Dangerous Connections (Blackthorne, Inc.)

by Odell, Terry

  She laughed again. “Lead on.”

  Once they were moving, Jinx seemed to find his rhythm, picking his way along an overgrown trail, slashing low-hanging leaves and branches. Almost cheerfully, she thought. Destroying things did have a way of relieving stress.

  “I’ve got a question,” Jinx asked. “How come you know so much about wilderness survival? I thought you worked Vice. Doesn’t that take place in a more… civilized venue?”

  “My dad’s idea of a fun vacation was going camping as far away from any civilized venues as he could get. Forget the RV with running water and a gas stove. Or food. Living off the land, he’d say. The way our ancestors did. Trish and I used to beg him to stay at a real campground—the kind with swimming pools, a lodge, and entertainment. No luck.”

  “Bet you never thought it would come in this handy,” Jinx said.

  “Guess you’re right.”

  “Does your dad still like to rough it?”

  Elle paused. The pain, although it had lessened over time, never really went away. “He died a few years ago.”

  “Sorry.”

  She tried for a smile even though she knew Jinx couldn’t see it. “I’m sure he’s getting a kick out of watching us.”

  “Hope he’s not laughing at me,” Jinx said.

  “No worries there. Laughing wasn’t his thing.”

  A few steps later, Elle grabbed Jinx’s belt. She covered her light with her hand. “Stop. Did you hear that?” she whispered.

  He froze. “Hear what?”

  “Shh.” She strained to recapture the sound over the blood pounding in her ears. Something moving, rustling the underbrush. Which, given they were in the jungle, wasn’t unexpected. But was it a predator? And if so, was it the two or four-legged variety? Her hand inched toward the Glock.

  The sound moved farther away, and then there were only the background noises they’d been hearing since they’d landed. Wind playing through the trees. Not much else going on at this hour. “Probably a jaguar out for a meal.”

  “You know much about jaguars?” Jinx asked.

  “Nope. Only that I prefer to stay off the menu. Whatever it was, it’s gone. Let’s go.”

  Elle noticed Jinx moved more slowly, stopping to shine his light into the trees more frequently, testing branches before he cut at them. “You know, I’m thinking of another Indiana Jones movie,” he said.

  “Let me guess. ‘Snakes. Why did it have to be snakes?’ Don’t tell me you’re afraid of snakes.”

  “I don’t meet many in my line of work. I suppose this is where you tell me your dad served rattlesnake for dinner. And it tastes like chicken.”

  “In fact, it tastes like rattlesnake.”

  He pivoted. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  “Fine. I’m joking. Now get moving. It’ll be daylight in a couple of hours, and if Trish isn’t at the first structure, we’ll have to hustle to get to the second.”

  Elle took a couple of deep breaths. She wouldn’t admit it—not in front of Jinx, anyway—but the thought of all the creatures living out here put her creepiness meter into the red zone. For her, it was bugs. The little things that got inside your clothes, burrowed into your skin, and you never saw them. She shuddered, made sure her cuffs were tight at her ankles and wrists, then hurried after Jinx.

  Jinx tried not to think about jaguars or snakes. Sloths would be good. He knew plenty about sloths after researching them for another Blackthorne op. They wouldn’t pose a threat. Much nicer to think about than jaguars.

  And nicer than thinking about whether Hotshot would make it, how Harper and Manny were, and if he and Elle would find Crystal and Trish. He was sure Blackthorne would approve of extending the op until they found their target, but having to send in another team, even a small one, would take time.

  To keep his mind off his exhaustion, he allowed his thoughts to stray to Elle, whose footfalls behind him were surprisingly comforting. How she’d felt, pressed against him, on the stomach-churning ride from helo to jungle floor.

  Stop it. Your brain—the one above your neck—needs a full complement of red blood cells.

  He gave a quick tug to the AK-47 slung over his shoulder, again, surprisingly comforted by its presence. He could only hope he’d have enough warning to get it into firing position should the need arise. And damn, he hoped the need would not arise. He ran over what he was supposed to do if he did have to use it. Point it in the direction of the target, pull the trigger and pray. He’d added that last bit which hadn’t been part of Elle’s instructions, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask for a little extra help.

  “Slow down.” Elle’s whisper pierced the jungle sounds.

  He paused, heart pounding. “What?”

  “We’re almost there. We don’t need to advertise our arrival.”

  “You don’t think we should march up and knock on the door and ask if Crystal and Trish can come out and play, then.”

  He heard her quiet chuckle. Damn, he liked making her laugh. And right now, a little laughter was a good thing.

  Elle crouched behind more undergrowth. Or overgrowth. Hell, this whole place was one massive growth. She tugged on his pack, and he heard the ripping sound as she opened a Velcro-fastened compartment, then another tug as she removed something.

  “Turn off your light,” she whispered. He clicked off the flashlight. Elle crept to his side. “Down.”

  He dropped to his knees. What was going on? He held his breath, listened. Heard nothing other than the same damn insects they’d been hearing the whole time. Nothing roaring, though. Which was probably good.

  Pay attention, idiot. Think about the mission, not man-eating jaguars.

  He focused on Elle, whose scent still intrigued him, no matter that they’d been traipsing through underground passages and now the thick, humid air of the jungle. What was it about women that let them smell good no matter what? He, on the other hand, probably reeked.

  “What now?” He turned to face her, only then noticing she wore the night vision goggles.

  She flipped them up. “The cabin, or whatever it is, is about fifty yards that way. There’s a light inside. If we approach on this path, we’ll come up to the front door.”

  “Can you tell if there are still five people in there?” Jinx asked.

  “No. My guess is they’re asleep, not standing by the windows.” She handed him the goggles. “Get the lay of the land. I don’t think there’s a problem using flashlights until we’re closer. When we are, you circle round to see if there’s a rear exit. If there is, you cover it.”

  He adjusted the goggles. He could make out the entrance Elle had described. And small windows, set high into the wall, one on either side. “Doubt we can go in through the window.”

  “Or even see inside,” Elle said. “Unless there are lower ones on the other sides, we’re going to have to go in through a door.”

  Nerves had Jinx’s skin feeling like electricity ran through his veins. “Let’s do it.”

  “Hang on a second.” Elle went on to lay out the plan. They’d split up, he’d circle left, if there was a rear entrance, he’d let her know via radio by keying the button, not talking. Two clicks for yes, three for no.

  He ran through it over and over as they crept toward the house. All the possibilities. All the outcomes. Five people. None was Trish or Crystal. Only Trish and four guards, heavily armed. Only Crystal, same scenario. Trish and Crystal and three guards, heavily armed.

  The best-case scenario—they’d find both Trish and Crystal, the guards would have left, and they could do the Blackthorne in-and-out-like-the-wind thing—seemed awfully far down the list.

  They reached the edge of the small clearing surrounding the cabin. Elle gripped his biceps. “You know what you’re doing, right?”

  Walking into the lion’s den. The dragon’s lair. The depths of hell. He nodded. “Wait. One more thing.”

  She released his arm. He took her hands. Stared at her face, memorizing it
. He moved his hands to her neck. Cradled her head. Kissed her, hard and fast. He drew away. “For luck.”

  “When we’re out of here, I want more of those,” she said, grasping his hands, lowering them, squeezing them. “Lots more.”

  Jinx let that thought carry him as he crawled on his belly, staying as close to the clearing as he could without leaving the cover of the brush. He was never going to complain about his office conditions again. He’d much rather be watching this on the plasma—if they were recording it, which they weren’t—and let Zeke be out here in the mud, getting up close and personal with the bugs. Let him try to do the stealth thing while keeping track of an AK-47, a radio, and a backpack filled with reminders of what could go wrong.

  But then Zeke would be here with Elle, which was totally unacceptable. More kisses, she’d said. Lots more. Jinx gritted his teeth, ignored the pain in his knees and elbows, and moved a few feet farther.

  He noted one window, no larger or lower than the two in front. He continued his quest and reached the rear of the structure. No door. Another high window. He caught his breath—who’d have thought crawling could be such hard work?—and managed to key the radio. Three clicks. He waited for Elle’s confirmation, feeling his heart dance against his chest. When the three clicks came over his radio, he exhaled the breath he’d been holding.

  Keep going. Almost there.

  There were no rules saying a second exit had to be a back door. It could be a side door. He hadn’t gone far when it was clear there was no side door. Didn’t they have building codes? Fire laws?

  Wait, idiot. This is a good thing. You don’t have to go solo.

  He hurried his crawl. Elle would be waiting. He wondered if they were going to shoot the door down, or kick it in.

  Shooting would be stupid. Odds were good they’d hit the people inside. But could he kick a door in? Or maybe they would knock, after all. If he were guarding a prisoner, the last thing he’d expect would be for would-be rescuers to announce their presence. Especially at whatever hundred hours it was.

  He made his way to Elle. “What now? Do we play Avon lady?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. One look at us says we’re not part of their cartel. We’re going to have to kick in the door.”

  “I was afraid of that. What if I can’t?”

  “You probably won’t—not on the first try. But if someone comes to see who’s there, I’ll have them covered.”

  Jinx shrugged off the pack. Handed Elle the AK-47, the radio. “Any pointers?”

  “Aim for right above the doorknob. And cross your fingers the lock’s as basic as this structure.”

  “Which, basic or not, is concrete, not wood. I have a feeling they’ve got one mother of a deadbolt on the door.”

  “You want me to do it?” she asked.

  He didn’t think she was kidding. “I’ve got it.”

  He took a few deep breaths, got a running start and did his best Kung Fu impression. The door swung open and he stumbled into the room. He sensed Elle behind him, knew she had the AK-47 ready to spray anyone who got in her way.

  “Guess they don’t see a need to lock doors out here in the boonies,” he muttered. “Might have tested that little tidbit first. Saved me a sore foot.”

  A small camping lantern sat on an end table beside an empty chair. Jinx surveyed the room. Four beds, the chair and table. A steel shelving unit laden with cardboard cartons. And a stain on the concrete slab.

  “Where did they go?” he asked.

  Chapter 22

  Elle’s heart plummeted to her stomach as she took in the empty room. No closets, no trapdoors, no hiding places. A concrete box with beds, a table, and utilitarian storage shelves. The stench of stale sweat permeated the air.

  She wavered, and Jinx’s hand at her elbow steadied her. Steeling herself, she flipped on the flashlight and aimed it at the large stain on the floor. She crouched, reached out.

  “Hey, wait.” Jinx grabbed her arm. “You’re not going to touch that, are you? Not without gloves. What if there are ugly germs? You could be infecting yourself with some jungle fever, or worse.”

  “It’s dry. Been here a long time, whatever it is.”

  She played the flashlight around the room, found more dark stains of varying sizes. “I think these are food spills, or mud tracked in over a long period of time.” She tried to imagine dealing with being held prisoner here. No electricity. No running water. Oppressive heat. “See what’s in those boxes. Maybe there’s a clue.”

  Jinx crossed the small space and yanked a box off the shelf. Elle continued her survey of the room. Steel cots with thin, lumpy mattresses. No sheets. Threadbare blankets.

  Her light caught a glint at the base of the cot’s legs. She stepped closer. Shackles. She examined one more closely. Stains on the metal had to be blood. But dry. Old. How many people had been confined to these beds? How long did they stay? A few days?

  “How did they know we were coming?” she said. “Didn’t you say there were five people in here before we came down? I thought the whole point of your cell phone scheme was to keep them from communicating.”

  Jinx came to her side. “Could have noticed the helo. Or maybe it was a scheduled move and our being here had nothing to do with it.”

  Elle tried to still her pounding heart. To remember what the team had said. The cartel moved people around, and doing it in the dead of night made sense. But it was too convenient it happened right before she and Jinx got here. Sure, coincidences happened, but that didn’t mean she had to believe this was one of them.

  “What’s in the boxes?” she asked, trying to find a splinter of hope.

  “Supplies,” Jinx said. “Paper goods, canned goods, water. Peanut butter, jelly.”

  “Bread?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Didn’t get that far. Why? You hungry?” He headed back to the shelves.

  “No, just thinking. Bread goes stale, so they might bring it in, along with other perishables, when there are people confined here. And then there’s the matter of garbage. Where do they throw the empty cans? Garbage attracts pests. Did you see a garbage pit or trash can when you circled the house?”

  Jinx paused, turned from the box he was inspecting. “No. But to be honest, I wasn’t looking at anything but the house.”

  “There’s not even a chemical toilet in here,” Elle said. “Did you see an outhouse?”

  “No, but my guess would be if there were outdoor facilities, they’d have been in a cleared area.”

  Her stomach churned at the humiliation of being shackled, of having an armed guard following you outside to supervise a call of nature. At least she hoped they let their prisoners use Mother Nature’s facilities. She took another sniff. No urine smell. “I’ll bet they don’t keep people in here very long. Otherwise, they’d need better provisions, if only for the guards.”

  “Which means?” Jinx shoved the box onto the shelf. “You’ll have to excuse my lack of detecting skills. My brain is fried, not that I think like a detective when I’m fully functional. And I thought you worked Vice.”

  “I do. Now. They tend to shove women into that role, but I’ve trained for other divisions.” Which, she feared, she’d never get to see. It was as if she’d been assigned to Vice and forgotten.

  “Let me guess. SWAT.”

  She chuckled. “No, although I did date a SWAT guy for a while. Derek’s idea of a hot date was running training scenarios, or spending the afternoon on the range.”

  “All right,” Jinx said, pulling them back to the task at hand. “From what we’ve seen, this seems to be a temporary holding area, agreed?”

  “Agreed, but I want to take another look. If Trish was here, maybe she left a clue.”

  “Could be there’s something in one of the boxes. You know, personal effects.” Jinx went back to work.

  Elle started in the center of the room, spiraling outward, shining the flashlight’s beam at a variety of angles, hoping to catch—what? Tri
sh didn’t wear jewelry other than a pair of small diamond stud earrings, a graduation present from their parents. Elle reflexively touched her own. Their captors hadn’t taken them, so she assumed they’d left Trish with hers. But would Trish have removed them to plant a clue? And even if she had, what was to say she’d have left it here? She could have been moved countless times since she'd been kidnapped.

  With a heaviness that threatened to overwhelm her, Elle made the final circuit, the perimeter of the room.

  Nothing. Whoever used this place kept it barren.

  Jinx set a carton at her feet. “This is the last one. It’s got clothes in it.”

  Could they belong to the captives? Would she recognize anything of Trish’s? Elle grabbed the box, dumped the contents on the floor. She knelt and scrabbled through them. T-shirts, mostly. Well-worn and faded. A few long-sleeved, most short. Things you’d pick up at a tacky tourist market. Three ball caps, also far from new. Greasy stains around the bands. Two pairs of cargo shorts, men’s, size large.

  “Changes of clothes for the guards?” she said. “If our intel is right, then these wouldn’t have been taken from women.”

  “Works for me,” Jinx said. He shoved the clothes into the box and returned it to the top shelf. “Or, this might have housed men at one point and these are leftovers.”

  “Whatever.” Elle wasn’t sure how she’d have reacted if she’d found anything of Trish’s. Unless it was a note saying I’m fine and they’re taking us to Cabo. With a date and time notation of an hour ago.

  “Where to?” Jinx asked. “The other structure?”

  “Let me think,” Elle said. Which was getting harder to do, unless you counted running more worst-case scenarios through her head.

  “I’m going outside,” Jinx said. “Now that I know nobody’s going to be shooting at me from in here, maybe I’ll find something useful.”

  “Not without me,” Elle said. “Nobody in here doesn’t mean there’s nobody out there.”

  Jinx decided not to suggest the “You go left, I’ll go right” approach. He liked partnering with Elle. Close up partnering. And not simply because he enjoyed being close up. Whoever coined the phrase It’s a jungle out there must have spent time in a place like this. A hot, sticky breeze had kicked up, and the tree rustlings were louder. He didn’t have a clue what creatures might be lurking out there, doing their thing. And he didn’t want to find out, either.