Safe Without You (19 page)

              “You tell him that for some sum of money, he’ll get these two, and if he’ll meet you some place—not where we are headed—you’ll give him me—along with the money launderer.”

              “But you are the money launderer…or so you claim.”
              “Yes, but he doesn’t know that.  Hector goes off in one direction, we go the other, and you hand me over to my pilot friend at the next drop.  The cartel stays happy, and everything goes on as before, except you have a bunch of money to give to your bosses.”

              Victor pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking.  “How do I know that anything you say is true?”

              Amber shrugged coyly, “I guess you’ll have to trust me…if you don’t want to go to war with the cartel as well as the Colombian army.”

              Victor said nothing for a minute, “You should think about sleeping.  Tomorrow will be a long day.”

              “Ummm,” Amber started, pretending to be a little embarrassed, “I—I have to pee before I go to bed.” 

              Victor jerked his head, “Sergeant, help the prisoner,
por favor
.”

              At least he wasn’t going to be creepy about that, Amber sighed in relief.  Mariana pulled Amber to her feet, then untied her hands, but left her feet hobbled.  There was just enough rope to allow her to shuffle along, and to squat without peeing on her own feet.  Mariana pushed Amber along in front of her, her rifle slung over her shoulder.  Clearly she didn’t think Amber was much of a threat. 

              What Amber really wanted to know was their procedure for when she needed to relieve herself, and now she knew it.  It would be easy enough to draw her gun on Mariana once they were out of sight of the men, but how would that help Tomás and Paco?  If she ran away, would they face retaliation?  And where would she go?  Without the help of someone like Paco who had some idea of where they were, she could end up going in circles, or worse.  She knew there were swamps, and with swamps in Panama came all kinds of hidden dangers, like quicksand and crocodiles.

              Mariana at least had enough consideration to march Amber a decent distance from the camp.  She pointed to a tree, “There.”

              Obediently, Amber undid her shorts and pulled them down.  She peed, and then grabbed a handful of moss to wipe her crotch dry.  She was going to have to do her best to stay clean and dry, she thought; the last thing she needed was some kind of infection.  It wasn’t going to be easy to keep her lady parts together when the whole jungle was moist and rotting, and her shorts were still damp from the water in the boat.  It was one more thing that could make her miserable while being dragged around.  Maybe it was a way to bond with Mariana, though.

              “Sergeant,” Amber said respectfully, “I need to dry my clothes out so that I don’t get problems…you know…down there.”  She pointed to her crotch.  “Is there anything I could put on so I can dry my shorts and underwear by the fire?”

              Amber wondered how many pairs of underwear Mariana packed through the jungle if she had eyeliner among her belongings.

              Mariana didn’t say anything, but when they got back to camp, she retrieved a pair of fatigues from her knapsack.  She handed them to Amber. “Here.”

              “Can I go over behind those trees to change?”

              Mariana stared at her, “You want dry, you change here.”

              Amber understood Mariana was trying to humiliate her—to remind her who was boss.

              Paco understood too.  He struggled to his feet, “Tomás, stand up.  Amber can change behind us.”  Tomás got up, and Amber hobbled over to pull on the pants behind them as they faced the group, creating a screen.

              “No!” Mariana barked, “She changes here!”  She stamped the ground in the middle of the group to make her point.

              “That’s enough,” Victor spat.  “We are not animals.”  He gestured toward Amber’s human screen, “Go change.”  He turned to Mariana, switching to Spanish, “What is wrong with you?”

              Mariana was ready to have a tantrum, unsure whether Amber was her prisoner, a potential friend, or perhaps competition for Victor’s affection.  “Why are you so soft-hearted with her?” she whined. 

              “You are being ridiculous.  Act like a sergeant, or soon you won’t be one anymore.”  Victor’s face clearly registered his displeasure.

              Amber gratefully shimmied into the fatigues.  The long pants would give her some protection from the mosquitos and other insects as well.  They were a little loose, but fit well enough.  She watched Victor and Mariana arguing and realized that the verbal scuffling of the two officers wasn’t so different from the jousting match she and Cal had engaged in prior to her being kidnapped.  Cal.  Her stomach flipped hard with the thought of him, and she realized how deeply she felt for him.  It wasn’t simply that she wanted him to come rescue her; she wanted
him
, plain and simple. 

              Amber hobbled back and sat down by the fire.  She took the sticks they had used to cook the fish and made a kind of drying rack for her wet clothes.  They would smell like wood smoke the next day, but at least they would be bone dry if they kept the fire going overnight.  Secretly, she hoped that Victor would force Mariana to give her the pants for keeps. 

              Without any warning, suddenly a profound and overwhelming fatigue engulfed Amber.  She didn’t know if it came from being drugged and then knocked out again, or the stress of trying to think of a way to get out of this terrible situation in one piece.  For a moment, she considered the possibility of sleeping with Victor, in order to win his trust, but the thought made her want to retch.  She stretched out on her side next to Tomás, trying to pillow her head on her arms.  No one had thought to tie her hands back, probably because as a woman they felt she was less of a threat.  That was good, she thought, they needed to see her as being cooperative, an ally even.

              Tomás lay down and turned toward her, whispering.  “Do you know what you’re doing?”  Is that true—about the pilot?”

              “It’s a half-truth, Tomás.  And no, I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m trying to buy us time before they march us any deeper into the jungle.  As long as we are on one of the main waterways, maybe some one can find us.”

              Tomás nodded silently, in agreement. 

              “There’s something else.”

              What else is there, Amber?” the Hungarian asked.

              “I have a gun.”

Chapter 15

“You’ve got to fly our ‘fishermen’ into Colombia, Cal.  Not flying is not an option.”  Ramiro paced from one side of their small living room to the other.  “My gut instincts were right, bringing her here was a stupid idea.”

              “You were the one that wanted to dye her hair and turn her into a money launderer,” Cal shot back.

              “What were you two fighting about last night anyway?” Ramiro asked.

              Cal tilted his chair back on two legs, then returned to the floor with a thump before answering quietly, “We were arguing about you.”

              “Me?  Why the hell would you be arguing about me?”  Ramiro stopped pacing.

              “It was stupid.  I…got jealous.  I thought you two were flirting.”

              Ramiro looked a little sheepish.  “Maybe I was…but I would never act on it.”

              “It wasn’t you that I was worried about.”  Cal rubbed at his eyes with the heel of one hand.  “But the fact is, I’m in love with her…and I feel totally responsible that she might end up in the same situation as my dad.”

              “Those guys are going to get off the plane from Panama City today, and tomorrow morning, you have to fly them into Colombia.  If you don’t, it will not only jeopardize everything we’re doing, it’s going to mightily piss off our bosses.”

              “For fuck’s sake, will you sit down?  You’re making me a nervous wreck pacing around like that.”  Cal sighed.  “I know I keep calling it the new plane, but that’s because it’s new to me.  It’s a twenty-year old Cessna, after all.  Maybe we tell everyone there’s a mechanical problem with the plane.  That could buy us a day or two.  We could take our fisherman on a tour up the river to pass the time while the plane is being ‘repaired.’  And…we have a look around for Amber.”

              “Tourist bait for FARC—that’s almost crazy enough to work,” Ramiro sat down.  “If you’re absolutely certain she didn’t just split.”

              “Her passport is here, her money is here, and her clothes are here.  Yeah, I’m pretty sure she didn’t just split.  Especially since the Hungarian was apparently snatched maybe eight or ten miles upstream.”

              “I’ll put a message out to the Colombians that we’ll be two days late because of a mechanical difficulty.  They’ve already waited more than two weeks…I can’t see that two more days will be that much of an issue.  And I’ll tell the outfitter that our fisherman will have to shorten their trip.”

              “If we’re going to lie to everyone else, we better lie to HQ too, just to be consistent.”  Cal looked at Ramiro, “I’m sorry.  But what would you do if you were me?”

              “If I had a loved one who had been dragged around the jungle for two years, I sure as hell wouldn’t want anyone else I cared about to end up in the same situation.”  Ramiro stood up.  “Start getting our gear together while I get on the computer.”  Cal stood up.  “But Cal, two days is
all
we’re going to have.  Then we’ll have to report her disappearance through normal channels…and fudge the dates and circumstances.”

              Cal shook his head up and down, “No, I get it.  If you help me do this, I promise I won’t try to push it any further.  Let’s hope they are staying in the area looking to grab a few more foreigners.”

              Cal and Ramiro went to the little airstrip later that afternoon to meet the flight from Panama City.  The three volunteer fishermen were from the US Marshall Service.  They had been briefed prior to their departure from the US, and all were dressed like tourists in flip-flops and shorts and tropical shirts.  Cal and Ramiro greeted them as if they were indeed the operators of a tour service.  

              “Let’s get you gentlemen checked in to your hotel—it’s about a fifteen minute walk.”  Ramiro gestured toward town. 

              As they strolled toward town, Cal informed them of the change of plans, in language that he knew they would interpret.  “Well, we’ve had a little complication with our plans, and I’m afraid the paraya fish are going to have to wait a couple of days.  We’re…having some minor mechanical difficulties with our plane, and for safety, we’ve got to make sure everything checks out.”

              “Don’t worry, though,” Ramiro continued, “We have some ideas about how to entertain you in the interim.”  Ramiro clapped one of the marshals on the shoulder, “We’re going to check out some of the local waterways, see what we might find.”

              “We’ll give you all the details at dinner tonight,” Cal smiled.  “I bet you guys are good at tracking, huh?  Maybe we’ll have a little safari.”

###

              A booted toe gently nudged Amber in the ribs.  Her eyes fluttered open, and she realized it was late.  The sun was well up in the sky and she thanked her ability to sleep anywhere and at any time.  Her head and her knee both felt much improved.

              “Get up sleepy one,” Victor said as he stood over her.

              She pushed herself up into a seated position, “Buenos dias, Lieutenant.”

              He handed her a banana leaf with a mixture of beans and rice, “You need to eat.”

              Amber rubbed at her eyes with one hand, “You wouldn’t happen to have any hot sauce would you?”

              Victor laughed, “Mariana, bring our guest some dried chili.”  He squatted down next to Amber.  “I’ve been considering your proposal.  I think there is some merit in what you are suggesting.”

              Amber looked around as she took a pinch of chili from the plastic bag Mariana held out to her, “Where’s everyone else?”

              “My men took our two other guests to the river to wash up.  Good hygiene is important, yes?”  He smiled at her, “You’ll have a turn after you eat, but I wanted us to speak freely to one another, without them overhearing.”

              Amber nodded as she shoveled some food into her mouth.  She chewed and swallowed, “Yes, of course, confidentiality is important.”

              “Why do you want me to let the Hungarian go now—before we get back over the border?”  Victor picked up a pebble from the ground, tossing it up and down with one hand in an effort to appear casual.

              Amber tried to think quickly, “It’s fast money for your organization, without all the hassle of dragging them through the jungle.”

              “But you want me to send Hector on…how do you say?  A wild goose chase?”  He caught the little rock, and looked intently at Amber.  “Why is that?”  She tried not to show how much he unnerved her; how she understood the layer underneath the dynamic revolutionary that earned him a nickname like ‘Victor the Vicious.’

              Amber sucked in a breath, trying to come up with a convincing reason.  She paused, why not the truth?  “Because he’s been following me around, and he’s suspicious of my friend the pilot.  If he gets too close to what’s going on, it could be bad for all of us.  He’ll call the Americans in…and they will help the Colombian army.  No more FARC coca traveling out, no more cartel guns traveling in, and no more money for anyone—including me.  I don’t really want to be out of a job.”

              “Do you like profiting off the addictions of weak Americans?” Victor asked.

              “Like it?  Not particularly, but a girl has to live.  You profit, too.”

              He shook his head, “No, you are wrong.  FARC is liberating the peasants from an oppressive, capitalist regime.  I don’t gain personally from the sale of the coca at all.  Our network only grows coca and sells the paste, we do not make cocaine.”