The DMZ

by Jeanete Windle

  Julie didn’t ask who he was. “What do you mean? There’s more than just the Iraqis?”

  “I’m afraid so. Those crates are Iraqi, no doubt about it, and I was in the Persian Gulf long enough to recognize what that guard was shouting—Arabic. But don’t forget that Hezbollah agent I saw in San Ignacio. He was Iranian. And so is the man we saw down there in the black turban.”

  “But … how can you be so sure?” Julie demanded, bewildered.

  “I recognize him,” Rick said flatly. “I served in a counter-terrorism unit after the Gulf War—the reason I ended up down here. Part of what we did was to memorize the faces of every terrorist leader on file. That’s how I knew our Hezbollah friend. And that man in the turban is Taqi Nouri, head of the Iranian intelligence service. Which, by the way, is known to be a front for half the Islamic terrorist groups out there, including the Islamic Jihad and Hezbollah. He also happens to be the personal sidekick to the Ayatollah Khalkhali, the real power behind everything going on in Iran today.”

  “But …” Julie said blankly. “I thought Iraq and Iran were enemies. Didn’t they fight a war?”

  “They hate each other’s guts,” Rick agreed. “But they hate us Americans even more. Somewhere way up at the top, someone has made an unholy alliance to take out a common enemy. Iraq supplies the weapon. Iran supplies the means to deliver it. And I’m betting they’ve spent the last ten years or so figuring out how to do it. It’s no coincidence that the Islamic terrorist groups started showing up on Colombian soil just around the time Pastrana established the demilitarized zone. The DMZ has given them just what they were lacking—a protected and secret striking base within flight range of American soil.”

  “But …” Julie’s mind cast around frantically for a thread of hope. “Even if the plane takes off, surely our military can stop it! Don’t we have radar and … and military bases to keep unfriendly planes from crossing our borders?”

  Rick’s expression drained her hope even before he answered. “If it were a regular aircraft, yes. Though even at that, drug planes slip through our radar shield with depressing regularity. But the F-117 was made to be invisible—to our own radar as well as everyone else’s. And if it comes in over the water, and at night … That’s why they’re waiting to take off. They won’t risk some stray surveillance plane or satellite pointed in the wrong direction spotting a UFO emerging from the jungle.”

  Julie drew in a sharp breath. “The surveillance plane that went down!”

  “It’s a good possibility, though we may never know. Either way, you saw the moon last night. Tonight’s a new moon—the darkest night of the month. I’m betting that’s what they’ve been waiting for. That thing they were loading—it wasn’t a bomb. It was some sort of spray mechanism. They slip across the border with that, head to the nearest city, and …”

  He didn’t finish, but he didn’t need to. The images his words had conjured up were furnishing the rest in nightmare technicolor in Julie’s mind. A black batlike shape gliding silently in over a dreaming coastline, its passing shadow barely troubling the pale glimmer of starlight above. Slowing to release its toxic cargo into the cool night. A rain of microscopic spores drifting down over the twinkling lights of the city below. Millions of warm, moist lungs breathing them in, unconscious that they have just given root to death. And as the spores sprang to their frantic and lethal activity, that black shadow moving on to repeat its mission again, and again, and again.

  Julie’s mind reeled at the contemplation of what would come next. She had seen the carnage of one small village. Her brain could not compute the destruction represented by the aircraft she’d seen. She ran a hand over her face. Even with the steam-bath temperature of the jungle, her skin was clammy and cold. She’d been afraid so often since returning to this country. Afraid of the guerrillas. Of the dizzying heights of the treetops. Of the black jungle night and the dangers she knew only too well lurked there. Of her own emotions that had betrayed the sensible, ordered life she had created at such pains for herself.

  And always the fear of death had confronted her at every turn, only to be time and again and beyond belief snatched away, until—because even the strongest emotions cannot be sustained forever—she had passed beyond fear to a dull acceptance of whatever might come.

  But now she was afraid again—so afraid, she thought she was going to throw up, and only the knowledge of Bernabé’s black eyes on her face kept her from giving in to that weakness.

  But this time Julie wasn’t afraid for herself. She feared for a world of unsuspecting people who did not know—could not imagine—the devastation about to be unleashed on them. The horror of it burned into a blaze of terror and helpless rage.

  Julie didn’t even notice Rick’s steadying hand at her elbow. “What are we going to do?” she whispered. Then, catching the wary gaze of the I’paa leader on her, she steadied her voice. “How can we possibly stop them?”

  “I don’t know—yet. I need to think.” Rick glanced down at his watch. “We have an hour still before twilight. Just give me time to think.”

  The harshness of his voice drew Julie’s head up to look at him. Unlike herself, Rick had seemed little shaken by what they’d found. His movements showed the same quick and measured action as always; his face was set in the hard concentration to which Julie had grown accustomed when problems arose. But now, with the eyes of love and familiarity, Julie saw a paleness around his pinched nostrils and the grim line of his mouth, and the bunching and unbunching of muscles along his jaw that told of emotions held under iron control. Beneath the cool mask that was the Special Forces officer, could he be as afraid and uncertain and helplessly angry as she herself felt?

  Julie watched that taut profile as Rick paced back and forth between one tree trunk and another. She knew the instant he’d made his decision, even before he spun around and strode over to her.

  “I have a plan,” he said abruptly. “Maybe not much of a plan—it has a million holes in it, and I won’t pretend it will be easy. But with the help of your Indian friends, I think it’s doable.” His broad shoulders lifted under the ammo vest. “And right now it’s all we’ve got!”

  “So what is it?”

  Rick was already removing items from his ammo vest. First, two rectangles of what looked to be oversized bars of the nougat he’d fed Julie the first day. But Julie knew the difference. Semtex, a military explosive. She’d watched Victor instruct the newer guerrillas in its many possibilities. Then a fuse and detonator cap. With a roll of electrical tape, Rick began taping explosive and detonator together.

  “We’re going to take out the F-117,” he told Julie coolly.

  “What—but how?” Julie looked warily from the homemade explosive device that was taking shape in Rick’s hands to the primitive weapons Bernabé and the other I’paa were carrying. They didn’t look like much to take out a well-armed security force and a state-of-the-art military plane that undoubtedly had defenses of its own.

  “That’s what I want you to explain to your friends. We’ll hit at dusk. That gives us enough light to see what we’re doing without giving them any better a look at us than we have to. And to let them see this uniform but not the face above it. What I need from your Indian friends is a diversion. They don’t have to set foot on the base. A few arrow shots will distract the guards—better yet, those blow guns of theirs. Hopefully, that will draw the bulk of Nouri’s men out into the woods after them.”

  Rick held up the explosive device. “Then, in all the confusion, I’ll simply walk up to the plane, slap this on somewhere, and set it off. If that doesn’t go down”—he pulled his remaining grenade from his vest pocket—“I toss this into the cockpit. It goes off, and there won’t be an instrument left in that plane that’s usable. Either way, the plane won’t be taking off.”

  Rick glanced briefly at Julie as he stowed the grenade again. “You, by the way, will not be in this at all. I’ll have Bernabé leave a couple of his people with you. Your part will be
to head downstream just as soon as we get everything ironed out here and make contact with the outside world. Get hold of Colonel Thornton over at San José and get him out here on the double. Whatever happens, I want to ensure that warning gets through.”

  Whatever happens, “And you? How are you planning on getting away afterward?”

  Rick didn’t look up from the finishing touches he was putting on his makeshift bomb. “Simple. If we time it right, it’ll be dark by then. One uniform looks like another. The instant that plane goes up, I walk out into the dark. They’ll come after us, but they’ll be at a disadvantage at night. Once it’s light, I regroup with Bernabé and his men, and we head downstream and catch up to the rest of you.”

  It didn’t sound simple at all, rather suicidally dangerous, and Julie could see a dozen things that could go wrong. What if the other side had night vision goggles? This wasn’t like giving the slip to Victor’s poorly trained guerrilla band. But as Rick had said, it was doable. Besides, what other option was there? Except to walk away—and that was no option at all.

  Julie motioned to Bernabé. As the I’paa warrior stalked over, the rest of his party began to drift in again. Rick addressed Bernabé in Spanish but signaled to Julie to translate so the others could follow as well. “We have discovered a way to defeat the great evil that has been brought to this place. But we need your help to fight and destroy it.”

  The effect of his request was electrifying. Julie saw the murmur of dismay ripple across the party of Indians even before she finished translating. By the time she had spelled out his plan, the rest of the I’paa had melted back into cover, leaving only Bernabé to stand his ground.

  “Now what?” Rick demanded irritably. “Where did they go? Bernabé, please tell them to come back. This is very important.”

  “They are afraid of the ghosts.” Bernabé spoke directly to Rick. “You ask them to go to where the ghosts snatched their companions. They will not go. They do not wish to be lost to the evil spirits like the others.”

  “But there are no ghosts!” Rick clamped his jaw to contain his exasperation. “Haven’t we already shown that to you? Evil men, yes. But there are no ghosts, I promise.”

  “Evil men. Evil ghosts. It does not matter. They still bring death.” Turning back to Julie, Bernabé switched to I’paa. “Daughter of the friends of our people, you must explain to him. It is not for me to decide. I speak the español from my years working for the riowa. But I am not senior of the warriors. They will not do what I say but what they choose. We are far from our families—farther than we have ever come. We would not have come this far if we had not been ordered to watch over the daughter of the friends of our people. But now these others have seen the death in the village, like the death of those taken by the ghosts. They know that this death lies over there. They are afraid, and they wish to turn back. Some say that this is an evil the riowa have brought to the jungle, and that it should be for the riowa—you—to deal with it.”

  Though Bernabé spoke of the “others,” Julie was accustomed enough to the dappled mask of his face to see the fear behind the ash and pitch and in the darting black eyes that would not meet hers. She knew it was only the bond of that childhood acquaintance that held the I’paa warrior here at all. Nor could she blame him. She could feel the fear clenching at her own stomach, drawing her face into taut lines.

  Bernabé glanced at the other I’paa, a few pairs of dark eyes peering out from cover. Then his chest rose under the camouflage streaks. Julie could see him gathering courage. “Perhaps they will think differently if you give them your promise that they will be safe. Your father, when he came to our village, told us of the great God who created the universe—that He was a God of great strength and the friend of your family and of all who worshiped Him. He said that you spoke to this God and that He spoke to you. That is why it was thought that you could defeat the ghosts when others could not. If you can swear to us that you will not let the ghosts—or evil men, if so you wish to call them—harm us, if you can swear that the God who protects your family will protect the I’paa too, then perhaps they will agree to go.”

  Julie sighed. What garbled theology had been passed down among the tribe since her parents’ departure! “I can’t promise that, Bernabé. It is true that the God who created the universe is powerful and that He can protect those who follow Him. And yes, it is true that I pray to Him and that He is my friend, as He is the friend of all who will worship and obey Him. But God is not a man that we can tell Him what to do. His ways are not always our ways, and He does not promise that all will go well if we obey Him. Have you forgotten that my own father and mother died here obeying their God?”

  Julie added gently, “I too am afraid, Bernabé. And so is my companion Enrique.” She glanced up at Rick, but his lean face was expressionless, the downward curve of his mouth impatient at Bernabé’s switch into I’paa. Only the bunching of muscles at his jawline gave any sign that he felt the same fear that had caused the knot in her own stomach.

  “I too wish that I could turn back and run away,” Julie said. “But if we do not fight this evil—if we do not stop it in this place this very night—then many more villages will die like the one you saw. Perhaps not your own people. But many others. More than all the stars that shine in the night sky above the jungle.”

  The I’paa warrior was listening, Julie could see, and she added pleadingly, “Please, Bernabé. I could lie to you and promise you that no one will get hurt if you come with us. I will not! But I will tell you that I believe, as surely as God sent my parents to this place and to your people, that He has brought us—myself and Enrique and the I’paa—to this place for this time. And I can promise you that if we fight this evil, the God who created the universe will go with us and bring His purpose from this night. But we cannot fight alone. We need your help.”

  Bernabé was silent as she finished. Then he said abruptly, “I must speak with my people. I will see if they will fight.” He faded into the trees, and as Julie explained to Rick what had happened, she saw the other I’paa gather around her childhood friend. She watched anxiously as he spoke, his spear gesturing along with his words. Surely her persuasiveness had won!

  But when Bernabé stepped back into the open, Julie knew the instant she caught sight of his face that they had lost.

  “We have made the decision—to leave!” The I’paa warrior spoke harshly in Spanish that included Rick as well. “This fight is not ours. It belongs to the riowa. We will take the news of this to the outside, and we will guide you there if you wish to come. But we will not go to that place.”

  His eyes shifted away from the two Americans as he uttered his ultimatum, and Julie knew he was feeling shame because he had been unable to talk the others into staying. But in the I’paa way, he had presented the group position as a unanimous one, and she knew too that it would be useless to argue that decision. Her shoulders slumped in defeat.

  “No,” she answered him, “we cannot leave with you. But if you will take the news, then please contact the American commander at San José—the one your hunters saw me speaking with—and tell him all that has happened. Tell him about the plane like a bug and the metal bottle that brought death to the village. He will know what to do. And Bernabe …” It took all her fortitude to summon a smile. “Thank you for what you have done.”

  Bernabé gave a brief nod. Then with two strides, he disappeared behind a tree, and though Julie hastily stepped around the base of the tree after him, she saw no further sign of her childhood friend or any of the I’paa.

  They were alone.

  Rick looked after the vanished Indians, his mouth a thin, straight line. “So, I take it they bailed out on us.”

  “I’m afraid so.” Julie had to choke down her disappointment before she could say resolutely, “I guess this means we go to Plan B.”

  “Not we!” Rick said in a hard voice. “I!”

  As Julie started to speak, he raised his hand. “We already had this ar
gument, Julie. You won—I needed you to get here. But not now! You think I don’t know why you let Bernabé go before I could speak with him? But it isn’t going to work! Your part in this hasn’t changed. All I want from you is to get to Colonel Thornton and get him out here. So you go after those Indians before they get any farther away than they are. No—don’t give me that look! You know as well as I do that they’ll find you if you don’t find them.”

  “I know that,” Julie said steadily. “And you’re right—I did let Bernabé go. Did you think I would leave you here alone? How do you think you’re going to get in there by yourself? You’d never get past the motion sensors. And do you think they’re going to let you just walk up to the plane with two sticks of Semtex in your hand? You’d just be throwing your life away!”

  “I’ll figure something out.” Rick’s expression was unrelenting. “And just how do you think you would make a difference? You don’t know how to fight! You would just be in the way, and I can’t afford any distractions right now.”

  “No, that’s just what you do need!” Julie answered. “That’s what you wanted from the I’paa, wasn’t it—a distraction? Maybe I can’t fight, but at least I can give you that! I set off the motion sensors. Get the attention of the guards. I’ll just tell them I’m lost. That’ll give you a chance to slip onto the base while they’re thinking it’s me who set off the alarm. As for getting out a warning, Bernabé is going to contact Colonel Thornton. He might not have been able to talk his people into staying, but if he says he’ll get a message through, he will.”

  The line of Rick’s jaw did not relent. “Do you know what would happen to you if those guards got hold of you? You’d be right back where you started. Worse! Remember what happened to the last foreigners who wandered onto that base?”

  “Rick, do you think I don’t know the consequences? I … I don’t want to go in there! I know I don’t have Special Forces training like you. If I really thought you could do better without me, I’d go after Bernabé right now. But we have no choice. Can you honestly say you wouldn’t have a better chance with me to distract the guards?” Julie read the unwilling answer in his face. “Then you … I … we don’t have the right not to take that chance!”