Escape Out of Darkness (15 page)

“It’s a major sport down here.”

“Okay, so they’re out of season. Anything else lurking in the underbrush besides CIA and rebels?”

“They’re the most lethal, I expect. We may run into a few wild boar.”

“What?” Mack’s raw voice managed a semblance of a shriek.

“Not to mention pumas, jaguars, and wild turkeys.”

“Speaking of turkeys, Maggie May,” he said in a dangerous voice, “you must be crazy if you think I’m going to go camping with pumas.”

“Don’t worry, Mack, I’ll protect you,” she said with a laugh. “Besides, Chicaste isn’t that far. If we get a good start, we may reach the rebel camp sometime tomorrow afternoon.”

“Somehow that prospect doesn’t reassure me,” he said dourly.

Maggie shrugged. It didn’t reassure her either, but they had no choice. If they were going to get out of this mess alive, they would have to find Van Zandt. Staying in Tegucigalpa, caught between the ACSO and the RAO, they were nothing more than sitting ducks.

“How about L.A. in a week? I’ll let you live out your fantasies with my mother.”

“I’ve already lived out almost every fantasy I’ve ever had with you, Maggie May. Compared to you, your mother loses her appeal.”

“For God’s sake don’t tell her that,” she said on a note of laughter.

“I wouldn’t think of it. You’re the only one I want to talk to anyway. Everything set for tonight?”

Maggie looked at the knapsack, now full of clean, dry clothes, two guns, flashlight, the maps, and the papers. “I guess so.”

“Then let’s go to bed.”

She turned to look at him. It was a prosaic enough request, it wasn’t the first time she’d done it, so why did her pulse immediately begin to race, why did her stomach leap and her breasts tingle?

“I think that you’re having a demoralizing effect on me,” she said in a measured tone of voice.

“Well, I hope so. Take off your clothes and come over here, lady. Unless you’re into another wrestling match.” He started to get up, and she backed away swiftly.

“No, thank you. I’m still sore from the first one.”

“I don’t think it’s the wrestling match that you’re sore from. And at least I didn’t give you a black eye. Come to bed, Maggie,” he said in a softer voice, and there was no way she could put up any more arguments.

Mack’s body was smooth and supple beneath her hands and mouth, and he was content to lie there letting her explore him with a curiosity and wonder that was outrageously sensual. When he could take no more he pushed her back onto the mattress and returned the favor, taking her to the point of almost painful delight, so that her hands were clutching fistfuls of sheet, and her toes were digging into the mattress, and her body was flushed and damp and trembling.

When he’d finished with her she was beyond rational thought. She lay beside him, curled up in his arms, as her heart slowed its breakneck speed and her breathing returned to normal. His hands were gentle on her, soothing her, calming her, and his lips teased her ear. He whispered something, and she couldn’t hear him. Or couldn’t believe him. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, have told her he loved her.

She made no response, just lay there in the circle of his arms.

An hour later they were stealing away in the dark moonless night. For some reason, Maggie wasn’t afraid of the dark.

“That reminds me,” Mack said. “I take exception to something you told Castanasta.” They were driving their brand-new Jeep Cherokee down Highway 4 toward Danli, and the newly paved, blessedly wide road might almost have convinced them they were back in civilization instead of heading into a jaguar- and puma-infested jungle.

“What?” She took another sip from her lukewarm coffee, coffee that Mack had saved from their dinner tray. They’d been driving for hours, night was giving way to sunrise, and Maggie still wasn’t awake.

Mack, on the other hand, seemed completely alert and relaxed, slouched down behind the driver’s seat of the Cherokee, one arm resting on the open window as his fingers tapped out a song on the steering wheel. “When you told Castanasta you had to see Van Zandt on a small matter. I rate my life just a bit higher than that.”

“Don’t give me grief, Mack,” she said wearily. “Maybe I should have left you with the RAO. After all, Castanasta did say he wanted to help us.”

“You certainly are grumpy for someone with little cause,” he replied in a bright tone of voice.

“And you certainly are disgustingly cheerful for someone with little cause,” she fired back.

“What do you mean, little cause? The road is paved, the sun is rising, no one’s trying to shoot at us for the moment, we’ve
got food, warm bottled Coke, guns to keep off ravaging wildlife, and I’ve been extremely well laid. What more could one ask?”

“Mack!” Her voice held a definite warning.

He laughed. “I knew that would get a rise out of you. Come on, Maggie May, lighten up. We’ve got a few hours of peace before the next battle—we may as well enjoy it.”

“Maybe. I’m just having second thoughts on the wisdom of taking Bud Willis’s help.”

“Why?”

“Because this brand-new Jeep didn’t come from a mercenary’s pocket or from the rebels. They’re in such rotten financial shape that the Jeep we lost in La Ceiba would look like a luxury vehicle.”

“So where do you think it came from?”

“Directly out of the CIA budget. They must want something from us, and I’m not going to be too cheerful until I figure out what it is.”

“I’d think it would be fairly obvious.”

“To you, maybe.” There was a long pause, but he didn’t volunteer any suggestions, just kept his eyes on the broad highway in front of them. “Okay, I give up. What’s fairly obvious? What does the CIA want from us?”

“Silence. They don’t want us messing around in Houston, in Honduras, in Chicaste, in Moab, Utah, for that matter. They want us out of the way.”

“You think they’re going to kill us?”

“Maybe. Somehow I doubt it. My opinion of the CIA isn’t very high, but I think they draw the line at murdering U.S. citizens in cold blood. However, I wouldn’t put it past them to look the other way if someone else gets ambitious enough to do the job.”

“Lovely thought,” she said. “Bud Willis?”

“You know him, I don’t. Is he capable of it?”

“Sure. Bud Willis is capable of anything. But the financial thing still holds true—he knows I can better any bounty placed
on our heads.” She sighed. “It’s a scary thought, to think that our own government would be out to kill us.”

“No one said they were. I think they just don’t want any interference. Isn’t that why we’re looking for Van Zandt? To find out what they want from us, and to get the word to whoever that I’m not about to make waves. I just want to be left in peace.”

“That’s sounding more and more tempting,” Maggie said. “It’s also sounding more and more unlikely.”

“Thanks a lot,” Mack muttered. “Now you’re getting me depressed.”

“Sorry.” She drained the rest of her coffee. “But it doesn’t help to hide your head in the sand.”

“Tell you what, Maggie May. Why don’t you go back to sleep and let me see if I can recapture my good mood,” he said dourly.

“Suit yourself. Wake me if you see any wild boars.”

“No comment.”

They had breakfast in Danli, then headed away from Mack’s beloved highway onto rougher turf. Maggie was content to let him continue driving. Her nap had helped to soothe her temper, and even the enervating heat of the jungle didn’t bother her. She had a curious sense of destiny. If the CIA was waiting for them with a firing squad, if the ACSO or the RAO had set them up, there was nothing they could do but deal with it when it happened. In the meantime they were doing the only possible thing they could in their search for Van Zandt. And with any luck, that search would come to an end in a few hours.

The road deteriorated rapidly. With Mack driving and Maggie as navigator, they made it through a series of small towns, down one mountain and up another, through flash rainstorms, dry, baking heat, and everything in between, all in the period of several hours. It was almost dark when they drove into the smallest, dirtiest-looking town so far, and Mack pulled the Jeep up in the deserted town square, turned it off, and leaned back, stretching with the first sign of weariness he’d shown that day.

“Where the hell are we, Maggie?” he demanded, rubbing his forehead.

“Somewhere between Danli and Chicaste.”

“I already knew that, darlin’,” he said. “Do you have the faintest idea how far we are from the rebel camp?”

“We have to be close. But how close I can’t really tell. Going up and down these damned mountains adds miles to the trip. Chicaste might be the next town down the road or it may have been three towns back.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m sure we haven’t passed it yet. It can’t be more than a few more miles down the road.”

“You want to see if we can find something to eat? We’ve finished everything in the backseat. We don’t really know what our welcome will be like when we find Willis and Van Zandt. They may kill the fatted calf or they may—”

“Don’t even say it.” She climbed out of the Jeep, stretching wearily, her long arms reaching toward the darkening sky. “I wonder where everybody is?”

“Probably home eating their dinner and watching
Family Feud
reruns,” Mack said. “Which is where we should be.”

“Why don’t you stay with the car while I go see if there’s someplace we can buy dinner?”

“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you stay with the car?” Mack countered.

“How about we both go?” Maggie capitulated with a sigh.

“What if someone decides to steal the Jeep? I didn’t mind seeing the other one go, but I’ve gotten sort of fond of this one.”

“I don’t really give a damn if Scotty beams it up to the Enterprise,” she said. “Even a brand-new Jeep doesn’t have the world’s greatest springs, and I’m not really looking forward to climbing back in it tonight.”

“Maybe you won’t have to, Maggie.” It was a new voice—fresh, American—with the faint trace of a Midwestern accent.

“Willis,” Maggie said. “Where the hell did you spring from?”

“This is my town, Maggie. No one comes within ten miles of
it without my knowing it,” the man said. He was hidden in the shadows of the alleyway just off the main plaza, and all Maggie could see were his combat boots and the barrel of his gun. But it was Willis, all right. She’d know that cool, passionless voice anywhere.

“This is Chicaste?”

“This is Chicaste. Now, you wanna tell me what the fuck you’ve been doing messing around all over Tegucigalpa? I got word from my own man down there, I got word from Castanasta, and I got word from the ACSO. You’re one foolhardy lady, you know that? I would have thought you’d learned your lesson by now. Last time I saw you, you weren’t in any mood to go putting that nose of yours where it doesn’t belong.”

“I still don’t put it where it doesn’t belong, Willis,” she said in a cool voice. “I have business down here.”

“With me?”

“With Van Zandt. You want to tell me where he is?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Who’s your friend?” The gun barrel gestured at Mack’s silent form.

“None of your damned business, Willis.”

“Sure it is, Maggie. If you want to see Van Zandt, you’re going to have to play the game my way. I told you, this town is mine. You come anywhere near it and I own your ass.”

“Don’t threaten me, Willis.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Maggie.” He stepped into the light. He was a wiry man, with a Marine hair cut, skeletal cheekbones, and the emptiest eyes Maggie had ever seen. It had been four years since their paths had crossed, and she’d almost forgotten how deathlike he looked. He grinned at her, that travesty of good fellowship that fooled no one. “Is that Pulaski?”

“If you knew, why did you have to ask?”

“Just wanted to see whether you’d lie to me.”

“I have no intention of lying to you, Willis,” she said calmly. “I need your help, and I know you aren’t going to give it to me unless I’m straight with you.”

“Maybe I’m not going to give it to you anyway.”

“Maybe. But I don’t think you would have brought me down here if you weren’t going to help me.”

“You got it wrong, lady. I didn’t bring you down here.”

Mack spoke for the first time, his raw voice soft and oddly menacing in the warm night air. “Then who did?”

Willis cackled. “Mancini did a good job on your throat, didn’t he, friend? You should have learned your lesson back then.”

“I guess I’m a slow learner,” Mack said with deceptive gentleness. “You didn’t answer my question, friend.”

Willis smiled his death’s-head grin. “Van Zandt brought you guys to the elegant resort of Chicaste.”

“Why?” Maggie broke in.

“Well, now, Van Zandt didn’t confide in me. You know Van Zandt, Maggie. He tells you just what he wants you to know, and then expects you to kiss his ass for it. All’s I know is that he wanted you two out of Tegucigalpa and down here. So I sent word to my man there, he passed the stuff along, and here you are.”

“And where’s Van Zandt?” Mack asked.

“Beats the hell out of me,” Willis said cheerfully. “He’s been the mystery man the last few months. Maybe he’ll show up tonight, maybe he won’t. He’s gonna have to find us soon, ’cause we’re out of here in the next twenty-four hours.”

“Where are you going?” Maggie asked.

“None of your damned business. I know where your sympathies would lie, Ms. Bleeding Heart Liberal,” he sneered. “And they don’t lie the same place as my paycheck.”

“You’re going over the border into Nicaragua,” she guessed.

“Hey, that’s the name of the game, lady,” Willis said. “We train here, and then we go in and zap the shit out of them. Makes no nevermind to me—a greaser is a greaser, I always say.”

“Christ,” Mack muttered under his breath.

“Shit, another bleeding heart,” Willis said. “Well, if you two can swallow your principles, I’ve got my woman cooking a meal
for us. I figured you’d get here by dinner, and Consuela’s a damned good cook. Good in bed too.”

“How fortunate for you,” Maggie said acidly.

Willis grinned. “What can I say? I’m a man who likes the finer things in life.” He headed up the street, not even bothering to see if they were following. “Better lock your car,” he called back over his shoulder. “These greasers’ll pick it clean before you can pick your nose.”

“Helluva charming guy, Maggie,” Mack observed. “Where did you two happen to meet?”

“Shut up, Mack,” she muttered under her breath, starting after their host. “I never said I liked the bastard. But you’ve got to admit, we’re closer to Van Zandt than we’ve ever been.”

“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe not. We only have his word for it that Van Zandt’s going to show up, and I don’t think his word is worth pigshit. You going to tell me how you happen to know a piece of garbage like Willis?”

She considered it for a moment. Willis was way ahead of them, but she knew him well enough to know that he could hear every word. His senses were fine-tuned after years in jungles around the world, ducking from snipers and doing some sniping of his own. But she had nothing to lose by telling him the truth. “I used to work for the CIA,” she admitted.

“You what?”

She really had horrified him this time, she thought with grim amusement. “I said I used to work for the CIA, back when Willis still ostensibly worked for our government. Don’t worry, I didn’t get past the first training mission. I didn’t have the right temperament for it. My killer instincts weren’t finely honed enough for them.”

“Thank God for that.” There was a long pause. “You want to talk about it?”

“What’s to talk about? A change in careers?”

“There’s more to it than that, Maggie May. I keep telling you I know you very well, and you never believe me. You can’t hide anything from me.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” she said, and realized how defensive she sounded.

“Okay, Maggie. I get the message.”

Willis had disappeared into one of the larger adobe buildings at the head of the small square, and they followed him into the warmth and light of a sparsely furnished house.

Who knew whether or not Willis’s Consuela was good in bed, but there was no question that she was a great cook. All through the spicy meal of beans and sausage, tortillas, chicken and raisins in bitter chocolate, Maggie kept looking toward the door, listening for telltale noise upstairs, waiting, waiting. She could feel Mack’s matching tension as if it were her own, and even the delicious food began to pall as they sat there in the barren little room watching Consuela move like a timid rabbit around the kitchen, her wary eyes always on Willis.

Finally Willis shoved his empty plate away, belched loudly, and announced, “Fucking Mex food. I can’t wait for …” He let the sentence trail off.

“For what, Willis? What nasty little war are you going to next?” Maggie questioned sweetly.

Willis laughed. “Almost caught me that time, Maggie. You’re good, kid. I gotta admit it. It’s a crying shame you didn’t have the balls to make it in the Company. You could have been one of the best.”

“Thanks,” she said. “But I found better things to do.”

“I’ll bet you did. How long you been shacking up with Mr. Laryngitis over there?”

Mack leaned back, all deceptive ease, and smiled at Willis. “What makes you think we’re shacking up?”

“You forget, friend, that I’ve known her longer than you. I’ve seen that look on her face before. You finally get over Randall, Maggie?”