by Rebecca York
And when they had gotten Shannon back, he would have made it very clear
that if Oliver Gibbs ever put his family in danger again, he'd kill
him.
Only that wasn't going to be an option.
Ollie was already dead.
All at once the loss hit him like a sledgehammer in the chest, and he
doubled over.
With one hand gripping the door frame, he tried to catch his breath.
Oliver Gibbs .
dead.
It was still almost impossible to believe.
Once the two of them had taken apart a brothel in Saigon looking for a
girl who'd disappeared from her street on the way home from school.
They'd found her and brought her back to her father, a tea merchant
who'd been one of their earliest customers.
Once they'd stood with their backs to a rough brick wall in Calcutta
and fought off a street gang.
Once Oliver had dragged him out of a burning nightclub in downtown
Cairo.
They hadn't seen each other for more than a year.
But he'd always known they were going to get together again, if only to
chew over old times.
And he'd known that if he were in a tight spot, he could call Ollie.
But not now.
Never again.
He hadn't been prepared for the loss of Oliver Gibbs.
Or, for that matter, any of the other nasty surprises life had thrown
him over the past few weeks.
Now he was completely on his own.
He'd thought things were bad when he'd left for India.
In the past few minutes, the situation had deteriorated even further.
His one lead to Amarjit Singh had died with Oliver.
In frustration, he socked his fist a ainst the wall and came away with
smarting knuckles .
The symbolism wasn't lost on him.
He and Ollie had done a lot of that-acting before they thought things
through.
In fact, living out here had been a little like one long adventure in
never-never land.
They'd thought of themselves as tough, macho guys.
But really, neither one of them had been willing to grow up.
It had taken Abby to change him, Abby to make him realize what was
really important in life.
Abby's sweet persuasion to make him accept the risk of loving.
Abby.
Oh, God.
What if he couldn't keep her safe?
What if he couldn't rescue their daughter?
His lips set in a grim line, he strode into the office and ripped open
a desk drawer so hard that the contents scattered across the floor.
ABBY STOOD and walked toward the porch.
She and Steve had come here to find out why the ILA had kidnapped their
daughter, and they had less than a week to do it.
Oliver Gibbs wasn't going to tell them a thing, and the only way they
were going to figure out what he'd been up to was to work it out by
themselves.
Abby stuffed the gun into her purse and made her way back up the
steps.
Somehow, once she'd stepped inside the door, it was easier to keep
going.
She could hear Steve down the hall, pulling open drawers and shuffling
through papers.
When she peered into the den, he whirled, his hand raised to fend off
an attack-and she was reminded of the night before.
"I want to help. We can do it faster if we both look."
He didn't waste energy arguing but pointed to a couple of portable file
drawers.
"Okay. It looks as if he brought recent records here. You go through
that stuff.
I'll see if there's anything important in the bedroom.
Abby pulled open one of the drawers and found a jumble of papers
stuffed haphazardly inside.
It appeared as if Oliver simply used the file boxes to get the clutter
out of the rest of the room.
Was the whole house like that, with hidden storage areas in every
corner?
Sighing, she began to thumb through the mess.
As she worked, she felt her anger building and knew she was using the
mess as an outlet because the man was beyond her reach.
At the same time, she listened to Steve moving through the rest of the
rooms.
He was back in twenty minutes.
"Find anything?" she asked in a voice that was steadier than she'd
expected.
"He didn't leave a note. Anything useful in his files?"
Abby handed him a piece of paper she'd laid on top of the desk.
"This is more like a rat's nest than a filing system. But I got
lucky."
Steve scanned the meager information, his face hardening.
There was little more than a record of an agreement for the delivery of
twenty-five units, a notation of payment, and three tiny initials in
the corner.
"So he did a job for the ILA six months ago."
He glanced back at Abby.
"Good work. I probably would have missed it."
"What does 'twenty-five units' mean?"
"Boxes of rifles? That's as good a guess as any."
She continued to go through_.
The drawer while Steve shuffled through the contents of the desk.
"Got something."
He straightened, smoothing out a crumpled sheet that was similar to-the
one Abby had found.
This time, the payment notation was missing.
But there was another set of initials after the ILA: T W "So it looks
as if you were right. He didn't get paid," Abby mused.
"Or he didn't live long enough to record it."
"But he crumpled the paper. Either he was careless with it, or he was
angry."
Steve nodded.
Abby studied the notation.
"Two units."
"Bigger weapons. Maybe they were buying mortars this time."
What does 'T.
W' mean?
He pursed his lips.
"I'm not sure."
Thoughtfully he smoothed out the paper and put it in his pocket.
Abby leaned back against the wall, feeling exhausted and dispirited.
"We don't know much more than when we came!"
"There are a couple other things we can try. First, we'd better check
out his warehouse."
They drove back down the hill to one of the corrugated metal buildings
beside the airstrip.
Steve took the key from its hiding place, and they went inside.
Boxes were stacked against the far wall.
Steve pried several open and removed the contents to see if all the
layers were the same.
They were, and he repacked them.
They did contain weapons, but nothing a terrorist group couldn't have
gotten relatively easily.
"I guess the good stuff isn't here," he remarked.
"Then where?"
"A hidey-hole. Like he had in Borneo."
Abby looked at him eagerly.
"This one's a ruined temple, with a nice dry storage area where the
altar used to be. Nobody goes there because it's supposed to be under
a curse. We had to check the house first, but I've been wondering all
along if he might be camping out there."
Abby felt her energy level surge.
"How far is it?"
"Not too far. And we can drive part of the way."
They climbed back into the Range Rover, and Stev
e drove up the hill
again and around the house toward what looked like a tangle of
underbrush.
But he nosed the vehicle forward, plowing through a passage almost
hidden from view.
They came out on the other side into a lush canopy of foliage that
reminded her of the place where they'd stopped for lunch, only more
dense.
Ahead of them was a one-lane road leading off into the jungle.
At first, Abby enjoyed the respite.
But her mood changed as the lane narrowed and she began to feel the
greenery pressing thickly in on either side as if it were getting ready
to swallow them up.
Leaves brushed against the window.
Then a branch scraped like sharp fingernails across a blackboard, and
she jumped.
It broke off with a loud crack and fell beside the Rover as Steve moved
forward.
Within minutes, the passage became too narrow for the vehicle to move
forward.
Steve pushed open his door into a tangle of vines that hung limply from
several towering trees.
Abby had trouble following suit.
"I guess you'll have to get out on my side," he suggested.
A few moments later, Abby was standing beside him on the rutted
earth.
It was dark and quiet under-the canopy of greenery.
Unconsciously, Abby drew.
closer to Steve, and he slipped his arm- around her shoulder.
She stood looking around at the silent forest and shivered.
"What's wrong?"
"It's different," she whispered, realizing that her voice was the only
thing that broke the unnatural stillness.
"From what?"
"From the place where we stopped for lunch. Don't you remember how
alive it was? There were monkeys climbing around in the trees. And
birds."
"Oliver went hunting out here. I guess the wildlife's cautious."
"Um," Abby murmured.
But she still felt uneasy.
This place was as silent as a cemetery.
Instinctively, she reached for Steve's hand.
They started up the path.
After a few dozen yards, she spotted a pile of large, dressed stones
half hidden in the underbrush.
"There are some pretty interesting carvings," Steve told her.
"Another time, I'll show you."
Abby looked from the stones to the surrounding vegetation.
Some of it had turned yellow.
Other plants had crumpled into brown heaps.
:,How long since you've been here?
" Abby asked.
'A couple of years, I guess.
"Were half the plants dead?"
Steve looked thoughtful.
"I don't think so. But it was a different time of year. It's getting
to be fall."
Abby scanned the underbrush.
Other gray shapes lay among the wilting plants.
More stones.
AndShe stopped short, her eyes fixed on a crumpled, furry mass.
"A dead monkey!"
"Where?"
She pointed, averting her face as she hurried past.
Several yards farther on, they spotted another little corpse.
It was curled on its side much the way Oliver had been lying in his
bed.
Abby's 'fingers dug into Steve's arm.
Despite the heat, a shiver swept across her body.
"Come on.
'Wait!
" She stood very still, not even breathing.
"What is it?
'It's not just the animals.
When we stopped for lunch, the jungle was full of insects buzzing and
crawling.
We had to cover our food, remember?
:,Yeah.
'Do you hear any now?
See anything moving?
They were both very quiet.
Steve shook his head.
"And birds. I don't hear any birds."
He scanned the treetops, then studied the clumps of ruined vegetation
around them.
"How far is the temple?"
Abby asked.
"Just up the road."
He pointed, and she spotted the ravaged walls looming above the
trees.
Abby felt goose bumps pepper her arms as she took in the ancient
building-and the setting.
Steve had told her people stayed away from this place because it was
supposed to be cursed.
Now it looked as if an ancient prophecy of evil had been fulfilled.
In a ring around the walls, almost all of the foliage was dead or
dying.
The leaves closest to the crumbling edifice hung like dry chaff.
A little farther away, the vegetation shaded into limp ochre.
It was if the temple were the center of a giant bull's-eye done in
shades of yellow, brown and gray"Everything's dead. Or dying," Abby
whispered, taking a step back.
"Was it like that before?"
No.
"Then what's wrong now?"
Steve drew closer to her and wrapped a protective arm around her
shoulders, as if that could shield her from the evil in the temple.
"What in the name of God did Oliver store there?" she questioned
urgently.
"I don't know. But I'm getting you out of here."
Steve grabbed Abby's hand and began to pull her back down the road.
He didn't have to urge her to leave, but it was hard to move quickly.
Her legs felt rubbery, and every breath seemed to burn her lungs, as if
the atmosphere were permeated with acid.
Abby was breathing in shallow pants by the time they reached the
vehicle.
Quickly she crawled through the driver's door.
Steve followed her inside, turned the key in the ignition, and slannned
the gear lever into reverse.
Maneuvering backward up the narrow road was awkward, and it took
several minutes before they were back at the spot where they'd
entered.
Emerging into the sunlight was like coming up from the pressure of the
ocean depths.
Steve swung the Rover around and made for the house.
"Wh-where are we going?
" Abby gasped.
'First we're putting some miles between us and that place.
Maybe Oliver shot himself because he was sick and knew he wasn't going
to get well.
Or maybe the stuff back there did something to his mind.
Abby nodded tightly.
"Do you think it's chemical weapons?" t ' Maybe.
Or biological.
" He slammed his hands against the steering wheel." I wonder if he had
any idea what he was carrying.
" Suddenly he turned to Abby.
"Do you feel okay?"
She sat very still in the seat.
Her skin was covered with a fine sheen of perspiration.
Her heart was pounding.
And her breath was still ragged.
"I have a headache. A tension headache, I think. What about you.
"Nothing special."
Just a tension headache, she repeated silently.
But she couldn't dispel the nagging fear at the edge of her mind.
"How long were we there?"
"After we started seeing the dead monkeys? Maybe twenty minutes."