Cradle and All

by Rebecca York

  Finally, Shannon quieted.

  But for how long?

  Knowing the baby was the weak link in her escape plan, Abby slung the

  purse with the diapers and bottles over her shoulder.

  Then she crossed to the window and set the grill on the floor.

  She was pushing up the sash as quietly as she could when a hand on her

  shoulder made her freeze.

  Whirling, she found herself facing Mrs. Singh.

  "I knew you would do this," the older woman said.

  "I knew you would not bow to the Lion's wishes."

  "Please. Ut us go," Abby gasped.

  "I will do better than that. I will help you."

  "But you said - " "Yes. For the guard. He came up around the cern@er

  of the building while we were talking, You couldn't see him, but I knew

  he was listening."

  Abby stared at Mrs. Singh, trying to read her expression, trying to

  determine whether this was really a trick to give the guards an excuse

  to kill their prisoner.

  "They will check your bed in the night. I will be in it with the

  covers pulled up around my face. And this will be in the crib."

  She unwrapped a bundle she'd been holding.

  Stupefied, Abby found herself looking at a I ' arge baby doll dressed

  in clothes similar to the ones Shannon was wearing.

  "Go," Mrs. Singh repeated.

  "We are in a suburb of New Delhi. Go straight down the road from the

  back of the house. In four blocks you'll come to a shopping area.

  There will be cabs."

  As she spoke, she pressed a wad of bills into Abby's hand.

  "What will they do to you?"

  Abby managed.

  "Nothing. I will be back in my own bed before morning. No one will

  think that I would dare betray the Lion. It is the guard who will get

  into trouble. Singh will think he didn't check on you."

  "Why are you helping us?"

  "To ease my conscience. And because I know I have caused a good woman

  terrible grief. Now leave.

  Quickly.

  The man from the camp is having his dinner in the kitchen.

  This is the best time for you to escape.

  "I- Thank you."

  The two women looked at each other.

  Abby reached for Mrs. Singh's hand and squeezed it tightly.

  Then she shoved the money into her pocket and scrambled through the

  window.

  As soon as she was on the other side, Mrs. Singh replaced the grill.

  The bending motion jiggled Shannon, and she whimpered.

  Abby froze.

  "Please, please, honey," she murmured.

  "Please."

  She pressed the edge of her hand against her daughter's mouth, and

  Shannon began to suck.

  Abby sighed in relief.

  After her eyes had adjusted to the dark, she tiptoed across the

  courtyard and around the house to the spot where she'd found the vine

  that afternoon.

  As she eased her hand out of Shannon's mouth, she held her breath.

  But the baby remained mercifully silent.

  Grabbing the vine with both hands, Abby began to pull herself up.

  The pocketbook full of baby supplies flapped against her side, and she

  considered abandoning it.

  But that would be a dead giveaway.

  Besides, she couldn't afford any replacements at the moment.

  Hours seemed to pass as she made her slow way toward the top of the

  wall, feeling for one handhold or foothold and then another in the

  darkness.

  The farther she got from the ground, the more spindly the stalks

  grew.

  She was six or seven feet in the air when one of the branches gave way

  under her foot and she fell several inches.

  Somehow she gagged her scream.

  Somehow she found another foothold.

  Recovering with a shuddering breath, she pressed her face against the

  rough surface of the wall.

  But the sudden movement had jarred Shannon, and she, started to whimper

  again.

  Awkwardly Abby leaned into the foliage.

  Wrapping one arm around a swaying stalk, she used her other hand to

  find her daughter's mouth.

  "Honey, please," she prayed.

  "Don't give us away.

  Please.

  Below her, a door opened and she heard footsteps on the path.

  Every nerve in her body jumped, yet she kept from twisting around and

  looking down.

  Was it the guard?

  Had he heard Shannon?

  Would he look up and see them?

  She waited tensely, expecting .

  bullet to slam into her back.

  The man below her called out harshly in the darkness.

  Abby felt the air solidify in her lungs as she pressed her hand more

  firmly to Shannon's mouth, feeling her daughter's eager sucking.

  Aeons passed.

  Finally the footsteps receded, and Abby sagged limply against the

  vine.

  She wanted to scramble upward toward freedom.

  She forced herself to wait while she counted slowly to two hundred.

  , There were no sounds from below, so she began to climb again.

  At last she was at the top.

  With one more strong effort, she pulled herself onto the flat ledge.

  Every muscle in her body ached.

  She longed to rest and catch her breath, but as she looked back into

  the compound, she knew this was the time of greatest danger.

  She was exposed like a target in a shooting gallery.

  Anyone who glanced outside could see her silhouetted against the night

  sky.

  With gritted teeth, she began to lower herself to the other side.

  But the vine extended only a little way over the edge.

  Legs dangling, she pushed away from the wall, hitting the ground with a

  thud.

  Shannon shrieked in alarm, but Abby couldn't stop to comfort her

  daughter.

  Cradling the infant's head, she dashed down the alley, afraid to stop

  until she'd put most of a block between herself and her prison.

  Finally, lungs burning and muscles shrieking, she slowed to a walk and

  listened intently.

  To her profound relief, she heard no pursuing footsteps.

  IT WAS just getting dark when one of the guards came for Steve.

  Hoping his tension didn't show, he stepped briskly into the Lion's

  den.

  The wind had died down a bit.

  Would Singh gamble on a takeoff under dangerous conditions?

  Steve didn't know, but he couldn't help thinking that if they crashed,

  that might be the best thing for Abby and Shannon.

  "Well? Are you going to risk it?"

  Singh eyed him appraisingly.

  "I think we both know the weather's still too uncertain. We'll try

  first thing in the morning."

  Steve nodded, as if the timetable didn't make any difference to him.

  "I want to firm up our plans. Give me the coordinates of the

  hideout."

  "When we're in the air," Steve said easily.

  The rebel leader glared at him.

  "Tell me now."

  "If you know where you're going, you don't need me any longer."

  "And you're hoping that if I have to bring you along, you'll have a

  chance to escape."

  Singh's voice had turned dangerous.

  "No, I'm hoping that you'll be so pleased with our working relationship

  that we'll be able
to continue the association," Steve shot back,

  wondering if Singh believed him.

  But it didn't matter.

  He still held the trump card.

  The Lion had to play this game by his rules.

  "By the way, I wouldn't advise going in there by helicopter, if that's

  what you're planning," he continued.

  "Why not?"

  "Gibbs didn't use them, so you would be too conspicuous. Your birds

  don't have enough cargo space, anyway."

  "What would you suggest?"

  "Transferring to a plane."

  "Transferring will waste time," Singh shot back. "I'm giving you my

  best advice," Steve said impassively.

  After a thirty-second silence, Singh agreed.

  "At least tell me which airstrip to contact so I can have this plane

  ready. And give me an idea of the range."

  "Fair enough."

  Steve studied a map and pointed to a location.

  "Gibbs's hideout isn't more than two hours from here. But it's not

  marked on any charts, so you won't find it on your own. Even if you

  could, the cargo isn't in a warehouse."

  "All right. You've made your point."

  Steve stood and stretched.

  "Good. If you don't need me any longer tonight, I'd like to get some

  sleep."

  He turned and strode from the tent, knowing he'd bought himself -and

  Abby-an extra seven or eight hours.

  THE safe THING for Abby would have been to take refuge at the American

  consulate.

  Only that would have meant too many explanations-and too many delays.

  So she headed for the only place she knew in the city, the hotel where

  she'd met Steve after she'd flown out from Baltimore.

  Was that only ten days ago?

  It might have been a lifetime.

  She quickly got a room, explaining she'd lost her purse and referring

  the clerk to the credit card impression she'd used the first time.

  Then she asked the international operator to phone Jason.

  His answering machine said all messages were being taken at another

  number.

  Her number.

  Puzzled, she called her own house.

  To her surprise, Erin Morgan answered.

  "Abby, thank God. The last we knew, your plane went down. Where are

  you?"

  "At the hotel where I met Steve last week."

  "Did you get the baby?"

  Erin's voice was tense.

  "Yes."

  "Thank God," her friend repeated.

  "But Steve is still in the rebel camp, and I need to talk to Jason."

  "Oh, no! Abby, I'm sorry. Jason's not here."

  Her hopes plummeted.

  Since she'd started working out escape plans, she'd been counting on

  Jason to help her save Steve.

  "He and Noel left for India right after Steve called from Hong Kong."

  "Here? They came here?"

  Her emotions took another wild swing.

  "How ... how do I get in touch with them?"

  "Jason left a number. It's for a Dr. Sunduram."

  Somehow that was too much.

  Abby collapsed backward into her chair.

  "What happened? Is everything all right?"

  Erin questioned urgently.

  "I'm fine. And Shannon's fine."

  Abby tried to continue, but her voice broke.

  "I need Jason to help me rescue Steve," she finally managed.

  " Let me get off so I can call Dr. Sunduram."

  "Yes.

  And, Abby, good luck.

  'Thanks.

  However, the doctor's number was busy.

  And it stayed busy for the next twenty minutes.

  In between calls, Abby sat rigidly on the bed, feeling like a pressure

  cooker that was about to explode.

  Finally, in frustration, she phoned the lobby.

  "I need a cab to take me to a village a couple of hundred miles from

  here," she told the clerk at the desk.

  "Tonight?"

  "Yes."

  "I'm sorry. I don't know if that can be arranged."

  "Tell the driver I'm willing to pay a great deal, of money for the

  service."

  "Yes, miss. I think we can help You, miss."

  Abby hung up and shuffled through the bills she still had left.

  It wouldn't be enough to pay an ordinary gab fare.

  Jason would just have to take care of it when she arrived at Dr.

  Sunduram's.

  If he was really there.

  IT WAS FOUR in the morning when Abby stumbled up to Raj Sunduram's

  house, a sleeping Shannon in her arms.

  The door opened on her second knock.

  Noel Zacharias answered.

  For a second she looked at Abby in disbelief.

  Then she held out her arms.

  "Abby! Oh, Abby. Thank God. You've got Shannon! When your plane

  went down, we didn't know if you were alive or dead."

  She looked expectantly over Abby's shoulder.

  "Where's Steve?"

  Still with the rebels.

  "Oh, Abby-" "I need to talk to Jason," she interrupted.

  "He's in town. Rai got a call about Oliver's body this evening, and

  they went to the medical examiner's office-or whatever it's called

  around here. I can't understand why they haven't come back."

  "I've got to tell him " After you are paying your cab fare, missus.

  The gruff voice of the driver made Abby straighten.

  "Noel, do you have any money?"

  "You mean, rupees? Not much."

  The driver grabbed Abby's arm.

  "I am taking you all the way out here in the middle of the night.

  You are paying or I call the police! " Abby tried to wrench away.

  "I'm not trying to cheat you. You'll get your money."

  "Will you take dollars?"

  Noel asked.

  "How many dollars?"

  THE Co GENT from the rebel camp took off before first light, heading

  north by northwest to the airstrip Steve had dmignated the night

  before.

  There they changed to a fifteen-passenger plane.

  Singh took the controls and Steve sat in the copilot's seat.

  Three armed guards were the only passengers.

  The rest of the seats were folded out of the way to make a cargo bay.

  Not until they'd been flying for twenty minutes did he give the rebel

  leader the coordinates for Gibbs's landing strip.

  "I know the area. I should have looked there," Singh growled.

  ' -'You could look from now till Gurfi Niinak's birthday.

  I told you the cargo's not in a warehouse.

  I hope you're up for a trek into the jungle.

  "Where in the jungle?

  "We'll discuss that when we get there."

  Singh gave him a dark look before turning his attention to the controls

  .

  Steve leaned back and tried to relax.

  There was nothing he could do for the moment.

  But he couldn't stop worrying about Abby and Shannon.

  "NOEL, l,vE @ to understand what's going on - How long have you been

  here? And why did you and Jason come?"

  Abby asked urgently.

  "Steve asked Jason to decontaminate the shipment.

  We've been here a little more than forty-eight hours.

  The air rushed out of Abby's lungs.