Lethal Pursuit (19 page)

“He doesn’t look very happy to see you,” Jackson pointed out, his grip steady on the pistol.

“He was running to warn you so you wouldn’t shoot when you saw me. I told Lieutenant Lopez to take the trail here because I knew you’d be safe here. Tarik told me all about the American soldiers who saved his grandson at the MEDCAP. I knew he’d look out for you until I got here.”

Since Tarik had carried his grandson to the MEDCAP in the first place, the village couldn’t be too far from where Jackson and the others had been captured. “So we’re still in Afghanistan?”

His eyes danced with amusement. “Almost. Just a few miles back that way.” He jerked his chin over his shoulder.

With his suspicion wavering, Jackson slowly lowered his weapon, keeping it in front of him at the ready just in case.

Jihad—or Sandberg, if he even had a real name—sighed in exasperation and lowered his hands. “Look, if I’d wanted to kill you I could’ve taken you out with my rifle long before you even realized I was here.”

Much as Jackson hated to admit it, the guy had a point. “Okay, so say I believe you.” And he wasn’t saying he did, since he didn’t trust him any further than he could fucking throw him. “What do you want?”

“I’ve got a ride coming for you all in ten hours at a pre-designated LZ to the northeast,” he answered, pointing over his shoulder as though Jackson didn’t know which direction that was.

“Who do you work for?” Because it wasn’t the regular military, or even Spec Ops. No, this guy, if he was for real, worked for a government agency.

“The good guys.”

That didn’t convince Jackson in the slightest, since he knew how quickly allegiances changed in this part of the world. There was no shame in working with the U.S. and their allies one day, and pledging your allegiance to the Taliban the next. Whatever served your purpose for the moment. It was how these tribal people had survived in this harsh land for centuries, and how they would go on surviving until the end of time. “What branch did you serve with?”

“Special Forces, a long time ago. Look, man, I know where you’re coming from but we don’t have time for this. You might not like it, but you just have to trust me. We have to get Haversham and Lieutenant Lopez out of here right the fuck now if we’re gonna stay ahead of the bad guys and make our rendezvous with that bird.”

If something seemed too good to be true it usually meant it
was
, but he couldn’t afford to dismiss Sandberg’s words. Not if there was a chance they were true. At this point, Jackson’s only options were to go with it or shoot Sandberg and make a run for it. And if the enemy really was closing in, then he couldn’t abandon Maya and Haversham. “They’re both too far gone to walk out.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m here to carry one of them, huh?”

Setting his jaw, Jackson eased his stance and glanced at Tarik to let him know everything was okay, then spoke to Sandberg. “You do anything that smells outta line, I’ll take you out.” His clipped tone made it a promise.

Sandberg shrugged, his cocky expression telling Jackson he was welcome to try. “Fair enough. Now can we go to Tarik’s?”

“Yeah,” Jackson muttered, and waited for Sandberg to pass him before falling into line. Even if this guy was promising them a ride home, Jackson wasn’t taking his eyes off him for a moment.

Chapter Nineteen

Tarik burst into the house ahead of Sandberg, the two of them jabbering away in Pashto, and it made Jackson even more uneasy because he had no way of knowing what the fuck they were saying. He stayed right on Sandberg’s ass as he introduced himself to Haversham—who shot an incredulous look at Jackson—and headed to the back room where Maya was.

The instant Sandberg reached the threshold, Maya jerked upright with her weapon aimed at his head.

Sandberg threw up his hands in surprise. “Whoa, there. You wouldn’t shoot me after I went to all that trouble of getting you here in the first place, would you?”

Her fever-glazed eyes narrowed a fraction at his English. “Who are you?” she demanded in a rough whisper.

“His name’s Sandberg,” Jackson answered for him, “and he says he’s one of us.”

Sandberg twisted his head around to give Jackson a bland look, taking in his pistol held at the ready. “I
am
one of you.” He turned back to Maya. “I’ve got a helo coming in to get all of you out of here, but it’s a long ways off and we don’t have much time. There’re at least two enemy forces headed this way, so we have to move fast.” He took a step forward, and Maya chambered a round, the sound loud in the quiet room. Sandberg stopped and sighed in exasperation.

She didn’t take her eyes off him. “Jackson?”

“Everything he said makes sense,” he answered. “I don’t think we have any other choice but to follow him for the time being.”

She seemed to process that for a few moments and finally lowered her weapon to pull back the slide. When she put her hand down to push herself to her feet, she was so weak and shaky that her arm trembled. Sandberg stepped forward again, and Maya stopped him cold with a single, cutting look. “I don’t need your help.”

Throwing Jackson an exasperated look, Sandberg turned and moved past him with a muttered, “I’ll get Haversham.”

Half turning to keep his eye on the guy, Jackson bent and slid his arm behind Maya’s back to brace her, pulling up and forward. She sucked in a breath and bent over, coughing into the bend of her elbow. He winced in sympathy. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.” She didn’t protest when he wrapped the blanket around her for extra warmth, and that alone told him just how ill she was. With an arm around her shoulders to steady her, he walked her through the doorway.

Out in the main room, he found Haversham rolled on to his hip as though he meant to get up. His eyes met Jackson’s and he jerked his chin at Sandberg, who was shrugging out of his ruck. “He’s legit.”

“How do you know?”

“He knew my code word.”

“Your code word?”

“My government one.”

Okay, that helped ease his mind a little. Actually, not really.

Sandberg was busy digging through the ruck he’d dumped on the floor. He was pulling out pieces of an M4 when he glanced up at Jackson. “Figured you could use this, just in case.”

Frowning, Jackson released Maya, handed her his pistol and went to his knees to take the pieces and put the weapon together, noting the full magazine. “You got a radio in there too?”

“No, had to ditch it after I left Khalid’s camp in case anyone intercepted me. We’re on our own for the time being, I’m afraid.”

Once he had it together and loaded, Jackson slung it across his chest and stood to gather Maya close with a hand on the small of her back. Haversham’s and Sandberg’s eyes both followed his move. If his actions looked territorial, too bad, because that’s exactly how he was feeling. Maya was his to protect and yeah, he wanted it clear how he felt about her. Surprisingly she didn’t object, rather continued watching Sandberg repack his ruck with a somewhat hostile expression on her face. A few short months ago, Jackson had been on the receiving end of that look. It felt good to know he’d won her loyalty and trust.

Sandberg’s lips quirked as he tipped his ruck onto his back and spoke to Tarik. The old man nodded and rushed away to get them another small bladder full of water. “Can you carry that?” Sandberg asked her.

With a firm nod, she took it and looped the thin leather strap around her neck so that the bladder rested against her chest. “We ready?” Even worn down and ill as she was, she still wore that natural air of authority he’d recognized in her from the first time he’d seen her at Bagram. And she wore it well.

“Let’s move out,” Sandberg said on a grunt as he hoisted Haversham to his feet, then across his shoulders.

“Fucking
hell
, I hate this part,” Haversham gritted out as his wounded leg got jostled.

“Don’t blame you,” Sandberg replied.

“Then you won’t mind when I puke all over your back,” the Secretary muttered.

“It’s happened before.” Shifting Haversham to distribute the weight better and earning a choked cry from his passenger, Sandberg started for the front door. Tarik stood next to it. Jackson met his gaze and nodded his thanks. The old man placed a hand over his heart and bowed slightly. Jackson returned the gesture, grateful for his hospitality, then reached toward Maya, intending to carry her.

She pushed against his shoulder and gave a tight shake of her head. “I can walk.”

He straightened to look down into her face. “You’re in no condition to walk.” She wasn’t in any condition to be standing, as far as he was concerned.

Her lips pressed together for a moment. “I’m walking out of here.”

She didn’t want anyone to see her weak and helpless. Jackson understood that. But he also wasn’t going to allow her pride to place her or the rest of them in jeopardy. “I’ll let you walk until we’re out of sight of the village if you can get that far. But the moment you can’t keep up, you’re takin’ a ride over my shoulder.”

She gave a firm nod. “Fair enough.”

He let her exit the house ahead of him and brought up the rear, not taking any chances in case anyone in the village had it in his mind to take a shot at them on their way out of town. Luckily no one tried anything, and soon they had passed through the village to make their way down the sloping hill into another shallow valley.

So far Maya was keeping pace okay, but he could see the effort it cost her. A few times she paused to cough, and when she walked he could hear the wheezing quality of her breaths. The accessory breathing muscles in her neck stood out in sharp relief as she gasped. Over the next thirty minutes, the space between them and Sandberg started to increase. At the top of the next rise Sandberg paused to look back, and when he saw how far behind they were, he set Haversham down to have a rest.

Maya saw it and pushed herself even harder, determination stamped all over her face. But the incline was too much for her. Partway up, a bad coughing spasm had her doubling over and going to her knees. Jackson reached out to catch her before she could topple over and waited only until she’d caught her breath before pulling her up. Her face was blanched of color, slick with sweat.

“No more hiking for you,” he told her, and bent to hoist her over his shoulders. She grunted in discomfort and wrapped her good arm around his chest to steady herself but didn’t try to argue. He could feel her shaking from pain and cold. Reaching the top of the hill, he took in the scene below him. The trail wound through the barren landscape like a dusty ribbon in the dun-colored soil, rising and falling with the landscape before it vanished around a bend in the distance.

“We have to hump it six klicks to the west-northwest, just before we hit that bend,” Sandberg said.

Jackson studied the topography, not loving what he was seeing. In addition to the boulder-strewn terrain and steep climbs they’d have to make, there were plenty of blind corners and other places where the enemy could be hiding. Not to mention the other potential concealment spots he couldn’t see.

Paying careful attention to his surroundings, Jackson started down the slope after Sandberg. The ground was littered with small rocks and pebbles, making it slippery, but he was more concerned with speed than he was about keeping his tracks to a minimum.

Small as she was, Maya was solid muscle and heavy for her size. Every few minutes he had to shift her to ease the strain on his back and shoulders, causing her further pain. He didn’t let himself think about the burn in his muscles or the distance they had to travel, because that was wasted mental effort and a self-defeating mindset. In the Pipeline, they’d taught him to be mentally tough and break seemingly impossible tasks into little ones, then focus on the immediate one at hand. He used that training now, breaking the march down into smaller sections marked by each short pause they took.

At the bend in the trail, they broke left and headed west-northwest. Jackson was winded from carrying Maya. He hated moving out in the open like this, but there was no way around it. The sun was fast approaching its zenith, beating down on them with surprising intensity, considering it was only early March. Sweat soaked his back and chest, his face and neck. At one point, Maya reached out with a corner of the blanket she’d unwrapped around her to dab at his face and forehead.

“You give good piggybacks,” she whispered close to his ear.

He swallowed a crack of laughter at that. “Had lots of practice,” he managed, his lungs working overtime with the added demand for oxygen from his muscles.

“You carry sick women around often?” Her voice was dry, the wheeze in her chest pronounced.

“This is a first,” he admitted. “Mostly guys in the field. And my nephews, o’course.” Who he couldn’t wait to get home to see. Had his sister found out he was missing and told the boys? They’d be devastated. He had to make it home and be with his family again. And he wanted Maya to go with him. “So, when we get back...” He paused a second to catch his breath. “Will you come visit my family with me?”

He felt her stiffen in surprise against his shoulders and she was silent for a long moment. “You want me to meet your family?”

“Yeah. They’d love you.” The boys would go nuts over her, a real-life American heroine. They’d build Maya Lego figurines in her honor. When she didn’t answer right away, he swore he could hear the wheels of suspicion turning in her head.

“I’ll...think about it.”

“You do that.” With her background, he knew she’d need time to wrap her mind around that one, and he was okay with that as long as she consented in the end.

They took their next break in the shade of a small rock overhang. Sandberg looked as done in as Jackson felt. The guy was soaked in sweat as he dumped his ruck with a rough groan and bent to divvy up water and some protein bars. Jackson, Haversham and Maya wolfed them down, desperate for the nutrition and calories of any kind. Right then, Jackson was fantasizing about a big box full of Kit Kat bars he’d seen at the back of the Pat Tillman USO. He could do serious damage to that box right now.

All too soon it was time to head out again. He adjusted the M4 into place across his chest and reached for Maya, who backed up a step.

“I’ll walk for a bit.” Her cheeks had red flags of color on them and she’d just finished another coughing fit that had left her gasping and wheezing.

Jackson shook his head once. “Don’t even,” he warned and hauled her into the air, the muscles in his back and shoulders screaming in protest. She huffed out a pained breath and hung on to him with her good hand, her cheek resting on the back of his shoulder.

“Another two klicks, then we head due north until we hit the LZ,” Sandberg panted, stumbling a bit under Haversham’s weight. He quickly shot out a hand to steady himself against the rock wall and started off again. This time they kept to the shadows to conceal their movements, winding their way up a steep slope in their path.

Gritting his teeth, Jackson forced his burning quads and glutes to propel him and Maya upward, reaching out for a rock near the top to help get him the last few yards up. Sandberg was sucking wind too and didn’t look like he had much more in him, yet he set off down the hill without pausing, carrying a sweaty-faced Haversham safely down the other side. They did it two more times before finally reaching the next change in course.

A good twenty minutes later at the edge of a dry riverbed, Sandberg slid his wounded passenger off him and all but fell to his knees in the dust beside Haversham. He shrugged out of his ruck and bent forward to rest his weight on his hands while he tried to catch his breath, smoked from carrying his heavier passenger. Jackson set Maya down as gently as he could and went to one knee, head bowed, chest heaving, grateful that she weighed much less than the Sec Def.

“How much farther?” he gasped.

Sandberg had just opened his mouth to respond when a puff of dust erupted on the hillside in front of them, followed a split second later by the report of a high-powered rifle.

“
Fuck.
” Sandberg rolled behind a rock as Jackson dragged Maya behind cover and flattened himself on top of her. She jerked and bit back a gasp of pain as another round impacted, closer this time. The report echoed too much for Jackson to get an accurate read on the location.

Maya struggled beneath him, trying to lift up on her good arm. Jackson pinned her flat. He knew he was hurting her but didn’t care at the moment if it saved her from getting shot. He cut a scathing glare at Sandberg, who had his AK up and aimed. “You set this up?”

In answer, he got an annoyed eat-shit-and-die look and a clipped, “Does it look like it?”

From the way he was returning fire, no. But the timing of this new threat seemed pretty damn suspicious.

Haversham belly-crawled toward them, his grunts of pain muffled behind gritted teeth. He slid up beside them with a pistol in one hand, gaze darting across the hillside across from them. “See anything?”

Jackson scanned the horizon. “Not yet.” Sniper could be anywhere out there. The ground here was too uneven and exposed. They couldn’t move using any kind of cover, but staying put made them sitting targets. And whatever enemy force the shooter was attached to had to be on the move now that they had a bead on their location.

The moment he thought it, an eerie howl rose into the clear afternoon air. The hair on his arms stood up.
Holy shit.