Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

S he never could have done this on her own. Even with Jake’s arms around her, lifting her and guiding her up the steep grade of snow-slick gravel, climbing to the alpine crest was more than Maggie could do. She could tell by Jake’s sidelong glances he was worried she wouldn’t make it. She could also tell he was dying to know what she’d been about to tell him. But Jake, being Jake, didn’t press her.

They came upon the summit so abruptly that her head spun?—as much with vertigo as with relief to find herself standing on the pinnacle of the fourteen-thousand-foot mountain. It felt like they’d climbed up to heaven itself.

The night sky, adorned with patchy clouds and sequin-like stars, stretched as far as the eye could see in all directions, flaunting the vastness of space. However immense, she felt herself to be an integral part of God’s great plan. There was a reason she was here, on Earth, alive.

Her gaze lowered to the mountain’s twin peaks, then the saddle between them. Where there might have been nothing but ice a hundred years ago, a small lake glimmered in the darkness. Lobo’s assessment had been correct. There appeared to be just enough room on one side of it for a helicopter to land, but the fit would be tight with water on one side and a granite sheer on the other. And then there was the wind to think of…

It buffeted them where they stood. If not for the warmth of Jake’s body, Maggie would have turned into a human icicle, even with a fever burning her from the inside out.

The commandos, who came straggling up the rise behind them, panting in exhaustion, also stopped and stared. All three looked in danger of toppling over and never getting up again.

“There’s the radio station.” David pointed it out to everyone. “I’ve only seen it once before.”

Maggie followed his pointing finger to the three solar panels Lobo had displayed on his laptop at the safe house. Hallelujah! They were a short walk away from shelter, not that Maggie could see one.

“Come!” Clutching his flapping poncho, David led the way down into the sheltered saddle. They passed the solar panels and a sturdy antenna, whistling in the wind, before coming upon a cinder-block wall and a sturdy wooden door. The building seemed to grow out of the granite itself.

The first to reach the door, David pounded on it to announce them. Maggie swayed against Jake. Just a few more minutes and she could pass out?—providing somebody was here to let them in.

A light shone around the edges of the door. A bolt grated back, and the door swung outward, revealing the portly priest wearing a poncho like David’s. As they flinched from the light shining over his head?—an actual working lightbulb!?—he greeted them with astonished silence, then exclaimed in Spanish, “David! You’ve brought me some companions. Come in, come in! Heavens, what a nice surprise.”

They crowded into a blessedly warm but tiny dwelling. Maggie noted the radio equipment on one wall, a handcrafted cot, and even a rug beneath her feet. She was safe here. Jake would take care of her. She could let go.

“Where can I lay Lena down, Father? She’s hurt.”

“Oh, goodness. Right here.” The priest stepped toward the cot, which was clearly where he’d just been lying. Whipping back the blanket, he held it up while Jake lowered her onto it. While little more than a stretcher, it felt as soft as down, compared to the rock she’d been sleeping on. There was even a pillow.

“There you go.” The priest himself covered her with the blanket.

As Jake dropped to his knees next to her, she grabbed his sleeve. “Jake.” Her eyes wouldn’t open.

His gloved hand brushed the hair from her face. “Yes, Beautiful. Rest now. We’ll be out of here soon.”

“I want you in my life, always.” There, she’d said it. She fought to lift her eyelids to gauge his response, but they were sealed shut.

His lips, still as cold as ice cubes from being outdoors, touched her burning forehead as he rasped in a voice thick with emotion, “I’m not going anywhere.”

That was her last impression before she lost consciousness.

Jake straightened with his heart about to burst. “I want you in my life always . ” The assertion was way more than he’d let himself hope for.

One look at the expectant faces around him, and he filed away her words for later contemplation. Unless and until he got them all away from El Castillo, he and Lena wouldn’t have an “always.”

With the priest busy distributing juice packs to the JUNGLA, and with Fernando hunting for the new frequency on the radio, Jake raised the antenna on his heavy-duty sat phone, walked to the other side of the room, and made the call.

The phone rang three times before Lobo answered. “What’s your status?”

“We’re in position. You can head this way.”

Lobo hesitated. “I’m afraid we’ve run into a glitch, an electrical problem on the Seahawk. We’re scrambling for a replacement part.”

No . There wasn’t any allowance in this equation for a problem. “What about another helo? What are your options?”

“Only other option is the Little Bird.”

That wouldn’t work. The Little Bird required sitting outside of the cockpit on running boards. It was too cold and too windy for that, not to mention he had too many passengers for such a small helo. “How long to get the part?”

“Unknown. We’re working every angle. I’ll let you know.”

“Out.” Jake jabbed the call to a close.

In that same instant, a voice came out of Fernando’s radio?—Gallo’s voice barking orders in what was clearly a mobilization effort. Surely, they would wait until first light to ascend to the mountain. Apart from desperate escapees, no one traveled on the mountain at night.

Something Lobo had said in their briefing returned to Jake. Pivoting toward the radio equipment, he hunted for the device that was re-transmitting the radio waves being picked by the huge antenna outside.

This was Zen’s area of expertise, not Jake’s, but the rectangular black box with lights jumping on the display had to be a transmitter.

He waved the priest over. “See this, Father? I think it’s part of a repeater system for the FARC’s handheld radios. If we pull the power, they won’t be able to talk to each other unless they have a clear line of sight.”

“Oh, I see. I didn’t know that.” If the priest wondered where Jake’s French accent had gone, he didn’t ask.

Fernando, who was listening intently to the radio, hushed them suddenly.

The cave fell silent as Jake strained to hear what was being said. The man speaking in a strong Venezuelan dialect was unintelligible to him, but the crease appearing on Fernando’s grubby forehead spoke for itself. Jake braced himself. “Qué dijo?” What did he say?

“They’re bringing mortars,” the commando captain relayed.

“Right now?”

“No, no. At first light.”

Mortars. Jake envisioned their Sikorsky SH-60 Seahawk helicopter blowing into a ball of fire.

Not on my watch . “I’m unplugging this transmitter. If they can’t talk, they can’t plan. Vale? ”

Fernando nodded. “Vale.”

As Jake unplugged the transmitter from its power source, the radio in the JUNGLA’s hand gave a hiss of static. With a grim smile, Fernando turned it off and set it aside.

That ought to slow the rebels down a bit.

“Let’s rest.” Jake returned to Lena’s side, passing Father Joshua on the way. “Sorry to kick you out of your bed, Father.”

The priest waved off his apology with a worried look. “She needs her rest more than I do.”

Back on his knees, Jake peeled off his glove to assess Lena’s fever. He’d never felt a hotter forehead. What were the chances his team wouldn’t get here before the FARC and the Venezuelans did?

Surely, God wouldn’t have brought them this far only to deny them His protection at the last minute. Jake lifted a worried gaze to the priest hovering over him. “Father, please say a prayer for our safety.”

The buzzing of his military sat phone roused Jake from a light sleep. Snatching it from his pocket, he checked the time as he answered, surprised to discover he had slept sitting on the floor with his head resting on the cot next to Lena’s. It was zero-five-hundred hours, which meant the sun was starting to rise; impossible to tell in this windowless radio station, which was dark inside, save for the electronic equipment on the opposite wall.

“Go ahead.”

“Status update.” It was Lobo. “The electrical problem is resolved, and we’re on our way?—ETA, two hours.”

Relief flooded Jake, followed by apprehension. “Copy.” By the time the helo arrived, the sun would have been up for a while, giving the FARC and their allies plenty of time to hustle up the mountain to Arriba and then follow their quarry’s tracks in the snow to the radio station. “We might have company by then, and they might be bringing mortars.”

The beat of silence before Lobo signed off conveyed the same consternation Jake was feeling. Putting his phone away, he clicked on his penlight, shining it first at Lena, who flinched from the light but didn’t waken. With a heavy heart, he palmed her forehead, then turned his penlight on the JUNGLA, finding all three of them sitting up and eyeing him expectantly.

“Let’s move.” As they came to their feet, David and the priest, who were also sprawled on the rug, stirred. The latter got up and switched on the light.

“I think I have some salame de llama here somewhere.” Padre Josué went hunting in the cupboards for some sustenance.

A short time later, their stomachs sated with llama jerky, Jake stepped out of the radio station with the three JUNGLA and David and shut the door behind him. The sky was as gray as their granite surroundings, the air filled with flurries kicked up from the ground. Jake tugged his gloves back on while the JUNGLA secured the blankets Father Joshua had given them more securely around their frames. Poor David just had his poncho.

“We have firepower and the advantage of higher ground,” Jake reassured them, getting earnest nods in return. “Let’s spread out on the ridge overlooking Arriba and protect this summit from encroachment. David, we could use you to run messages between us.”

“ Sí, Jacques.”

“ Bueno . Let’s have a look at our arsenal.”

After assessing how much firepower they had, they dispersed. Jake climbed up the ridge closest to Lena, just above the radio station. As he settled behind a crag, using its breadth to block the wind, he checked on the JUNGLA, finding them nearly in position farther down the ridge. Seated, quite literally, on the top of the world, Jake absorbed the view.

The sky was the color of pewter and brightening by the minute. Eying the precipitous rocky slope down to Arriba, he realized that the clouds smothering El Castillo were actually below him.

Oh, that’s not good.

They wouldn’t see the enemy coming until they were close enough to shoot. Studying the impenetrable mist, Jake pricked his ears for any telltale signs of an approaching force. All he heard was wind rattling the tall antenna behind him.

The minutes crept by. Hugging himself to keep warm, he watched the sky brighten by degrees, turning from pewter to violet blue, reflected by the little lake in the saddle behind him. All at once, the sun burst over the eastern horizon, a golden orb that buttered the layer of clouds below him, spreading as far as the eye could see.

This must be what heaven looks like .

Under any other circumstances, Jake would have relished the splendor of this sunrise, seen from the top of the world. But not right now, not today, not with Lena’s life hanging in the balance. Come on, God. Lena needs a doctor.

In the opaque veil below him, a shadow flickered. Jake tensed. Raising his M4, he focused on the spot where he’d seen something move, his gaze as sharp as a condor’s.

CRACK!

One of the JUNGLA had fired his weapon, prompting Jake to sprawl on his belly and then squirm backward so only his head poked over the ridge. The enemy was here.

He heard them before he saw them. But as they emerged from the mist, his optimism floundered. At least thirty men, maybe more, were swarming up the east face of the snowline. Taking a bead on the nearest one, Jake fired, and the rebel dropped. Please don’t be one of the kids. The remaining rebels scattered, taking cover behind stony outcrops.

Time slowed to a crawl. For the next hour, Jake and JUNGLA whittled away at the force below them. If the rebels had mortars, they didn’t use them. Jake and company clearly had the edge, but their ammo couldn’t last forever.

As if to manifest Jake’s fears, David came running up to him. “Are there any more clips for the pistola ? The captain has run out.”

Jake patted down his vest, found a mag he had overlooked earlier, and passed it to David, who bounded away, taking it to Fernando.

Silence fell over the summit, broken only by gusts of wind that kicked up snow, concealing the movements of the FARC, who were probably discussing the strategy to flank them. Into the tense stalemate came the distinct throbbing of the Sikorsky Seahawk’s twin turboshaft engine. Lifting his gaze from the snowline, Jake searched the brightening sky. Come on. Hurry! Lena needed antibiotics days ago.

There! He finally spotted her, a bird-sized speck growing larger by the second. Provided the FARC did not have mortars, their departure was imminent.

Jake started backing down the ridge. “David.” Jake waved the young man up to him, even as he clambered down. “I’m going inside for Lena. Get word to the JUNGLA to fall back toward the lake. We should be out of here in twenty minutes. It’ll take the enemy longer than that to get up here, so we should be okay.”

As David nodded, Jake put a hand on his shoulder, gave it a grateful squeeze, then continued down the ridge, headed for the radio station.

When he swept into the small room, his heart dropped to see the priest kneeling next to Lena, whose eyes were still closed. “Is she?”?—he couldn’t even say the word?—“ dead?”

“Not quite.”

Not quite? That wasn’t the reassurance Jake was looking for. His stomach pitched as he noted Lena’s blue lips. She wasn’t getting the oxygen she needed at this altitude. “Our transport’s coming. I need to take her outside now.” Just focus on the next step .

The priest got up wordlessly, backing away so Jake could scoop up Lena, blanket and all. As he reached the door, he glanced back at the priest. Sudden concern for that man’s welfare prompted him to say, “You should probably come with us, Father.”

“No, no.” Father Joshua’s determined smile conveyed confidence. “The Lord will protect me.”

Jake stared at him, hoping with all his heart that was true. “Better plug the transmitter back in once we leave so they don’t accuse you.”

“Yes, I will. Here, let me get the door for you.”

The Seahawk was close enough to make the stone walls hum. Jake held the missionary’s eyes as that man pushed the door open. “Thank you, Father. I’m sorry for the violence.”

A tight smile this time. “You didn’t start it. I pray God watches over you and your wife, now and always.”

The word wife stayed with Jake as he bore Lena toward the lakeshore. The wind was whipping now, made worse by the rotor wash as the Seahawk floated thunderously into view and then began its treacherous descent.

Given the crack, crack, crack in the distance, the enemy was firing at it. The helo’s M30 chain gun retaliated with a rat-tat-tat-tat-tat! Jake watched with a held breath, not daring to look away, not even for a second, as the Sikorsky’s substantive frame rocked in the wind.

All at once, Jake could see the shooter in the helo’s open door. That looked like Harm! Recognition gave way to relief. He couldn’t have been too badly injured if he was back in action already.

Centering itself over the lakeshore, the helo prepared to land.

Watch out for that sheer there .

Foot by foot, it dropped until, at last, it touched down onto the rocky surface at the lake’s edge.

“We’re going to make it, Beautiful.” As Jake started for the bird, both Lobo and Zen jumped out, their M4s ready to defend their rescue targets. Jake saw Jorge trip and fall. David, with his poncho flapping in the wind, went to pick the man up, assisted by Zen who darted away to help.

Lobo came straight for Jake, grabbed the side of his vest, and drew him through the rotor wash to the door, where he gave him a heave-ho that made it possible to clamber inside without passing Lena off to Bambino, who grabbed for him and pulled them in.

“Over here,” the medic shouted, drawing Jake toward a stationary gurney.

Lowering Lena across it, Jake relinquished her to Bambino’s care, then turned his attention to the irregular terrain outside. Two of the three JUNGLAs clambered up into the cargo area and collapsed.

“Let’s go!” Lobo shouted at Zen, who escorted David and a limping Jorge to the bird.

Beyond them, Jake caught sight of movement and fixed his stare on what could only be a human being, cast into silhouette by the sun shining on the eastern ridge. The acrid taste of fear filled his mouth as he spotted the unmistakable shape of a rocket launcher on the man’s shoulder?—a mortar mounted on a rocket. “Shooter!” Dropping to his knees, he pointed the man out to Harm.

“I see him.” Harm swung his chain gun in the right direction.

Lobo all but tossed David into the cabin while Zen pulled up Jorge. “Go, go, go!” Lobo roared at the pilots.

The twin turboshaft engine whined as the pilots responded. “Hold on!”

Harm’s M30 chain gun spewed empty shells onto the floor as he covered their liftoff. Jake, who hadn’t taken his eye off the shooter, saw him duck behind a rock. Darned if the man didn’t resemble Gallo.

The Seahawk rose, jerking in the wind like a malfunctioning thrill ride.

Watch that sheer! Jake threw himself across Lena’s prone form to keep her from falling off the gurney as the helo tipped away from it.

David and the JUNGLA crawled toward the benches to grope for the straps on the wall. Harm, cool as a cucumber, slid on his gun rail, keeping their assailant in sight.

Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat! More shells rolled across the cabin floor.

But then the sound Jake dreaded to hear?—the sizzling of an RPG ripping through the air?—reached his ears. This is it . Holding on to Lena, he braced for impact. At least they would go to Heaven together.

The helicopter banked in the opposite direction, and the RPG sizzled past them, missing by mere feet. As Jake’s adrenaline drained away, he opened his eyes to find them accelerating swiftly into the cerulean sky. They were too far from the mountain now to be targeted?—not with the FARC’s limited firepower.

With the danger over, Harm secured his chain gun to one side and rolled shut the large door, locking out the frigid blast.

In the quiet that followed, Jake met the eyes of his teammates, then David and the JUNGLA, who eased their white-knuckled grips on the wall straps and shared great smiles of relief.

Looking back at Lena, Jake’s contentment fled. Bambino was slipping an oxygen mask over her face. She looked utterly lifeless. Nor did Bambino’s grave expression offer hope as he proceeded to take her blood pressure. The worried tilt to the medic’s dark eyebrows stripped the air from Jake’s lungs.

He crouched beside the gurney and stroked Lena’s dark hair. Tears of desperation stung his eyes as he bent over her, grating in her ear, “Don’t you dare die on me, Lena.”

She’d said those very words to him after the bombing. Never in a million years did he think he would be saying them to her just twelve years later.