still over the sea, which was why the Insurrectos and Zapatero had not bothered placing a guard in the room with them. They could open the windows, but where would they go?
Téra turned the catch and yanked the window up.
Fresh sea air, with a taint of seaweed, flooded the room. She leaned out and looked along the side of the house. Four feet stretched between the window and the railing where the deck at the top of the stairs began. She could jump it.
Behind her, the women told each other Téra was right—they should be doing something, damn it!
The door to the dining room slammed open. “What the fuck is going on here?” the guard demanded. “You, there! Get away from the window.”
Téra stayed where she was, feeling her hair lift in the sea breeze.
“You! I said, get away from the window!” He was stalking toward her, while the women made frightened sounds.
Téra listened to the sound of his boots on the ancient floorboards. As soon as he was close enough, she gripped the blind at one end with both hands and spun on the balls of her feet, bring the blind spinning around like a baseball bat, angling up as it whizzed through the air.
It took him under the chin and lifted him off his feet. He landed with a heavy thud. The rifle slid off his shoulder and clattered on the floor.
Everyone looked down at the unconscious man, their eyes wide, including Téra.
“Oh, shit…” Minnie breathed. She pushed herself up the wall and hurried over to grip Téra’s wrist. “Everyone, very quietly. Out into the corridor, past the back stairs, to the deck, then down the stairs. We can hide in the caves or walk to Acapulco. Let’s just get out of here. Shh!”
Téra handed Minnie the blind-club.
“You use it,” Minnie said, trying to hand it back. “You’re a natural with it.”
“I have something better,” Téra said, bending and picking up the Insurrecto’s rifle. She knew how to load them and check them for ammunition. She had grown up with Duardo mansplaining everything.
Minnie’s eyes widened. She hurried after the other women, who stampeded out the door. They were not speaking, although it was impossible for twenty-three women to move quietly across ancient floorboards.
Téra followed, the rifle resting on her hip, her finger on the trigger guard.
16.
PARRIS’ PLAN WAS TO WORK in a big curve around the base, moving in a southerly direction until far enough south to be out of interest range of the base. Then they would cut across the island directly east, aiming for the coast. There was a bay where they could rendezvous with a Navy vessel which would take them off the island…or to a new operation somewhere else.
Once they left the higher elevations and moved down the mountains to the flatter alluvial plain, the going was much easier and Chloe found she could move faster. She didn’t want to drop where she was and sleep, anymore. The air was richer down here.
Perhaps that was why everyone relaxed.
They were bending in a slow curve, heading east. Chloe could tell because the sun swung from her right to line up behind her. Plus, they were heading downhill.
The trees changed from evergreens and a few hardy kapok and banyans, to mostly kapoks and cypress, all of them tall. The canopy thickened, until they were walking in dense shade all the time. The undergrowth thinned out because there was no direct sunlight. The soil underfoot was dark and loamy, muffling their steps.
Yardley held up his fist and everyone halted.
He came back to Parris. “There’s a road just ahead. Dirt. There are fresh tracks.”
Parris nodded. “We’ll bunch up to cross over.” She waved and the others moving closer with soft patters of feet.
Then a branch cracked, somewhere deeper in the trees.
Chloe’s heart rocketed skyward. Everyone was here. Everyone was accounted for. Chloe was the only one in the group who couldn’t move silently. It was someone else sneaking through the trees.
Who else would need to sneak around but Insurrectos? Civilian Vistarians would just use the road.
Parris didn’t hesitate. She waved her finger in a big circle and her team spread out, heading in a dozen different directions.
Cristián, too.
Parris pushed Chloe toward the nearest tree, a huge kapok with chest high gnarled old roots. She pushed down on Chloe’s shoulder, to make her squat between the roots. Chloe would be hidden from anyone unless they walked right up to the base of the tree.
Parris disappeared.
From the same direction as the cracking branch came more sounds. Soft steps. Murmured words. Then, farther away, similar sounds.
How many of them were there? Had they really followed Parris and her team from the base? Where else would Insurrectos come from, this far north? Every other rebel was in the city, Parris said, defending against the combined armies of the Loyalists, America and Mexico.
Chloe pressed her fingers to her temples to halt the flow of panicky ideas. Think!
Parris had shoved Chloe here because she was too tired and couldn’t move silently through the trees. Conclusion: She was a liability.
More than one Insurrecto moved through the trees. Perhaps many of them. Parris had spread her men out not to fight them, but to see if the Insurrectos would pass through them and not spot them.
The Insurrectos had continued to search for them, even though they had moved far away from the base. Their relentlessness was new, Parris had said. Conclusion: they were determined to find Parris and her team.
Something must be done to divert the Insurrectos, to distract them.
Before she fully considered the wisdom of it, Chloe lurched to her feet. There was no one in sight. The forest looked empty.
Chloe headed for the road Yardley had spotted. It was a narrow track winding through the trees. Dirt, as he had said. The dirt was packed down from lots of traffic. It was a well-used road.
Chloe turned north, the direction from where the cracking branch and shuffled bootsteps had come from. She headed up the road at a leisurely walk. She didn’t look around to see if she could spot anyone. Her heart was in overdrive and it was hard to hear anything for the thudding in her brain.
The track was nothing close to straight. There were too many big root systems to go around. It was a relief to be able to walk without having to watch her step, though. Chloe rounded a sharp curve and came to a halt.
There were two Insurrectos conferring in the middle of the track, their heads close together.
Chloe gave them five seconds, then turned and walked back the way she had come, picking up her pace a little.
“Halt!” one of them yelled in Spanish.
Chloe halted. She lifted her hands up and turned to face them as they hurried up to her, their rifles lifted. They were both young, maybe her age. They wore hard expressions.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” demanded the tallest of the two, with a mole below his eye.
“Do you speak English at all?” Chloe asked, with a hopeful note in her voice. “My Spanish just sucks.”
The shorter one glanced at the other. “American?” he asked her.
“Yes!” Chloe said, and blew out her breath. “I got lost! Can you tell me where the hell I am? I landed my boat on the beach, that way—” She jerked her thumb to the east. “I ran out of gas. I saw land so I thought I’d stop and buy some, only there isn’t a living soul anywhere around this joint. You’re the first two people I’ve seen since I land
ed…this is still Mexico, right?”
The shorter one’s eyes got wider. “You…stopped to buy gas?” he asked, with a thick accent.
“Just shoot her,” the other said in Spanish. “We don’t have time for this.”
“She says she hasn’t seen anyone and she was heading north. Maybe they’re not here after all,” Shorty replied.
Chloe kept her polite smile in place, reminding herself to not react to their rapid exchanges in Spanish.
“They have to be. They wouldn’t move north, would they? There’s nothing up there but radiation.”
Shorty snorted. “Who in their right minds would go south? She must be lost, just like she says.”
“Screw this. We’re wasting time,” Mole said and cocked his rifle and brought it up to point at Chloe.
*
SERRANO SLAMMED THE DOOR TO his big office, making the partition wobble. Everyone in the outer office looked up.
“I said I wanted to see Ibarra twenty minutes ago!” Serrano yelled. “Why isn’t he here?”
One of the secretaries scrambled to his feet. “I will go find him, General.”
“Why didn’t someone find him ten minutes ago?”
The secretary swallowed. “Sarabande did go, sir. He hasn’t returned.”
Serrano stared at him. “And you didn’t feel that was a concern?”
The secretary licked his lips. “Sir, he may have stopped by a washroom, or…taken…a break…” He spoke the last word on a dying whisper.
Serrano looked around the office. “Who else hasn’t come back from a break?”
Everyone looked around the room, surprised.
“Jose, sir,” the secretary replied.
“Carmine,” someone else said.
Serrano sucked in a breath. The red in his face receded. He reached up to unclip the flap on his holster and everyone flinched.
“Not you, imbeciles,” Serrano told them. He hurried out of the administration wing, through the rotunda and down the wide hall which ran between the rooms on the second floor. It was carpeted, lush and lined with pieces of art on plinths and oil paintings hanging on the walls, in between the deep door recesses into the rooms.
V-Day Page 16