Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

“ W ake up, sleepyheads. We’re leaving camp in thirty minutes.”

Jarred from a deep sleep, Maggie raised her cheek off Jake’s chest to blink at the Frenchman poking his head into their cubicle at daybreak, disturbing their slumber.

“Going where?” Jake articulated her question in a raspy voice.

“To the place where Arias has been meeting with Rojas. Arias himself is ill. Boris will take his place and speak with Rojas in the Argentine’s stead, I guess.”

Maggie sat straight up. Were they about to meet Rojas in person? From an intelligence perspective, that would be an incredible opportunity. On the flip side, if Arias was too sick to continue negotiations, he might end up dying like Mike had.

Hearing a light rain pattering their frond ceiling, she groaned at the prospect of leaving their warm, dry cocoon just to dress in damp clothing, then hike for hours, which would exacerbate her nearly healed incision. But Jake tossed off the blanket that was covering them, leaving her no choice but to rise and shine.

Sentimentality washed through Maggie as she rose from their cozy nest. She wasn’t ready for this assignment to end. Her heart felt heavy in her chest as she donned her socks first, then adjusted the dagger in her left boot so she could pull it on. It wasn’t until she was tying off her laces that she noticed Jake’s preoccupied silence.

She searched his face in the gloomy light. “What are you thinking about?”

He shrugged into his jacket, grimacing either at its dampness or its muskiness. “Rien.” Nothing. “Just…stick close to me these last few days.”

Nothing would please her more?—a circumstance that was starting to scare her.

“And if anything happens to me,” he tacked on, “just find water and follow it downstream. The guys at the JIC will eventually find you.”

Talons of fear sank into her shoulders. It wasn’t like Jake to bring up worst-case scenarios. “Why are you talking like that?”

“I don’t know. I had a dream last night, and I’m hoping it wasn’t a sign.”

“Oh, come on.” She pushed to her feet. “You’re worrying yourself for nothing. Watch and see. In a few days, we’ll be flying out of here with Jay Barnes and Mike’s body, and this wet, muddy nightmare will be a memory.” A memory she would cherish for years to come.

He turned to face her, his quick smile flashing in the shadows. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“I’m always right.” Stepping toward him, she succumbed to the urge to slip her arms around his waist and lay her head on his shoulder. Premonition tolled like a bell in her brain. “Even so, be careful.”

“If we stay together, we’ll be okay.”

His words brought her head up. At this rate, they wouldn’t be together much longer. “Teamwork,” she heard herself say.

“That’s right.” He pressed a sweet, memorable kiss on her forehead. “Finally she gets it.”

“Sir, they’re moving.”

Chief Harmony’s alert brought Lobo across the floor of the JIC to study the topographical map over Harm’s shoulder. Sure enough, the two dots, red for Jake and blue for Magdalena, were creeping toward the north side of the mountain, making slow but steady progress.

Lobo watched for a while. “Interesting. I wonder if they’re headed to one of the other camps.”

“Probably not to Arriba since they’re descending. But they might be going to Ki-kirr-zikis .”

Their intel, added to the piecemeal shortwave communications, photos, and thermal images picked up by military drones, was growing by the hour. They’d seen images of cargo trucks creeping across the border from Venezuela, headed for the northeast side of El Castillo and listened to conversations involving drugs and weapons shipments, all of which suggested what Lieutenant Carrigan needed to confirm before they took any action: that Venezuela was backing the FARC.

The door swung inward, bringing Lobo’s head around as Zen Suzuki, loaded down with coffee and donuts from the cafeteria, pushed his way inside. “What’s happening?” He came to stand next to Lobo.

“They’re moving,” Harm relayed.

Zen’s expression never changed. Lobo could never tell what the younger SEAL was thinking until he asked a question.

“Should we be worried, sir?”

And there it was. “Not yet.”

As Harm popped up to pluck a coffee from Zen’s tray, Lobo occupied his vacated seat.

He stared hard at the monitor. One hair’s width at a time, the red and blue dots were advancing toward Ki-kirr-zikis. If Jake could put eyes on Rebel Central and confirm Venezuela’s suspected involvement, then the CIA and SOCOM could warn their Colombian allies.

Forewarned was forearmed. The rebel movement was going to be short-lived once the Colombian government, led by the JUNGLA and backed by the U.S.A., took measures to prevent an uprising.

Rain gushed through the forest canopy, turning the trail under the boots of the UN peacekeepers into a slushy gulley. Sweeping an eye up and down the line of hikers, it occurred to Jake that the same rebels who had greeted them in La Esmerelda were accompanying them again, minus the two girls, which suggested the team’s visit to El Castillo was coming to an end. The telltale sign was supposed to cheer him, only it didn’t. The sooner this assignment ended, the sooner he would be pulled away from Lena.

Perhaps because they traveled downhill, the hike seemed easier than their grueling climb up the mountain just over a week ago. Maybe the leisurely pace they set was because Arias had to be carried on a makeshift stretcher, David holding the front of it and Julian holding the back.

As with their last hike, Lena shepherded Esme along the treacherous snaking path, the same one Jake and Charles had followed the night before. The fact that the path led them right past the Venezuelan’s encampment kept Jake uneasy.

He sought to reassure himself. The FARC weren’t going to flaunt Gallo’s new friends in front of the UN peacekeepers. And surely , after the scare with the grenades, the Venezuelans had packed up and moved somewhere else. But until they passed the spot where the camp had been, Jake would not rest easy.

When his gaze fell upon three mules, still roped to the same area where they’d been the other night, his fears surged back. Incredulous, Jake spotted the soldiers next, keeping well away from the traveling party but still watching with somewhat gloating expressions as the UN team straggled by.

Jake willed Lena to avert her face. The odds that any of those soldiers had visited the weapons depot were minimal, but still, why take any chances?

“?Chamo!” A voice coming from the Venezuelans hailed Gallo.

Startled by the voice coming out of nowhere, Lena looked toward the encampment before quickly averting her face.

Gallo said something to Marquez, then, ignoring that man’s frown, stepped off the path to hobnob with his buddies. With a rolling of his eyes, Marquez stopped their forward progress to wait for him.

Jake’s mouth turned dry. Oh, come on. Just keep moving.

If the Turkish woman hadn’t needed so much help to stay on her feet, Maggie would have seen the soldiers before the greeting startled her. The word chamo identified the nearly invisible group at once, even though they’d stripped off all identifying patches and bands to keep the UN team from guessing who they were.

Turning her back on them, she affected concern for her companion, who was battling a stitch in her side. “Breathe through it,” she advised as Esme pressed the heel of her palms against her abdomen.

Over the woman’s gasping complaints, Maggie strained to hear what Gallo was telling the Venezuelans. He seemed to be offering them shelter up at the camp they’d just vacated. Maggie rebelled at the thought of them sleeping in Jake’s and her cubicle.

Marquez barked for Gallo to rejoin them. As the mondo made his way back, one of the Venezuelans followed him, loath to end the conversation. Maggie averted her face as much as possible while urging Marquez under her breath to start marching again.

From the corner of her eye, she tried to gauge whether any of the Venezuelans looked familiar. Of course, they wouldn’t. There were tens of thousands of soldiers in the Venezuelan National Army, and yet…the man coming closer…Her breath caught. Her heart began to pound. It couldn’t be El Capitán who’d cleared out the warehouse before the revolutionaries blew it up. The odds were a thousand to one.

But she would recognize his brutish features anywhere. Having duct-taped her to a chair so she would perish when the revolutionaries bombed the warehouse, how could she forget him? He’d haunted her dreams?—same broad cheekbones, same reddish-brown eyes. God help her, it was him.

Finally, Gallo rejoined them, and their troop began to move. Feeling eyes on her profile, Maggie willed herself to be invisible. She must have squeezed Esme’s arm too hard.

“What’s wrong?” the woman demanded sharply.

“Nothing.”

“Who are they?” Esme craned her neck to look back.

Maggie didn’t answer. She dared not articulate what her brain was telling her?—that she’d just been recognized.

Her heart did not stop pounding until they’d floundered another mile or more without a hue and cry raised. In her soaked jacket and pants, she shivered with cautious relief. Her knees trembled to support Esme’s weight. Maybe she hadn’t been made. Maybe things would be different this time.

Once the path gave a sharp turn, she peered back at Jake, who was helping Bellini over an exposed root. Across the space between them, he caught her eye, sending her a faint, encouraging smile. If we stay together, we’ll be okay.

Maggie inhaled sharply. Man, she would miss having Jake as her partner!

The brick casita where Arias had met with General Rojas stood at the edge of a clearing filled with overgrown coca plants. One look at the old pipes and barrels thrown outside the building, and Maggie guessed this place had been used by narcos to process cocaine.

But as they ducked into the watertight building, she was glad to see all the old equipment had been cleared out, replaced by seven hammocks strung from hooks on the center beam and inner walls, each with its own blanket. A hearth occupied the wall by the door, faced by a couple of chairs. The tin roof, cement floor, and bags of rice and beans made this place feel like a five-star hotel.

Huffing with exhaustion, David and Julian carried in the stretcher bearing Arias. As Esme went to help them transfer the patient to a hammock, Maggie lingered by the door where she could overhear Marquez leaving Boris with instructions.

“Your team will stay here with Gallo and his soldiers while I take your counteroffer to Rojas myself. You may strike a fire twice a day to cook your meals, but no fires at night. Tomorrow, I’ll return with my leader’s decision.”

Boris stammered, “Oh, I thought?—well, I thought I would be talking to Rojas in person.”

“No need. Stay here with Gallo and your team.”

“Comandante,” Gallo protested, “I have a message for Rojas from our friends that I must convey in person. David and his squad can watch the Europeans.”

The fine hairs on the nape of Maggie’s neck prickled. From her present vantage, she could only see the back of Gallo’s head and Marquez’s answering scowl. Jake, who stood not far from them, caught and held her wide-eyed stare. What message did Gallo have to relay to Rojas? Could it be about the map and his suspicion of the French couple?

No, Marquez, don’t take him with you.

“ Vale . David and his squad will watch over you,” the commander amended.

Looking as soaked and weary as the rest of them, Boris nodded. “What time will you return tomorrow?”

“Early.” With that terse reply, Marquez gestured for Gallo to flank him as they walked away, continuing their trek.

Maggie stepped aside, letting the rest of the team into the casita . As they exclaimed over their deluxe accommodations, she crossed to one of the four windows, each fitted with a screen, to see which way the two FARC leaders went. They departed in the same northeasterly direction, downhill to what had to be Ki-kirr-zikis . Given Marquez’s promise of an early return tomorrow, it couldn’t be that far away.

Bellini knelt at once at the hearth to make a fire. As Boris went to help him, Jake joined Maggie at the front window. The look in his eyes told her he was dying to see Rojas’s camp in person. Only, how would they slip away from the rest of the group, let alone get permission from David to wander off?

Esme straightened from hovering over Arias. “He is feverish, Boris,” she conveyed to their leader while wringing her hands. “I think he may have contracted malaria.”

Maggie eyed the limp Argentine with a wave of helplessness. What can I do? Her thoughts went to David, whom she had avoided since his betrayal of her to Gallo. In retrospect, her behavior had likely only affirmed his suspicions. With a glance at Jake inviting him to join her, Maggie crossed to the door and stepped outside, leaving him to follow. She found David and his squad members struggling to shore up a decrepit lean-to that listed off the side of the casita . That was probably where they meant to sleep.

“Need help?” Without waiting for an answer, she added her strength to lift the sagging end of the tin roof while Jake helped Chucho and Estéban wedge the post under the roof so it stood vertically, holding the roof up as it should.

“Thank you.” David met their gazes, then looked away, clearly uncomfortable.

Maggie smiled, keeping her voice warm. “Any time, David. Listen, I was thinking of how well you treated Jacques’ hornet stings, and it occurred to me you might help Se?or Arias as well. He has a fever, and he doesn’t deserve to die out here, so far from his family. You’re the only one who knows enough about herbs to help him.” Tears sprang into Maggie’s eyes, surprising her. She wasn’t usually so sentimental. “Please, would you look for something to lower his fever?”

Thoughts shifted behind David’s light-brown eyes. He finally nodded. “I will make a tea for him, though it won’t cure him.”

“But that would help. Thank you, David. You’re a good person.” Even though you ratted me out to Gallo.

Turning her back on him, Maggie noted Jake’s small smile as she grabbed his hand and pulled him back into the casita , where they found a warm fire blazing in the hearth.

Esme and Bellini were planning a midday meal. They would use a measured amount of their rice and beans each day, getting water from a cistern out front that caught the rain. The bags of food would last them several days, just in case their negotiations went awry. In an iron cacerola , they would boil the water for the rice first, then cook the beans.

Less than an hour later, the team had consumed their modest meal, sharing the surplus with David and the teens. Accustomed to napping in the rainy afternoons, each team member selected one of the hanging hammocks. Constructed out of fibers from the hamak tree, South American hammocks folded around the sleeper like a taco shell, which made sharing a hammock impossible. With a stab of nostalgia, Maggie rolled into the hammock next to Jake’s, just an arm’s reach from him. Would she be able to sleep without feeling him next to her?

Bellini was quick to nod off, his snores filling the casita . Boris and Esme followed suit. Lying with her feet toward the front window, Maggie spotted David wading alone across the field in search of a healing herb for Arias. Charles saw him, too, and gestured for Jake and her to take advantage of his absence. The JIC hadn’t heard from Jake since he’d been locked up in the shed days ago.

Jake signed to her that he would go alone, while Maggie stayed here.

No. She vehemently shook her head, at which Jake made a face of resignation and rotated quietly out of his hammock. Maggie’s pulse sped up as she did the same. She really ought to stay put. After all, what would they say if David caught them at any significant distance from the casita ? But waiting for others to act had never been Maggie’s strong suit.

Slipping outside, they found the three other teens taking refuge under the lean-to, all of them sound asleep.

With a shared look of amusement, Maggie and Jake hurried away from the casita , striking out in the same direction Marquez and Gallo had taken earlier. Once out of view of the building, Jake grabbed Maggie’s arm and urged her into a run. Hampered by the pain in her hip?—which she admitted to herself was getting worse, not better?—Maggie hobbled alongside him.

But as Jake had pointed out at the outset of their assignment, running in the mountains wasn’t feasible. When she slipped and nearly wound up on her back, he slowed to a brisk walk so she could keep up with him. In just minutes, they came to a bluff where a mudslide had sheared off the slope of the mountain, taking trees and rocks with it.

“Wow. Let’s have a look,” Jake suggested. Grabbing Maggie’s hand, he guided her over the spongy ground toward the edge of sheared earth.

As they neared the drop-off, he went down on his hands and knees, and Maggie followed suit. Peering over a felled tree covered in lichen, they were treated to a breathtaking view of the canopy at lower elevations. One area had been thinned out, making it possible to see tin and thatched roofs peeking through the leaves below them.

“Voilà.” Maggie breathed. It had to be Rojas’s camp, Ki-kirr-zikis, the only X on the northeast side of the mountain. Sawing and buzzing noises reached their ears, but the drizzle and the trees kept them from identifying the source.

“Are we hearing chainsaws?” Jake put his back to the log and wrestled off his right boot. He’d asked the question in English since he probably didn’t know the word in French.

Still peering at the camp, Maggie glimpsed a motorized vehicle cutting across a break in the trees. “No, they’re ATVs. There must be at least a dozen of them.” Higher up, a flash of burgundy caught her eye.

Was that a bird? She squinted, trying to decipher what she was looking at. “Oh, look. It’s a watchtower.”

“Where?” Jake pulled up the phone’s antenna as he turned to see what she was looking at.

Maggie leaned close so he could follow her finger. A log-hewn tower, draped in green netting, cleared the top of the canopy. She never would have seen it if one of the three men standing at the top of the tower wasn’t wearing a red beret.

“Is that Rojas?” Jake tore his gaze away to frown at the phone in his hand.

Maggie’s thoughts flashed to the photo they’d seen of the FARC leader at the safe house. “Looks like it.” The two men with him also looked familiar. “And I think he’s talking to Marquez and Gallo right now.” Her heart sank as she imagined what Gallo might be telling Rojas about her, Jake, too, for that matter.

“Don’t sweat it. Things are going well. Just picture us flying out of here in a couple of days.”

Imagining Jake and her in a helicopter soaring away from these forbidding mountains failed to lift her spirits. I don’t want to go back yet, to say goodbye to Jake.

When he stayed quiet, she looked over and found him frowning. “What’s wrong?”

He grimaced. “It’s the new battery. It doesn’t seem to have a charge.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Now there was no way to contact the JIC. Would that matter? Uneasiness coiled in her intestines. She looked back at the tower while wondering again what Gallo was telling Rojas. Was it about her possibly being a spy?

“Well, it’s not the battery,” Jake said a minute later.

Maggie tore her gaze from the tower to find Jake peering inside the phone’s casing. “It’s the phone itself. There’s too much humidity out here. I can see condensation inside.”

“Can’t we do something about that?” The rain had started to pick up, drawing a silvery curtain between them and Ki-kirr-zikis . She and Jake would be soaked through if they didn’t head back soon.

“Maybe. Question is, how do we dry it out?”

Maggie already knew. “We put the phone in the rice sack by the hearth and let it dry out overnight.”

Jake’s gaze flew to hers. “That should work, but it’s risky.”

“Yeah, well, it’s our only option.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay, then. I’ll slip it into the sack tonight and sleep with one eye open.”

His optimistic tone was for her sake, she knew, to keep her anxiety from rising.

“We’d better get back,” he added, “before David does.”

Together, they clambered up to the trail, then half-jogged, half speed-walked toward the casita . “How’s the hip?” Jake transitioned back to French.

“?a va.” It’s fine . She wasn’t going to give Jake anything more than the phone to worry about.

They were nearly back at the casita when the path gave a turn and there, blocking their way, stood David holding a stick.

Maggie was the first to recover. “Ah, bueno . Looks like you found something for Arias?”

David ignored the question and frowned. “Why are you so far from the casita ?”

As Maggie scrounged for an excuse, Jake threw an arm around her, pulling her body flush against his. “ En serio, David? If you had a wife as beautiful as mine, you’d want time alone with her too.” As he nuzzled Maggie’s cheek, a furious blush heated her face.

Jake’s superb acting had the desired effect, at least. David’s expression went from suspicious to indulging. “Well, don’t wander so far next time. Come.”

As he turned and led the way, they obediently followed. Maggie was all too aware of the arm Jake kept around her. The sensory memory of her body pressed to his filled her with a longing, unfulfilled. She would never get to experience the passion Jake had hinted at to David?—not unless she was Mrs. Jake Carrigan. Jake made that clear twelve years ago.

If only that were possible. This shared assignment was a one-off, not likely to happen again. Once Maggie proved to the company psychologist that she was ready, the CIA would assign her wherever she was needed?—somewhere in Africa or Latin America, given her language skills. Sure, so long as Jake remained a SOG, there was a chance she might see him briefly, in passing somewhere, but she’d never get to spend time with him like this.

All they had left was the present. She would wring every drop of pleasure from it while she still could.