Lethal Cure

by S A Gardner

  “Actually, I think the mechanics did use the notes me and Matt and Ayesha…” I hiccuped, memories punching out of tight containment. Don’t. Step back. I shook my head, continued, “We offered suggestions after we put it to an extensive trial-by-fire in our last mission. Each of my—my team recommended changes to make the place more accessible and useful. Seems someone listened to our words of hands-on experience.”

  “Fascinating. There seem to be lots of computerized facilities here. Not that I see anything recognizable.”

  “You’ll recognize plenty when the STS is expanded and all the hidden stuff comes out. Computers, OR tables, anesthesia stations, overhead operating lights, surgical microscope, CT and X-ray—the works. Let me give you a quick orientation.”

  I pointed beneath his feet as he crossed the threshold. “That’s a stretcher lift for emergencies. And those—” I pointed at the identical stainless steel panels lining one side of the trailer “—are patient stations when expanded, accommodating up to twenty patients. Over there is the medical gas system, the fiber optic network. Here is the nurses’ station, with systems monitoring and medication refrigerator. And that’s the surface layer. Beneath it we have tons of—special supplies. And weapons.”

  I steered him onward. “That’s the infrared scrub area, the really nifty soiled and clean utility rooms. The soiled room has ultrasonic cleaner, nitrogen blow gun, pass-through for biohazard storage and pick up…and, this is all going over your head, isn’t it?”

  He pretended to follow imaginary missiles zooming above his head, grinned. “Yep! But you sure know your specs.”

  “I’m just bursting with excitement over having my hands on this magnificent toy again. A case of brag or bust, really.”

  “I know the feeling. Gadgets, if computer related, fry my restraint, too. I use the same overpowering finesse when I drown someone in computer jargon.”

  I chuckled. He was one nice guy. So far.

  His gaze arced around, landed on me. “So, from Lucia, the only one who actually spoke to me, I hear the medical aid mission is just a cover. Why all these facilities, if it won’t be for real?”

  I sighed, regret pushing away the momentary lightness. “It will be, up to a point. We have to validate our presence there. The hell of it is, we don’t have time to help everyone who’ll need it. And then, if we find what I hope is there, these facilities will provide the answers we need….” I paused at his inquisitive expression. Time to give him a rundown of the situation.

  In two minutes flat I’d told him all my info. Which spoke volumes of how little I had. Then we jumped out of the STS and turned it over to those of our team who would take the first shift at the wheel during our drive to Bogotá.

  It was the ML’s turn for inspection. Already in residence there were Charlene Judd and Diana McPherson, our HazMat and anarchy science experts. Call them Char and Di. Yeah, they did intend the pun.

  “Hey, Cali!” Char exclaimed as soon as she saw me.

  I had to look up. Way up. Taller than Rafael, and as fair as he was dark, she had another thing in common with him—a dominant bone structure. On a woman it was even more striking. Made her look openly predatory and intimidating. I envied her that. Though maybe I shouldn’t. Looking like a valkyrie from Valhalla wouldn’t be effective in covert ops.

  Char waved her hands around. “Where in this world did you manage to get this? I haven’t seen anything so well equipped since my days with the CIA.”

  Di, Char’s antithesis, brunette, five foot two max and truly endowed, came back from expanding a section of the lab, brown eyes elated, voluptuous body jiggling. “Where can I sign up to join GCA, Cali?”

  I smiled at her. Of the two, I liked her best. Probably because of our history. But both were top-notch specialists. Beyond that even. In certain circles they were reputed to be the absolute best. A lot rode on their expertise in this venture, if we found what we were looking for.

  “Last I heard, Di,” I said, “they signed us anarchist types only when they were scared witless.”

  Di snickered. “Should be all the time in today’s world!”

  Considering how easily Sir Ashton had managed to get GCA to cough up the goods and the creds, I’d say this was an accurate assessment. “Yeah. Anyway, as I was telling Rafael, with the STS and ML we’re prepared for anything surgical, diagnostic or investigative. They will also give us the means and the excuse for maximum mobility. Our target is Soacha—that’s a neighborhood on the southern outskirts of Bogotá. That’s where my friends were two months ago in the tugurios—” I turned to Rafael. “That’s the term they use here for areas filled with internally displaced people.”

  And what was I doing explaining a Spanish term to him?

  He made no point of it. Gracious. I went on. “Anyway, since you’re the ones who didn’t catch my brilliant lecture summing up the local situation, let me give you a basic outline.”

  Now to sum up unending suffering and madness in ten sentences or less. I inhaled. “For the past fifty something years, Colombia has been in the grip of a chronic armed conflict between guerrillas, paramilitary groups and the Colombian army. They all fight over control of land, natural resources, the drug trade and political power. In the middle are the civilians who suffer all forms of abuse and violence, and are forced to flee their homes to survive. They gather on the outskirts of main cities, forming areas that are aptly called ‘misery belts.’ If anything, internally displaced people are worse off than refugees, since they’re not protected by international human rights laws and don’t have the same access to humanitarian aid, while every human rights violation against them flourishes in silence without any form of punishment.”

  Rafael’s face lost its sunniness for the first time. “I’ve been away from my mother continent for a long time. But I’ve heard unofficial estimates claim over three million IDP.”

  “IDP?” Di blinked.

  “Internally displaced people,” Char answered. “Di, you still asleep, hon?” She brushed Di’s bangs out of her eyes.

  Uh-okay. Looked more than just friends to me. Had never thought of it, but they were probably a couple. Hoped it wouldn’t interfere in their work. Or with their actions and decisions in case of danger.

  Yeah. Listen to the ultimate “let your heart rule your head under fire” moron talking.

  I exhaled a wave of futility before it dragged me under. “Anyway, isolated peoples are prey to diseases and chronic malnutrition. But of course they have no way to seek treatment. Rival factions control roads, and crossing checkpoints is dangerous since the controllers suspect anyone of supporting other factions. Threats against local hospitals make it impossible to organize medical teams. Enter unaffiliated efforts like GCA, which is among the few humanitarian organizations ever granted access to contested territories here. And that’s why we’re here under their flag.

  “So—that’s the general bleak picture. Soacha, where we’re heading, is one of the main reception sites for IDP. Their number has mushroomed to four hundred thousand and growing, despite the precarious conditions. By that read almost nonexistent clean water, electricity and all other basic services.”

  “Ack! No water or electricity?” Di exclaimed.

  Char frowned down on her, a fond sort of frown. “Expected room service, hon? It is a squatter settlement!”

  I cleared my throat. “We do have generators, water purification systems and septic tanks in tow. It won’t be ideal, but when you feel like complaining, remember you’re going home to all amenities, unlike these people who’ve lost them forever.”

  Char’s hand descended on my shoulder. Good grip. Should recruit her for more than affiliate jobs. “You are here to do something about that.”

  “I wouldn’t call a week’s time doing much, Char,” I huffed. “And we’re not even here for them. But we have been getting supplies and medicines to segregated communities since the beginning of our operations. Still—nothing is ever enough.”

  Di ga
ve me a bolstering thump on the back, too. “It’s enough that you try! I think it’s cool of you, Cali.”

  “Cool, huh? Thanks, Di.” I turned to include the others. “We have an agreement with the paramilitary group controlling the tugurios, but we might meet others on the way, and since we’re posing as foreign civilians…”

  “We are foreign civilians. At least, we three here are!”

  My lips twisted. “How many civilians do you who know dabble in terrorist brews every day after breakfast, Di?”

  Di pouted. “I’m a civilian! And a scientist. It’s my first time in the field, so excuse me for freaking out.”

  If Di in her line of business was unprepared for the fallout of violence, just what hope did the rest of humanity have?

  I exhaled. “Don’t. Just sit in the Enterprise-level comfort of the ML, and wait for me to bring you samples and do your magic.”

  I ran my fingers over the sputter coater, the cryogenic specimen system and the custom-crafted cryo-scanning electron microscope. Hoped the sci-fi equipment got us answers. “As I was saying, once we’re out of Bogotá, there’s always danger of being blocked or caught in the middle of an ‘operation.’ Though we have permits, flagrant contempt and violence toward medical facilities and personnel is common. Piracy is a fact of life. What I’m saying is, in case of attacks, lie low and let my team handle it.”

  “Now she tells us there’s a chance of attacks!” Di moaned.

  Char smirked at her. “It was the first thing she told us when she reeled us in. ‘This may be terminally dangerous,’ she said. You wanted to see the tropics. And the ML. You said you knew Cali would take care of anything, as she always does.”

  Yeah. Sure. Di did have that unrealistic-expectations problem where I was concerned, ever since we’d saved her from a life as an unconventional-weapons designer and sex slave in an underground “reform” movement. Matt and Ishmael had done most of the work, but she preferred to credit me, the woman, with it.

  Di’s solitary dimple flashed. “Hey—moaning is cathartic. Say, did you know there’s a major city here called Cali?”

  I snapped a look at my watch. The others should be done by now. “Yep. And no, we’re not going there, to avoid confusion. At least you’re not. I don’t know where investigations will take me. You’ll do your parts, then head home. And speaking of that, it won’t happen if we don’t get this show on the road.”

  After deciding who’d take the wheel first, I turned and jumped out of the ML.

  Right into Damian’s arms.

  Twenty-One

  Delight hit first. The usual avalanche of sensations followed. Heat and intimacy and fitting together. Control slid with my body down his. My feet hit the floor, then his whisper hit me.

  “Nice of you to drop by.”

  “You…!”

  More gushed in my head, a babble of rage and shock and relief.

  Relief? Would I make up my mind and stick with emotions from either column A or column B already?

  Then I saw it. The kiss forming in his mind. My knees wobbled. So I kneed him.

  He was ready for me. My knee connected with his left thigh instead. It still hurt, still emptied his eyes of that hypnotic passion. He grunted. “Sloppy first thing in the morning, querida? Never got the chance to find out for myself.”

  I salvaged my footing, and my speech controls. My anger. “Just stopping you from giving El Dorado airfield the idea we’re shooting a cheap soap here.”

  “So you’re giving them the impression we’re shooting a cheap martial-arts flick instead?”

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Those painstakingly sculpted lips pouted in pure derision. “Oh, and you’re asking because you just bought the country?”

  According to our flight captain, it was fifty-seven degrees in Bogotá this morning. Not within feet of Damian, it wasn’t. More like a hundred and fourteen! “You won’t be able to dodge the next mawashi geri to your head that easily. Dammit, I thought we were done with all this crap.”

  He regarded my turmoil like a scientist observing a new, erratic species. “I’m not following you. I’m here to work.”

  “And your work happens to be in the same three square feet that I occupy of Colombian soil?”

  “You’re nowhere near that big. Except when horizontal and I—”

  “Remember that gratitude thing you suffer from? How about I knock you out on the runway for a curative measure?”

  His eyes only flared again. “Dios—I miss you.”

  And God, I missed him. Always. I’d been going crazy wondering where he was, what he was up to. Dreading a confrontation on opposite sides. Wishing to die before it ever came to pass. “Shows what a masochist pervert you are.”

  He gave a sage nod. “I’ve come to embrace this as fact.” He raised both hands at my growl. “And before you vapor-lock, I have this to say….” His eyes moved up. “What’s he doing here?”

  Huh? What…? I followed his line of vision, found it pouring hostility on the unwitting Rafael, who was hopping out of the ML.

  I swung back to Damian. “You know him?” Rafael passed by us, smiling at me, giving Damian a nonchalant “Yo, man” before heading back to the rest of the team. “What am I asking? Sure you know him. So know this, too. He’s invited. You’re not.”

  “Un-invite him. You don’t need him. You have me.”

  “I don’t want you. I’m not letting you and PACT steer this. I’ve got my team, and I’m beating you to it, Damian.”

  Fury emptied from his gaze, a lethal softness cascading in. “You really think you can beat me at my game, querida?”

  Don’t you dare shudder! “Probably not. But I’m going to give it the best damn shot I’ve got. Or die trying.”

  “Watch it. That temper can slash the population in a mile’s radius to pieces.” Red blotched my vision. I still saw his expression shift, turn grim. “And you think I’d let you die?”

  “Godly delusions now, huh? Just don’t stand in my way.”

  “I won’t. On one condition. I come with you.”

  “I can run comprehensive hearing tests, Damian!” My voice rose an octave. “We’re not joining forces. You and PACT—”

  “You need those hearing acuity tests, too, it seems. I said I come with you—alone. Just me, Damian De Luna, your man.”

  That silenced me. Everything ceased to matter. This was everything. Doubts, questions, misgivings pushed aside. Eagerness, elation flooding in. I wanted him with me so much, so much…

  “Think how useful I can be to you. This is my turf. I know the country, the people, the secrets, inside and out. I can be your mission guide, be another inconspicuous native.”

  That broke through the muteness. “Yeah, inconspicuous, sure. So you did manage to get one of those hologram disguise kits! You’d never pass as a guide, Damian.”

  “I did in Russia.”

  “You weren’t a guide back then.”

  “So I’ll be this mission’s logistician again.”

  “Russia was different. There were no endless warring factions trying to recruit every able-bodied man. Here they snatch teens from their school benches. Convince them you’re a native, and they’ll want to recruit all that muscle to their cause. Or else!”

  “I know how to handle my own countrymen, Calista. Just say you want me with you.”

  I wanted to yes-yes-yes him to the ground. And I wanted to dig a hole where he’d never find me again. To knock him unconscious and keep him that way until I found my friends’ cure. I wanted plenty more. I could only groan, “Why?”

  He gave me four simple words. “Because you need me.”

  I did. And how. Beyond his extensive capabilities and knowledge of this land. Just him. But could I possibly believe that was his motive? His only motive? Could he sell out PACT and his own convictions for me? Would I want him to? And if I accepted, where would that lead?

  To more heartache and destruction, idiot. Just say no.
r />   I tried. “Listen, Damian, I won’t have you doing anything against your better judgment here….”

  “I’ve been doing nothing but, ever since I met you.”

  “Yeah, and every time you turn into a resentment time bomb. No more sacrifices of any sort for me, Damian. I can do this alone. Just please—please don’t stand in my way.” I turned, and he did just that. I shoved at him. “Why aren’t you with your men?”

  He didn’t budge. “They’re fine on their own. And this is a multitasked operation. They’ll find the plant, the origin. We’ll investigate the end result and the cure for our people.”

  Our people. A fist trembled in my chest. “Why did you change your mind?”

  He fell silent for a moment. Then he sighed. “I didn’t. I just gave it more thought. Before you came to me, I was operating under the conviction this was a containable situation. If they’re conducting field experiments already, I must assume samples are dispersed and your investigation into the nature of the agent, and its counteraction may prove even more important than eradicating its manufacturing plant and manufacturers. My resources and capabilities will serve better on your end of the fight now.”

  Sounded too good to believe. Was it? “What about your zero-tolerance, sacrifice-all-affected agenda.”

  He huffed a chuckle. “What? You think I’ll storm into the tugurios and wipe out 400,000 people to contain the situation?”

  He thought I could think with a brain sprouting roots?

  “Think about it, Calista.” There he went again with the think thing! “You may be affected. I can’t jeopardize obtaining the diagnosis and treatment that would save you if you’re infected.”

  Put that way—oh. Shall we say, moved beyond endurance? “As long…” Great, I was gulping now, what felt like acid around the boulder filling my chest. For God’s sake! “As long as you don’t have a conflict of interest.”

  “I do. I’m interested in helping you, saving our people and reaching a resolution. But I’m also interested in dragging you to the nearest hotel for an all-night, one-on-one orgy.”