“Poisoned.”
Concern and alarm invaded the man’s eyes. “Bad mojo.”
Jake snorted, checking his gun and other ammunition strapped to his body. “So I’ve been told.” A sweet scent drifted in their direction; it smelled musky with a tinge of sandalwood.
“The medicine men are calming her spirit. They will burn away what they can. Their powders are potent, pulled from some of the most poisonous frogs in the world. If nothing else, it’ll give her the rest her body needs to fight the poison.”
Gazing at Sunday, Jake decided not to contradict the man. “Let’s go.”
Jake and Sunday moved to the banks of the Niger River. Stepping over the claw-like roots of the mangroves, the two men climbed aboard the rubber boat Jake had pulled onshore upon his and Cassidy’s return from the cave.
Sunday sat in front navigating as they silently paddled through the murky water. He refused to use the motor. Kill-and-Go swarmed this zone like flies on cow dung. The jungle flanked both sides and vibrated with the power of the drums as they resumed their steady beat. Thick foliage ruffled in the breeze, bringing with it the mixed scent of burning fires and dank composted earth. Jake said a silent prayer for Cassidy and focused his energy on the task before him.
Now this is worth killing for.
CHAPTER 40
TERRIFIED SCREAMS FILLED THE AIR AS SUNDAY’S MEN SPREAD across the jungle, killing all in their path. Sunday glanced over his shoulder, and Jake nodded in understanding. The Ijwo were performing as promised, eliminating the Kill-and-Go squads and protecting those to the north.
“How much farther?” Jake’s voice was barely a whisper on the breeze.
Sunday studied the coastline and responded in the same hushed tone. “We’ve passed into the western coastal plain. The beach and barrier islands are straight ahead.”
They slipped from the relatively calm current of the river into the turbulent surf of the Gulf of Guinea. The skyline flared with the preternatural light of hundreds of gas flares. Jake’s vision adjusted to the sudden glare, and he leaned forward tapping Sunday on the shoulder. “That’s it. That freighter up ahead. Can you swim back from here?”
Sunday nodded and silently slipped overboard, leaving Jake alone to paddle across the choppy water. Sulfur and methane poisoned the air. He unwrapped a bandana from his arm and tied it across his nose. After several excruciating minutes, the rubber inflatable brushed against the side of the hull of the mammoth ship and Jake moved quietly and efficiently to secure the attachment lines.
Waves smacked the hull with a rhythmic slap that ratcheted up his anxiety. Like the hands of a clock, ticking Cassidy’s time away. He grabbed the anchor rope and shimmied up to the first deck.
Jake crept along the bow of the ship, keeping low. He frowned at the ghostly feel of his surroundings. For a freighter this large there should be men everywhere. Heading down a center corridor, he picked up the bitter scent of burning coffee. Fluorescent lights were dark upon the ceiling, leaving only the dull amber glow of generator-operated bulbs.
According to the map Cassidy had prepared for him, the conference room, offices, and sleeping quarters all originated in one sector. He twisted the handle on the door she’d indicated was Robert Cole’s office.
Empty, except for an odd shadow cast upon the carpet.
Jake pushed the door open a bit farther, placing his back against the jamb and sliding through the gap gun first. Silence.
He followed the black silhouette back to its source. A body lay sprawled before a mammoth desk, arms splayed to the side. Fluorescent light filtered from outside, flickering against an all too familiar tattoo. Michelle. Dark spots splattered across the rug, and a puddle of blood seeped into the fabric. He cautiously stepped around the wet material. Kneeling down, Jake felt the pulse at Michelle’s neck. Remorse didn’t register a one on his emotional scale. In fact, if she’d been alive he’d probably have killed her himself for poisoning Cassidy. He patted her down but found no items of worth or clues to the whereabouts of the virus.
Jake stepped back and silently exited the office.
He proceeded forward and checked the conference room and then the small cafeteria.
Empty.
His stomach tightened, and his gut screamed loudly. This wasn’t right. He frowned and moved toward a door that filtered a small sliver of light into the corridor.
Jake tested the knob. It was locked. He pulled out his Army knife and picked the lock. Jake opened the door slowly, aiming his gun at the interior of the room.
A man sat in the center slumped over the edge the counter. His hands and feet hung loosely, and his head rested at an odd angle. Jake moved cautiously. He reached forward and checked his pulse. Dead. The head flopped back, and Jake noticed the outline of a bullet hole in the man’s temple. Glancing at the rounded figure and manicured hands, Jake guessed he faced Edward Fiske. A quick glance at the laboratory surrounding him and a pad of scribbled notes with the scientist’s signature confirmed his supposition.
Stepping back, Jake noticed a metallic briefcase on the counter. He flipped it open and counted a dozen vials marked CPV-19 and a dozen more marked antidote. “Bingo.” Jake spun on his heels and exited the small room.
Nick strode through the door of Robert’s office with his gun drawn and eyes wary. His boss glanced up and then stared at the drawn gun. “You sure he’s onboard?”
Nick nodded his head once. “Cameras caught him.”
He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Set the charges.”
“It seems a waste to blow this place up.”
Robert stepped around the desk, carrying a suede satchel. “You filmed Michelle shooting Fiske?”
“Fuckin’ A. A bit twisted, that one. Shot herself up with the antidote, then put a gun to the doc’s head, kissed his mouth, and blew the fucker away.” Nick shrugged. “Too bad you offed her.”
“I don’t need her anymore.”
Nick nodded, quietly opposed to the death of Michelle. She’d proven to be a wealth of information, coercing Drew Sharpe to their side and wiping the blood off their money by washing away NWP’s connection with the Nigerian government.
Cole sighed. “She failed to find me the geological survey. It was my only course of action. ZEBRA will be blamed. It’ll be an international incident that will close their doors for good. The survey will be buried.”
Nick tightened his mouth. “I’ve hooked up the live feed video.”
“Excellent. In the lab?”
“Yes.”
Robert headed toward the door. “The feed has been programmed to my computer in Port Harcourt. You sure your man can alter the image?”
“To show Anderson setting the charges and placing the virus onboard instead of stealing it?”
“Exactly.”
Nick followed Robert out the door. The two men walked down a thin corridor and began climbing steep metal stairs. “Yes. He’ll do that.”
They reached the top, a blast of ocean air tossing Robert’s neatly combed hair into a frenzy. “Superb. That’s all the evidence I’ll need to incriminate ZEBRA.”
Nick paused and surveyed the near empty ship. There were a few workers ambling about, but nothing more than a skeleton crew. Collateral damage.
Robert broke the silence. “What are we waiting for?”
Nick grinned. “I’ll start the fireworks.”
Jake pressed his back against the wall of the corridor; he could feel the rivets of the soldered metal through his shirt. The cool metal of the briefcase was a comfort in his hand, his fingers gripping it in a solid hold. He placed one foot in front of the other, his ears tuned to any noise that would signal the approach of his enemy. His gun faced forward, ready to slay anyone that attempted stopping his escape.
A muffled boom echoed up one of the stairwells. Jake tensed and cocked his head, listening for the source of the noise. A dark cloud of smoke flooded the stairs ahead, and panicked screams echoed from
below. Jake slipped quickly down the corridor, pausing at the stairwell. Another explosion ripped the silence, this time followed by several smaller detonations. What the hell? The ship listed, tossing Jake backward and slamming his shoulder against the edge of the wall. A concert of groans and creeks from strained metal filled the corridor.
The barge was breaking apart.
Running as fast as the lurching craft would allow, Jake navigated farther down the hall and toward the exterior deck. More booms interspersed with bright flashes of light cascaded across the ship. The heat of fire reached his face. Skidding on his heels as the ship dipped and dove in the opposite direction, he exited into the night at mid-ship.
Swinging his head from fore to aft, Jake saw nothing but pandemonium. Whatever crew had been hiding when he arrived was now yelling for help and racing for safety. Men streamed from the belly of the metal beast, swarming in panicked circles around lifeboats. Others, dressed in khaki security uniforms, fired their weapons into the air in an effort to gain control. Bursts of orange flame blasted from portholes and stairwells as the lower levels of the barge began to disintegrate and take on water.
Another explosion and the ground dropped from beneath Jake’s feet. He hit a lower deck, rolled to his right, and jumped up. Jake clutched the suitcase, ducked his head, and ran toward the railing. He choked and covered his mouth as he passed a fiery hallway. Blinded by the smoke, Jake reached his gun hand forward and searched for the metal railing. His arm connected with something solid and he blinked, momentarily confused by the block in his path.
A fist connected with his jaw and his neck snapped back, sending bright flashes of white before his eyes. He stumbled but kept his hold on the briefcase. Jake dropped beneath the line of smoke and crouched, gazing through the haze at his attacker. The other man coughed and moved forward, his arms out and ready to seize Jake by the throat.
Blinking and shaking his head, Jake angled away and crawled to a non-smoke-infested area. The sound of heavy footsteps and muttered curses alerted Jake to the fact that he was being followed. He turned, his gun held steady and aimed directly at his pursuer.
A heavyset man with a jagged scar across his face broke free from the black smoke. Jake recognized him immediately. He lifted his arm and pointed the muzzle of his Glock at Nick Fowler’s face and fired. The ship lurched to the side and cast his bullet astray.
The man sneered at him and lunged.
Jake made a wide arc and circled around the man. Nick shook his head and pointed at Jake, laughing maniacally. “You didn’t really think we’d allow you to take those, did you? So long, mother fucker.”
A gun discharged and Jake felt his shoulder rip open, numbing everything from his upper arm to his hand. He cursed, releasing the suitcase. Jake spun around in the direction of this new shooter and aimed the Glock, ripping rapid fire and slicing through the man until he collapsed in a heap of blood and shattered bone. Jake flattened himself on the ground, reaching for the metal case containing the CPV-19 and antidote.
Nick kicked it away, walked forward, and ground his foot into the open and bleeding wound on Jake’s arm. Howling in pain, Jake snapped his legs in a scissor kick, pushed off the deck using his back and leg muscles, and faced Fowler.
Jake attacked the NWP employee, ignoring the blood that coursed down his arm and the numbing pain that made his movements sluggish and off kilter. Nick Fowler played dirty; he didn’t want to encourage a brawl but fed off Jake’s weakness. He continued to attack Jake’s wounded side, taking advantage of the injury.
Jake fell to his knees, heaving in much-needed air. The throbbing in his shoulder made his head dizzy and stomach nauseated. “Cassidy.” His throat burned as he said her name. But it helped, filling him with energy. Jake staggered to his feet. But Fowler was quick and unhindered by a wounded arm. He slammed his fist into Jake’s face, then shoved him against the railing. Jake’s back bent over the metal pipes; he balanced precariously on the edge of tipping over and dropping to his death.
Another large explosion sent decks tilting and shattered metal flying. Jake steadied himself, gripping the iron railing as his feet slid from under him. Blood poured from his arm, making his hands slick and sticky. He shook his head clear and focused on the NWP man. He’d backed off and was flashing Jake a cocky grin. Waving the briefcase in the air, he turned away, his laughter ringing loud above the chaos of the sinking barge.
Jake tore a strip of cotton from his shirt and wrapped it tightly around his gunshot wound. He gathered his strength and centered his mind. In the distance, Nick ran toward a set of stairs leading up a level. The whirring of helicopter blades drew Jake’s attention. A helicopter sat on a helipad several stories up.
He swore and raced after Fowler.
Hot wind blasted his face from fires burning in all directions. Acrid smoke blinded him and made breathing difficult. Jake ignored the biting pain of his bullet wound and stumbled up the stairs after Nick Fowler. He crested the top of the platform and burst toward the helicopter, pumping as much energy into his legs as possible.
The blades of the chopper whipped the salty sea air into a frenzy; it burned and stung like a million bees against Jake’s exposed skin. He pushed against the wind, raising his arm and shielding his face from the cutting air.
Nick climbed onboard and took the controls, lifting the craft upward. Jake stared in frustration as Robert Cole leaned over the edge, flipping him the finger. Cassidy’s life was flying away, and that wasn’t in the deck of cards Jake knew belonged to him. He dashed to the center of the helipad and snagged a length of coiled rope, tying one end into a lasso. Twirling it above his head, he snaked the end over a running board and held tight as the helicopter banked to the left and dragged his body above the burning wreckage of the ship.
His shoulder and entire left arm screamed with pain, but sea-green eyes kept Jake focused. Hand over hand, he battled the swaying rope and ascended toward the running board of the helicopter. Bullets flew past his head as Robert Cole stretched beyond the open door, firing line after line of deadly metal in his direction. The movement of the chopper aided Jake by swinging the rope in a pendulum motion, but it made climbing upward feel impossible.
Beyond the desire to pummel the NWP men into smithereens, the life of his woman spurred Jake to push past his body’s limitations. His palms were slick with sweat and blood, and he cursed as his hands slipped and he lost a precious few feet. Wrapping his legs tighter around the rope, Jake once more gripped the bristled, twisted hemp and pulled himself upward.
Hand over hand.
His vision blurred as salty wind whipped against his face. Taking advantage of Nick’s attempt to shake him by sending the chopper into zigzagged turns, he forced the rope into a wide arc. Lifting his legs before him, Jake swung onto the foot of the helicopter, temporarily blocked from Robert’s bullets. He shimmied beneath the open doorway, where Nick Fowler sat behind the controls of the helicopter.
Jake inhaled deeply, focused his mind, and rolled himself around, pulling up and planting his feet firmly on the thin running board. His stomach was a knot of pain, but he fought past it and concentrated on the metal case and its contents. He winked when Nick glanced over at him, shock blanching his enemy’s cheeks stark white. Jake didn’t hesitate; he hammered his fist into the asshole’s face, sending him into oblivion. He followed with a swift jab to Fowler’s neck to ensure the man’s incapacity and then reached and yanked his seat belt loose.
He bit back the burning pain of his shoulder and used his left arm to steady himself as the helicopter dove toward the black water. Jake focused on the controls and tugged on Fowler’s arm, dragging him halfway out of his seat. Swearing beneath his breath, he inhaled and anchored himself more strongly with his wounded arm.
Jake gripped Fowler’s shirt and yanked him fully out of his seat. The man’s unconscious body was deadweight, but Robert’s screams and movement in the back of the chopper sent a rush of adrenaline and Jake pulled with every ounce of his
energy. Nick Fowler sprang from the cockpit and flew into the air, falling gracefully through the night sky and landing with a resounding thud on one of the oil barges below. The reverberation on the metal deck ricocheted upward, and Jake smiled with satisfaction.
“One down. One to go.” Jake’s nostrils flared wide as he inhaled much-needed oxygen. “Hold on, Sunshine, I’m almost there.”
Jake dove behind the controls of the helicopter, pulling back on the stick and bringing them upward. Feeling the weight of Robert’s hand on his neck, he ducked, jabbing his elbow back and connecting with the man’s stomach. Robert struggled forward, but Jake had already had enough. He lodged his knee to hold the rudder steady and turned to face his enemy.
“You son of a bitch.” Jake lifted his chin and challenged Robert. “Come here.” He motioned his enemy forward with his hand. A wide gash split the corner of the man’s temple and blood pumped down his face in a swath of red. “Did you hurt yourself, old man?”
“Fuck you.” Robert wiped the back of his hand against the crimson river trickling into his eyes. “You’ll never win.”
Jake narrowed his eyes, centered his line of sight, and smashed his fist into the bridge of Robert’s nose, breaking it instantly. The man’s head snapped back; then he fell forward against Jake, his hands scrambling to reach the helicopter controls. Jake shoved him back, but the loss of blood to his left arm made it a halfhearted attempt.
He shifted his stance, transferring his weight to the right, and swung his fist upward toward Robert’s chin. The man chopped at his wounded shoulder, sending fireworks across Jake’s line of vision. The NWP president ducked and smacked his elbow against the rudder. “Son of a bitch,” Jake swore, shoving Robert backwards, battling now not only the man but also gravity as the helicopter went into a tailspin.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jake saw the silver briefcase slip toward the door. He lunged over the seat and rolled to his feet, grabbing its handle and bringing it up with a hard left swing, clipping Robert in the side of the head.
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