Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

G allo burst into the casita , startling David as he applied the sticky mixture of ajo sacha paste over the se?ora’s festering wound. His patient, lethargic with fever, nonetheless lurched up in the hammock, ready to protect herself. But it was David who needed protecting as Gallo bore down on him wild-eyed.

“What are you doing?” He hauled his pistol from the holster on his belt and pointed it at David’s head, causing him to drop the wooden bowl with its potent-smelling poultice and back away from Gallo, his hands raised.

“I…I’m sealing her wound. She is feverish and could die.”

Gallo raised his voice and waved his pistol in Madeleine’s direction. “She is not your concern! She is a spy!” He had lost his hat. The hair on his head stuck straight up, and his eyes bulged. “Some soldiers came for her?—” He cut himself off abruptly and spun away, dragging fingers through his hair as he commenced pacing the casita .

David divided his attention between the se?ora’s glazed expression and the crazed mondo , whose energy was even more unpredictable than ever. Where was Gallo’s partner in crime? He scrounged up the courage to ask. “Where is the Venezuelan captain?”

Gallo wheeled around, pointing a finger this time, even as he jammed his pistol back into its holster. “We don’t know.” His breath came in hard and fast.

We?

Gallo waved a hand at the door. “He went out last night to relieve himself, and he never came back. Perhaps a jaguar ate him. This is the story you will tell.”

“But?—” Gallo’s wild look kept David from protesting, “But you left with him this morning.”

Clearly, something had happened to Vargas that Gallo didn’t want his superiors to know. Did that mean the Venezuelan was dead? Who had killed him?—possibly the soldiers Gallo had just mentioned? Had they been looking for Madeleine?

Glancing back at his patient, David caught a glimmer of tears in her eyes before she turned her face away. She had obviously heard Gallo’s words, gleaning that whoever had come for her was gone now?—gone as in dead. But they’d managed to kill Vargas, at least, leaving one less devil to contend with.

Poor se?ora. Nobody would rescue her now. David gulped. It was up to him to look after her. Seeing Gallo head back outside, David snatched up the fallen bowl and continued to tend his patient’s wound.

He was scrubbing the bowl in the bucket of water when Gallo returned. David watched warily as the mondo marched straight for Madeleine. Using a key on his key chain, he unlocked the padlock that had kept her chained to the wall. As Gallo freed the length of chain, the woman sat up slowly. She was right to be wary of the mondo , who then hauled her out of the hammock with a yank.

David abandoned the bowl, hurrying to catch his patient as she stumbled.

Gallo glared at him. “Tie her wrists behind her back. We’re leaving.”

David glanced at Madeleine’s pale face. “But, Mondo, she’s too sick to go anywhere.”

Gallo flashed out a hand and cuffed the side of David’s head, leaving his ear ringing. “I said, tie her wrists.”

David stared at him a moment. For the first time in his rebel career, he wished his weapon weren’t useless. “Yes, sir.”

Turning away, he hunted down the length of hamak fiber that strung her up the night before. While securing the woman’s wrists behind her back, as Gallo instructed, David asked himself when and how he would free her?—how he would free them both .

Her health was not going to improve. Certainly, the ajo sacha would help to stave off infection, but stress and starvation would sicken her. “Are we taking her to Arriba now?” He was afraid to ask.

“We?” Gallo’s dark glance should have incinerated him on the spot, it was so filled with loathing.

David wet his dry lips. “Rojas ordered me to keep her alive.” It was only a matter of time before Gallo learned he was lying.

As the mondo huffed out a breath of annoyance, David’s heart fluttered like a bird’s.

“Then you must come along, I guess.”

David nodded, though his victory was short-lived. Once at Arriba , it would be next to impossible to free Madeleine. The most he could do was to keep her alive longer. Perhaps Padre Josué was still at the old radio station, not far from Arriba , and could help David.

He dared ask one more question. “What if she can’t make the climb, Mondo ?”

Gallo sneered. “If she can’t make it, you will carry her.”

Rain drummed the broad leaves that sheltered Jake as he stood within the tree line, studying the casita where the UN team had spent their last few nights together. No smoke curled out of the crude chimney. No smell of food hung in the wet air. From his current vantage, he couldn’t see through any of the screened-in windows, but he sensed the casita was deserted.

“Home sweet home.” The memory of Lena bending down to kiss him while he lay in his hammock wafted through him, wrenching his heart.

It was almost evening. It had rained relentlessly since his teammates’ departure, drenching the jungle fatigues Jake wore beneath his tactical vest and heavy pack. While carrying enough supplies to ensure his survival for days, his feet throbbed as he hiked downhill, finding his way using the GPS device Lobo left with him to Lena’s last known location. In the dismal rain, the brick casita looked downright cozy, and Jake hadn’t slept for more than thirty-six hours.

On the off chance someone was inside, he double-checked his weapons. Thanks to his teammates’ generosity, he now carried an M4, Harm’s KA-BAR knife, strapped to his right thigh, and Bambino’s pistol in his belt holster. The mosquitos swarming his head couldn’t get to his flesh through the grease paint covering his exposed skin.

Go. Jake darted across the open space, put his back to the wall, then reached out and pulled the door open. It swung outward with a groan, emitting a stillness that encouraged Jake to pivot around the wall and clear the building.

With mixed feelings, he discovered it empty. His gaze fell on the single hammock suspended right where Lena’s had hung before their departure. Curiosity drew him toward it, and a stain resembling blood had him bending down for a closer look. He touched the damp stain, then smelled his fingers. The iron scent of blood, left right where Lena’s hip might have come into contact with the woven fibers, made him fear the worst.

Not only had she been here, but she was injured. Her captors must have cut the tracking device from her hip.

His heart pounding and his stomach queasy, Jake searched the unlit space for more clues. Encountering a wooden bowl left in the soapy dishwater, he pulled it out and gave it a whiff. The faint smell of something herbal?—garlic??—mystified him since the rebels never seasoned their food.

He dropped the bowl back in the bucket, then crossed to the screen that offered a view of the rain-soaked coca field. Disappointment cleaved his chest. Resting his forehead against the wall, he stared outside, drawing deep breaths until his unwieldy emotions subsided.

Had she been taken to Arriba from here or to one of the other camps? Rebel Central was the closest, located just four kilometers from the casita , where he would spend the night. Maybe Rojas wanted to question her in person. Jake could pop over there in the morning and hunt for any sign of her. If it didn’t look like she was there, he would head next to Cecaot-Jicobo .

If she wasn’t there either, he would capture the first rebel to cross his tracks and question that man until he learned of Lena’s whereabouts. Regardless of how long it took, he would find her and free her.

I’m still here, Beautiful. I’m coming for you. I won’t let you die alone on this godforsaken mountain.

Arriba. What an awful place to die. It did, in fact, lie beyond the waterfall, another mile or two of hiking that had nearly killed her. The place was unworthy of a grander name, as just two stone hovels and a couple of outhouses were all that was here, all built from the rocks that comprised the landscape at this ridiculous altitude. The lower hovel stood at the upper edge of the forest, while the second had been erected on the bare rock currently quilted in snow.

A chain-link fence topped by barbed wire hemmed in the second building and an outhouse. Nothing but wild grasses and stunted shrubs poked through the snow. A steady wind stripped all the warmth from Maggie’s body. And even though the mountain’s twin peaks loomed nearby, she couldn’t see them for the clouds that capped the mountain, limiting visibility to maybe fifty yards.

Upon their arrival, Gallo had passed her chain off to a stoop-backed jailer, and for a brief moment, Maggie’s optimism had risen, especially when Gallo sliced off the bindings at her wrists, freeing her to use her hands. The jailer looked like someone she could overcome with a well-placed kick.

But then a hulking, scar-faced brute stepped out of the jailer’s hovel, and all hope of escaping withered. As the second jailer’s soulless eyes slid over her, Maggie wondered if he was even human. One of Jake’s favorite classic movies came to mind, causing her lips to twitch as she dubbed the pair Igor and Frankenstein.

Gallo had given the jailers specific directions. “Rojas wants her to remain in good health, so chain her well away from the others.”

Her ears had pricked at the word. The others? Were the JUNGLA still here?

“As she is wounded, this soldier named David may check on her from time to time and bring her herbs for her recovery.”

Meeting David’s apologetic gaze, Maggie could see he regretted not being able to shoot the padlock back at the casita and escape while they’d had the chance.

Igor had tugged Lena into the stark enclosure, followed by Frankenstein, who locked the gate behind them. When Lena glanced back at David, the horrified look on his face confirmed what Maggie was thinking:

I really might die here.

Shoved into the hovel from behind, she could see nothing at first, for the dwelling had no windows. Chains rattled as the other prisoners took stock of her. The foul stench that made her hold her breath suggested they had been here for weeks, if not months. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, the familiar camouflage pattern of their uniforms informed her these were, indeed, the three JUNGLA who were supposed to be freed per the UN’s agreement with Rojas.

Assessing their condition, Maggie was pleased to see the fire of resistance still smoldering in their eyes. Through some clever and cooperative effort, they stood a good chance of escaping, she assured herself. Enduring their fascinated stares for the moment, she waited for Frankenstein and Igor to withdraw before addressing them.

“My name is Madeleine Cotillard. I am a French citizen, born in Venezuela. I came here with the UN peacekeeping team to negotiate the release of Jay Barnes and Mike Howitz. You must have known Jay, at least, if not both men.”

Her words were treated with skeptical silence. Perhaps she was too calm, behaving like the operator she was, not some traumatized UN representative. “Did you know we arranged for your release, but the FARC cheated us at the last minute, saying you had escaped from them?”

Her words got the response she was looking for. They spoke to her at last, introducing themselves, then peppering her with questions, which she answered as best a UN peacekeeper whose hip was throbbing and whose heart was shattered could.

When exhaustion claimed her, Maggie lapsed into silence, resting her head on the rock wall. Wrapped in a tattered and filthy woolen blanket, possibly used by her American predecessors, and seated on a cold dirt floor, Maggie shivered violently, unable to warm herself, even though her cheeks burned, suggesting her fever was climbing.

She must have fallen asleep, for she was kicked awake a while later by Igor?—and subsequently every hour on the hour, even after nightfall, when he shone a flashlight into her eyes.

Recognizing the awakenings as psychological torture and dismissing them, Maggie fell right back to sleep with each stirring, embracing the vivid dreams that claimed her.

In one such dream, she was floating shoulder-deep in clear aqua-blue waters in Jake’s embrace. The gentle rise and fall of the warm water cradled them. They were in Phuket on their honeymoon. White sand clung to Jake’s dark hair. He smiled at her with so much love in his gentle blue eyes that contentment brimmed in her.

I’ve never been this happy. We should have married years ago . Laying a hand on his smooth shoulder, she put her nose to his neck, inhaling the scent of a spring rain shower. This had to be real.

But hadn’t she seen him plummet to his death into the churning river, due to Gallo’s treachery?

Querying the reality of her dream, Maggie roused to consciousness. Hunger and frigid cold hit her like the flat edge of a two-by-four, knocking the joy clean out of her.

In desperation, she grasped for the words that had comforted her before, surrendering herself to their promise because there was no other choice: “ I will fear no evil. For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. ”

But the words rang hollow. Evil alone ruled this place. It was as if God had never even set foot here.

The squeak of hinges roused Jake from a light slumber. He lay face down on damp soil. Where am I? The vision of a hen pecking his outflung arm brought it all back?—how he’d spied on Rebel Central for hours the day before, even skulked around its perimeter and nearly grabbed a rebel to lead him to wherever Lena might have been taken. But the guards stood in pairs, and Jake only wanted one informant. And then he’d remembered: low-ranking rebels had no idea where captives were kept. He needed someone who knew something.

Giving up, he’d turned his back on Ki-kirr-zikis and hiked all the way up and around the mountain to Cecaot-Jicobo , that familiar camp where his joy at spending time with Lena had overridden all discomforts. As he’d hiked like an automaton, the rain had beaten down on him. It felt as if the entire world were weeping with him. Memories flowed through him of his and Lena’s first hike up El Castillo, her defiance in the face of fear while crossing the river in a wooden box strung from cables. Fire with fire .

He loved her so much that his chest hurt. Stay strong, Beautiful. Don’t give up on me.

Finally, just as darkness descended on his second day of searching, he arrived at the familiar camp. Exhausted, wet, and leery of sleeping with the creepy crawlies in the woods, he’d taken refuge under the bungalow, right beneath his and Lena’s old cubicle. Memories of her sleeping with her head on his shoulder lulled him into a deep and restful sleep.

But now it was dawn, and Gallo had just stepped out of the officers’ quarters, his door slamming shut behind him, which meant whoever was sleeping in the bungalow overhead?—most likely Venezuelan soldiers?—were bound to awaken soon with the blared recording of “?Despiértense todos. Arriba y ándale!”

As Jake pushed to his knees, the pack on his back?— THUMP ?—struck the underside of the bungalow. A male voice mumbled in protest right above him, causing Jake to count the beats of his heart as he prayed for the man to fall back asleep. Finally, rewarded by the sound of a low snore, he scuttled backward, keeping low. Then he darted into the forest, just as he and Lena had done so many times before. Birdsong and monkey chatter muffled his footsteps as he charged downhill, retreating to a safe distance to strategize.

The best person to capture and question was Gallo, of course. Having whisked Lena away from the valley and back up the mountain, Gallo most definitely knew where she was taken. Jake just had to capture him, then make the mondo an offer he couldn’t refuse: His life for Lena’s safe return.

But the rest of the rebels and their Venezuelan counterparts would notice Gallo’s absence and come looking for him. Some of them were bound to be good trackers. Jake’s boots might not leave tread marks, but nothing could disguise the depressions his soles left in the soft earth.

Rethinking his strategy, he headed toward the garcinia tree and was pleased to find two of the prickly fruits intact and on the ground, as yet unnoticed by the active monkeys leaping in the branches overhead.

With his back to the tree, Jake tore off the protective outer layer and popped the first succulent ball into his mouth. He was just starting to peel the second ball when David walked soundlessly past the tree, his eyes fastened on the soil. Jake froze. With a furrowed brow, David turned, following Jake’s barely discernable tracks. His head came up and his eyes flew wide. As he fumbled to aim the rifle that he carried everywhere, Jake threw his hands up.

“Soy yo, David! Tranquilo, tranquilo . No me fusiles.” Don’t shoot me.

His jaw hanging open, the squad leader lowered his weapon. “Jacques, estás vivo! ”

“ Sí, I’m alive . ” Jake extended the second ball of fruit as a peace offering, but David waved it off. His light-brown gaze trekked over Jake’s military attire and his many weapons.

“Are you JUNGLA?”

“No, no.” Jake took a small step closer and pitched his voice lower. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I’ve come for my…my wife. Where is Lena, David? Do you know?”

The fear in David’s expression gave way to cautious relief. He sent a worried glance toward camp, then gestured for Jake to follow him.

Led deeper into the forest, Jake was just beginning to question David’s intentions when they came across a plant covered in dark purple berries. David began plucking berries and dropping them into a leather pouch tied to his vest. He flicked Jake a dry glance. “Your Spanish is much better.”

Jake had to laugh at the remark. Dressed as an operator, he’d forgotten to speak painstakingly as Jacques would have done. Remembering his objective, he sobered. “Do you know where Lena is?”

The young man hesitated, plucking several more berries and feeding them into his pouch before pulling on the strings that closed it. “Arriba.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the falls. “She is hurt, but I’m permitted to tend to her. I will visit her later today.”

Hope surged into Jake’s chest. “Will you take me to her? That’s all I ask. Take me to her and tell no one. I’m not sure how to get there. Is it past the cascadas ?”

Thoughts flickered in David’s eyes, but he said not a word.

Desperation thrummed in Jake. “No one will ever know you helped me, David, I promise. I will take Lena from here and, God willing, you will never see me again.”

David cocked his head. “Do you believe in God, Jacques?”

The question caught Jake off guard. He nodded earnestly. “Yes, very much.”

“Yet, you will kill the guards to free your wife?”

David didn’t want anyone dying, apparently.

“Well, not if I don’t have to. There are other ways.”

David glanced around before stepping closer. “I know another way, but I am afraid.” He sucked in a breath and blew it out. “I am a coward.”

“Be brave. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Lifting a frightened look at him, David said quickly, “Gallo has a master key for all the padlocks used on El Castillo. I have heard him boast that he could free any hostage if he wished. He carries it on his key chain.”

Intrigued, Jake considered the options opening up to him.

David patted the pouch he carried. “This afternoon, I will put these berries in Gallo’s agua panela to make him sleepy. Once he’s asleep, I will take his key ring and run for Arriba to tend your wife. I will unlock her chains, as well as those of the three JUNGLA captives. I thought if I freed them all at once, she could slip away while the others distract the guards. I planned to take her to the radio station. Padre Josué, if he is still there, will know how to help me.”

David’s clever plan, which closely resembled their escape-and-evasion plan, stunned Jake. “You’re not a coward for wanting to avoid violence, David. You are the bravest man here, like young David in the Bible who slew Goliath with his slingshot.”

“No, se?or.” The youth’s brow furrowed. “I am the reason Gallo suspected you in the first place. All of this is my fault. I thought I got you killed!”

Jake squeezed David’s bony shoulder. “None of that matters now. We can help each other. Make the agua panela for Gallo. When he falls asleep, take his key ring, and we’ll go to Arriba together. We’ll discuss our plan as we walk and finalize it once I see for myself what the area looks like. But tell me about Lena. How much did they hurt her?”

David grimaced, dropping his gaze. “She has a wound?—here.” He touched his right hip. “She needs a healer.”

“Yes, I know. I’ll get her the help she needs. Can she walk?”

David hesitated. “She could walk yesterday, but she was limping.”

Jake would carry her to the top of the mountain if he had to. “Thank you for looking out for her, David. God will reward you for doing the right thing.”

As the youth nodded, his gaze traveled over Jake’s tactical vest to the M4 loosely held in the crook of his arm. “What are you? You don’t look like a peacekeeper.”

Jake sent him a small smile. “It’s better for you not to know. I’m not a threat to you; I promise. When will you give him the agua panela ?”

“Just before the evening meal. The sun will set soon after.”

“How far is it to Arriba ?”

“About an hour’s walk , se?or. Meet me at the cascadas . We will need to run to beat the dark.”

Jake gave an inward groan as he spared a thought for his tender feet. But nothing would keep him from running his fastest.

Without medical help, she would grow septic and die.

Catching herself thinking gloomy thoughts?—and it was only the second day!?—Maggie applied herself to knowing the JUNGLA soldiers better. They were courteous and respectful to her, having speculated after discussing strategies for taking down Igor and wrestling the keys from him that Maggie must work for the CIA or MI6. But it was Frankenstein who checked on them in the morning, planting a heavy boot in Maggie’s side to rouse her from feverish slumber.

Two hours later, as hunger gnawed at her like a tapeworm, Frankenstein brought them each a bowl of rice?—and an extra bowl of roasted potatoes seasoned with wild herbs for Maggie. The guards had taken Rojas’s supposed wishes to heart.

But Maggie, glimpsing the rabid hunger on the faces of the JUNGLA, who noted her preferential treatment with envy, weighed her health against the need to win them over and tossed each man a portion of her meal. Their attitude had shifted from speculative to accepting. She was one of them now.

Around midday, their chains were removed from the wall by Igor while Frankenstein stood watch, his AK-47 at the ready. What’s happening? Following the lead of her fellow captives, she picked up the chain trailing from her collar and followed her companions out the door.

Sunlight bouncing off the snow blinded her as she limped into the frigid wind. As he shuffled along behind her, the JUNGLA named Diego inclined his mouth to her ear. “Once a day, they let us out to use the latrine and to take exercise.”

Frankenstein prodded the man with his rifle. “No talking!”

Hugging herself against the cold wind, Maggie hunted for a means of escaping. The oldest JUNGLA, Fernando, carried his chain into the latrine and shut the door. The others walked around their shelter in a tight knot with Frankenstein stalking them, eagle-eyed. Igor, also armed with a rifle, manned the gate. Even so, Maggie recognized this was obviously the best time to effect an escape.

She considered the chain-link fence, ten feet tall and topped with barbed wire. Even in her injured state, she was certain she could climb it, but the barbed wire at the top presented a deterrent.

Diego spoke beneath his breath, his thoughts evidently on par with hers. “You could fit between the top of the fence and the barbed wire, se?ora. You’re thin enough.”

Maggie assessed the narrow space. Heavens, was she really that thin? She would have to count on the men to tackle Frankenstein and seize his gun before Igor reacted. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility, but?—“I’m not leaving unless we all leave.”

Diego slanted her a grateful look. “Are you married, Madeleine?”

The pain that lanced Maggie’s heart kept her from answering right away. Was she married? She ought to have married Jake years ago, but then she would never have become a case officer and never would have found that priceless information during her job in Venezuela.

“No.” And now it was too late. Jake was dead. Picturing his plummet into the river, she reviewed it in slow motion, detaching herself from the denial and anguish that had seized her at the time. He had hit the water feet first.

Hope shot like a sunbeam through a crack into her desolate thoughts. Could Jake have survived that tremendous fall into roiling water without snapping his neck? Could he have weathered the rapids sweeping him down the mountain? Navy SEALs were practically drown-proof. What if he wasn’t dead?

She had to be delirious to even consider the possibility. But if it turned out he was alive, and if he was well enough to get up and walk?—well, then, he would come for her, no question.

Or was she just so gravely desperate that she would tell herself anything to stay alive?