by Dee Davis
“It can’t be much farther,” she said, her breathing labored as she ducked under a low-hanging tree branch. “I can hear the falls.”
“Which might not be a good thing,” Drake responded, as he used his knife to cut away the tenacious stems of some kind of overgrown thorn bush.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her brows drawing together in concern.
“Probably nothing,” he was quick to assure. “It’s just that we don’t want to come out too close to the ruins.”
“It shouldn’t matter.” She shook her head. “As long as we can get to the water.”
He nodded, not willing to argue further. Besides, wherever they wound up, it was a far sight better than being caught by di Silva’s men. With a last slice, he cleared away the thorns to push through the overgrowth, Madeline following on his heels.
On the other side, the jungle gave way suddenly to a rock-strewn escarpment ending in a sheer cliff wall rising out of the jungle. Orchids and heliconias clung to its crevices, while some kind of vine stretched upward, its red-veined leaves disappearing into the overhanging trees. In the center, a thin stream of water splashed down from somewhere far above them.
“It’s a dead-end,” Madeline said, sinking down onto a boulder.
“No.” Drake shook his head. “There has to be a way out. Can’t you hear the falls? They’ve got to be just beyond the cliff wall.” He pointed toward the right, as he walked over for a closer look.
“Well, even if you’re correct,” she said, “we can’t very well move through solid rock.”
“Who said it’s solid? There’s an opening here.” He smiled at her and then stepped into what amounted to the narrow mouth of a cave, surprised to find that there was dappled light at the far end of what appeared to be a natural tunnel.
“What is this place?” Madeline asked, coming to stand beside him.
“Hopefully a way out.” They moved underneath the rocks, stopping for a moment to accustom themselves to the gloom.
The passageway was about three feet wide and mostly tall enough for them to pass without bending over. At the end it opened into a wider cavern with three solid walls and the sheer curtain of the waterfall forming the fourth.
“I was right, it is a dead-end,” Madeline sighed, reaching out a hand to cut through the water. “We’ll have to go back and figure out another way down.”
“There’s no time,” Drake said. “By now there’s a good chance they’ll have seen through our ruse with the saman trees, and if they’ve discovered our tracks they’ll have figured out which way we’re headed.”
“So what do you want to do?” She frowned up at him, hands on her hips. “Surrender?”
“Not likely.” He shook his head, resisting the urge to smile.
There was little sign of the cultivated woman he’d first encountered at di Silva’s hacienda. Her hair was matted with leaves and twigs, her camisole stained with dirt and mud. Her shiner had turned a lovely shade of green, and the sweats sported holes in both knees. Any other woman would have been whining and complaining, begging him to get them out of here. But Madeline Reynard was giving him attitude. And quite surprisingly, he found that he liked it.
“All right,” she said, lifting her hands with impatience. “So what’s the plan?”
Drake looked back down the tunnel, satisfied to see that it was still empty. “How deep is the pool below the falls?”
She shook her head, clearly surprised at the question. “I don’t know. I only swam in it the one time. Nine, maybe ten feet? It’s deeper near the falls and then starts getting shallower as the pool narrows and becomes the stream again.”
“And the current?”
“It’s really fast. Almost too fast to swim there. The stream is wider and deeper here than it is above in the ruins. More of a river. Why?”
“Because I think it’s our best way out,” he said, watching the confusion play across her face. “I assume you’re a good swimmer?”
“Of course.” She frowned. “I told you, I grew up on a bayou. But I don’t see what the hell that has to do with—” She cut herself off, understanding dawning. “You’ve got to be kidding. You want us to jump?”
“Yeah, and then ride the stream. It’ll be like tubing.”
“Only without the inner tube.” She glanced doubtfully at the sheet of falling water. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Maybe,” he acknowledged. “But I still think it’s our best option. All we have to do is jump, push off the bottom, and let the water carry us forward.”
“Right into a school of piranhas or crocodiles.”
“Crocs don’t school, and even if they did you won’t find them up this high. Piranhas either. The worst that can happen is that you’ll bang into some of the rocks.”
“And drown.”
“I won’t let you.”
Madeline searched his face and for a moment there was nothing in the world that mattered but the two of them—and her believing in him.
Then she shook her head and walked to the edge of the ledge. “I must be crazy to even be considering this.”
“Well, if you’d rather, we can always go back the way we came…” he trailed off, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to resist the gauntlet.
“Fine,” she sighed. “We’ll jump.”
CHAPTER 10
U.S. Military Hospital, Eloy Afaro Air Base, Marto, Ecuador
How’re you feeling?” Nash asked as he settled in the chair beside Tyler’s hospital bed.
“Like someone shot me.” She smiled. “But since I’m lying here talking to you, I’m figuring the prognosis is good.”
“The doctors worked their magic,” he said, returning the smile. It had been touch and go, as the bullet had lodged perilously close to her aorta, but after long hours in surgery, the doctors said she’d make a full recovery.
“So where are we?” she asked.
“Ecuador. It was our closest base. We couldn’t risk landing in Colombia, since technically, we weren’t even supposed to be in-country. And for the same reason, we couldn’t risk using a civilian facility.”
“Hey, I’ve got no complaints. And no memory of what happened after I got shot. Everything’s a big blur. Did you manage to detonate the explosion?”
“Yeah, went off like a charm. Created some pretty amazing fireworks, too.”
“Between my jury-rigging the explosives and the amount of ordnance di Silva had stockpiled, I’m not surprised. I’m guessing the explosions were visible for miles. So what’s the fallout? Have you talked to Hannah?”
“So far the chatter has been minimal, but she said it’s still too soon. Overall, though, she seems to think that it’ll be downplayed. The ruins were fairly remote, and di Silva isn’t going to want to draw any more attention than necessary to what happened. And since his network in Colombia is pretty extensive, I’m guessing that downplaying the explosion won’t be that much of an effort.”
“So where’s everyone else?” she asked.
“Jason’s on his way back to Sunderland to debrief the rest of the team. And Avery’s in an office down the hall. Conference call with the brass.”
“Glad it’s him and not me.”
“No kidding. After everything that went wrong out there, I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes,” Nash agreed.
“At least we destroyed the weapons stash.”
“Yeah, but we lost Madeline Reynard.”
“So what about Drake?” she asked, wincing as she shifted positions in the hospital bed. “Did you guys manage to get him out?”
“No.” Nash shook his head. “I kept thinking he’d show up. But once we blew the stash there wasn’t much chance he’d make it back. And it was probably just as well; the evac was dicey enough as it was.”
“Thanks to me,” Tyler sighed.
“It’s not like you shot yourself.” Nash’s smile was gentle.
“So do you think something happened to Drake?”
“Obviously
there’s no way to know for sure.” He shook his head, sobering. “But he’s resourceful.”
“But you haven’t heard anything.” She frowned. “I thought maybe he’d call in after the explosion. When it was safe to communicate again.”
“I had the same hope. There was some static—Jason said it could have been Drake, but it could also have been nothing. Anyway, my guess is that if he did try, the mountains and the jungle would have interfered with reception. Anyway, now even if Drake does manage to find a clear spot, with us gone, he’s out of range.”
“And I guess there’s a very real possibility that even if he figured out a way to try to contact us, he couldn’t. I mean, di Silva’s men were crawling all over the place. We can’t ignore the possibility that he’s been captured.”
“Hannah thinks she’d have heard something. And so far nada. So I’m betting Drake’s moving cross-country even as we speak.”
“Through some really rugged terrain. That part of the Andes is pretty remote. Some of it hasn’t even been accurately mapped.”
“He knows what he’s doing. We’ve just got to keep the faith.”
“And Madeline Reynard?” she asked. “You think he found her?”
“My money’s on Drake. If anyone can run her to ground, he can. Although he might be better off without her. Especially trying to make it through the jungle. Besides, none of this would have happened if she hadn’t bolted. Hell, this whole fiasco’s on her head.”
“Well, regardless of who’s at fault, we can’t just leave them out there,” she said, reaching for the glass of water on her bedside table. “Maybe we can call on someone in-country. Someone who knows the area.”
“No can do,” Avery said, striding into the room, his frown fierce. “Langley wants the whole thing to stay off the books. As far as anyone in Colombia is concerned we were never there.”
“But we can’t just leave him,” Tyler protested.
“I didn’t say we were going to.” Avery shook his head. “I just said we can’t call in outside help. In fact, I’d prefer that whatever we decide to do, it doesn’t go beyond this room.”
“I’m not sure I’m following.” Nash frowned. “What about the rest of the team?”
“For the moment, I want to leave them out of it, at least beyond generalities. Look, you two are my next in command. You’ve both been with me since the beginning and I know I can trust you.”
“And you don’t think you can trust the rest of the team?” Tyler asked, shooting a questioning look in Nash’s direction.
“I’m not saying that either.” Avery held up his hands. “I’m just saying that something doesn’t feel right here. And until we figure out what it is, I think the fewer people in on it the better.”
“You’re talking about the sabotage,” Nash said.
“In part. It’s definitely something we need to get to the bottom of.”
“But you just said you didn’t think it was one of us?” Tyler shook her head, her eyes narrowing in disbelief.
“For the moment, no. I don’t. But there are people at Langley who think it’s possible.”
“I wasn’t aware anyone else knew about our incidents.” Nash studied his boss’s face, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
“There were questions about the last few missions. Mistakes made. I had to give them an explanation.”
“And so now they’re pointing fingers. You’d think after what happened with Annie they’d be more cautious about that sort of thing.” Homeland Security had been the leading voice in suggesting that Annie was a traitor, but the CIA hadn’t been far behind. Hell, for a little while even he’d believed the worst. In the end, however, they’d all been proven wrong. And Nash, at least, had learned a lesson.
“Look, they’re just trying to make sense of what happened. And in light of Drake’s disappearance—along with Madeline’s…” he trailed off.
“The heat’s on.” Nash blew out a breath.
“The suits at Langley are definitely on high alert. What should have been a simple operation has turned into a nightmare scenario. So they’re circling the wagons. And we’ve got to be careful not to get caught in the fallout. This thing with Madeline is bigger than they’re letting on. There’s something more here than them just wanting to question the mistress of Jorge di Silva.”
“So what the hell is it they want with her?” Nash asked.
“I don’t know. And it’s going to take a little digging to find out. In the meantime, we’ve got to find Drake and keep him out of sight until we can figure out what’s what. And we have to do it on the QT.”
“None of this makes any sense at all to me,” Tyler said. “Drake aside. We’ve got three definite instances of sabotage and a couple more questionable incidents. And, at least in the three confirmed cases, access to the equipment in question was limited to members of the team.”
“And certain ancillary staff,” Avery added. “Everything was shipped. Through secure channels of course, but there were certainly people outside the team that handled the items involved.”
“True. But at least in my case,” Tyler said, “I checked the equipment before we left.”
“In detail?” Avery queried.
“Absolutely. And everything was fine.”
“And in Colombia?”
“I only did a cursory examination, but if something was wrong I would have seen it.”
“Sometimes we see what we expect to see.” Nash shrugged.
“And you didn’t check the equipment again?” Avery asked.
She shook her head. “It never occurred to me that I’d need to.”
“Which is no doubt what someone was counting on. The truth is that there were opportunities for someone with the proper motivation to access and manipulate our equipment.”
“All of them CIA or military personnel.” Nash shook his head. “And all of them with proper clearance.”
“People can be bought,” Tyler said. “And Avery’s right, there are always ancillary personnel involved in a mission.”
“But there’s not much crossover. At least when we’re in the field,” Nash said, turning the idea over in his mind. “What about the earlier incidents?”
“Same situation, really. There are always people who handle our munitions, whether we’re in our country or on foreign soil.” Tyler shrugged.
“So how do we narrow it down?”
“When I get back to New York, I’ll start seeing what I can dig up,” Avery said. “And maybe Tyler can help once she’s back on her feet. We can cross-check personnel lists and see if anything pops. In addition, I want to see what I can find out about Madeline Reynard. There’s got to be some connection to the CIA that supersedes her relationship with di Silva.”
“And while you guys are playing supersleuth, what am I doing?” Nash asked.
“When the timing is right, I want you to go to Puerto Remo. That’s where Drake will surface if he makes it through.”
“With Madeline, if he found her,” Tyler said, her worried gaze encompassing the two of them. “And I’d lay odds that he has.”
“Look, at this point all of this is just conjecture,” Avery sighed. “I mean, as far as I know, no one outside the immediate team is even aware that he’ll be heading to the coast. But if the unit has truly been compromised it’s possible that the information’s been leaked.”
“Meaning di Silva could know.”
“We may have bigger problems than di Silva,” Avery said. “Look, if I’m right and there’s something big connected with the retrieval of Madeline Reynard, then someone out there may believe that the easy solution is to take her out. And if whoever’s involved is connected to Langley, then they may very well be looking for a scapegoat to cover their actions.”
“Drake.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, if someone is gunning for Drake and/or Madeline, isn’t Nash going to need someone to back him up?” Tyler protested, shooting Nash an apologetic look.
“I mean, not that you’re not capable, but we have no idea what you could be walking into.”
“I appreciate the thought.” Nash smiled at her. “But I can handle it. Besides, who could go? Avery already said that we need to keep this limited to the three of us. You’re in no shape to go anywhere, and Avery’s disappearance at this point would certainly bring up questions.”
“Well, so will yours,” Tyler said, a stubborn note in her voice. “You can’t go out there on your own. Come on, Avery, you know I’m right.”
“He won’t be going anywhere on his own,” Avery said. “And he won’t be missed. It’s all been arranged.”
“But I don’t…” Nash began.
“You’ve been complaining about not having time for a honeymoon,” Avery said, with a slow smile. “And the tropics are a perfect place for young couples in love.”
“Annie,” Nash said, his heart lifting at the sound of his wife’s name.
“Yes.” Avery nodded. “I know she hasn’t wanted to get back into the game. But she understands the importance of our finding Drake.”
“I’m not surprised she agreed to help,” Nash said, feeling a surge of pride. “You’ll watch out for Adam?” As much as he needed to help his friend, he also needed to make certain his son was protected.
“No worries,” Avery said. “We’ll all keep an eye out.”
“Then it’s perfect,” Nash said, with a grin. “I mean, hell, what good is a honeymoon without a little espionage?”
* * *
Café Amarillo, Bogotá, Colombia
“Thanks for coming so quickly,” Hector Ortiz said as he leaned back to allow the waiter to refill his coffee cup. “I apologize for getting you involved in so difficult a situation. I thought I had it handled.” He drew in a breath, waiting for the man to answer.
Michael Brecht was a major player in the arms industry. The owner of Mossler-Brecht, one of Germany’s largest producers of munitions, he held the respect of people on both sides of the law. It was Brecht who had first approached Ortiz about the prospect of his taking control of di Silva’s enterprises and expanding the old man’s business into the illegal arms trade. And it was Brecht who had introduced him to prominent men within the market.