Dangerous Connections (Blackthorne, Inc.)

by Odell, Terry

  “Put these on?” She shoved Fozzie in the shoulder. He shrugged, took off his own headset.

  Elle tossed her headset in Fozzie’s lap. “It’s loud in here? Loud my ass. I’ve been to church services louder than this. You two with your secret radio chit-chat, and me with noise-cancelling headphones so I can’t hear what you’re saying? I’m in this as much as you are. More, because the person I’m trying to find is my sister. My flesh and blood. Not a paying client you’ve never met, and won’t ever see again after your job is done.”

  Fozzie lifted his eyebrows and shrugged. He looped Elle’s headset over his armrest.

  Jinx held up his hands. “Sorry.”

  “Sorry? Forget sorry. Fill me in.”

  Jinx looked at Fozzie. Fozzie looked back. Hell, Jinx had known there was no way he could keep up the pretense of Elle thinking Fozzie was a private investigator. “Guess we should come clean,” Jinx said.

  “Damn straight,” Elle said. A bit of the vehemence had left her tone.

  “You’ve got to understand—got to promise—that what we’re going to tell you is between us,” Jinx said.

  She didn’t say anything. Just stood there, glowering, gripping the top of his seatback for balance.

  “Elle, it’s important,” Jinx insisted.

  “What? You’re going to tell me you’re spies?”

  “Spies? Of course we’re not spies,” Fozzie said. “We work for Blackthorne, a private investigation and security company.”

  “Cut the BS,” Elle said. “I’m a cop, remember. I can tell when someone’s lying through his teeth.” She sighed. “And I can be trusted. You want me to pinkie swear, or take an oath in blood? Or is zipping my lips enough?” She mimed passing a zipper across her mouth.

  “Your word is fine, Elle,” Jinx said.

  “I don’t know, mate,” Fozzie said. “I kind of like that pinkie swear thing.” He lifted his hand, pinkie extended.

  “Shut up, Fozzie,” Jinx said. He turned to Elle. “What Fozzie said is true. But there’s another side to Blackthorne, Inc., and for it to be effective, it has to stay way under the radar.”

  Jinx sought the best way to explain. “Sometimes people need things done and the red tape gets too tangled. Blackthorne goes in, does the job, and gets out while the governments are still trying to find the scissors. We rescue hostages while everyone’s bogged down in negotiations. In this case, Mr. Montlake wasn’t able to get anyone in Mexico to help him find Crystal.”

  “In a nutshell, we’ll go where Uncle Sam can’t,” Fozzie added.

  Elle seemed to consider that. “So, basically, you’re covert operatives?”

  “You could say that,” Fozzie said.

  “Okay,” Elle went on. “Fozzie. You were here looking for Crystal. In this big, badass chopper. You couldn’t find her, so Blackthorne sent Jinx, who is not experienced in the ways of things covert?” She cast an apologetic glance at Jinx. “Sorry, but it was easy to tell you were outside your normal working environment. It’s not tracking for me. What else have you neglected to tell me?”

  “First, I prefer to call this badass chopper a helo.” Fozzie patted the console. He lowered his voice. “Actually, I prefer to call her Matilda, but that’s another secret you’d better take to your graves.”

  Elle laughed and held up her pinkie, which Fozzie shook. Jinx tried not to laugh. There was something reassuring about the way Fozzie could joke around at a time like this. He knew it was a way to reduce the stress, but it went beyond knowing. And that Elle could join in—his heart skittered.

  “You’re right,” Fozzie said. “Blackthorne sent me—along with four other operatives—to find Crystal Montlake. Things went south, and we have to get them out.”

  Elle appeared solemn, and Jinx remembered she was a cop. They’d stand up for their own, too.

  A flash of motion on one of his thermal images caught Jinx’s eye. “Hold on.” He zoomed in, upped the resolution. “Do they have gorillas here? Because if not, I think we’ve got people down there.”

  Chapter 18

  “People? Where?” Elle leaned forward, trying to decipher the colored blobs on Jinx’s computer screen. They did have a vaguely human shape, and she knew gorillas didn’t live in Mexico.

  “Buckle in, please,” Fozzie said. He and Jinx put on their headsets, and once again, she was good as deaf. She returned to her seat and fastened the harness. But this time, she left her own headset off, so she could hear them, even if she couldn’t hear any radio traffic. Or was there any radio traffic up here above the middle of nowhere?

  She felt the chopper—she smiled inwardly—Matilda—tilt, descend and circle. She gripped the armrests of her seat. Her ears plugged, and she swallowed to equalize the pressure. Fozzie was talking, asking questions, relaying information, but apparently not to Jinx, who wasn’t responding. Between her ears plugging and popping, and the quiet tone Fozzie used, she could make out about one word in three. Mostly Roger that. Which was good, wasn’t it?

  Had he made contact with the others? He wouldn’t be talking to a Mexican control tower, would he? Not if he wasn’t supposed to be here.

  Her view of what he and Jinx were doing was blocked by the high seatbacks in front of her, so she tried to take her mind off whatever they were doing by studying her code. Which still meant absolutely nothing. Could the importance lie in the numbers themselves, and not their alphabet equivalents? She thought about reversing the alphabet, but didn’t think Diego would have thought of anything so out-of-the-box.

  Then it occurred to her. Would Diego have used Spanish, not English? She stared at all the combinations of the letters she’d written down. Nothing matched her rudimentary Spanish vocabulary, which tended toward the curse words she’d picked up when making arrests. And Diego knew she spoke English. If the paper fell into the wrong hands, English might be more cryptic.

  Damn, she was getting nowhere. She heard Jinx’s voice, “Shit. They’re gone.” She craned her neck, trying to see what he was doing, to no avail. The steep banking of the helo as it circled and dropped kept her pressed against her seat. All she could tell was Jinx was busy with the computer.

  Jinx spoke again, urgency in his tone. “Four o’clock. Water?”

  She started to get up, but Matilda ducked and dove, throwing Elle against her seatback.

  “Please. Stay buckled in. We might bounce a little.” Fozzie’s voice barked from up front. Did the man have eyes in the back of his head?

  “Then tell me what’s going on,” she said. “What happened to the people?”

  “Disappeared. If they really were people. We’re checking to see if there’s a correlation between the ground below and the map Diego gave you,” Jinx said. “We’ve found a river.”

  “There’s got to be something I can do,” Elle said. “I’m here. Use me.”

  Jinx and Fozzie exchanged a glance. They spoke. Softly. Too soft for her to hear. So help her, if they were saying humor the little lady, find her some busywork, she’d have their nuts sliced and served as sushi.

  Jinx turned around. “There are night vision goggles in that chest.” He pointed to a small metal lockbox behind the seating area.

  She jumped up, made her way to the box and flipped the catch. She found night vision goggles and heaven only knew what other surveillance gizmos. She grabbed the goggles, slipped them over her head.

  “Don’t turn them on until you’re looking out the window,” Fozzie said.

  Right. No point in blinding herself with the glow from the instrument panels. She adjusted herself so she could see into the darkness below and flipped the switch. Faint green blobs appeared.

  “Ever used those before?” Fozzie asked. “They’re starlight.”

  “A few training sessions,” she said. “But I think I can make out the difference between people and typical jungle night life.”

  “Let me know if you see anything two-legged bigger than a jaguar,” Fozzie said. “Jinx, she’s got the left. You concentra
te on the right.”

  “Be easier if we could be doing this in a colder locale,” Jinx said. “Damn ambient temperature is too warm for people to need fires. And I don’t think this little section of jungle paradise uses air conditioning.”

  “Adjust your sensitivity,” Fozzie said. “You should be able to distinguish temperature differences well enough to tell people from trees.”

  “I think I’ve got something.” Elle knelt in her seat bracing herself against the helo’s motion, trying to get a better view. “Ten o’clock. A square. Not a natural jungle shape. A house?”

  The image disappeared as Fozzie turned the helo around. “Got it,” Jinx said. “Enhancing. Definitely looks like a house. I see a door, windows on either side. Can’t tell if anyone’s inside.”

  “Got the GPS coordinates?” Fozzie said.

  “I’m not stupid,” Jinx said.

  “Covering the bases.” Fozzie didn’t sound confrontational.

  “Let me see that map,” Elle said, yanking off her goggles. Jinx handed her the paper and she perused it. “Where was the river relative to this house?”

  “To the right,” Jinx said.

  “Then one of these might be what we’re seeing.” She pointed to three of the five circles on the map.

  “No scale,” Fozzie said, “but let’s see if that hypothesis is right.”

  Elle heard a slight shift in the engine sounds, but didn’t notice any acceleration. However, when she looked out the window with her goggles on, she could see they were moving. Keeping the image of the map in her mind, she tried to focus, to see if she could spot another dwelling. “There should be another one at eleven o’clock relative to the position of the first one,” she said.

  Again, she felt the change in direction. She strained to spot another dwelling. Or people. Or anything that might lead them to Trish. Her eyes burned, both from searching and lack of sleep.

  “Got it,” Jinx shouted from the front. “Camera four. I see people in the windows. Two—no, make that three.”

  “Who are they?” Elle asked, hearing how ridiculous the question was as soon as the words left her mouth. As if they’d be holding up ID?

  She definitely needed sleep, although the way adrenaline surged through her veins, she knew it would be impossible. Could one of those people be Trish?

  “I’m not seeing anything to indicate these are normal living quarters,” Jinx said. “No vehicles, not even anything that looks like a horse or mule. No landscaping, no cleared land for gardens or farming.”

  “Abandoned?” Elle asked. “Squatters?”

  “More like prisoners,” Fozzie said. “Hang on. I want a wider field of reference.”

  The helo rose. “Do these goggles have telephoto capability?” Elle asked. “You’re too high for me to see anything.”

  “That’s what our cameras are for,” Fozzie said. “Jinx should have it covered.”

  “Which I do,” Jinx said.

  Elle noticed the banter stopped. The two men were all business.

  “Anyone down there can see us, right?” Elle asked. “If they’re part of the cartel, would they shoot at us?”

  “Sure,” Fozzie said. “But we’re bullet-proof.”

  Now that sounded like bravado.

  Fozzie continued. “If those houses are supposed to be prison facilities, the guards will be armed with basic rifles. They’re guarding people, not taking down aircraft.”

  “Our guys?” Jinx asked.

  “Haven’t seen any signals.”

  “Would you mind explaining?” Elle said.

  Fozzie twisted in his seat. “If our team is down there, they’ll hear us and see a pattern of lights to confirm it’s us up here. If they’ve got any way to make a light, they’ll let us know it’s them.” He played with the console. Lights flashed beneath the helo.

  “And if they don’t?” Elle asked.

  “They’ll figure out something. That’s what we do,” Jinx said.

  “You said there were three people in that last house,” Elle said. “Aren’t you looking for five?”

  “That we are,” Jinx said. “But all we need is one, and he’ll lead us to the rest.”

  Elle wondered if Jinx was thinking what she was thinking. That not all five of them—six if she counted Trish—were still alive.

  If wishing could make it so, Jinx would be seeing the team’s signals lighting up his display. If wishes were horses, his grandmother used to say.

  Fozzie flipped another switch and unbuckled his harness. He motioned Jinx out of his seat. “Let me see that.”

  “You don’t expect me to fly this thing, do you?” Jinx asked.

  “Auto pilot. We’re hovering.” Fozzie hitched a thumb over his shoulder. He had his headset on again, probably hoping to make radio contact with the team. “No offense, but I’ve picked up a few tricks.”

  Jinx wasn’t going to argue. Fozzie did know his equipment inside out, and if it gave Jinx a minute or two with Elle, he could deal. He relinquished his seat and the computer, and buckled in beside her. The interior of the helo was dark other than the glow of Fozzie’s instruments. Elle looked like a space alien in the night vision goggles. He reached across the narrow aisle and placed his hand on her bare arm. She turned, slipped the goggles off. He didn’t need much light to know she smiled at him. Brief, and more of an I’m brave kind of smile than the I’m glad to see you variety. But her smile warmed him.

  The helo was steady, Fozzie was busy, so Jinx shrugged out of his harness and went to the rear where he’d noticed locker-like cabinets hanging on the wall. He opened the first, and as he hoped, it contained neatly folded camo gear. Inside the door, a piece of tape proclaimed it belonged to Harper. Of course the picture of Frankie and Molly was a dead giveaway even without the tape.

  Jinx moved on, stopping when he came to a locker labeled Rodriguez. Manny Rodriguez, at a shade under five-ten, was the smallest member of the team. Jinx didn’t think Manny would mind his spare clothes being put to good use—although he did enjoy the way Elle filled out that sundress. He gathered pants, a tee, a pair of thick socks and a jacket, and brought them forward.

  He stopped at Elle’s seat and offered the bundle. Her eyes lit up when she recognized what he held. When she took the clothes from him, her fingers lingered on his longer than they needed to, trickling slowly down the lengths of his fingers.

  He was standing. She was sitting. Her eyes were level with his growing arousal. Thank God she was staring into his eyes.

  “Thanks,” she said. “Is there somewhere I can change?”

  Jinx didn’t think there was a head on the helo. At least not the enclosed kind. “In back? I promise not to peek.” He sat, making an exaggerated point of holding his hands at the side of his eyes, like blinders, and staring straight ahead.

  “I’ll hold you to that.” She unbuckled her harness and took the clothes to the rear.

  He wanted to hold her. To him. He continued staring forward.

  When she returned, attired in oversized camo, he smiled. “They look better on you than on Manny.”

  “I need shoes,” she said.

  Fozzie twisted in his seat, said, “Try the blue chest,” then went back to whatever he was doing. “Rations in the green one.”

  How did he do that? Did nothing get past the man?

  Jinx started to rise, but Elle motioned for him to stay seated. “I can do it.”

  Jinx moved forward, standing behind Fozzie.

  “Watch and learn,” Fozzie said.

  Watch, yes. Learn, not so much. Fozzie’s fingers flew across the keyboard without explanation of what he was doing. Given the circumstances, Jinx didn’t ask him to slow down. He saw the images on the screen zoom in and out, and change colors, which he recognized as the computer-generated temperature differences.

  “Would be nice if we had the cryogenic version, but thermography usually works,” Fozzie said.

  “That matches the general layout of the map,” Jinx said. �
�Three structures on this side of the river.”

  “And I’ll wager there are two more on the other side. Let’s have a look-see at these.” He clicked a few more keys.

  Beneath each of the images, a bunch of oscillating lines appeared.

  “Sound?” Jinx asked.

  “No reason to limit ourselves to vision,” Fozzie said.

  “You can tell what’s making the sounds?” Jinx asked.

  “Not me. But my baby can.” Fozzie tapped the computer. “She knows what to listen for.”

  Jinx gave it some thought. “So, you’ve got voice recognition in there for our team?”

  “Not as good as your subdermal GPS transponders, but this is real, and it works.”

  “If you’re close enough to hear them,” Jinx said.

  “There is that.” Fozzie took his pilot seat. “She’ll let us know if she hears one of ours.”

  Jinx took the vacated co-pilot seat. “What about background noise, or voices in a crowd?”

  “More of a challenge, but I don’t think anyone’s having a cocktail party down there.”

  “I take it she hasn’t found anyone yet.”

  Fozzie frowned. “We have to be close enough. And, of course, they have to be talking.”

  “There’s a lot of jungle out there,” Jinx said. “How long do we have?”

  Fozzie tapped a gauge. “A while.”

  Jinx wondered if the helo was low on fuel. He was aware of Elle approaching. Wearing sneakers. She handed him a bottle of water and offered another to Fozzie, who accepted it with a nod and a thank you.

  “There are protein bars, too,” Elle said. “Do you want one?”

  Jinx extended his hand, not because he was hungry, but because he wanted to feel Elle’s fingers against his. Funny how her touch could kick start his heart rate and calm him at the same time.

  Jinx watched Elle as she returned to her seat. He caught Fozzie’s eyes on him along with a smirk and a quick headshake.

  “What?” Jinx asked Fozzie.

  “Just thinking. Nothing important. Yet.”

  Jinx slipped the bar into his pocket. “Where did you get the sneakers?”