Dangerous to Hold (17 page)

“Perhaps you should.”

He buttoned his coat and lifted his broad shoulders once or twice to settle the linen smoothly over the holster. With the simple action, he seemed to assumed a different persona. Harder, more precise, more authoritarian.

“Tell me what you learned from the woman you were speaking with.”

Maggie arched a brow.

He caught her look and moderated both his voice and his stance. “I know my country's interior. I was raised in the mountains. Perhaps I can recognize some hint of where she went to visit this friend of hers, identify some feature.”

Knowing that someone could pound on the rest room door at any moment, Maggie ran through every detail quickly, precisely.

“Are you sure she said this
patrón
's hacienda was only fifteen minutes by helicopter?”

“I'm sure. Does that help?”

“It would help more if I knew the exact airspeed and wind direction at the time of the flight,” he answered with a grin, “but it narrows the search area considerably.”

“Perhaps we can narrow it even more. There are three major roads leading out of Cartoza City into the interior. My source—Juana's sister-in-law's cousin, you understand—says the road heading north is the shortest way to get chemicals such as hydrochloric acid and ether to their destination.”

Surprise etched his aristocratic features. “You have been busy, haven't you?”

“It's my job.”

“You do it well, Chameleon.”

“Thanks,” Maggie said, tipping two fingers to her brow. “Glad to be of service, Colonel. Now, if there's nothing else, we'd better free up this room before someone wonders just exactly what's going on in here.”

He gave a leer that was only half feigned. “They won't wonder.”

Maggie tossed a smile over her shoulder and opened the door. She winced as fresh waves of music assaulted her ears. She hadn't taken two steps before the colonel grabbed her arm and hauled her back. Maggie found herself wedged between the hard concrete wall and a body that was every bit as unyielding.

“Do not fight me,” he ordered swiftly, then covered her mouth with his.

In the curious way the human brain has, Maggie's processed a half-dozen sensory perceptions all at once. She felt his belt buckle press against her stomach. She tasted the golden hint of rum on his breath. She saw his dark head slant to take her mouth more fully. And she heard the faint thud of footsteps passing.

“Who was that?” Maggie whispered against his mouth when she could breathe again. Barely.

“I don't know,” he murmured, brushing his lips across hers.

“But…why…this?”

“Because…I've been wanting…‘this'…since the first moment I saw you.”

He muffled her indignant little huff with another kiss, feather-light this time, but just as devastating as the first. From the tensile strength of the body pressed against hers, Maggie knew that she wouldn't take him down as easily as she had before. Assuming she wanted to. She was still debating the issue when he raised his head and smiled down at her.

“Until tomorrow.”

“Until tomorrow.”

Breathless, she watched him make his leisurely way through the crowd in the club. Several of the patrons sent curious looks at Maggie, still lounging against the door jamb. She sighed. She wouldn't get much out of them now, not after they'd seen her in the arms of Cartoza's chief of security.

She sauntered toward the end of the crowded bar, waiting for the right moment to melt into the shadows and slip out the door. She flicked a quick glance up at the clock embedded in neon palm trees above the bar. Not even eight o'clock. She thought of the convent bell and shuddered. This could turn out to be another long night.

 

In fact, it turned out to be far shorter than Maggie anticipated. She was only halfway back to the convent house when
a discreet ping signaled an incoming transmission. She ducked into a nearby alley and whipped the transceiver out of her side pocket.

“Hold on, Chameleon. Jaguar's on the line.”

Maggie's fingers curled around the tiny instrument.

“I've only got a few seconds.” Jake's disembodied whisper vibrated with tension. “We've been on the march most of the day. Che hasn't let me out of his sight until now. He won't say where we're going, only that the drop has been moved up to tonight. Sarah and the children are with us, and a woman named Eleanora, who will be extracted, as well.”

Great, Maggie thought. Just great. Two women. Three kids. Unknown location. Unspecified time. Uncertain size of opposition. She reassessed the size of her team and of the strike team that Jake would call in at the drop site. If he made it to the drop site.

“I've got the GPS unit on,” Jake continued, low and fast, referring to the Global Positioning Satellite compass built into his digital watch. The GPS could pinpoint a location anywhere in the world to within a few square meters, as the tank commanders who used it in the vast, featureless deserts of Iraq during Desert Storm had discovered. With GPS, Maggie would be able to track Jake's exact location, and try to anticipate where he was heading.

“Be ready to come in on my call. I'll give you more detail when I can. Out.”

Five minutes later, Maggie gave a heartfelt prayer of thanks and shed her scratchy habit for the last time. Pulling a pair of dark slacks and a black cotton turtleneck from the small cardboard suitcase she'd carried into the country, she dressed hurriedly and slipped out the convent gates for the last time. She climbed into the Jeep she'd had Cowboy summon via his channels and sped through the night to the army's heavily guarded airfield outside town.

Despite the black-and-green camouflage paint on his face and the stark, utilitarian fatigues that had replaced his white
linen suit, Maggie recognized the tall man who strode forward to meet her immediately.

“You look much different,” he said, eyeing her scrubbed face and tumbled hair.

“So do you, big guy. Have you got the gear I requested?”

“It's all here.”

“Then let's go.”

“A
re you all right?”

Jake pointed the powerful beam of the flashlight at the ground, but enough peripheral light filtered upward to illuminate Sarah's pale, strained face.

“I'm all right,” she answered stiffly, leaning her shoulders against the withers of the patient packhorse that carried the two smaller children. Eduard stood beside her, silent and watchful. Eleanora's solid figure loomed in the darkness just behind them.

Jake bit back a curse, wishing he could offer the little group some words of encouragement, but Che and the woman he shared the revolution and his bed with weren't three yards away. One or the other of them had been at Sarah's side throughout the long, exhausting day. The woman had even gone with Sarah and Eleanora into the bushes the few times the rebel leader allowed a stop so that they could rest and attend to personal needs.

Jake himself had been under close watch, as well. He'd
managed to take a few unguarded moments to send his hurried transmission to Maggie an hour ago, but not much else.

The children, however, were not watched quite as closely. Eduard had varied his pace, sometimes walking silently beside Jake, sometimes falling back to lay a reassuring hand on the bewildered Ricci's stubby leg. Occasionally he'd marched beside Sarah. Using the boy as an intermediary, Jake had made what plans he could with her. This would be their last stop, he guessed. It was time to implement those plans.

Under the watchful eyes of the leader, Jake studied Sarah's face. “You don't look all right. You look like something the jungle scavengers would pass by.”

Her chin lifted. “Thanks. That's just what I needed to hear right now.”

He gave an exasperated grunt. “Look, I've put my neck on the line for you about as long as I intend to. I don't have the time or the energy to deal with a fainting female. You've got to keep up.”

“I'll keep up.”

Jake flashed the powerful beam into her face, causing Sarah to flinch back against the horse and throw up an arm to shield her eyes. He swung the beam down again, shaking his head in disgust.

“Drink some water, dammit. From the look of your face, you're half a step away from dehydration.”

“I don't have any. I gave it all to the children.”

“Christ!”

He unhooked the canteen that hung from his web belt and shoved it at her. Jake heard Teresa's little sob of fright at the roughness in his voice and hardened his heart.

“Here,” he snarled. “Take it.”

Sarah's fingers trembled as she took the canteen and fumbled with the cap.

“You just unscrew it,” Jake said caustically. “Two turns to the left. Think you can manage that?”

She flashed him a look of scorn that was visible even in the dim light. “I can manage it.”

Deliberately she wiped the mouth of the canteen with a corner of her sleeve. The folds of the dark habit fell over her fingers and covered the small, flat box that Jake had passed her with the canteen.

As he watched Sarah tilt her head and drink greedily, Jake felt a sharp, lancing pride in her courage. He'd shared some desperate moments with a wide spectrum of people in his lifetime. Some of them had crumpled under the stress of fear and imminent death, but many had found resources within themselves they didn't know they possessed to challenge it with. Sarah definitely fell into the latter category. He wanted, he
needed
to tell her so.

Jake pulled off his floppy hat and raked a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “Look, I'm sorry I snapped at you. I'm a little uptight knowing I'll finally be able to get my business done and get out of this steam bath.”

She wiped the canteen's mouth once more and passed it to the children, saying nothing.

“You've done okay, Sister,” Jake offered, putting his hat on again. “In fact, I know of only one other woman who would've stood up as well as you have. Maybe you'll get a chance to know her someday.”

Oh, she would, Sarah thought with a tight, inner smile. She would definitely get to know this partner/contact/special friend of Jack's. In fact, that was one of her top priorities after they got out of this nightmare. She wanted to check this woman out and make sure she understood that Jack had some new priorities in his life now. Sarah had already begun planning her campaign to smooth out those rough edges he'd mentioned. And she was a master at laying out campaign plans. She'd spent half her life helping her father in his bids for reelection. Jack didn't know it yet, but he was going to have to make a few major career decisions in the very near future.

If there was a future.

Sarah managed a shaky smile. “Maybe I will. Get to know her, I mean.”

“We'll see what we can work out.” He sent her a look of
silent command. “Just do as I tell you, and we'll both get through the next few hours.”

“Enough of this.” Che stepped out of the darkness. “We must move.”

Jake wrenched his attention away from Sarah. Turning slowly, he faced the rebel leader. “Isn't it about time you tell me just where the hell we're moving to?”

“You will collect your fee by the time the night is over. That's all you need to know.”

“Wrong. The last time I went to a drop with your trigger-happy little band, the site was almost overrun with
federales.
What guarantees do I have that I'm not walking into the same kind of situation tonight?”

“This site is well protected.”

“Yeah? Who says?”

“The
patrón.
” Che gave a thin smile when he saw Jake's narrowed eyes. “We go to his headquarters, you see. Your countryman, the one who brings the missiles, is as anxious as you to collect his money. There is an airstrip at the hacienda he will use to off-load, and then perhaps take on a different cargo.”

Jake's mind whirled with the implications. Instead of an isolated airstrip hacked out of the jungle, they were heading for one that would be well defended. He had to get word to Maggie. There was no way he was going to let Sarah walk into what he knew would be a self-contained fortress.

“Come,” the rebel leader said impatiently. “It's not far now.”

Jake lifted his weapon, his eyes on Sarah.

Her gaze flickered to Che, and then to Jake's face. “I'm glad we're almost there,” she said calmly. “I'm ready for this to be over.”

Jake smiled at her. “So am I, Sister Sarah, so am I.”

His hungry gaze raked her face once more, and then he laid a casual hand on Eduard's thin shoulder. “Come on, kid. Let's get this show on the road.”

 

Maggie had experienced some real thrills in her life, even before joining OMEGA. One of her earliest memories was of sneaking away from her mother to watch her father's crew bring in a well. She'd been standing only a few feet away from the rig when the earth began to rumble and black liquid leaped into the air. She'd clapped her hands in delight. Her father had shouted something she learned the meaning of only years later and dashed across the burning desert sands to snatch her up. Afterward he'd shown her how she could've been weighted down and drowned by the viscous liquid, but at the time she'd thought it was a great adventure.

As adventures went, however, skimming along at ninety knots a mere twenty-five feet above the impenetrable jungle canopy had that little escapade beat hands down. The pilot had explained that they'd fly a contour pattern until they reached the target area, then drop down to nap of the earth. From that point on, they'd slink in at a death-defying five to ten knots, with their skids brushing the top of the trees, leaving just enough clearance above the branches for the rotor blades. Their only safety systems would be their night-vision goggles and the pilot's skill. Maggie tried not to think about nap of the earth. This contour stuff was bad enough.

Lifting off her goggles for a moment, she wiped the perspiration from around her eyes. She stole a glance at the figure beside her. If Colonel Esteban was nervous about dodging around treetops in the black of night at ninety knots, he sure didn't show it. He flashed her a smile that won an answering grin and a thumbs-up from Maggie.

She settled the goggles over her eyes again and peered out the helicopter's side hatch into the hazy green sea below. The magnification of the lenses was so powerful that the copilot had bragged he could read a name tag on a soldier's chest. At night. From the air. Maggie didn't want to read any name tags. She just wanted some sight, some signal from Jaguar.

He was down there, only a few minutes' flight time away. The copilot was tracking his coordinates and relaying position updates to Maggie. In between his reports, an air surveillance
officer in the Big Bird aircraft orbiting high above the Caribbean was providing regular updates on the approaching suspect smuggler. He was a half hour out and closing fast. The strike team that would take him down was on his tail, also sending Maggie periodic updates via a secure ultra-high-frequency data link.

Cowboy was tracking everything at the control center, as well. Maggie knew she could call him for confirmation if she missed anything, but she doubted she would. Things happened too fast, decisions would have to be made in split seconds. She'd have to coordinate the two prongs of this operation with the information she processed in her own, internal computers.

It would sure help matters, though, if Jake would let her know just how he planned to deploy his little ground cadre when he reached his destination.

She got her wish some ten minutes later.

Maggie jerked upright in her web seat as a thin, frightened voice came over the secure voice link. The first words were so garbled she didn't catch them.

“Retransmit your ID,” she rapped out. “Over.”

“Is there anyone there?”

“Repeat your last transmission. Over.”

“Can anyone hear me? Please,” the frightened voice sobbed. “Please, someone hear me.”

Maggie groaned into the mike. It was one of Jake's kids. He was pushing the transmit button, but either didn't know or had forgotten to release it so that he could receive.

“If you are there, please listen. I have not much time. My friend, Señor Creighton, he talks with the one called Che while I am in the jungle.”

Señor Creighton? Maggie shook her head. It had to be Jake. Only he could set the transceiver to this frequency. Her mouth went dry as she thought of the courage it must have taken for this child to slip into the dark, impenetrable jungle on his own.

“He says to tell you we go to the hacienda of the
patrón,
” the boy whispered. “It is not far, he thinks.”

Maggie's heart jumped into her throat. Jake and company were on their way to the drug lord's hideaway!

Their operation didn't have just two prongs. It now had three, all of which were about to slam together with the force of three freight trains colliding. The extraction of the senator's daughter. The takedown of the middleman, the link to the United States that the president wanted to sever. And the elimination of the big man, the one who supplied the money. If Maggie had been any less of a professional, she would've shouted her excitement. Instead, she listened intently while the boy stumbled on.

“Señor Creighton says to tell you we will separate when we arrive there. Sarita…the woman Sarah…she has the st…str…”

The strobe! She had the strobe, Maggie thought exultantly. Smaller and flatter than a cigarette package, the strobe packed enough power to fire a pulsing halogen light that could be seen for miles.

“She use this light to signal our location. Señor Creighton will create a noise…”

A diversion, Maggie interpreted.

“He has red pins to tell you where he is.”

What he had were .38 caliber pin-gun flares, no bigger than a cigarette. One twist of the spring mechanism and they shot out a flare that would light up the target area like a string of high-powered Christmas lights.

“I must go. Please, please, you must help us.”

A faint, flat hum came over the earphones.

Wetting her lips, Maggie turned to the man beside her. “Did you hear?”

“Every word.” Excitement threaded the colonel's smooth voice. He spread an aerial map across his lap and drew a rough vector with a grease pencil borrowed from the copilot. “This is where your Jaguar is now, according to the GPS signals. And this is the location of a plantation house owned by one of Cartoza's most influential businessmen, an exporter of tropical fruit.”

He pointed to a wide, flat valley surrounded on all sides by steep hills. Maggie saw at once the thin, straggling line that led from the plantation to the capital city. A road. A road that would transport produce out. And bring chemicals in.

“Maybe this businessman grows more than fruit.”

Esteban's white teeth gleamed as his mustache lifted in a slow, dangerous smile. “I think perhaps he does. I sent a man in undercover to infiltrate his operation a few weeks ago, but he met with an unfortunate accident. It will give me great pleasure to take this
bastardo
down. I thank you for this one.”

Maggie grinned. “Anytime, Colonel.”

“So, my Chameleon, we will direct the strike team to the plantation and have them waiting when our friends arrive, will we not?”

Maggie's grin faded. This was the crucial moment. The irrevocable decision point that came in almost every operation. Normally the field agent made the call about when and where to direct the strike team, regardless of whether that consisted of a single sharpshooter, a civilian SWAT team, or, as in this case, a combined military and civilian force from two nations.

Jake had passed every scrap of information he had to Maggie, which was all he could do at this point. The decision was now hers.

She nodded to Esteban. “Send them to the plantation.”

 

Sarah knew they were only minutes away from their destination. She sensed it by the ripple of preparation in the men strung out ahead and behind her. By the low murmurs and coarse jokes they exchanged. By the sharp admonishment Eleanora's “husband” gave her to move her carcass.