Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

H aving kicked his way toward the branches bowing over a muddy shore, Jake crawled onto land, gasping in exhaustion. He rested a moment, then sat up, brushed a beetle off his arm, and took in his surroundings. On the other side of the river, El Castillo rose skyward in a precipitous tangle of vegetation, but on this side, the land appeared flatter.

As he clambered to his feet intending to get his bearings, the feel of mud and sticks beneath his toes made him grimace. His left foot was bare; the right one was covered in a muddy sock?—not unlike his dream the other night?—oh, man. He should have heeded it.

Once standing, Jake turned full circle to get his bearings. The terrain on this side of the river wasn’t as jungle-like as the other side. With no land mass rising up to impede his view, he imagined the land sloped downward to the valley Marquez had mentioned. But had he been swept so far downriver that it would take hours to backtrack?

While knocking water from his ears, he considered his predicament and gauged his next move. It was only a matter of time before Lena became Gallo’s next target. He had to get to her before that happened. Yet, here he was, kilometers away from her, and shoeless.

Charles would defend her; Jake was sure of that. But Gallo had a pistol, and Charles did not. And all Lena had was the little dagger in her boot. He pictured the consequence of her using it, and nausea roiled up suddenly. Bending at the hips, Jake vomited a stomach full of river water.

Lena, my brave girl. Don’t lose your life over me.

Eyes swimming with tears, Jake slowly stood upright. This was no time to grieve what might be happening to Lena. For now, he would cling to the certainty that his teammates at the JIC had noticed their operators’ separation and would come for them. In the meantime, he would fashion something to wear on his feet and go looking for her.

Dead or alive, he would find her eventually.

Maggie lost all sense of time as she stumbled along at Charles’s side. Had it been minutes since Jake fell into the river or hours? Either way, the trees had begun to thin, and the sunlight beamed onto the ground at her feet. With a start, Maggie digested that they’d reached a valley?—possibly the same one mentioned by Commander Strong in his briefing, since they’d crossed a river to get there.

Before her stood a bowl of open space filled with thigh-high grass and ringed with spiraling wax palms. To her left stood a cinder-block structure topped with a red-tiled roof, sporting several windows and a metal door.

Boris grew animated. “This is the building Marquez described to me! This is where the exchange will take place. The helicopter will land in this field.”

Shading her eyes, Esme peered up at the sky. “There’s no helicopter yet.”

“It will come,” Boris assured her. He turned back to Gallo. “Now what?”

The mondo pointed at the shady area next to them, right at the forest’s edge. “Until the helicopter comes, you will wait here.”

Boris turned his head, reconsidering the humble building. “Where are the hostages?”

“In there.” Gallo nodded at it.

“Well, perhaps you could show them to us, so we know they’re there?”

“Hmph.” Pivoting away from Boris, Gallo ordered his men to follow him as he abandoned the peacekeepers to their own devices.

Boris regarded the shady area Gallo had pointed out. “Let’s get out of this sun.”

Joining the others in sinking onto the ground under a tree’s sheltering branches, Maggie bore her weight on her good hip while struggling to shake off the lethargy of shock so she could read the situation.

If Gallo considered her a threat, why hadn’t he tried to kill her yet? He’d made Jake’s demise look like a tragic accident. After all, he wouldn’t want UN peacekeepers telling the world that the FARC were ruthless killers. Therefore, if he intended to kill her also, he would be sneaky about it. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down.

Maybe she should leave the group now and return to the river to look for Jake?—for Jake’s body. Charles would probably let her slip away, as his own integrity was on the line, especially with Boris, who considered him a trusted friend. And Jake had instructed her, if something were to happen to him, to find water and follow it downstream?—the same way his body had been swept.

On the other hand, she had a job to finish here. The Agency had sent her to Colombia to bring the hostages home?—even though one was dead. She was obligated to see that through, wasn’t she?

Well, then, there was the answer. She wasn’t going anywhere until Jay Barnes was on his way home.

Jake was using a stick to retrieve his jacket when a voice, floating on the breeze, caused him to freeze. Someone was calling for Jacques. Lifting his jacket from the rock on which it had been caught, he hoisted it ashore. The cry came again. It sounded like David calling for him, echoed by a voice Jake didn’t recognize.

Should he answer? After all, he’d forged a bond with David. But the other man was an unknown, and armed, to boot. Gallo could have given them orders to shoot Jake on sight.

That didn’t mean Jake should let them slip away, though. Assuming they would join up with Gallo once they gave up looking for him, it would save him time locating the other peacekeepers if he followed them.

First, though, he needed to fashion some booties to protect his feet.

Tearing the jacket into bands proved easier than he’d thought it would be. The canvas wasn’t the same high quality as those worn by U.S. special operators. As he wrapped strips around his feet, he monitored the two voices calling his name. Were they getting closer or moving farther away now?

By the time Jake draped the remaining canvas over his head to camouflage his face, the voices had fallen silent. He needed to hurry. Setting off after the scouting party, he moved as quickly as the thin padding under his feet allowed.

Boris would push on with their agenda, regardless of Jacques’s fate. Jake didn’t blame him for that. The UN’s priority was to make certain the exchange took place the way it was supposed to. Come what may, they had to meet the helicopter. That was the agenda.

It was Gallo’s agenda that worried Jake now. No doubt, the mondo hoped to prevent the map, or knowledge of the map, from escaping. Too bad the information had already been disseminated and decrypted. But that didn’t increase Lena’s odds of survival one iota.

Wishing he had a machete to hack his way toward David, Jake pushed through vines and branches, scratching himself on thorns and disturbing a host of insects that either scattered or sought revenge. Sweat trickled between his shoulder blades. Mosquitoes swarmed him.

When he stumbled across fresh tracks, he breathed a huge sigh of relief. Given the deep impressions, the search party, consisting of just two men, had lingered here a moment before giving up. Then they’d taken off due east, leaving a machete-cleared path for Jake to follow.

The booties lent him stealth but offered scant protection. Again and again, he stepped on a thorn or a pebble or a sharp branch and swallowed a cry of pain. He pushed himself through the discomfort, all too aware that shadows were beginning to creep up the trunks of the trees in front of him. It was getting later.

And then he heard it in the distance: the unmistakable whop, whop, whop of an approaching helicopter. The exchange was about to go down not too far from here! He had to know whether Lena would get on board.

Run! With his feet on fire, Jake sprinted down the torturous trail toward the sound. Thank God for the helicopter that drowned out the sound of his movements, for he ran right up on the two men?—David and a larger rebel.

After reining himself in, Jake counted to ten, then stalked the pair, keeping far enough back that the others never saw him.

“There!” Boris Mayer pointed as a Red Cross helicopter burst into view from behind the gauzy clouds. With a reverberating crescendo, it approached the valley. Members of the team, including Maggie, clambered to their feet and waved a frantic greeting.

Maggie’s eyes stung at the heartening vision of a red cross emblazoned onto the sides of the reconditioned “Huey” UH-1 Iroquois. If Jake were safely by her side, she would have gotten satisfaction out of watching its tail flare, watching the tall grass ripple under its rotor wash like rings on the surface of a disturbed pond. Wind, smelling of fresh herbs, whipped her ponytail into her eyes.

In just thirteen days, they’d accomplished what they came here for. But Jake’s tragic accident had turned victory into defeat. How was she supposed to leave without him?

As the giant metal bird nestled onto the field and the thunder of the rotors diminished, Boris held them back. “Wait. The FARC prisoners are to be released first.”

With a clank and a rumble, the helicopter door slid open, revealing a man in a navy blue uniform. He leapt to the ground, cradling an assault rifle. Scoping the area uneasily, he waved Boris over.

“Stay here.” Boris gestured for his team to stay in the trees’ shade as he marched across the field alone to speak to the man.

“Who is he?” Esme wondered out loud.

Maggie hadn’t taken her eyes off him. “Prison guard, probably.”

They all watched Boris shake the man’s hand, then point at the red-roofed building. Peering into the chopper’s cabin, Maggie made out several men in orange coveralls, under the armed watch of a second guard.

One by one, their ankles and wrists were uncuffed, and they jumped down from the helicopter, trotting with gleeful expressions toward the cinder-block building to join their fellow FARC.

Maggie tried to see into the building as they filed through the door. Was Jay Barnes even in there? What about Mike’s body and the JUNGLA hostages? Would an exchange really take place?

With her thoughts still congealed by shock, it was hard to read their situation. Apart from Jake’s horrible accident, everything seemed to be happening as planned. Even so, the suspicion that they would be duped kept her wary.

Boris reached for a briefcase being handed down to him. That had to be Jay Barnes’s “insurance” money. Hefting the briefcase in one hand, Boris faced the building and waited. Now that the FARC had their rebels back, this was when the JUNGLA captives ought to be exiting the building; only they weren’t.

Boris put his free hand on his hip and frowned. When the door on the building remained shut, he started walking toward it, guessing, perhaps, that Marquez wished to count the money before he let the JUNGLA go.

Maggie’s intuition for trouble niggled. “He shouldn’t go alone.” Clambering off the ground, she started across the field after him. Charles seemed to agree and followed suit. A glance back showed Esme and Bellini bringing up the rear.

Uneasiness slithered through Maggie’s gut as they approached the shuttered building. In addition to outnumbering them, the FARC held a strongly defensive position, considering the Red Cross helicopter was stripped of all fighting capabilities. Why had they cloistered themselves inside, exactly? It had to be hot in there.

Boris glanced over as they joined him, a look of gratitude on his face. “I’m sure they want to count the money before releasing the hostages.”

Maggie wasn’t so optimistic. The door swung outward, releasing the odor of unwashed bodies as Mondo Gallo blocked their entrance. Peering past his smirking visage, Maggie spotted Marquez seated at a table. With a jingling of chains, a man sprang into view behind the comandante and waved at them.

Jay Barnes! Maggie swallowed her gasp of recognition. Seeing recognition flare in his eyes, she quickly touched her ear in the standard signal for “You don’t know me.”

As he tore his attention to the others, Maggie wallowed in pity while noting his condition. Her once-robust colleague was bent and thin. Four months of captivity had nearly killed him.

Without warning, Gallo stepped forward and wrested the briefcase from Boris, who protested with a, “Hey!”

“Stay outside,” the mondo ordered, marching inside with the money. At least he left the door open.

Left standing in the sun, the peacekeepers all glanced at each other and then searched the interior of the building. Maggie was the first to articulate what they all had to be thinking. “I don’t see any JUNGLA.” They would be easy to spot, if they were as thin and haggard as Jay was.

“I’m sure they’re here,” Boris insisted. But he didn’t sound sure.

Maggie didn’t see any coffin either. Where was Mike Howitz’s body? The suspicion that the FARC were about to cheat them added a layer of despair over the shattered remnants of her heart. If only this day had never happened. Jake would still be with them, reassuring all of them with his laid-back, this-is-easy attitude. She weaved on her feet, overcome with defeat, and Charles grabbed her arm, keeping her upright.

Marquez, who’d opened the briefcase and riffled through the money, slammed it shut, rousing Maggie from her misery. “Let the captive go.”

Captive in the singular?

At the order, Mondo Gallo stepped up to Jay and, using a key on his key ring, unlatched the padlock that kept the metal collar around Jay’s neck closed. Jay pried it off himself, dropping his shackles and chain with a clink . His huge smile displayed yellowed teeth as he hobbled toward the door as fast as his skeletal body would carry him.

“Bless you! Bless you all.” With his arms outstretched, he crossed the threshold to greet his saviors.

They welcomed him with one wary eye still on the FARC inside. Where were the rest of the captives?

Grabbing her hand, Jay squeezed it extra hard. Maggie avoided his tear-filled gaze and merely nodded.

“Excuse me, Comandante ,” Boris called to Marquez. “Where is the body of Mike Howitz? And where are the JUNGLA captives whom General Rojas agreed to release?”

Marquez said nothing, just gestured for Gallo to show them something. Returning to the door, Gallo pointed toward the corner of the exterior, where a pine crate like the kind used to house weapons stood by itself at the corner of the building. “The body is there. Don’t open it unless you like the smell of death.”

The team members all stared at the box in horror. Picturing Mike’s corpse folded over on itself and crammed inside, Maggie’s blood heated to a boil. These rebels, in their quest for human rights, had snuffed out the life of an exuberant and fun-loving man, and they were getting paid for it? She shook with the force of her revulsion. Rounding on the FARC inside, she prepared to call them every vile name under the sun.

“Easy.” Charles gave a yank on her arm. “Let it go.”

Gallo pointed firmly at the helicopter. “Ya es hora de que se vayan.” It’s time for you to leave .

“But…” Boris floundered for diplomacy in the face of duplicity. “Where are the JUNGLA you were going to release?”

Gallo gave a careless shrug. “Rojas sends his apologies, but the JUNGLA escaped their escorts on their way here, and they fled into the wilderness. They are better trained than our soldiers, you see. At least they are free.” He shrugged again.

His story was so obviously a lie. Boris gaped at him, at a loss for words.

Behind them, the helicopter’s rotors began to spool faster. What choice did Boris have but to head out? The rebels weren’t about to hand the money back. At least, the UN team had some of what they’d come for.

Charles thought the same thing. “Let’s go, Boris.” He tugged their leader away from the door. “Help me with the box.”

As Charles, Boris, and Bellini hefted the box?—which clearly contained dirt as well as a body?—Maggie grabbed Jay’s filthy sleeve and waved Esme with her as she struck out toward the helicopter. Would Gallo really let her get away? A glance back at his expression sent shards of suspicion sinking deep beneath her skin. This wasn’t the end of the FARC’s treachery, was it?

Glimpsing movement at the edge of the field, she caught sight of David and the unknown rebel emerging from the forest alone. They hadn’t found Jake. She faltered to a halt at the forceful reminder of Jake’s death. Her knees turned liquid. The world seemed to spin.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. How was she supposed to leave without him?

Jake pressed himself against a kapok tree, his heart thudding as he assessed the situation taking place in front of him. Across a field of tall, rippling grass, acid green beneath the rays of the low-lying sun, David and the unknown rebel marched ahead of him toward a red-roofed building while the five remaining peacekeepers?—and one hostage?—headed into the gale-force wind of the Red Cross helicopter. Boris, Bellini, and Charles struggled to carry a crate?— A Dhia?— that had to contain Mike Howitz’s body.

Remarkably, the exchange seemed to be going off without a hitch?—except Jake didn’t see any released JUNGLA hostages. Perhaps they were in the helo already. He focused back on Lena. Even from a distance of a football field, he could tell his apparent demise was taking its toll on her. She moved like an automaton, looking around with a dazed expression that let him know she was thinking of him.

I’m right behind you, Beautiful.

As the UN team moved in a slow parade toward their noisy transport, Jake waited with dread for something to go wrong. David and his companion had slipped into the building, the door closing behind them. Jake could see faces pressed to the filthy glass of the two front windows, watching the team depart. Why had they all shut themselves inside like that?

As Jake looked back at the team, now arriving at the Huey, the field beyond it caught and held his attention. Darker green shapes seemed to slither among the stalks of waving grass. Jake blinked, thinking his vision was playing tricks on him.

When the first head reared up, alarm drove a shaft through his heart. Then dozens of heads appeared, covered in camouflaged helmets. Rifles rose next, pointed at the building. In one accord, the hidden army fired on the cloistered FARC.

A barrage of semiautomatic gunfire played descant to the helicopter’s thunder. Caught utterly off guard, the UN peacekeepers froze and stared.

Fear raked Jake’s spine as the red-roofed building bore the assault. The glass in the two front windows shattered. It had to be the JUNGLA who were firing at the FARC.

“No!” His shout of protest was never heard through the noise. The JUNGLA, who had jeopardized the start of this mission, were now wreaking havoc on its successful resolution. Why?

Certain to be shot dead if he moved from his concealed location, Jake stared helplessly as the male peacekeepers and a man in uniform struggled to lift the heavy box into the helicopter. Eyes locked on Lena, Jake wasn’t surprised to see her heaving Jay Barnes into the big bird before turning to help Esme.

Get in, Lena!

Soon, she was the only member of the team with two feet still on the ground. The rotors spooled faster as the helo readied for takeoff. Thank God the JUNGLA’s ammunition was being aimed at the rebels and not at the bird. For the moment, the FARC were pinned down and not yet returning fire.

Charles, kneeling in the doorway, stretched out a hand to Lena to help her up. Throwing a look over her shoulder, she hesitated. The temptation to step into view and reassure her he was still alive rode Jake hard. But if others saw him, too, what then? He gripped the tree, staying hidden.

Just go, Lena!

Movement within the building caught his eye. A rifle muzzle was now poking through a shattered pane. Jake’s blood turned to ice water. Even before the crack reached his ears, he sensed Lena was the target.

Tat-tat! She crumpled where she fell.

Jake gave a hoarse shout. With his heart in his throat, he watched Charles leap out of the helicopter to retrieve her.

Rat-tat-tat-tat! The weapon that had fired on Lena discharged again, spewing rounds that thunked into the side of the metal bird. Struck by a bullet, Charles reeled and dropped. The helo began to rise. Charles crawled toward a running board and latched onto it. He then reached back for Lena, but with the bird rising, his grip on her slack arm slipped. It was all Charles could do to cling to the helicopter as it made its ponderous ascent.

Jake kept his eyes on Lena. Was she dead? God forbid.

He stared, desperate for a sign of life from her as the Huey continued to rise. A glance upward showed Boris and the two guards hauling Charles off the running board into safety.

To keep from racing to Lena’s aid, Jake gripped the tree trunk with all his might. He would certainly get shot. The only way to help her was to stay hidden?—and to pray.

Please don’t let her die, Father.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. His job as a SOG was to keep Lena safe, but then Gallo had pulled a fast one. No doubt Gallo was the one who’d shot her, too.

Through eyes that swam with tears, Jake tore his gaze off her long enough to note that the Red Cross transport was beyond the range of fire now. Its shadow streaked across the bright-green valley before banking south to fly along the Eastern Cordillera, headed to Bogotá.

Within the Huey, Charles scooted to the middle of the grooved floor and gasped his thanks. He met Boris’s somber gaze. “We have to go back for her!”

Hunkered next to him, the German’s jaw hardened. He looked Charles over. “Where were you hit?”

Charles rubbed the spot still smarting on his thigh, but he wasn’t bleeding. There was no sign that a bullet had penetrated his flesh. He ran a hand over his other leg but found himself unharmed. “Were those rubber bullets?”

They had to be, in which case, maybe Magdalena Ellis wasn’t dead. “Boris, she might still be alive. We have to go back for her.”

“No.” Anger burned in Boris’s gray-blue eyes. “You played me for a fool, Charles. Madeleine and Jacques were never one of us. But you already knew that.”

Charles cast an uncomfortable glance at the others, relieved to find them too far away to hear Boris’s quiet accusation.

“For your sake, I will say nothing,” the German added, “for I have long considered you my friend. But I will not put my people in jeopardy to return for two imposters. They are CIA, are they not?”

Charles set his teeth, refusing to answer.

“Let the CIA get them out.” With those words, Boris left Charles sitting on the floor and went to join the others on the Huey’s bench.

Swallowing convulsively, Charles remained on the floor, too spent to help the guards slide shut the still-open door. Lit by the setting sun, El Castillo had never looked so immense and formidable with its upper half buried in clouds.

Abandoning a fellow operative to fend for herself turned Charles’s stomach, making him want to retch. The FARC had singled out the French couple for a reason. He was lucky they hadn’t targeted him, too. The SEAL lieutenant might be dead already. And Magdalena, even if she hadn’t been shot by a real bullet, would wish she were dead soon enough.

The strange and sudden quiet that fell over the field penetrated Jake’s disbelief. He’d been staring at Lena’s still form, trying to process that she might be dead and fighting every instinct in his body telling him to run to her side.

Wait a minute. Why weren’t the JUNGLA firing anymore?

Tearing his attention from Lena, he studied the soldiers in the field with puzzlement. They had lowered their weapons and were beginning to stand up. Why weren’t the FARC in the building taking advantage and shooting them all? Why wasn’t anyone shooting?

The door of the beleaguered building flew open, and under Jake’s astonished stare, the FARC poured out of it, pumping their weapons and cheering in victory. Only David and his friends hung back, not participating in the revelry.

Jake’s jaw dropped as the JUNGLA countered with a cheer of their own, firing their rifles into the sky. Unable to reconcile what he was seeing, Jake focused again on Lena, who remained sprawled between the two parties. Bile crept up his throat as she continued to be ignored. No one made any attempt to staunch the blood that had to be spilling from her.

When Gallo sauntered up to her, nudging her with a toe, Jake could read the sneer on his face across the distance between them. Fury exploded in Jake. If he were armed, he would have cheerfully killed the man.

But then Lena stirred. She stirred!

Swallowing his cry of wonder, Jake watched Gallo nudge her again, clearly commanding her to rise.

How could she? She’d taken a hit square to the chest.

But she complied. Somehow, miraculously, she did. As the JUNGLA and the rebels mingled, exchanging handshakes and slapping each other’s backs, Lena rolled to her knees and took in her surroundings with a mystified expression.

I don’t get it either, Beautiful.

But then he caught sight of some of the JUNGLA shaking off their jackets as if they were covered in ants. At the sight of the pea-green uniforms beneath the jungle-patterned jackets, Jake nearly choked on his astonishment. Nách mór an diabhal thú! These weren’t the JUNGLA, after all! They were wolves in sheep’s clothing?—Venezuelans. And they’d been using rubber bullets.

The scene suddenly made perfect sense. In a sneaky guerilla tactic that involved dressing like the enemy, the Venezuelan allies had just convinced the fleeing UN team that Colombian soldiers had shot and killed one of their peacekeepers while attacking the FARC.

The fallout would be tremendous. Within hours, both the United Nations and the International Red Cross would condemn the Colombian government, who would fly into a frenzy trying to prove their innocence?—something that could take months to do. Only by then, the damage would be done. No one would believe the JUNGLA’s claim of innocence. Colombia would lose big points with its allies, right when it needed them most.

None of that mattered much to Jake. The tragedy here was that Lena was now a hostage of the FARC. Worse still, the Venezuelan marching up to her and Gallo resembled one of the men they’d filed past on their way down from Cecaot-Jicobo . As that man planted himself before Lena, Jake’s mouth went dry with fear. Even from a hundred yards away, Jake read contempt on the Venezuelan’s face as he caught Lena’s chin in one hand, turned her head this way and that, then nodded at Gallo.

The gesture was clear. He recognized her.

Jake briefly closed his eyes. His nightmare was manifesting. When he opened his eyes again, Gallo was clapping a steel band around Lena’s neck, with a length of chain hanging from it. Dread banded Jake’s rib cage, making it hard to breathe.

Lena had been branded a spy.

To prove his power over her, Gallo gave the chain a jerk, then laughed coarsely as she spilled to her knees. Jake couldn’t see the look on her face, but he didn’t need to in order to sense her fury as she rose slowly to her feet.

Don’t do it, Lena . But, of course, she did. She kicked Gallo where it hurt the most. The mondo crumpled with a shout of pain. The soldiers who were watching all hooted with laughter. But the Venezuelan who’d recognized her clocked her for her gall, and Lena crumpled a second time.

Jake couldn’t watch. Pressing his forehead to the tree’s rough bark, he begged, “Enough. No more, Father. Please!”

The whine of motors cut through his anguish, dragging his attention back to the field as two ATVs shot into view and headed straight toward the two parties. As Marquez, Gallo, and the Venezuelan broke away from the others, it became apparent the ATVs were for the leaders.

Tugging Lena along like a dog, Gallo hobbled toward the first ATV, then forced her to climb on in front of him before sandwiching her between himself and the driver. Marquez and the man who’d recognized Lena boarded the other ATV. Then those four shot away from the field, leaving the allied soldiers to walk back to El Castillo.

Through eyes that burned, Jake kept Lena in his sights until the ATVs zipped behind the red-roofed building and disappeared into the tree line. He had an inkling of where Lena would be taken?—to Rebel Central, Ki-kirr-zikis , where General Rojas could interrogate her himself. The thought of Lena alone in that heart of darkness made Jake want to throw back his head and howl.

Why, oh why, hadn’t I listened to my dream? Instead, he’d prayed for God to show him a clearer sign, one he wouldn’t question. Well, here it was.

He couldn’t even go after her yet?—not alone with no shoes to protect his battered feet and no weapon either. He had to wait for his teammates to find him first.