“Why did you do this, Wilkie?” a voice, heavy with the same accent as the little boy, asked angrily. “You are mad!”
“Hey,” Aiden called suddenly as he followed the voices down a covered stone tunnel large enough for him to walk upright in. “What the hell is going on?”
“This is Amal,” Wilkie said proudly, but he was the only person in the room smiling.
“You said he was dead,” Aiden cut back, looking around the room for exits, improvised weapons, and a plan. “What’s going on?”
“Aiden?” Amal asked skeptically. “What time is it?”
This was the code phrase that was meant to pass between them on their planned meeting before everything had fallen to shit. “Three fifty-five,” Aiden answered flatly. He fixed his eyes on Amal and realized how much smaller he was than Aiden had imagined. In the picture he’d been given, Amal was sitting at a table, and Aiden hadn’t prepared for someone who looked so childlike. How could the person who’d been risking his life to communicate and inform Aiden and his superiors be this young?
“Aiden!” Amal proclaimed, his eyes and smile both breaking out wide. “You weren’t at the meeting spot this morning. I thought it was over. I thought they called it all off.”
“I know,” said Wilkie sarcastically. “And I told you I could find him. I could bring him here. When I heard about the cruise ship being stuck I knew he’d try to get to Torrella Bay and probably take the route you two had mapped out originally. I found him and brought him here.”
“You shouldn’t have,” Amal scolded, his face falling serious, but he couldn’t hold it; the joy of knowing Aiden had arrived was more powerful than the anger over the circumstances.
“Amal,” Aiden stuttered out, grateful the boy was alive. He’d lost communication with contacts in the past and been fairly certain they were dead. But most were people who’d spent their lives dedicated to a cause. Amal’s life had barely started. “Things have changed,” Aiden warned, trying to temper the boys’ excitement.
“Nothing has changed for the people of Corinti,” Amal challenged, puffing up the nonexistent muscle on his chest. “They are hacking people up with machetes. Blood is running in the streets. You still have a job to do.”
Aiden felt a pang of pride for this boy. It was not easy to stand in front of a man like Aiden and demand he do something. But Amal seemed up to the task.
“I do still have a job here,” Aiden agreed. “But the second they shot that RPG at the Coast Guard helicopter the Kitu changed the game. There are thousands of people on that beach. I have a responsibility to help them.”
“To help them first, you mean.” Wilkie challenged. “Because they are your people and more important than us?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. They are innocent tourists. Families,” Aiden corrected, but little Wilkie looked unimpressed with his argument.
“What are we here? Are we all soldiers? Am I not an innocent child?”
“He’s good,” Betty sang. “I like this boy.”
“They won’t be hurt,” Amal said, pacing around the small windowless room lit only in the corners by battery-powered lanterns. “Wilkie knows this too. He likes to argue these points over and over again. We spend most of our day doing this. Just ignore him.”
“We’re supposed to take your word that all those people on the beach won’t be hurt? They were firing RPGs out there.” Michael said, channeling his anger at these boys even though they didn’t deserve it. He’d ripped the sleeve from his shirt and began cleaning up his wife’s scrapes the best he could.
“No,” Amal asserted. “You don’t have to take my word for it. I will show you. I will show you everything.”
Chapter 11
Cosette knew it was hot, but for some reason a shiver kept running up her spine. This place was a fort, according to Amal, but it felt more like a tomb.
“We are safe here. The Kitu believe this land is haunted. I know it sounds foolish, but during the slave uprising many years ago, there was a slaughter here. It turned the tides of the movement and ultimately propelled the Kitu and other villages to victory. Many of their families were murdered here. When they came to bury the bodies, the ones they had all seen earlier lying dead, they were gone. There was no one to bury. Since then this land has been treated as hallowed ground. This is the safest place we could all be.”
“Unless you are afraid of dead children whose bodies disappeared,” Betty whispered to Cosette as they began to walk.
“This way,” Amal said, guiding them to another room, a lantern in his hand as he waved them along. The small hallway opened up into a large sun-filled room where cement had been missing to create windows. In the corner was a pile of cushions and blankets. Four chairs and a small table were pushed against a wall and littered with papers. Cans of food and a basket of fruit were stacked up below it.
“Sit,” Amal instructed, “and have something to eat. There is fresh water in the bottles over there.”
“You,” Aiden said harshly, pointing to Wilkie. “You lied about Amal. What else did you lie about? Torrella Bay, is it overtaken or not?”
“It’s not,” Wilkie said, dropping his head down in shame. “I knew you wouldn’t come if you had somewhere else to go. Even if you knew Amal was alive, you’d put these people and their safety before the people in Corinti.”
“You lied and put everyone in this room in jeopardy,” Aiden said, slamming a hand to his chest so hard that Cosette could practically feel the pain in her own rib cage.
“This is your mission,” Michael said, pacing the room. “I respect that. You have a duty. But I don’t give a rat’s ass about that right now. I’d like my children to have their mother and grandmother home. That’s my priority.” His voice was booming, and Aiden had to yell to gain back control, but it wasn’t working. Jules stood suddenly, her arm tangling in her husband’s.
“Yelling won’t help,” she pleaded, but he yanked himself free.
Cosette wondered how this would end. Would they start throwing punches? Would Michael leave the fort with his family and make his way to Torrella Bay? Would she go with them or stay with Aiden?
“Qui-et,” Betty demanded, waving her hands like a queen demanding silence. It shouldn’t have worked. These were grown people in a volatile situation where emotions were rubbed raw by danger. Yet this tiny woman, whose voice could barely be heard at first, could silence them all. “Everyone sit down. Pull up some floor because I’ve got something to say.”
Aiden opened his mouth to protest, but at the sight of everyone else, including Amal and Wilkie sitting, he snapped his mouth shut. He didn’t look as though he’d be sitting any time soon though.
“Is it safe here?” Betty asked, directing the question at no one in particular. And no one spoke up. “You can speak now,” she said, giving permission.
Amal mustered the courage first. “We have the high ground,” he started. “Wilkie and I have weapons.”
Michael cleared his throat. “It seems to have limited access points. It’s certainly not easy to spot.”
Aiden nodded his agreement. “The Kitu have their hands full right now. I can’t see them coming onto what they believe is haunted ground just to go for a stroll.”
Betty held her hand up again as though she’d heard enough. Her hair had become frizzy and sweat was gathering on her forehead, but somehow she was still in command of herself. And for that matter the rest of them. “You said they would not hurt the cruise passengers. How do you know that?”
“They had a plan,” Amal said, pulling some papers off the table. “They were going to dress in the emblem of the Tiraton, an opposing tribe, and disrupt an excursion off the cruise ship. They’d threaten the passengers. Then the remainder of the Kitu would swoop in and protect the foreigners instead. They’d chase off the fake Tiraton and be heroes.”
“And you think they’ll do the same thing with all the passengers on the shore right now?” Betty asked.
Amal nodde
d. “They want power. The power has been stolen from them for generations, and they are demanding it back. Nothing is as powerful as saving rich Americans.” Amal passed the papers to Aiden. “Think of all those wealthy foreigners who will spread the word around the world about how the Kitu saved their lives from the savage Tiraton.”
“Who are the Tiraton?” Jules asked, all her cuts now wiped as clean as could be expected.
“A rival tribe who have been in power for decades. Their values align with the Americans, and so they’ve been positioned as presidents for many elections. We have a democracy but it is broken.”
“What values do you mean?” Cosette asked, narrowing her eyes as she tried to understand.
“Money,” Wilkie interjected, a bite in his voice. “They want to sell more ports for more cruise ships. Now they want to build American restaurants and hotels. Samuel Monroe, the last president, was a Tiraton and he was ready to make deals.”
“And the Kitu don’t want that?” Betty asked, empathy in her eyes.
Anger spread on Wilkie’s face. “The Kitu are the oldest tribe on this island. They were the slaves and free black men who drove out the whites and declared sovereignty. They’ve tried to protect that for over one hundred fifty years, but the Tiraton are slowly giving the land back. And we will soon be slaves again.”
“Slavery—” Jules started, but Wilkie continued.
He sounded far more like a skilled politician than a little boy. “We will clean their floors and make their beds. We will serve their food and smile. Nothing will be different.”
“You are Kitu?” Michael asked, looking back and forth between Amal, who looked shameful, and Wilkie, who looked proud.
“We are,” Wilkie said finally.
When no one replied, Amal seemed to take exception to their silence. “You are from the south in America?” he asked, his tongue tied with accusation. “Do you agree with everything there? Are you proud of everything that has happened?”
“Good point,” Betty smiled warmly, somehow diminishing the growing tension in the room. “You are well-read on our history and shamefully I know nothing of yours. So tell me what do you want?”
“What do you mean?” Wilkie asked, still bristly with attitude.
“What’s your hope for your home?” Betty asked, her voice so gentle and unassuming she might as well have been asking their favorite color.
“What’s my hope for this place?” Wilkie asked, a huff in his voice. “I hope I’m not here for much longer.”
His words sucked the air out of the room. Their honesty robbed them all of their ability to pretend this beautiful island wasn’t damaged to its core.
“These pictures, these papers,” Amal pleaded. “You have to take them. This is the only record of what the Kitu have done and what they plan to do. These photographs, someone has to see them besides us.” He turned the pictures around and showed the horrific scenes. “I risked everything to take these pictures and develop them.”
“I’ll get them in the right hands,” Aiden assured him.
“If Torrella Bay hasn’t been taken by the Kitu,” Michael said, “then that’s where we need to go. Their security is our best shot.”
“There is no way all of you can make it that far,” Amal warned. “When you didn’t meet me this morning and I had to go back, the path was full of Kitu. Wilkie or I can be a guide but only to you, Aiden.”
“And we’re supposed to just stay here?” Clay asked. He’d been quiet, taking it all in but now seemed most concerned. “We said we’d stick together. It’s what makes the most sense.”
“You said they wouldn’t hurt us,” Jules challenged. “You said the Kitu had a plan to play hero. Why can’t we go too?”
“If you’re caught with him, while he’s carrying this,” Amal waved the papers around, “they’ll torture you until you beg for death.”
“I’ll get to Torrella Bay,” Aiden said through a long sigh. “I’ll be able to work out a rescue for you the second I hand these off. The Coast Guard must be halfway here by now. They’ve known about the shot taken at their helicopter for two hours. They’re racing here now.”
“Ouch,” Cosette yelled, a shooting pain moving from her shoulder blade straight down her arm. It was like a bolt of lightning exiting her finger tips.
“What’s the matter?” Jules asked, racing toward her.
“My back,” Cosette felt her knees buckling from the pain. Aiden’s arm was around her first as the black spots took over her sight. “It hurts,” was all she could slur out before everything went black.
Chapter 12
“It’s some kind of bite,” Aiden’s voice said, flooding back into her ears with a rushing sound. “Could be a black widow, or maybe a poisonous centipede.”
“Black widow?’ Cosette mumbled, her eyes flying open, her body shooting up abruptly. “They’re poisonous.”
“I think she’s having a bad reaction,” Amal said. “She needs a doctor.”
“A black widow?” Cosette asked again, trying to arch her back and turn her head enough to see the spot that was burning on her shoulder blade. It was like molten lava had been poured on her skin.
“It’s not that bad,” Aiden assured her. “People get bit every day, and they are fine. Most people aren’t badly affected. It’s a misconception that a bite like this kills you.”
“It hurts,” she groaned, reaching back to touch the spot, but Aiden caught her hand.
“Don’t touch it,” he ordered. “Just be still.” His words were reassuring, but his face looked unsettlingly worried.
“I think I’m going to be sick.” A wave of nausea flooded her as sweat began to drip down her back.
Betty ran up with a pail from the corner of the room, tipping the empty bottles out of it on her way. Her timing was perfect as a heave overtook Cosette’s body and she wretched forward. It had been a while since she had thrown up, and it was as awful as she remembered.
“She needs an antivenom,” Amal said, pulling Cosette to her feet just as she pushed her face in the bucket and vomited again. “There is a doctor. We must take her now. He will help her.”
“Where?” Aiden asked, slinging one of her arms over his shoulder and moving toward the tunnel she’d used to crawl into this tomb.
“Three miles down. It’s on the way to Torrella Bay.”
“Wait,” Cosette said, feeling a little better though the pain in her back was still sharp. “You need to go. Just go there and have them come get us. I’ll be all right. But if you have to take me to a doctor right now it’ll take longer. Everyone else will have to wait longer.”
“You need help,” Betty said, a maternal demand back in her voice. “We can wait. We’ll be fine. You need to get to that doctor.”
“I feel a little better,” she lied, taking a long swig of the water Aiden had just handed her. “I’m just sort of dizzy, but it’s not that bad.”
“It’s swelling,” Aiden said, looking again. “Let’s go Amal. We need get her there now.”
Amal nodded his agreement but Wilkie blocked their path. “Take the papers. Take the pictures.”
“We can’t worry about that right now,” Aiden said, stepping by him. “It’s not safe for us to do that while Cosette is with us.”
“You don’t have to worry about it right now. We have to worry about it every minute. You can wait to start caring as long as you want.”
“Take it,” Cosette demanded, her hand clutching her chest, trying to quell the thundering pace of her heart. “Take all of it. Drop me at the doctor and keep going.”
“I’m not going to leave you behind,” Aiden said. “You’ll need an IV of the antivenom. It’ll take time. I can’t leave you there, it’s not safe. I wouldn’t feel right.”
“Aiden,” Cosette said, pulling herself free of him and standing up with much effort on her own, “there can only be one right thing at a time. Getting that,” she pointed at the documents, “to someone who can help the people here is a h
ell of a lot more important than sitting by me and watching medicine go in my arm. This is the right thing. You know it. Everyone knows it.”
“I have a protocol. Priorities. There’s a course of action I’m meant to take,” Aiden started, but she cut him off. Edging her body, ignoring the heat rolling through it, she grabbed the papers herself.
“Let’s go,” she demanded, moving on her own out of the room. “There’s one right thing Aiden, and this is it.”
Chapter 13
“Is it getting worse?” Aiden asked, watching Cosette continue to put pressure with her hand against her abdomen. Amal had offered him a gun, and he’d gladly taken it. This had been the longest he’d gone without a weapon within arm’s reach for some time. “We’re almost there, right Amal?”
“Just down this hill, but you’ll need to stay here while I go talk to Dr. Joshua. He is a good man and a good doctor but we cannot just walk in and surprise him. Two white people barging in won’t work.”
“Understood,” Aiden said, crouching down, helping Cosette gently to the ground.
“What happens if he says no?” Cosette asked, the boldness she’d shown at the fort gone now. “What happens if I don’t get the medicine?”
“You’ll get the medicine,” Aiden promised, but she was still grimacing with pain and worry.
“But what if the doctor won’t let me in. There’s a lot going on right now. I wouldn’t blame him for not wanting to get involved. So if I don’t get the medicine what will happen next? Is it a neurotoxin? It’s going to make me lose motor function. Will it hurt?”
“You’re getting the medicine no matter what,” he said flatly, grabbing her hand and lacing their fingers together.
“But what if the doctor—” she asked, wincing under the pain.
“If the doctor refuses to treat you,” Aiden said roughly, “I will break down the door and take it. I’ve got plenty of medical training. I can run an IV. No matter what happens when Amal comes back, you are getting that medicine.”
Not Just an Echo (Piper Anderson Legacy Mystery Book 3) Page 6