“Exactly.” He gestured to Child. “Then there’s this.”
Satellite footage from earlier appeared. Morrison stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “What the hell am I looking at?”
Leroux chuckled as a man lay on his back, waving his arms at the sky. “Once we knew where to look, we went back and reviewed the satellite footage. We found this.”
Morrison shook his head, turning to Leroux. “Who do you think it is?”
“It has to be Professor Acton. From the size, it’s clearly male, and he’s the only male in the group that might actually think he’d be under surveillance of some type.”
Morrison chuckled. “I hope he doesn’t think we have a satellite on him at all times.”
“Perhaps we should,” muttered Child. “He’s like a walking magnet for trouble.”
Morrison grunted. “Not in the budget, but not a bad idea.” He motioned to the image showing the two targets in a tent. “So, it’s probably safe to assume they’re not locals or law enforcement, and no tourist would think to wave hello at us, so let’s assume it’s Acton and someone else. Who’s the second target?”
“We’re thinking Laura Palmer.”
“That would make sense. But if it is, what are they doing? If they’ve escaped, why not seek help?”
Leroux glanced at his boss. “You know them. They chronically do the right thing.”
Morrison sighed. “Some people shouldn’t be allowed out of the country.” He waved his hand at the screen. “Okay, so the professors are following the others, and Acton is assuming he’s being watched by us, so he followed them so that we’d know where to look. Ballsy, but his job is done. Any way to let him know?”
Leroux shook his head. “We have no way to communicate with them beyond visual, and that could be seen by the hostiles. They might kill the hostages and flee the area.”
Morrison cursed. “Then what can we do?”
“Keep them under surveillance so Delta knows exactly where to go when they arrive.
Morrison frowned. “And pray whatever information that’s keeping them alive is still worth it by then.”
Child cleared his throat. “Sir, something’s happening.” He pointed at the footage showing the group as the drone came back into position. One of the hostages was no longer with the others, and it appeared that a gun was being held to their head.
Morrison frowned. “I hate it when I’m right.”
66
Poacher’s Camp
Greater Kruger National Park, South Africa
Laura closed her eyes, drawing in a slow, deep breath as Tladi raised his pistol, aiming it directly at her forehead. A million things went through her mind, and she felt herself begin to shut down, her brain mentally preparing for the inevitable. She thought of her parents, of her late brother, of her students, but mostly of James, and how devastated he’d be.
Goodbye, my love!
Yet she refused to make things easy, instead opening her eyes and staring at her killer. This bastard would live with the image of what he had done, her glare boring into him, the memory of the woman who refused to give into fear, something he would live with forever.
You’ll remember my face until the day you die.
She only hoped it would be soon, and knowing James, it would be. He wouldn’t rest until she was found, until the others were saved, then he’d make sure justice was delivered, if not by his hand, then by those they knew.
Dylan will probably be the one.
“I wonder if he meant the old Rhodes Mine.”
Tladi’s wrist flicked to the side, the gun pointed away from her as he stared at the former miner. “What?”
“You know, the Rhodes Mine. It’s about five kilometers from here. It’s been abandoned for as long as I can remember. Before the wars, I think.”
Tladi stared at Jacob. “Why that and not another one?”
Jacob shrugged. “Well, most of the mines in the area were still being worked until after the park was founded. If the gold had been hidden there, surely it would have been found. You can’t keep a secret that big. And besides, didn’t she say Sipho said it was close? It’s the closest I know of, and the only one I know of that mined coal around here.”
Tladi’s head bobbed and Laura’s chest relaxed slightly, the man possibly onto something. Then tightened again with the realization that if he were right, the need for her and the others was about to disappear.
Tladi lowered his weapon. “Do you know how to get there?”
Jacob shrugged. “Sure, at least I think so. My dad pointed it out to me when I was a boy. Said I should be grateful I didn’t work there. Apparently, it was quite the hellhole.”
Tladi quickly raised the weapon again, pointing it at her forehead. “I guess I don’t need you, then.”
Laura met his stare and shrugged. “Assuming it isn’t well hidden, then no, you don’t.”
His eyes narrowed, the gun listing to the right once again. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m an archaeologist. This is my area of expertise. Do you know how to properly explore an abandoned mine? How to prevent a cave-in? How to spot changes in the soil or the walls that would suggest something hidden behind it?” Tladi remained silent, though the gun continued to drift away, albeit slowly. “In the off chance you don’t, it’ll be a lot quicker and a lot safer with me leading the way.”
Tladi nodded slowly. “You’re right. That means I need you, not the others.” He spun on his heel, walking toward the hostages huddled against the hillside. She rushed after him, avoiding the outstretched arm of the miner, and put herself between the others and Tladi. “Touch a hair on their heads, and I’ll make sure the entire cave collapses on your murdering ass.”
Tladi smiled at her. “I like you. When this is done, you’re not going to like the party I throw with you as the feature attraction.” His chin jutted toward the young girl. “And you’re invited too.”
Laura quavered inside as the young woman buried her head in her boyfriend’s shoulder, but wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction of knowing the prospect terrified her.
Though she did take some comfort knowing help was on the way, and the longer she could keep everyone alive, the more likely they were to be saved.
Before this day is over, you’ll be dead, and we’ll be downing beers in celebration.
67
Approaching South African Airspace
“What’s her status?”
Dawson stood near the cockpit where his pacing had taken him while waiting for an update about Maggie. It had been hours, the pickup of Leather and his man long completed, and his entire team was on edge, everyone concerned for her wellbeing, and for their friend’s.
“It looks like she had a stroke of some type, the doctor’s aren’t sure yet,” replied Red.
Dawson’s eyes closed and his shoulders sank as he dropped into the first seat he could find. He let out a slow breath, his chest hurting. “Is it related to what happened in Paris?”
“They don’t know yet, but it could be.”
“What about that drug? Isn’t there something that they inject or something?”
“They gave it to her, but it has to be administered within four hours. They don’t know when she suffered the stroke. She was missing for over half a day.”
Dawson punched the armrest with his free hand as he processed this new reality. He had thought she was dead in Paris, and it had sent him into a rage, killing every Muslim attacker in sight before his team had hauled him onto the plane. The discovery she was alive had made him realize how much he truly loved this woman, a woman who had forced herself into his life at the urging of the other Unit wives. Her recovery had been slow but complete—or so he had thought.
Had she not been telling him something?
Had she been given bad news by the doctors at her recent appointment?
He knew there was something she wasn’t telling him, and he had assumed it was so that he wouldn’t worry, though somet
hing like this, something as important as this, he couldn’t imagine her not sharing with him. After all, they were to be husband and wife, and husbands and wives didn’t keep secrets that big from each other.
He sighed, leaning his head back in the chair, his eyes closed. “So what you’re saying is it might not work.”
“I’m sorry, BD. I wish it were better news.”
Dawson gripped the armrest, his knuckles turning white. “There has to be something they can do!”
The others, who had been giving him some privacy, looked at him for a moment before returning to what they were doing.
“She’s in good hands, and she’s not alone. Shirley and the others are all here, and so are Spock and Sweets. She won’t be alone, I promise you. And the moment I hear something, I’ll let you know.”
Dawson’s head dropped forward, his heart pounding as he struggled to maintain control, the realization he may not know for hours what was happening to the most important person in his life, setting in. “We’re about to land. You’ll have to route any updates through Control for operational integrity.” He leaned forward. “Do whatever it takes, Red. I can’t lose her. If there’s a doctor that can help her, you get him. I don’t care where he is or what it costs. Do whatever it takes.”
“You can count on it, BD.”
Dawson ripped the headset from his ear and rose, marching silently past the others toward the bathroom on the comfort pallet, snapping the door shut behind him, the lights flickering on automatically. His clenched fists shoved against the wall on either side of the mirror as he stared at himself, his face beet red, his eyes burning with tears that threatened to escape their confines, the veins in his neck throbbing as the pressure built.
A roar escaped from within, the balls of his fists slamming against the wall several times, the entire interior rattling from the force before he finally dropped his throbbing hands to the counter surrounding the tiny sink, sucking in deep, rapid breaths as he struggled to regain control.
He stared at himself again.
She’s in good hands and you’ve got a mission. There’s nothing you can do to help her except clean up this mess and get back home.
There was a knock at the door.
“Hey, BD, you okay?”
It was Atlas. Dawson turned the tap on, splashing water on his face and rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, give me a minute.”
“Okay, buddy, I’ll be right here if you need me.”
“Copy that.” Dawson splashed more of the cool water on his face, beginning the slow, rhythmic breathing he had been taught, bringing his heart rate under control, calming himself. He grabbed some paper towels from the dispenser and dried off, then pulled open the door, nodding at a concerned Atlas.
But this was no time for concern.
They had a mission, and his personal problems were not the nation’s.
Lives were depending on him keeping it under control, and that’s what he would do.
Maggie would have to wait.
No matter how much the thought tortured his soul.
68
Second Acton Camp
Greater Kruger National Park, South Africa
Acton woke, his bladder demanding attention.
Gotta love those Natives.
He looked about, it still dark outside, though it was evident the sun was about to crack the horizon. Courtney lay beside him, gently snoring, clearly as exhausted as he was, despite her youth. The pampered lifestyle she probably lead compared little to the rough one he was used to, two decades of crawling in, around and under every manner of dig and discovery, kept you in shape—no matter what the age.
He checked then donned his boots before unzipping the tent and stepping outside, surveying the surroundings, the rifle gripped in his hand. Nothing seemed to be in the immediate vicinity, at least nothing with an obvious appetite. He walked about a hundred feet from their tent and relieved himself, the Native alarm clock having worked as planned.
He stuck his head in the tent. “Rise and shine!”
Courtney groaned in protest. “Just a few more minutes!”
He slapped her feet poking up at the end of the sleeping bag. “No time to waste. Get up, check your shoes, then do whatever you need to do to your bladder and bowels. We’re out of here in five.”
“Ugh, you’re disgusting.”
“Hey, just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you don’t shit like the rest of us, unless of course you’re Kim Jong-un.”
Courtney stopped in mid-effort of extricating herself from the sleeping bag. “Huh?”
Acton spun his hand, urging her on. “The party line is that he works so hard, he burns everything he puts into his body, so there’s no waste to get rid of.”
“You’re kidding me! I thought that was just in the movie The Interview.”
Acton chuckled. “Where do you think they got the idea from?” He looked at her. “I’m surprised you saw that.”
She reached for her shoes, finally out of the sleeping bag. “My daddy said it was my patriotic duty to see the movie because the North Koreans said we shouldn’t and a bunch of pussy—his word, not mine—liberal Hollywood types were too scared to exercise their First Amendment right to free speech.”
Acton smiled. “Sounds like your dad and I might get along.”
She shook her head. “Nah, he thinks if you’re a teacher then you’ve just failed at what you studied to do in real life.”
Acton chuckled. “Sounds like quite the guy.” His hand darted forward, batting the shoe out of her hand as she was about to shove her foot inside.
“Hey!”
He pointed at the shoe now on the other side of the tent. “Did you check that?”
She glared at him then grabbed the shoe, tipping it over and making a show of tapping the toe to shake anything loose.
A massive huntsman spider dropped out and she screamed, diving past Acton and outside the tent. Acton laughed, picking the innocent creature up and carrying it outside. He placed it on the ground near the hillside about twenty feet away, though not before ordering a still panicking girl to be quiet.
A hand slapped over her mouth, muffled shouts still audible for a few moments more.
Acton pointed to the tent. “Finish getting ready.”
She nodded, entering the tent tentatively, and he smiled as he saw her warily checking both shoes, twice, before slipping them on. She emerged a few moments later. He pointed to an outcropping about fifty feet away. “You can do your business there. I can’t see you, but I can see anything approaching. Just call if you need help.”
“O-okay.” She rushed away from their camp, her scare apparently upping the urgency of her need.
69
Poacher’s Camp
Greater Kruger National Park, South Africa
Tladi smiled slightly as he relaxed in the back seat of his prized Nissan, though as his eyes took in what hours ago had been a testament to his growing success, he pictured even greater decadence.
A Range Rover!
He shook his head, easing back on the threadbare cloth, his eyes closing.
Might as well be a Jag. Can’t trust it.
A smile spread across his face.
A Jeep Wrangler Rubicon!
His head bobbed slowly as he pictured riding through the streets of Belfast, music blaring, his posse with him as they ruled the town he had grown up impoverished in, all thanks to his father abandoning them.
He frowned as he thought of his brother.
A brother who was wrong.
He wasn’t too young to remember. He had been there when his father had died, and he remembered the night as if seared to the back of his eyelids.
But it was easier to blame the choices he had made on a man that couldn’t defend himself, than to accept responsibility.
And it was even easier to blame a man you pretended had abandoned you, rather than died fighting for his last breath, not wanting to leave his family on their own in a world th
at could be cruel to a fatherless household.
I’ll take care of them, father.
And he would. He wasn’t heartless. If they indeed found the gold, it would change everything. He would make sure his entire family never went hungry again, nor those of his friends. It would change things for all of them.
And he’d have respect, respect for the first time in his life.
And maybe even some self-respect.
He sighed. It would solve all their problems, this gold.
And not only would he be rich, he’d be the most powerful man in town.
He smiled.
I’ll buy the town!
He would build the biggest house, have a fleet of cars, the finest clothes and jewelry, and fill his days with booze and women—and kick his wife out the door if she had a problem with it.
It would be legendary, the ultimate fantasy come true, and it was so close he could taste it.
An elephant trumpeted in the distance.
And I’ll get better guns.
He loved poaching, loved the thrill of the hunt, and loved the payday in the end. It was hard work, dangerous work, which was why he had been reluctant to get into it at first, though once he had seen the potential for himself, the dangers had been forgotten, the thrill of the chase, of the risk of being caught, simply too impossible to resist.
He’d keep poaching, no matter the result at the end of today’s journey.
It would simply be different.
Better guns, better vehicles, better equipment, more ammo, and no need to take what was so valuable on the black market.
He’d simply enjoy the hunt, then move on.
And if he were caught, he’d have more than enough money to bribe his way out of the situation.
He sighed, his smile spreading as he opened his eyes, the sun cracking the horizon, it soon time to go. He sat upright, stretching, once again running on adrenaline now that he knew there might be a possibility of finding the famous lost gold.
Wages of Sin (A James Acton Thriller, #17) (James Acton Thrillers) Page 15