Operation Tropical Affair: A Poppy McVie Adventure (Poppy McVie Series Book 1) (23 page)

So she did know about Noah being an activist.
But does she know I was the one behind the whole Carlos takedown?

Dalton bore down on me. “What was that with the monkey?”

I clenched my teeth together.
Can’t cry now. Focus.

Dalton threw up his hands. “What am I saying? It doesn’t matter. Our cover’s blown.”

“That’s not…exactly true,” I said.

He glared at me. “What does that mean?”

“She doesn’t know we’re cops. She thinks we’re activists. Eco-terrorists.” I gave him a please-don’t-be-too-mad-at-me grin. “At least, she thinks I am.”

“Dammit it. I knew it. Because of that Noah guy.”

“Yeah, no. Maybe.” I searched my brain for insight. Something. “She was testing us, right? To see if we were activists or really potential buyers”—
that’s it!
—“She still brought us
here
.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

It all made sense. She must have thought of the gang as a nuisance more than any serious threat. They’d been here before, several times. But Noah had only ever targeted the shed. She used the shed as a temporary shelter, one they could use to show animals, but was easily emptied. If she confirmed we were activists, no harm done. If we were buyers, she could have some class I species brought in for us to see. The guard had been about to hand her a two-way radio. That meant they were nearby. Perhaps she’s always had them nearby. I looked at Dalton. “I can’t explain right now but…I think I can still get what we came for.” I looked over my shoulder. “You’re gonna have to trust me.”

He shook his head. “Do I have a choice?”
 

“Follow me.”

He took a step and faltered.
 

“Let me look at that,” I said.

He didn’t want me to, but I pulled up his pant leg. The bullet had grazed his leg and left a gash in the side of his calf. When I looked up, he was looking down at it with an annoyed expression. He started to take off his shirt.
 

“I think it will take more than that,” I said.

He rolled his shirt, then tied it around his leg above his knee. I snapped off a branch from the walking palm tree, broke it at the right height, then shoved it under his armpit—a make-shift crutch.

Now, with his shirt off, I could see the wound at his shoulder. A bullet had penetrated his chest just below his shoulder. Blood oozed from the wound. “That’s not good,” I said. “You need to sit down, sit still.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “Now go.”

“But—”

He had a look on his face like I was insulting him.

I shook my head. SEALs.

I darted through the jungle, heading toward the edge of the clearing. I came to a halt where I could see the horses.

“Still there,” I said to Dalton as he came up behind me. “All three.”

He nodded toward the shed. The two guards were at the doorway, eyes searching the forest. “So are they. I don’t get it. She has two guns guarding an empty shed.”

“Exactly.” I turned to him. “Ever hear of the shell game?”

We emerged from the foliage at the edge of the ravine where the cable stretched across to the other side. It was fastened to a tree above our heads. The basket hung on the far side. “She’s over there,” I whispered. “I think the class I species are too.”

Usually there would be a rope to pull an empty car from one side to the other so a passenger could board from either direction. On this one, the rope was missing. Seemed Maria didn’t want anyone sneaking up behind her.

I had to get across.

The rocky edges of the ravine were too steep or ragged to traverse. The cable was the only option. I craned my neck out to have a look. At the ravine’s lowest point, the cable was about sixty feet above the ground.
   

“Give me your belt,” I said.

“Are you doing what I think you’re doing?”

“Give me the belt.”

“She could be watching. She’ll shoot you off that wire like a dove.”

“Yeah,” I held out my hand for the belt. “If she’s watching.”

He thought a moment, holding his shoulder. “I’m going with you.”

“We only have one belt.”

“I don’t need a belt.”

“You’re injured. You could make it worse. I need you to secure this side so I have a safe retreat. Besides—” I looked him up and down “—your pants might fall down.”

I could tell, he was thinking of objections.

“You know I’m right.”

He unclipped his belt and handed it to me, but before he let go of it, he looked me in the eyes. “Be careful.” He raised the weapon. “And let me get into position to cover you.”

I nodded, took the belt from him, and paused, eyeing him. A thought niggled at the back of my mind. “Stan said you could never connect George to a sale—no emails, no phone calls, whatever. But you were sure he was involved somehow because of intel you gleaned through a smuggler you’d nabbed, right?”

Dalton nodded. “Yeah, all the information he gave us panned out so far.”

“Cell service is sketchy in the valley. I assume that’s why George and Maria have a landline at the house. You’ve monitored that and George’s cell phone, right?”

He nodded. “And we got nothing.”

“Did you ever check for a mobile phone for Maria?”

“I think we checked. I mean, it would have been standard procedure. I don’t remember there being one registered under her name.” He shook his head, frustrated. “We never thought of her as a possibility.”

I looked across the ravine. The hill sloped upward from where the cable car landed. There was probably good cell service up there.

I looked up at the cable and drew in a long, strengthening breath.
I have to get that phone.

“Just confirm they’re there, then get right back over here,” he said.

I looked him in the eye. “Right. Intel. Not evidence.”

He winced. For a moment, I thought it was from my comment, but he shifted and I could see he was in pain.
 

“You’re going to hold the line, right? You’ll stay awake, right?”
 

He barely nodded.

“Dalton, don’t you flake out on me. Keep hold of that weapon.”

“I got it,” he groaned. This time from annoyance.
Good.

I climbed the tree to the cable, wrapped the belt around my waist and over the cable, and fastened the buckle. I tested my weight. It held. I pushed off from the tree, wrapped my legs around the cable, and pulled myself out into the open and paused. If she was watching and ready to shoot, she’d do it now.
 

Nothing.

I leaned back and, hand over hand, pulled myself out and over the ravine. The cable dipped with my weight. One hand, pull, other hand grab, pull, grab, pull, and I was across. I unhooked the buckle and dropped to the ground. I looked back. Dalton was watching me. I gave him a thumbs up and ducked into the cover of the trees.
 

A narrow path led upward toward the top of the ridge. Maria couldn’t be far. Taking the path was too big of a risk and I had to be careful. I decided to parallel it through the thick jungle. I shoved my way through vines and branches, trying not to make any noise. It took me five minutes to get twenty-five feet. And I was soaking wet. Not to mention the threat of snakes. This wasn’t going to work. Not without a machete. And a silent one at that. I had to take the trail after all.

I crept on hunter’s feet. The trail meandered through the forest at a low uphill grade then turned and shot upward over rocky terrain, slick with the perpetual wet of the rainforest. There was no wind or rain to mask the sound of my footsteps. Just the buzz of insects and the occasional cackle of jungle birds. I took my time, cautious at every turn. She could be waiting for me, could be poised, ready with a gun.
 

The trail cut back, heading yet upward through a copse of bamboo. The forest was quiet here. I carefully placed each footstep, inching through to the other side. I stopped a moment. What if she hadn’t come this way? What if this was all a diversion too, and I was missing something? Maria had proven to be sharp and devious. To bring Clyde was—no, I couldn’t let my mind go there.
She’s here. I know it.
I moved forward. I was getting closer; I could feel it.
 

The choking foliage of the jungle started to thin. I was reaching the top of the ridge.
 

The closer I got, the more it made sense. Maria could easily slip away under the guise of a leisurely horseback ride, hike up to this ridge, and without anyone listening, make calls, send emails. When I’d seen her a few days ago, at 11:30 at night, she could have been up here to call a contact in China or Indonesia. No one would know.

My heart started to pound faster. Everything would be on that phone.

I stepped around a banyan tree and saw movement. I ducked back to the cover of its thick trunk. About one hundred yards ahead, the path went under an enormous rock ledge, a natural overhang. On this end, a waterfall trickled from a tiny stream above. Beyond that, several cages had been built beneath the rock ceiling, protected from the blistering sun and rain. Explained why I hadn’t seen it on Google Earth.
 

It looked like a trailside menagerie where one might stop and buy a handful of grain from an old gumball machine to feed the animals. The cage frames were crooked and hodgepodged together, built on makeshift risers. The sides were wrapped in chicken wire or chain link fencing or both. There were at least eight I could see. From this angle, it was difficult to discern what was in the cages, but in two I could easily see the bright red of scarlet macaws. The cage on the far end was built on the ground and large enough for a jaguar.
 

I took a step out from behind the tree to see further down the ledge. There was Maria. On the phone. She was pacing, chattering away. I couldn’t make out the words over the trickle of the waterfall, but the tone of the conversation was not a happy one. She waved her hands in the air, making demanding gestures as she talked. Her little dogs lay in a patch of sun, snoozing. She yanked the phone from her ear and stood with her hands on her hips, fuming.
 

I pressed against the tree and clutched my shaking hands together, willing them to stop. I breathed in. Breathed out. My heartbeat started to return to normal. I took another long, soothing breath, letting the adrenaline dissipate through my bloodstream, then peeked from behind the tree again.

Maria had dropped her hands as though resigned to something. She stepped toward the cages and, I noticed now, a large cabinet tucked between them. She opened the hinged door and dragged out a bucket with a scoop. She surveyed the cages with an attitude of disgust. Must be Carlos usually fed the animals here. She set down the bucket and fiddled with the latch on a cage. This was my chance.
 

While her back was to me, I crept up behind her.
 

She shook some food into a bowl and slammed the door shut. “Animal sucio,” she grumbled.
Filthy animal.

“You’re under arrest,” I said.

She paused for a microsecond, then shrugged without turning around, as though she had known I was there. The dogs leaped from their naps, yipping and yapping their annoyance. “By whose authority?” she asked as matter-of-fact as if I’d asked her the time of day.
 

“U.S. Fish and Wildlife service, in coordination with Costa Rican authorities.”

She turned to face me with an amused grin. “And what exactly am I being charged with?” Her eyes narrowed. “Because I’m certain I didn’t make an offer to sell you anything.”

“No,” I said. “I’d have to have proof of that anyway, which I don’t. But you know that.”

She shrugged and turned her back on me.

“It is, however, illegal to have a class I species in your possession.”

She smirked at me over her shoulder. “A slap on the wrist. You’ll get a bigger scolding for dragging me in.” Her lip curled into a half grin. “That is, if you’re really a cop.”

I simply stared at her, giving her time to ponder.
 

She looked me up and down. “And you think you can take me in?”

“You could go willingly.”

She huffed.

“Either way, with testimony from your brother Carlos, I think—”

She spun around. “Carlos has nothing to say.” The dogs started yipping again.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “He spent last night in jail facing charges for drug trafficking. He might be in a mood to deal.”

Her eyes narrowed. I could see her mind racing. “¡Silencio!” she snapped at the dogs.
Hush!

I grinned with satisfaction. “But even if he doesn’t,” I said, “if I arrest you on the minor charge, we have probable cause to check all items in your possession.” My eyes dropped to her pocket where she had stuffed her phone.
 

She was smart enough to know she had all the evidence we needed right there to put her away for a very long time. Her nose twitched as if she’d smelled something rancid. Her eyes darted toward the trail behind me. I was right.

Then something in her demeanor changed. It was subtle. A confidence she didn’t have a moment ago. She took a step toward me. “You think you’re so clever. You have no phone, which means you haven’t called for backup. Assuming you are a cop, like you say you are, you’re undercover, so nobody knows you’re here. Your partner was hit. Am I right? You’re all alone. Young and desperate to make a bust.” She paused. “You could just”—she waved her hands in the air—“disappear.”

I steeled my gaze. “So could you.” I shrugged and gave her a curt smile. “Then I could take over. After all, you’ve gone to a lot of trouble to hide your identity. No one knows who you are, right?”

She threw her head back and laughed, then she lunged at me with more force than I was expecting and knocked me to the ground. She took a step to run and I swiped her ankle with my hand. She stumbled and I was on my feet. I pounced on her back, slamming her against the cages. The birds fluttered and squawked. A howler monkey shook a door and bellowed at us. The dogs shrieked, scratching at my legs.