Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

A t the cry of a masked mountain tanager, David jerked awake. Lifting his head off the pile of sandbags, he watched the iridescent blue bird sail across the open camp.

What a night! Since being roused first by Gallo’s mischief, David had scarcely slept. He’d worried about the welfare of his friends. Later, he had panicked at the sound of explosions. His first guess was the JUNGLA were attacking, prompting him to relieve Chucho of the .50-caliber machine gun. After all, with Gallo away, David was the one in charge of the entire camp’s defense.

When Ixta and Maife had come running out of the pitch-black forest, it had seemed like a miracle. They’d rushed up to him, complaining of Gallo’s behavior and declaring their intent to vanish at first light. David couldn’t blame them. The mondo had treated them like trafficked women, not the freedom fighters they were.

As they retired to their hammocks until dawn, David stayed awake, alarmed by the furtive sounds emerging from the forest. Was the JUNGLA surrounding the camp, preparing to attack? He had stared into the darkness until his eyeballs ached, clutching the machine gun and praying to God he wouldn’t be forced to murder anyone.

But the sounds abated, and the JUNGLA never attacked.

The sky was the color of beaten tin when Ixta and Maife emerged from the lean-to carrying just their packs. They needed to flee before Gallo could stop them. They would go to Medellín, they told him, to look for work. Sorrow tugged at David as they crossed toward the trail that would convey them to La Esmerelda. He would miss their friendship and their angelic voices.

He dozed after that, exhausted by his vigilance. If not for the cry of the masked mountain tanager, he would still be sleeping, making him a target for Gallo, who just then, stalked into view. Perhaps it was his whistle and not the bird’s call that had awakened David.

This morning, Gallo’s hair resembled a rooster’s comb more than ever. The taut look on his face warned David to tread with caution.

Gallo marched up to the sandbags to question him. “Did anyone leave this camp last night?—anyone in your squad or even you, yourself?”

David kept his face impassive. “No, Mondo.” Only Ixtabel and Maife, whom you took against their will.

Gallo’s eyes narrowed as if sensing David’s reproach. “What about our guests from the UN? Did you see any of them out of bed last night?”

David hesitated as the Frenchwoman, Madeleine, came to mind.

“You did. Who was it?” Suspicion thinned Gallo’s lips.

“Well, the French couple got up to relieve themselves.” David hadn’t fully believed Madeleine’s story. Perhaps that was why he mentioned it now?—that and to keep Gallo from asking whether Maife and Ixtabel were here.

“Where did you see them?”

David pointed to the area beside the bungalow. “I only saw the woman. She was waiting for her husband there.”

“You say you only saw the woman?”

“Yes.” He had neither seen nor heard the man, even though Madeleine had answered his summons, as she walked away. Another thought occurred to him. “I saw her leave your quarters the other morning.” The instant he said the words, he wished he hadn’t.

“What?” Gallo’s dark eyes flared with affront. “Why would she have been in my quarters in the first place?”

“She was looking for the medicamentos we took from them because the other woman had a fever. She said she would ask you for the medicine when you got back.”

David never saw Gallo’s hand coming until his fist cuffed the side of his face, leaving his ear ringing. “ ?Estúpido! You didn’t think to tell me this before? That woman and her husband could be spies. Someone set off two grenades last night near the Venezuelans’ camp.” Gallo thrust two fingers in front of his face. “Who do you think that might be?”

“The JUNGLA?”

“I thought you were educado en la universidad .” Gallo sneered at the answer. “But you’re a fool if you think the JUNGLA would throw two grenades into the air and leave . Maybe it was you who followed me last night, trying to save your little girlfriends, eh?”

David stared unflinchingly into Gallo’s suspicious glare. He would not rise to the man’s taunts. Nor would he tell Gallo about Maife and Ixta’s desertion. For all that man knew, they had disappeared from the Venezuelan’s camp, which would make their disappearance Gallo’s fault. “Perhaps some of our guests are more than peacekeepers,” he heard himself suggest. “I overheard the French couple speaking English?— American English, which I heard often at the university.” He didn’t mention they’d been speaking with Padre Josué for fear of ostracizing the missionary, whose visits and podcasts he cherished.

Gallo’s eyes rounded. “Are you saying they’re not French?”

“I don’t know. I only know what I heard.”

Gallo went perfectly still, clearly processing the ramifications of David’s allegations. Then, without bringing up either of the girls’ names, the mondo stalked toward the officers’ quarters while throwing suspicious glances at the peacekeeper’s bungalow.

Uncertainty pounced on David as he watched the mondo stalk across the camp. Perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned his suspicions of the French couple. What would Padre Josué think of him vilifying his new friends?

Gallo tugged the cord on his generator, shattering the camp’s quiet as he started it up. Normally, he roused the troops at dawn with the blare of his radio calling, “?Despiértense todos. Arriba y ándale!” But David’s news that the Frenchwoman had entered his sanctum without invitation had him shoving through the screen door and snapping on the light to search the space.

What could she have stolen or?—worse yet?—discovered about the FARC, assuming she was a spy?

His gaze fell immediately on the officer’s log. He snatched it up and pawed through the pages. Nothing seemed to be missing, relieving him at first. He flipped through the entire notebook, hunting for the map that detailed the precise location, in code, of two of the three main camps.

His heart began to thud. He knew where the map ought to be?—right here. Yet there was only the faintest ragged edge that made it horribly apparent the page had been torn from the binding.

?Demonios!

Gallo clutched the book to his chest in horror. He could not tell Marquez about the missing map, since its disappearance could be blamed on his negligence. After all, the camp was his responsibility while the comandante escorted Arias back and forth.

Staggering backward, Gallo sank into the only chair, thinking.

Who would have guessed that members of the peacekeeping team might be spies? If Madeleine had stolen the map, then her husband, Jacques, was likely also a spy. Spying for whom? Did they work for the JUNGLA who had followed them out of La Esmerelda and then attacked them? That could be. If only the Venezuelans, with their rough-edged humor and military savvy, hadn’t lured him away from camp.

What to do? He should at least tell Marquez of his suspicions.

His radio crackled, breaking into his thoughts. Gallo snatched it off his hip and answered the commander’s greeting.

“The Argentine and I are on our way. You may expect us both by noon.”

Gallo wasted no time mentioning his suspicions. “Sir, I believe the French couple in the UN team are spies. The woman was caught searching our cabin.”

He waited with a held breath for Marquez to reply.

“Did you hear me, Comandante ? Last night, someone set off two explosions near the Venezuelan’s camp, and the French couple was seen outside of their bungalow at the time. Do I have your permission to question them?”

“No.”

Marquez’s definitive answer brought a scowl to Gallo’s face. “ Comandante , please?—” He remembered how Jacques had picked up Chucho’s rifle the other day. He could have killed them all!

“ Silencio . The UN team is our best hope for getting our demands met. You presume too much to know whether they are spies or not.”

“Then let me question them.”

“You will not .” Marquez’s words came out in a growl. “We are just steps away from coming to an agreement.”

The words derailed Gallo’s argument. “They’ve agreed to our terms? The release of our compadres captured at Calamar and five hundred thousand per hostage?”

“It is not for you to know. Rojas makes the final decision.”

Gallo swallowed back a protest. Two of the five compadres eligible for release were superior in rank to him. He would never be promoted if they came back to the FARC. Too furious to speak, he smoldered.

“You will treat our guests with respect. The sooner they leave, the happier Rojas will be. He doesn’t want them discovering who is backing our cause.”

Gallo muttered something to the affirmative, toggled off the switch on his radio, then hurled it onto his bunk bed, where it bounced harmlessly against his pillow.

Weak! Comandante Marquez was too weak to be a good leader. Thank goodness for the Venezuelans who would make the FARC strong again. But ignoring the potential for spies in their midst was a big mistake. Rojas wouldn’t be so cavalier about the possibility. Gallo needed only a minute of the general’s time to put a bug in his ear.

Crammed once again into the officers’ quarters with Arias and the other peacekeepers, Maggie digested the news he relayed to the team: The FARC had accepted Boris Mayer’s counterproposal?—two hundred and fifty thousand dollars for Jay Barnes, ten thousand dollars for the body of Mike Howitz, and the release of the three JUNGLA captives in exchange for the five FARC captured at Calamar. There was just one caveat: The money had to arrive in the form of cash, via a helicopter, to a field designated by the FARC near the base of the mountain on the northeast side.

Maggie shared a stunned look with Jake. His SEALs might not have to rescue the hostages after all.

Bellini broke the silence. “How do we come up with that sum?” A bead of sweat rolled from his dark hairline.

With the approach of heavy rain clouds, the officers’ cramped quarters were as humid as a sauna. Each UN team member eyed Boris with varying degrees of hope and cynicism.

Boris scraped a large hand over his bristly jaw. “It is possible,” he said, each word carefully measured. “A better question is whether it is ethical to agree to such extortion, as it only encourages the FARC to kidnap again.”

Bellini and Esme’s faces fell. Those two were clearly willing to accept the FARC’s terms.

“Then again…” Boris seemed to be thinking out loud. He sent an enigmatic glance at the seated Argentine, who appeared to have shrunk in size yet again. “I started a fund years ago that can cover the sum for Mike Howitz’s body. And Jay Barnes has an insurance policy that pays up to two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in the event of his kidnapping. All that is needed to secure that sum is for Mr. Barnes to write a letter in longhand, requesting the amount be paid to a designated carrier.”

Maggie caught back a cynical snort. Insurance, my foot. More likely, the CIA had reached out to the UN lead before this mission, informing him of what they were willing to pay for Jay’s release. Once again, Boris had kept a card up his sleeve, waiting for just the right moment to play it.

The team members held a collective breath.

“So…” Bellini broke the silence. “We are agreeing to the FARC’s counteroffer?”

Arias held up a blue-veined hand. “Wait, there is one more thing. The exchange must take place within forty-eight hours.”

Everyone’s eyes rounded. They looked to Boris for his response.

The mention of a timeline seemed to add another crease on the German’s large forehead. Raising a hand, he tried to rub it away.

Maggie addressed Arias directly. “Por qué tanta prisa?” What’s the hurry? “They kidnapped Barnes and Howitz four months ago. Now, suddenly, there’s a deadline on their ransom?”

Esme, who rarely spoke up, suggested, “Perhaps they’re just desperate for men and money.”

Bellini nodded fervently. “Well, we have seen firsthand how hungry they are.”

Until recently . Maggie kept her thoughts to herself. The world would soon discover that the FARC now had the backing of the Venezuelans. Maybe that was why the rebels were so eager to make a deal?—they wanted the peacekeepers to leave before they learned who was backing them.

“The time constraint is problematic.” Boris was frowning, deep in thought. “I would need to communicate with the outside world immediately so I can contact the right people and make the account transfers. Freeing the five captives from prison, securing the funds?—there is always red tape involved.” He drew a tight breath before blowing it out.

Maggie eyed him with concern. Don’t stroke out on us, Boris.

Both Esme and Bellini seemed to wilt in the face of Boris’s pessimism. Jake’s steady blue gaze suggested the exchange was still possible.

Charles threw his hands into the air. “When does this time constraint begin? And what happens if the money isn’t here in two days, eh? Are the FARC going to kill the remaining hostage?”

Arias blanched at the mention of anyone being killed. No doubt, he worried that might be his own fate. “I will tell General Rojas you are willing to cooperate but that you require a satellite phone and more time.”

Boris nodded repeatedly. “Yes, yes, except high-speed Internet access would be better than a satellite phone. We must have seventy-two hours to make this work and access to the Web. Please convey this counteroffer to Rojas.”

“Very well.” Arias’s final words were scarcely audible. A second later, he pushed to his feet and tottered toward the door.

As he pushed it open, Maggie’s gaze went past him to where Gallo was sitting on a stump, cleaning his pistol. His dark gaze, full of malice, met hers, causing her scalp to prickle. She knew that look. What had she done, exactly, to exacerbate the mondo ’s dislike of her? God forbid David had said something to rouse his suspicions.

As they prepared to file out of the officers’ quarters, Boris said to his team in a quiet voice, “If they give us more time, then this will work.” His encouragement was meant to raise Bellini’s and Esme’s flagging spirits.

Glancing at Jake, Maggie wondered at her lack of excitement. It wasn’t like she wanted to stay on El Castillo any longer than necessary. But leaving this muddy mountain meant leaving Jake, whose company she wasn’t ready to relinquish just yet.

Don’t be selfish . This mission was about freeing the captives, not about her. Apart from Howitz being dead, negotiations were exceeding everyone’s expectations, and both the CIA and Southern Command knew way more than they had a week ago. The last time Jake had checked his phone, a thumbs-up from the JIC meant they now had the precise location of two rebel camps. Thanks to the watch, they likely knew exactly where to find General Rojas.

Even so, Gallo’s dark expression suggested things weren’t as groovy as they seemed.

Marquez, looking disgruntled over Ixtabel and Maife’s mysterious absence?—who would cook and clean??—had ordered David and his squad to stoke the fire and cook the midday meal. Seeing the peacekeepers emerge from his quarters, he waved them all toward the firepit to partake in the teens’ preparations.

Julian filled a bowl of rice and beans for each one of them. Thanking Estéban who delivered it to her, Maggie sat on the other side of Jake, as far from Gallo as she could get. An uncomfortable silence fell over the camp as they ate, broken only by the popping of firewood and the occasional cluck of a chicken.

“Your drink, se?ora.” Estéban was back with a cup of agua panela for her.

Maggie thanked him and took a sip. If she never drank reconstituted sugar cane again, that would be fine with her. This particular mix left a funny aftertaste on her tongue. Lowering the cup to the ground, she concentrated on finishing her food while the teens joined the other boys over at the field with the bull’s-eyes.

A moment later, David came loping up to them. “Jacques, could you help us? A tree fell over onto our fútbol field, and we’re not strong enough to move it out of the way.”

Jake, who was finished with his meal, glanced at Maggie’s half-empty bowl. “I’ll be right back.” Stay here , his eyes said.

She was all too aware of Gallo watching them. “I’d rather go with you.”

But Jake strode purposefully away, calling over his shoulder, “Finish your food.”

The message that she needed every calorie she could get wasn’t lost on her. Maggie forced herself to keep eating. Keeping Gallo in her peripheral vision, she pondered his weird energy.

She was scraping the last grain of rice out of her bowl with her fingers when her stomach cramped. Lowering the bowl to her lap, she waited for the feeling to pass.

“?Estás bien, chama?” Are you well, friend?

The question, uttered on a silky note by Gallo, made her blood run cold, even as another sharp pain gripped her intestines. She shot him a glare of disbelief. Had he poisoned her food? No, in her drin k?—which explained the bitter aftertaste!

The urge to accuse him in front of Marquez and the others rode Maggie hard, but then they’d want to know what Gallo had against her. And clearly he had his suspicions, no doubt sown by David, who had led Jake away so Gallo could target her alone!

Desperate to signal her distress to Jake, Maggie craned her neck, peering across the camp in hopes of catching his eye. But Jake’s back was turned as he helped the teens heave-ho the fallen tree from the field into the forest. In the meantime, her stomach was starting to churn in a way that suggested what she’d eaten was about to make a violent return.

Unwilling to alarm the other UN team members, Maggie stood casually, left her bowl on the stump, and marched toward the bungalow, since Gallo couldn’t follow her there?—not without raising eyebrows.

Once inside, she fled straight down the narrow hallway to their cubicle at the rear and right out the back flap, holding the urge to vomit in check. She pushed straight into the forest toward the cordoncillo tree, the leaves of which had kept the infection on her hip at bay, though the site had yet to fully heal.

Another pang hit her as she slipped and slid downhill. She crashed into the tree she was looking for and promptly emptied the contents of her stomach behind it.

Following a violent bout of retching, she wiped her mouth on a leaf and straightened, hoping she’d imbibed so little of whatever Gallo had put into her drink that her poisoning was unsuccessful.

The significance of her circumstances made her reel.

Gallo was on to her.

The sound of someone heading toward her had her turning with relief. This had to be Jake, who’d seen her leave, after all, and was coming after her. But when she turned around, still deciding what to say to him, her relief turned to dread.

Gallo, with his eyes fastened on her, sauntered closer, pushing fronds out of his way to maintain eye contact.

Back in Morocco, Farid had walked up to her with the same confidence; his dark eyes had communicated the same intent to hurt her. The vivid memories flashing through Maggie’s brain kept her muscles locked. Fear banded her rib cage. She’d hoped she’d gotten over these flashbacks?—apparently not.

The closer Gallo came, the harder it was to breathe. Maggie’s heart threatened to jump up her throat. If she shouted Jake’s name right now, her voice would crack. Instead, she demanded, “What do you want?” To her amazement, she sounded both defiant and unafraid , a circumstance that boosted her confidence.

He stopped within a yard of her. “?Dónde está el mapa?”

Sure enough, David had told him about the other morning. Gallo had obviously searched the officer’s log and found the map missing. “What map?” She propped her hands on her hips, hoping to look less vulnerable, though the sloped earth gave Gallo a height advantage.

“The one you took from my notebook, chama . That map.” He stepped closer, his eyes glittering with hatred. “I know you took it. David saw you leaving my quarters.”

“I was looking for the medicine you took from us. Esme was running a fever.”

“You lie. You had something to do with the explosions last night, also. I know you are a spy. Tell me who you work for, and I won’t kill you.”

She managed to laugh at the empty threat. “If you would kill a member of the United Nations Department of Peace, you’re even stupider than you look.”

He hit her so hard across the face that she staggered backward. Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have said that . A vision of Farid’s fist arcing toward her eye robbed her of her bravado.

“Lena!”

At Jake’s shout, her confidence surged anew. When Gallo glanced back, assessing how much time he had, Maggie snapped off a roundhouse kick that hit his midsection with a satisfying thump and caused him to double over. “I’m here!”

Jake came flying toward them with the fury of a mother bear defending her cubs. Gallo didn’t even have time to respond before Jake was grabbing him by the scruff while, at the same time, raking Maggie with a protective once-over. “Tu vas bien?” Are you okay?

No doubt he could see the imprint of Gallo’s hand on her cheek. “ Oui , I’m fine.” As she switched to French, she deliberated how much to say. “He thinks I stole a map from the officers’ quarters.”

Jake turned his attention to the man he was gripping. Maggie could see him struggling between the urge to thrash the mondo to within an inch of his life and the wisdom of sticking to his cover as the mild-mannered, myopic peacekeeper. Logic won out as it always did with Jake.

“Leave my wife alone,” he said in halting Spanish before giving the mondo a shove in the direction of the camp.

Gallo shoved him back. But when Jake didn’t move, the mondo’ s confidence faltered. With a scornful sneer, he wheeled away and plodded back uphill, leaving them in solitude.

Jake didn’t wait for Gallo to disappear before folding Maggie into his embrace. He had to feel her heart hammering in her chest. “You shouldn’t have left the camp without me.”

“He put something in my drink. I had to throw up.”

“What?” Jake set her away from him to plumb her gaze. “Are you sure?”

“ Oui . I could taste it in the drink. I only took a sip, thank God.”

“How do you feel now?”

“Better after getting sick. But I’m going to be hungry in ten minutes.”

His grip tightened, and he cast a backward glance just to make sure Gallo wasn’t hanging around. “Lena, you know what this means. He suspects us.”

She didn’t want to alarm Jake by telling him Gallo had called her a spy. “Well, he doesn’t have any proof, does he? Besides, the mission’s almost over. Let’s just see it through and get out of here.”

By the look on his face, that course of action didn’t please him. Or was it the prospect of parting ways that kept his expression so grim? Her heart fluttered at the thought.

“I don’t like this situation.” Jake’s jaw muscles jumped as he scanned the lush foliage around them.

“Me neither.”

“Please. From now on, stick close to me. I don’t trust Gallo not to come for either of us again.” Lifting a hand, he stroked his knuckles over the side of her face that was likely still red from Gallo’s blow.

At his pleasurable touch, the stinging vanished. Maggie forced a smile. If Jake knew how little she looked forward to this mission ending, it would probably put ideas into his head. Of course, separation was inevitable. In the meantime, though, she would wring selfish pleasure from every second they still had together.

“And another thing. I don’t want you getting anywhere close to the Venezuelans. How long did you work at that weapons depot?”

“Two years. But I only worked the night shift. I doubt any of them would have seen me there.”

Jake’s frown didn’t disappear.

“No one’s going to recognize me.” She wet her dry lips. “So, what’s next?”

Jake stared at her a moment, as if memorizing how she looked in that moment. “We wait for Rojas to counter our latest offer. If he takes it, my guess is we’ll be out of here in seventy-two hours.”

That prospect was supposed to encourage Maggie. Instead, it left her feeling cheated.

It took the longest time for Jake to fall asleep. While Lena didn’t seem overly worried about Gallo’s suspicions, they spawned scenarios in his imagination, none of them good.

It was his job to protect her. But, ultimately, it was God who protected them both. With Lena’s head on his shoulder and with her slow, even breathing telling him she was finally sleeping, he prayed.

Heavenly Father, give me the wisdom to know if and when I need to get Lena to safety. When I think of what she suffered in Morocco, I would never forgive myself if something like that happened to her under my watch. Be with us and protect us. In Jesus’ name, Amen .

With his concerns thus surrendered, Jake slipped into a sleep filled with dreams.

He awoke to an uproar outside their bungalow. Amidst the shouting came Gallo’s grating voice. “Find the woman who took the map.”

The rough-cut planks of the bungalow shuddered as rebels stormed it, searching the cubicles for Lena. With no time to don their boots, Jake grabbed Lena’s arm and hauled her out from under their mosquito netting. They had just slipped through the flap and jumped from the bungalow barefooted when the rebels raised the alarm that the spies were gone.

Jake tugged Lena straight into the cover of the forest while praying he could find them a place to hide. They couldn’t flee in the dark with no shoes on. What a nightmare, to be stuck in this hostile environment without a single weapon, no shoes, and responsible for the woman he loved.

Wait, could this be just a nightmare?

With a start, Jake woke up. His heart still pounded. His breath sawed in and out over the drone of insects on the other side of the blinds. Closing his eyes, he breathed a great sigh of relief to find him and Lena still safe and still together. But could the dream be a warning? Hadn’t he just prayed for the wisdom to know if and when it was time to leave?

Did he believe some dreams were divinely inspired? Sure, in the Bible, God had spoken to Moses, Jacob, Solomon, and even Joseph in their dreams. But Jake was a modern man. He’d been taught that dreams were the brain’s way of processing sensory information picked up that day.

Uncertain of what to think, Jake prayed again. Father, if I need to get Lena off this mountain, please give me a clear sign, one that I won’t question. Sorry. Amen .