Safe Without You (20 page)

              “Do you think I’m a bad person?”  Amber asked.

              “I’m trying to decide.”  His eyes narrowed as he looked at her.  “Maybe you are a victim too…a woman being exploited by men.  Within our ranks, women are equal to men.  We give women a place where they can use their talents—not only for their own benefit, but also to help others.  In FARC, women can be leaders.”             

              “You’re very persuasive.”  Amber could understand how teenage girls with no prospects but of life of backbreaking labor under the domination of some macho husband would respond to a dashing man promising to empower them.  A beret, a gun, an independent life…it was romantic—until you were malnourished, or your home became a piece of plastic on the ground, or the Colombian army killed you, or your commander forced you to have an abortion in the jungle.

              Victor took hold of Amber’s chin, forcing her to look into his eyes.  “You are not a bad person, but you are lying about something…I’m just not sure what.”

              Amber held his gaze, “I
am
a good liar, but everything I’ve told you
…
well, that’s the truth.  I don’t think I could lie to
you
.”  Amber softened her face, trying to get him to think that she was falling for him.  He had enough of an ego, she decided, to assume that she would. 

              “You would be quite the inspiration to our simple girls: a
gringa
with everything who chose to take up the cause of the peasants.”  His eyes glittered with the thought of what a propaganda coup
that
would be.

              “Maybe I just need a good reason to come over to your side.”  Amber flashed on an image of the heiress Patty Hearst wearing a beret and holding a machine gun after she was kidnapped and brainwashed by extremists during the 1970s.  She needed to keep her head about her if she was going to go down this path as a bluff.  “Maybe I’m a ‘material girl’ because nothing better has come along.”

              Victor’s tone became noticeably sexier as he started succumbing to Amber’s charms.  “I think I could give you several good reasons to come over to
my
side.”  He licked his lips, and Amber tried not to shudder.

              “I can listen to reason,” Amber dipped her head and looked up at him, her hair covering part of her face like a veil.  Each move was calculated for maximum impact, to make him want her.  If she couldn’t physically overpower him, she had to use other means.

              Pushing her hair back with the back of his hand, he gave her his best smoldering look, “Maybe we could have a nice discussion of Marxist principles while I wash your back down at the river—a little physical and
mental
hygiene.”

              Amber was acutely aware of Mariana observing them.  She was fairly certain that the sergeant hadn’t been able to keep up with their conversation in English, but Victor’s gestures were unmistakable.  Which one of them would be a better ally?  Maybe, Amber thought, she could use Mariana’s jealousy to her advantage.  Then it hit her: if anyone observed her taking her shirt off, the gun and her life might both be history.

              The sound of snapping twigs and rustling leaves signaled the arrival of Tomás and Paco walking in front of their two guards.  Their hair was wet, and they looked somewhat better absent a layer of jungle grime.

              Victor hastily stood up as the group came into view, and Tomás looked at Amber with questioning eyes.  She bobbed her head to indicate that she was okay and he did the same.  Tomás then said to no one in particular, “Good morning.”

              “You’re optimistic,” Victor laughed sourly.  “Mariana—get the gentlemen something to eat.”

              Mariana was stingy with the portions she served, and Amber felt guilty looking at the amount of food in her lap.  Victor was definitely treating her differently, and she didn’t know if it was because he thought she could help them, or because he simply wanted to bed her.  She continued eating, though, knowing that the best way to help Tomás and Paco was to keep at her plan to convince Victor she was on his side.

              Victor addressed the group, first in Spanish and then in English, “We’re going to stay camped here one more night, to let the rest of our comrades catch up to us.”  He smiled at his hostages.  “There will be some Americans you can get to know—guests of ours for some time now.  They can…mentor you.” 

              “I’m not sure I want to be a professional hostage,” Paco quipped.  “My mother always hoped for a doctor in the family.”

              “I like a sense of humor,” Victor chuckled.  “A good attitude—a cooperative attitude—will help insure that your mother eventually sees you again.”

              Mariana went to Amber and jerked her to her feet.  “You wash now.”

              Amber tried to swallow the last bite of her beans and rice without choking.  How would she wash without Mariana finding the gun?  She wondered if she was just going to have to shoot her and make a run for it.  If the boats were still moored near where they were washing, maybe she could try to get to one of the Embera villages, but she loathed the idea of putting other people at risk.

              Victor shook his head.  “Stay here Mariana.  I’ll take her.”

              The steam coming off of Mariana was practically visible.  The sergeant was pissed.  Mariana shoved Amber toward Victor.  Tripping in her hobbles, Amber fell, smacking her bruised knee on a tree root.  It started to puff up almost immediately.

              Victor took one look at the knee, and then slapped Mariana, hard, across the face.  He started yelling at her in Spanish, “Look what you’ve done.  How is she supposed to hike in the jungle with a swollen knee?  If you don’t stop acting like a
puta
and start acting like a sergeant, you’re going to be sorry.”

              Mariana rubbed her stinging cheek, her head hanging in submission.  “Sí, Lieutenant,” she answered meekly.  The flash of anger from Victor gave Amber a good idea of what he was capable of doing.  She felt sorry for Mariana, who probably loved Victor, but sleeping with your boss is invariably a bad idea.

              “Okay,” Victor said to Amber as he gently raised her to her feet.  “Can you walk?”

              Her knee throbbed, for sure, but Amber exaggerated the limp.  “I—I’m sorry, I think I need to sit down until the swelling goes down.”

              Slipping an arm around her waist, Victor held one of her hands as she hopped on one foot.  He led her to a soft, mossy place and eased her to the ground.  “Mariana,” he growled, “Bring her some aspirin.”

              Amber sighed with relief.  Mariana had done her a favor in preventing her from having to get undressed in front of Victor.  Even if she could have gotten rid of the gun first, disrobing in front of the lieutenant was not a savory prospect.

              “Take it easy,” Victor smiled at Amber.  He stroked her hair as he spoke.  Mariana dutifully brought two aspirin and a canteen and handed them to Amber. 

              “Gracias.”  Amber took the pills and swallowed, chasing them with a long drink from the canteen before handing it back.

              Victor then grabbed Mariana by the wrist, hissing softly in her ear in Spanish, but still Amber caught it.  “Come on, you jealous little
puta…
you want me so much, well you shall have me—but don’t expect it to be pleasurable.”  He pulled on Mariana roughly as he barked at the other two soldiers to watch the hostages while he and Mariana washed up at the river. 

              As the pair disappeared into the foliage, Amber felt doubly sorry for Mariana, knowing what was it store for her—and knowing she could be in the same situation if she wasn’t extremely careful.  At least now she could speak freely to Tomás and Paco for a little while since neither of the other guards spoke any English.

              “He’s quite the host,” Paco said, sarcastically.

              “Charming,” Amber replied.  “Look, while we have a minute, I need to tell you guys a couple of things.”

              “You have an idea how to escape?” Tomás asked.

              “Sort of.  First, I have a loaded revolver in a bra holster.”

              “No shit?”  Paco smiled. 

              “Well, I do—until Victor decides to feel me up.”

              “Fill you up?” Tomás said, puzzled.

              Amber sighed, “Not
fill
me up, until he decides…to cop a feel.”

              “Oh,” Tomás blinked, with sudden comprehension.

              “But I think our best chance is for me to win Victor over.  Make him think I’m succumbing to Stockholm syndrome.  He already believes that I launder money for the cartel they sell their coca too.”

              “What?  Why would he think that?”  Tomás continued to look perplexed.

              “Long story,” Amber brushed off Tomás’ bafflement, “Suffice it to say, I’m persuading him to turn you guys over to Panamanian law enforcement since he thinks the Hungarian government will pay for hostages to be released.”

              “What about you?” Paco asked.

              “He turns me over to the pilot that’s flying the coca and money around, so the cartel doesn’t get pissed at FARC.”

              “Cal works for a drug cartel?” Tomás said in amazement.

              “Who’s Cal?” asked Paco.

              Amber rubbed her head.  She wanted to tell them that Cal was undercover for the DEA, but that was the kind of information that could result in a life or death situation if it was divulged at the wrong time to the wrong people.  Not knowing how far Victor might go, or how easily Tomás might crack, she felt like she needed to keep that card up her sleeve.

              One of the guards walked over, nervous that so much talking was going on in a language he couldn’t understand.  He told them in Spanish to shut up, but he gave Paco a deck of cards.

              “Go fish, anyone?” Paco said, as he shuffled the cards.

###

              “I’m going to speak off the record, if I may.”  Cal cleared his throat.  The three marshals sitting around the table nodded. 

              A guy with a heavy, southern drawl, named Duke, spoke up.  “Sometimes…when you’re going after the big fish…unorthodox methods are called for.”  He was a middle-aged man, trim and wiry, with short, salt and pepper hair.  He took a sip from his beer.

              The group was sequestered in a private dining room at the hotel’s restaurant.  Empty plates littered the table, and the marshals seemed relaxed, almost as if they were on a real vacation.  Ramiro nodded at Cal to continue.

              “FARC is getting bolder—which I’m guessing means they are more desperate.  In trying to obtain hostages to use as bargaining chips, they’ve come deeper into Panama than we’ve ever seen.  They grabbed up a Hungarian backpacker and his Panamanian guide two days ago, and then they snatched an American from right here in La Palma last night.”

              “That is pretty bold,” Duke commented.

              “Anyway, there’s a good chance they are still in the area and we thought, maybe, you guys might enjoy doing a little hunting in addition to fishing…while the plane is getting repaired.”  Cal coughed a little, uncomfortable with lying to US Marshals. 

              “We’re going beyond our…parameters…we’re supposed to be worried about the cartel and the drugs and not about FARC.  This is total black ops stuff, I mean,
nobody
but the people is this room can ever know about it,” Ramiro added.  “But people in the area know us as operating a tour business, and what better bait for FARC than three American tourists?”

              “If you guys aren’t comfortable bending the rules, then we’ll all just forget this conversation ever happened and continue into Colombia on Tuesday,” Cal finished.

              “Doesn’t sound to me like
bending
,” Duke raised an eyebrow.  “Sounds a lot like
breaking
.”  Duke glanced at the other two marshals who both had smiles creeping over their faces.  “Well, we do have a little bit of experience tracking fugitives,” Duke laughed, with false modesty.  “And if it means freeing civilian hostages, it seems like it’s our humanitarian duty to help…not that we’d be representing the Marshal Service or anything.  We’re just…three guys on vacation.”

              Cal breathed a sigh of relief.  Maybe they would get Amber back.

Chapter 16

Cal…where are you?  I miss you so much.  I know if you were here, lying next to me in the dark, you would want to know what it was about you that I had missed…and I’d have to answer, ‘Almost everything.’ 

              I miss the feel of your strong arms holding me, I miss the gentleness of your kisses, I miss the passion that ignites when we make love.  I miss your steadiness, and your devotion to your father, and the way you shield your mother.  I miss the fact that you are brave, and that you have chosen a life that’s about helping good triumph over evil.  I miss the way you protect me, and teach me, and the way you give me confidence.  I miss feeling like I’m a better person when I’m with you.  And most of all, I miss your love.

              If you were here, a prisoner in the jungle, you wouldn’t be passive, you would take risks, and you’d do that without jeopardizing innocent people.  I look at Tomás, silently fearful, doing nothing, hoping that somehow, someone else will save him.  And it’s completely clear to me now why I chose you.  I may have to do something terrible here in the jungle…I might have to kill someone, or have sex with a man who repulses me.  You’d forgive me for that, right?  You’d forgive me for doing something terrible if it saves our lives?

              I wish I had my pepper spray and my kubaton, but I do have my gun, and I thank you for making me practice everything over and over, the way you did.  Now I understand—if you have a gun, you better know how to use it.