by Odell, Terry
Manly pride was one thing. Utter stupidity something else. Jinx sank to his knees, shouldered off the pack and found the pouch again. When he’d seen the chocolate bars earlier, he’d stopped looking.
There. Tucked into a small compartment were three small containers promising hours of energy. He grabbed one, screwed off the lid and downed it. “Want one?” he asked Elle.
“Not now, but I’ll take water.” She sat beside him and reached into the pack. She took out two water bottles and handed him one. “You should hydrate, too. And it’ll lighten the pack.”
He chugged a few deep gulps, then shoved the bottle into a pants pockets. “Merely a redistribution of weight. Until it’s time to leave some behind a tree.”
She squinted at him. “We can probably rest a few minutes.”
He shook his head. “No, the only way to keep moving is to keep moving. If I stop, I’m not sure I’ll get up again.”
A piercing howl from directly above had him on his feet in seconds. Who needed an energy drink when you had banshees?
Chapter 24
Elle leapt to her feet and pointed her flashlight into the treetops. Whatever had screamed seemed to be directly above them. Highly unlikely snipers would be hanging out in the treetops whooping at each other. But it would make her feel better if she knew what was up there.
The whooping quieted, but didn’t stop. She thought about it. An animal living high in the treetops. Big cats could climb trees, but would they scream at each other? They’d roar, wouldn’t they? “Monkeys.”
“Huh?” Jinx brushed off the seat of his pants.
“In the trees. Making the noise. I think they’re monkeys. I don’t think they’ll hurt us.”
“Too bad we don’t have a banana for a peace offering.”
Although daylight peeked through the canopy, it was dim, and even with full sun, the shadows would make things difficult to see. Angling her flashlight, she searched for a footpath that intersected with the road. A path that might lead her a step closer to Trish.
She scanned both sides of the trail, although technically, Jinx was supposed to be taking the left. From the way his footfalls shuffled behind her, she didn’t think his energy booster had kicked in yet. They’d been going nonstop—if you didn’t count however long they’d been in a drug-induced sleep in the plane—since they’d met, and Elle had a feeling he had been working round the clock prior to his arrival.
Her light caught a gouge in a tree trunk by the edge of the road. She held up her hand, aimed the light directly at the spot. “Over there.” She stepped closer. Ran a fingertip along the scar. Definitely a knife gouge. Several of them, as if whoever made them wanted to be sure they didn’t get obscured by the rampant jungle overgrowth.
She aimed the light at the ground. “Here.”
Jinx trotted across the road to her side. “You found it?”
“I found something.” She checked their position with the GPS. “According to this, the structure is off in that direction, so this must be the trail.”
Jinx rubbed his eyes. “Not wide enough for two. You want to take point?”
“Fine. But keep your hands off my ass.”
“Sweetheart, as fine as your ass is, I’m too damn tired to do anything but walk.”
“And don’t call me Sweetheart.” Elle smiled to herself as she worked her way down the path. It allowed for respectable footing, yet the growth above camouflaged it from basic aerial surveillance.
“You think the vehicle dropped them off here and kept going?” Jinx asked. “To its home base, maybe? Would it be better to follow the road and see what’s at the other end?”
Elle paused. What were the odds Trish would be in the house at the end of this trail? If they abandoned this trail to chase the bigger fish, their captors might be persuaded to reveal her whereabouts. She fingered the strap on the AK-47 with one hand, the butt of her Glock with the other. Her two personal persuaders.
“You have a point.” Although she’d kick herself if Trish really was in this second house. But the odds said no. “What would Blackthorne do?”
Jinx exhaled a long, slow sigh. “They'd be asking me if I had any intel. Any contacts. I’d be searching every database known to man—and a few that probably aren’t. Digging through the depths of search engines. Trying to find out as much as I could about the players. Usually, between Fozzie’s surveillance skills and my prowess with searching, we’d know the players, their orders, and their weaknesses. We’d know where to be and when to be there. In and out like the wind. Usually. Every now and then I fuck things up and they shove me into the jungle.”
She felt his anguish. He was still taking full responsibility for whatever had gone wrong. “Jinx, nobody’s perfect. Intel gets compromised. All the time. And since this is your first time in the jungle, you must have a pretty good track record.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now, does it? We’re here, out of touch with Blackthorne and Fozzie.”
“Is Fozzie out of touch with Blackthorne?”
Jinx brightened. “Damn it, you’re right. It’s not doing us much good now, but I’m sure Fozzie’s got Zeke backing him up. Fozzie will know what’s going on.”
“Zeke’s the guy who does what you do.” She smiled. “But not as well, of course.”
“Hell, right now I’ll concede he’s the best controller on the planet if he can get us out of here. I have nothing to prove.”
“You’re not suggesting we sit around on our asses until Fozzie gets back, are you?” She reminded herself he was Blackthorne, and whether they found Crystal Montlake tomorrow or a week from Tuesday, his mission would be successful. She, on the other hand, was looking for her sister, who could be dead long before next Tuesday. Elle touched her pocket where the medicine case practically burned into her flesh, reminding her of her mission.
But when she pulled her sisterness out of the equation, Elle knew the sensible answer was to follow the road. They needed to move up the food chain.
She took the GPS, marked their location as a way point. “The road it is, then.”
“On the road again,” Jinx sang. Although he kept his voice low, the tune provided a nice cadence. She hummed along under her breath. No need for him to find out she couldn’t carry a tune in the proverbial bucket.
“We have no way of knowing how long this road is, do we?” Jinx asked. “We could be walking for days. There could be a dozen more houses beyond the ones we picked up.”
“Not days,” Elle said. “Just until Fozzie gets back. But think positive. Whoever we’re looking for might be right around the next bend.”
“Closer than that, Senórita.” Four men, two from each side, burst forth from the shadowy vegetation. All were dressed in camo gear. Two had pistols, two had automatic rifles. “What is it your people say? Hands up?”
Jinx shot his hands into the air. Four against two might be reasonable odds for a field team, but here, it was more like four against one, since he had no fighting skills. “Do as they say,” he said quietly. Heroics might get them both killed.
Apparently Elle had the same idea, because she raised her hands.
“You will drop your weapons to the ground,” one man said. He chewed the stub of a cigar, spat a disgusting gob at Jinx’s feet, and said something to the other three, who approached and took Elle’s AK-47, her Glock, and then patted her down. Thoroughly. Alarm flashed across her face.
Jinx’s gut clenched, more for Elle than himself as another man did the same to him, divesting him of his KA-BAR. “Hey. Watch it,” he said when the man’s fingers prodded his privates on their way down his legs.
The man laughed. “I assure you I have no interest. And if I did, it would take more than what you have here to impress me.”
Fear and exhaustion did that to a guy.
Poking him in the ribs with the muzzle of his rifle, one of the men indicated Jinx should start walking. Jinx was about to give him Elle’s lecture on gun safety when he realized the guy
probably did have intentions of using it. Jinx walked.
Cigar Man was definitely the leader. Mid-sixties, silver shimmering in his full beard. He brought up the rear, punctuating their progress with more cigar hawkings, which landed on the earth with soft plops. God only knew what the man would do with chewing tobacco.
The other three seemed to be in their late forties. Jinx hadn’t had much time to study their faces in the dim light. They wore floppy brimmed hats pulled low on their faces. He took sideward glances, trying to visualize them, to match what he saw to mental images of the files Blackthorne had on these creeps. None seemed to resemble the players he’d “met” while gathering intel. These guys were no doubt past their prime as drug couriers or fighters, now relegated to guard duty.
He tried to work his way closer to Elle, but the men positioned themselves so at least one guard strode between them.
The initial adrenalin surge had worn off, and Jinx concentrated on taking in as much of his surroundings as possible. Which wasn’t much. Dirt road. Rocks. Tree roots. On either side of the road it was plants, plants, and more plants. He thought he recognized a few as on-steroid versions of the ones his grandmother kept in her sun room, but putting names to them was beyond him.
Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot.
He estimated they’d been walking less than ten minutes when the guard prodded him to the left. A mechanical thrumming sound covered the jungle noises. One of the men parted overhanging branches, and Jinx squinted into the sunrise.
A gleaming white stucco house with a red barrel-tiled roof stood in the center of a clearing only slightly larger than the house itself. The house looked like it should be part of Aguilar’s compound, not sitting all by itself in this remote part of the jungle. Aguilar’s guest quarters? He snorted. Maybe this was where Aguilar stashed his mother-in-law.
It was clear the jungle was providing excellent cover from any aerial prying eyes, although Jinx had no doubts Fozzie would be able to spot it. Jinx placed the noise as a generator. As long as it ran, it would be giving off heat. For Fozzie, that would send up a flare. A few of the thousands of high-tension wires in his belly untwisted, and a little more oxygen crept into his lungs.
Their guards shoved them inside, the man behind Jinx using his gun to make the point.
“Still with the guns?” Jinx said. “I think we get the idea. You have guns. We don’t. Therefore, we do what you say.”
Their guards escorted them through a small foyer, then prodded them through an open doorway.
“And who do we have here?” a deep male voice said. Hispanic accent, but not heavy. Refined. Like Ricardo Montalban, Antonio Banderas, or another classy Latino actor.
Jinx followed the sound to a man sitting in a leather easy chair, his booted feet propped up on a matching ottoman. He set a newspaper on a small tile-topped table beside his chair. His eyes narrowed in Jinx’s direction. The man raised a cup of coffee to his lips.
Even though Jinx wasn’t a coffee drinker, the aroma had his mouth watering. Maybe it was the underlying whiff of cinnamon. A carved credenza sat against the wall behind the chairs, bearing a stainless steel carafe, a painted ceramic bowl filled with fruit, and a basket covered with a striped napkin.
Jinx’s guard had him firmly by the biceps. Elle’s captor maneuvered her into position so her guard once again kept them separated. The man in the chair was illuminated by a reading lamp on the table. Jinx blinked.
Play it cool. Stay in character.
He rubbed his hand over his face, as if he could erase the momentary flash of recognition he knew had crossed it. Jinx hoped the lack of light where he was standing had hidden it from the man. The man whose face the sketch artist had produced from Crystal Montlake’s friends’ description. The man who could be Rafael’s brother.
Meanwhile, the guards yanked the pack from Jinx’s shoulders and deposited it with a thunk onto a rustic wooden table on the other side of the room. The KA-BAR and Elle’s guns followed.
“We don’t normally get a lot of visitors,” the man said, not taking his eyes from Elle and Jinx.
“Elspeth and I prefer the less-traveled tourist destinations,” Jinx said. “You know, boldly going where no one has gone before.” His view of her was blocked. Had she heard him refer to her as Elspeth? Did she understand?
The man scowled. “Do not play with me.”
Elle shook herself loose from her guard. “Sir, I know you must think we’re potential threats, but I can explain—”
Classy Accent Man waved an arm. Elle’s guard grabbed her and dragged her out of the room. A door slammed. Neither of them returned.
Jinx swallowed. Or tried to. His mouth felt like desert sand. He reached for the water bottle in his side pocket. His guard clamped down on his arm.
“Hey, it’s a drink of water.” He tilted his chin toward the end table. “Unless you’re willing to offer something else? My preference, if you have it, is Red Bull. Jungle hospitality?”
Classy Accent Man furrowed his brow. “Perhaps. After you tell me why you are here.”
“I wish I knew. I was at this resort on Cabo, and the next thing I know—whoosh—I’m on an airplane and then some rich dude says I have to fix his cell phone system.”
Ramon’s eyes narrowed. His lips flattened. He muttered something in Spanish under his breath. “And did you?”
“I was working on it.” Jinx tried to come up with an explanation for how he got from Aguilar’s compound to the middle of the jungle. The camo garb and weaponry didn’t quite fit with his I was kidnapped story. His brain wasn’t firing fast enough. Why hadn’t he and Elle devised a plausible story to cover this scenario? But if he knew anything, it was to keep Blackthorne out of the discussion.
“I don’t suppose you can prove your story.” The man lifted his coffee cup, inhaled slowly, then took a sip, all the while taunting Jinx with his gaze.
“How about you tell me your side first?” Jinx took the when you’ve got squat, might as well take the offense approach. “Who you are, why your thugs picked us up, and what you’re doing with my fiancé.”
The man’s eyes brightened at the last part, and Jinx wondered if he’d handed him a perceived bargaining chip.
Not perceived. You’ll bargain for Elle and now he knows it. Stop volunteering information. Let the man talk.
Whatever was in the energy drink hadn’t kicked in yet. He took a breath, tried to ignore the unwashed bodies around him—after all, he probably didn’t smell that great himself—and waited.
“Never let it be said I am inhospitable,” the man said. “My name is Ramon. And yours?”
“Stephen.” The guy wanted to put things on a first-name basis, fine with him.
Ramon snapped something in Spanish, and the remaining three guards left the room. “Please, Stephen.” Ramon pronounced the word as Ste-Phan. “Have a seat.”
“Where’s my fiancé?” he asked, louder, hoping his voice would carry to wherever they had Elle.
“I offered you a seat, Stephan.” Ramon’s voice was sharp as a knife. “If you please.”
Jinx crossed to a second leather chair facing Ramon’s and sat on its edge, afraid if he sank into its comfortable leather cushion, he might never get up. “Thank you. Gracias. Where is my fiancé?” Jinx raised his voice another notch, hoping Elle understood he was playing his original role. That she should play hers.
“She is no longer a concern of yours,” Ramon said. “I must be honest. I was expecting others. Your arrival came as a surprise.”
“And who were you expecting?”
“That also is no concern of yours.” Ramon took another sip of his coffee, and carried the cup to the table where his men had dumped everything. He ran a finger down the barrel of the AK-47. Then he lifted the pack, as if testing its weight. “You can tell so much about a person from what he carries, do you not agree?”
“Depends. If it’s his, then yes. But if it’s something he finds in the middle of the jungle an
d picks up because it might prove useful, then, no.”
Ramon eyed him suspiciously. “Are you telling me this does not belong to you? That your former host did not send you to me?”
“I am.” Jinx’s mind raced. Maybe the booster was working at last. “I told you, we were captured on Cabo and brought to a fancy-ass estate. I did what they asked me to, but there were complications. I told them I needed more time, but they didn’t buy it, and they dumped us in the jungle. We found this road, and then I found the pack hidden off the trail when I was making a pit stop. We changed into the clothes we found inside it, since they were more appropriate for hiking through the jungle. Elspeth found the weapons and brought them along, although to be perfectly honest, sir, I’m an RF engineer and wouldn’t know what to do with a gun.”
“And you simply accepted that you found these… belongings… in the jungle?” Ramon sounded skeptical, but not outraged. Maybe he was buying a fraction of the BS Jinx had fed him.
“Yes, sir, we did. Frankly, we’ve heard about the less… civilized… people who live out here. We assumed whoever owned the pack had met an untimely demise, and a jaguar had disposed of the body. It was dark, and we didn’t want to waste time looking. Frankly, we didn’t really care. We wanted to find our way to civilization so we could get home.”
Jinx paused, waiting for Ramon to respond. Would he laugh at the ridiculous song and dance, or would he simply take him out back and have one of his men shoot him?
Chapter 25
Elle shook herself free of the guard and stumbled into the room, barking her shin on something just inside the door. She blinked, trying to see into the darkness. Her guard shoved her aside and moved across the space as if he knew the layout well enough not to need light.
Her eyes adjusted slowly, until she could make out a square room. Heavy curtains blocked the windows, allowing only the tiniest slivers of light to filter through the gaps. Like teeth, metal-framed beds jutted from the walls. That was what she’d bumped into. Four on each side. The room was only slightly wider than the rows of beds, creating a narrow center aisle.