Secret Agent Minister (12 page)

She put a hand to her mouth. “You don’t mean that kind old man is the one—”

“Eli told me to beware of the gray-haired man,” Dev said, knowing he could trust her with this information. “I didn’t tell the others because—”

“Because they were all gray-haired, more or less,” she interrupted. “But the Peacemaker—” Lydia’s eyes got even wider “—he was definitely gray-haired. And so helpful. Why would he help us if he’s the one trying to kill us?”

“I’m not sure,” Dev said. “It could be that he felt the heat and decided to steer us away—so no one would connect him to trying to do us in. It might be that Kissie’s call alerted him—he had to play the part of friend and protector to hide his real motives.”

“Why did Kissie call him instead of you?” Lydia asked.

“That’s the question. She would have tried my phone first. She knows to do that, but The Peacemaker implied she was afraid my phone wasn’t clear.”

“Are we sure Kissie is all right?”

“Last time I dared try, she didn’t answer her phone, which is not like her at all.”

“Try again,” Lydia said, shaking his arm. “I don’t want anything to happen to Kissie.”

“Good idea.” He unbuckled his seat belt. “Let’s get out of this plane. It’s got a big target on its back. And unfortunately, I left my Ruger back in New Orleans.”

“I don’t like guns,” Lydia said. “And I especially don’t like having a target on my back.”

He hopped down, his mind racing as he ran around to help Lydia. Taking her into his arms, he became very aware of her clean fresh scent, of the way her hair fell in soft layers around her shoulders. She was still dressed in her cute capri pants and floral blouse, but she had been practical enough to exchange the flat sandals for a good pair of walking shoes, at least.

Because they’d be doing a lot of walking.

Lydia took his mind off both her prettiness and the road ahead. “Call Kissie.”

Dev guided them away from the plane, to a clump of bushes near the deserted strip, then pulled out his Treo. “I’ve got a weak signal, but I’ll try.” She answered on the third ring.

“Valarie, how ya doing, baby girl?”

Dev frowned into the phone. “It’s me, Kissie. Are you all right?”

“I am, but we have a bad connection.”

“Is someone there with you?”

“You could say that, yes. The house is rocking tonight.”

“Just tell me if you’re safe.”

“For now, yes. We could do lunch soon maybe. We have a lot to catch up on. I want to hear all about your vacation down south.”

“South America?” Dev asked, his eyes connecting with Lydia’s questioning gaze.

“That’s right. Sand and sun, tropical flora and fauna. The works. I want to hear everything about that nice cruise. But, honey, right now, I have to go.”

“I got you,” Dev said, dread coloring his words. Kissie was trying to give him the rest of the story. “Stay safe,” he said. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Right, Valarie,” Kissie said into the phone, her tone light. “Remember trouble and anguish make us afraid—”

The line went dead.

“Kissie?” Dev stared at his phone, then looked at Lydia. “I think she’s in trouble. She was trying to warn us about something.”

“What?” Lydia came close, her hands on his arm. “What did she say?”

She called me Valarie. That’s her daughter. Valarie. Why would she call me Valarie?”

“Maybe it was a clue,” Lydia said. “Where does Valarie live?”

“In Florida.” He thought back over the conversation. “She wanted me to figure out South America, so that means this
is
tied to that, just as I suspected.”

“What else?”

“A cruise. She mentioned a cruise.”

“Valarie, Florida and a cruise in South America,” Lydia said. “They must all add up.”

Dev closed his eyes and thought back. So much had happened down there and he’d tried to block most of it. “It’s been a while. We were in a place called Rio Branco. It’s the capital village of Acre, deep in the jungles of Brazil. It’s a university town full of college students. We went down there to rescue a young woman from a religious cult that uses hallucinogenic vines to induce visions. Her wealthy parents wanted her home. We hired a boat guide, a trader, to take us up the river to a large
fazendeiros
—an estate, very large and lavish—that has to be what Kissie is talking about. The girl was being held on that estate. We never did find out who owned the plantation house.”

He stopped, wondering how much more he should tell Lydia. “That’s when everything went bad. She’s confirming what I’d already figured out.” But who was there with Kissie?

Lydia held his arm, steadying him. “Does this bad stuff have to do with The Disciple getting into trouble?”

“Yes.” Dev looked up at the night sky and the mountains all around them. Telling Lydia this final truth would be just like climbing a mountain. “Let’s get out of here and then I’ll explain everything to you.”

She let go of his arm. “Maybe she just called you Valarie off the top of her head. And Florida is tropical, like the jungle. She was grasping at ways to communicate.”

“Yes, but the boat ride firms things up in my mind.” He tugged her back toward the plane. “Let’s get our backpacks,” he said. “We’ll need our supplies. We can talk on the way.”

“Where is this cabin?” she asked as she slung the pack he handed her over her shoulder.

“Up there,” Dev said, pointing.

In the newborn peaches-and-cream dawn, Lydia squinted up at the mountain face in front of them, then back to him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Afraid not,” Dev told her. “We have to climb that piece of rock to get to the cabin.”

Lydia looked back up at the craggy rock dotted with evergreens and shrubs as far as the eye could see. “This had better be worth it.”

He took her by the hand. “We can go over everything we’ve put together, to take your mind off hiking.”

She gave him a mock smile. “You are so very clever, but that’s not funny.” Then she squinted toward the east. “But that is certainly a beautiful sunrise.”

Dev’s phone rang, echoing eerily out over the trees and rocks.

“Hello?” His heart started pumping a hard beat. “Kissie? Are you clear?”

“As clear as can be expected, considering I just had a nice visit with The Disciple. He was here, Devon. And he’s very upset.”

“What did he say?”

“Pretty much that he’d been set up. That what happened in South America was not your fault. He’s not trying to kill you, Pastoral. He’s trying to save you.”

“Why me?” Dev asked, glancing around. They were exposed out here. And the woods could be full of secret watchers.

“Because…when you reported him as being too shaky to continue the operation down there, you apparently ruffled some big feathers. Whoever is in on this thinks you know something you shouldn’t know. And they think you’ll blow the whistle on the whole enchilada.”

“But I don’t have any information. I only know that after I told the truth, Eli lost everything dear to him.”

“They did that as a revenge tactic, because he was too close to the truth and your trying to help him only confirmed their suspicions. Apparently, they’re after him, too. And they think he told you something. Something that could ruin CHAIM for good.”

“I don’t understand—Kissie, it’s been years and I don’t know anything. Why now?” He stared over at Lydia. She was still and questioning. “I have to get Lydia somewhere safe. We’re sitting ducks out here in the open.”

“I have more,” Kissie replied. “Eli said to stay at the hideaway until he can find you. His exact words to me were ‘Tell The Pastoral to lie low.’”

“I plan on doing just that, but I need to talk to Eli.”

“He doesn’t want to be found, but he thinks they’ll come there looking for him and you. He said he’d catch up with you very soon.”

“Why didn’t he just tell me this himself? Why didn’t you put him on the phone earlier?”

“He wasn’t the one with me earlier,” Kissie said, her voice low. “I was stalling so Eli could get away.”

“Someone else was there with you?”

“Yes.”

“The Peacemaker?”

“He didn’t identify himself. Tall, gray-haired. Implied he was my superior. But I’m pretty sure he’s the man Eli told me to call the night of the Garden District party.”

Dev let out a breath. “Eli called you and told you to call someone else instead of warning me?”

“Yes. He was rushed, but he made me promise to call a certain number. He said your life depended on it. I didn’t ask questions. I called the number and got this man. Very cultured Southern voice. Very polite. He said he’d help.”

“That’s him,” Dev confirmed. “The Peacemaker.”

“I don’t even want to know the rest,” Kissie said. “Just get to wherever you think you should be. I’ve got to go. Things are very tense down here.”

“Okay. Thanks. I’ll figure something out.”

“Oh, one more thing,” Kissie said on a rush of breath. “The Disciple said to tell you—he has something you might want.”

“What is that?” Dev asked, his whole being alert to the sounds of the morning. It was a quiet dawn. Still and uncertain, like a rattlesnake about to spring.

“He has Lydia’s diary,” Kissie said. “And he’s reading it page by page. It’s very detailed, from what he implied.”

“Lydia has a diary?” Dev looked at Lydia and saw her go pale.
A diary?
“You have a diary?”

She bobbed her head. “I keep a journal, yes. I left it at Kissie’s.”

“I gotta go,” Kissie said. Then the call ended.

Dev stared at his phone, then let out a frustrated sigh as he looked sideways at Lydia. “What exactly was in your diary, Lydia?”

She shrugged, ran a hand through her hair. “A lot of things.” She blushed. “Personal stuff.” She waved her hands in the air. “I might have mentioned a few other things. You know, about us being on the run from the VEPs and…things like that. Right up until we left for the fancy party.” Then she lowered her head and whispered, “Is that bad? Did I do something wrong?”

Dev didn’t have the heart to voice the angry thoughts coursing through his head. “No, sweetheart, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Except put us in even more danger, right?” she asked, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

“Except that,” Dev answered, his dread now at full throttle. “But hey, you keeping detailed records of our
every move
is just a minor point in the overall scheme of things.”

He shouldn’t have raised his voice. But he was tired and angry. And, too late, he could see that same fatigue and anger in the misty reflection from Lydia’s amber-flecked eyes.

Just before she threw her backpack down and took off in the other direction.

“L
ydia, come back here.”

“No.” She kept walking, stomping toward the mountain. “Why don’t you just go on and finish the job. I’ll find a way out of here by myself.”

“That’s impossible. You’d never survive.”

And he’d die before he allowed that to happen.

She lifted an arm in the air, waving him away. “That’s just it. Poor little Lydia. So helpless and such a problem for everyone involved in this sordid operation. And apparently, I’m too stupid to live since I just happen to write in a journal—because, mercy, I wouldn’t want to burden you with all my problems. I understand. I get it. I don’t need to be here, and you don’t need to be worried about me. So just let me go.”

He looked down at the barren ground. “I can’t do that. You know I can’t do that. Lydia, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply—”

She turned then, her fury and pain piercing him like a golden lance as her eyes met his. “You didn’t mean to imply that I’ve really messed up, but I saw it there in your eyes. I saw everything. And I understand everything. Your having to babysit me. If I wasn’t in the way, you could do your job and get it over with. You could keep your secrets and your regrets close, without anyone else being the wiser, right? But I’m here and I left my diary in New Orleans because I couldn’t bring it to that fancy party anyway, and then I was poisoned and we had to get out of there quick and now we don’t know who’s read it. I’ve put us in even more danger.”

She brought her arms up, wrapping them around herself at midwaist, as if that action would protect her from all she’d seen and done. “I just want this to be over. Just tell me—when will this be over?”

Dev stood there, a few feet separating them, his heart going from hard and uncompromising to soft and yielding. He could yield everything for this woman. He would walk through fire to save her, to get to her. But right now, there was a big gap between his feelings and his duty.

“I honestly don’t know how to answer that,” he said. Then he couldn’t stop looking at her, his heart warring with his head. “Lydia, please don’t walk away from me. It’s not safe. It’s…”

He gave up with words. Instead he stomped toward her, and from the startled expression registering in her misty eyes, he must have looked like Sherman marching into Georgia. She didn’t move, but he could tell she was holding her breath. When he got within inches, he grabbed her with one hand sliding around her waist. Then he pulled her close and put his arms around her.

Closing his eyes, he held her there, the scent of her floral shampoo washing over him like a cleansing breeze. “Lydia,” he said on a whispered plea, “don’t you know what you mean to me?”

She raised her head, drawing back to stare up at him, her eyes as shimmering and bronze as the sunrise glinting off the mountains. “No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?”

That simple request hit Dev square in the face, the dare in her words heating him with guilt and remorse. He couldn’t tell her anything about his feelings. Not yet. Not now.

So instead of sparring with words, he went into action. He pushed his hands through her hair and kissed her. Not to calm her, not to stall her, not even to convince her.

He kissed her because he wanted to kiss her. And…he realized he wanted her by his side, not just to protect her and get her safely back home. But always and forever.

But first, he had to keep her alive.

Lydia felt so alive, so aware, so alert. They were standing in a deep valley between two twin mountains, and the man she loved with all of her heart was kissing her. As their lips touched, she realized two things. Pastor Dev cared about her, and he also had a job to do. He wanted to keep her safe, but not just out of duty. Now, now, there was so much more at stake between them.

Now, there was a chance for that always and forever she’d dreamed about.

If she’d just behave long enough to let him do what he had to do. He had every right to be mad about the diary. And she shouldn’t have gotten so bent out of shape.

She drew back, a blush heating her skin. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have told you about my diary.”

He leaned his forehead against hers, his hands still caught in her hair. He stayed there a moment, then said, “It’s okay. Even if Eli is enjoying all your private thoughts, he won’t pass that information on to anyone else. And by telling us he has the diary, he’s also telling us we can trust him. As long as he has it, no one else will ever get their hands on it.”

Her blush went deeper. “I’d rather he
didn’t
have it. It
is
very personal. And technically, it’s a journal. A diary makes me sound like a high schooler.”

He smiled at that, his words low and husky. “Did you write anything about me in there?”

Lydia was sweating now. She could feel a little trickle of dampness moving between her shoulder blades. “I’d rather not say.”

The look he gave her made her fidgety. His eyes were a soft, sweet blue, as wide-open and all encompassing as the sky. “You did, didn’t you?”

Wincing, she thought about the intimate passages of glowing, detailed adulation and love she’d professed there in her private ramblings. She might as well be an adolescent girl. It probably sounded that way. “Just a little. Will that compromise this mission?”

He laughed then, some of the tension leaving his face. “You’re beginning to sound like an operative, sweetheart.”

Like a real pro, Lydia tried to distract him from wanting to know more about her diary…uh, journal. “What can be done, about the situation?”

“Very smooth.” He took her by the hand. “Let’s concentrate on one worry at a time. Right now, we need to get up this mountain.”

“What about The Disciple?”

“Kissie says he’ll find us here later. Eli will come whenever Eli is ready. He’ll want to make sure he’s not being tailed. And he’ll want to have all his facts straight.”

“So who do we trust, The Disciple or The Peacemaker? Or should we be wary of both of them, and everybody else, too?”

“Good question, and probably a good observation—trust no one.” He tugged her along over the rocks and shrubs. “Right now, however, I’m liking The Peacemaker for being the troublemaker.”

“That nice old man gets a new name.”

“Yeah, know any good scripture quotes for that one?”

“You reap what you sow,” she shot back.

“You do know your Bible.”

She was working on a retort when the first shot rang out.

“Get down!”

Dev didn’t wait for Lydia to do his bidding. Instead, he pushed her behind an outcropping of rocks, their bodies crushing the delicate lavender columbines blooming nearby.

Holding her down, he scanned the distant trees and formations. When another shot rang out, he ducked down again, this time behind a sturdy shrub oak.

“It’s coming from that copse of trees over there just beyond that ridge.” He pointed to a spot about one hundred yards away from the plane where an outcropping of junipers and birch trees hung off the nearby hillside. “We need to get back to the plane.”

“Why?” Lydia asked, her breath coming in huffs. “I mean, won’t they see us?”

“Yes, but it’s the fastest way out of here,” he explained. “I’m not sure what they’re shooting with, but if we head up the mountain, we’ll be easy targets. And there might be more of them behind us, just waiting.”

“Can’t we just hide behind the rocks and trees?”

“They might have air support. They obviously tracked our flight.” Which made him wonder if all the gray-haired men were in on this. He’d figured the CHAIM head honchos would put a tail on them, but he’d never figured they’d actually try to kill him.

Lydia grunted into the weeds. “Oh, right. Why didn’t I think about air support!”

Glad she was back to her feisty self, Dev held her down. “Listen to me, Lydia. We’re going to follow these rocks until we can come around to the other side of the plane.”

“Sure we are.”

Another shot pierced the air. Dev held Lydia’s head down. “They probably have rifles with scopes. It’ll be easy for them to spot us. And there might be more than one shooter.”

She huffed a breath. “Just like when we take the youth paintballing.”

“I’m serious, Lydia. You have to stay down. We’re going to crawl along the rock bed. Do you understand?”

“I’m not deaf or daft,” she said, frustration coloring her words. “And I sure don’t want to be shot. I’ve got it. Stay low and hurry up.”

“And don’t raise your head unless I give you the all clear.”

“Got it. I’d like to keep my brain intact.”

“Okay, then, you have to stay right behind me, so I can keep you out of the line of fire. Promise me you’ll do that? And you have to stay low to the ground.”

“I will. But…how are we going to get to the plane?”

“We’ll figure that out once we get to the other side. I’m hoping the plane and that sun coming up over the mountains will shield us until we can get inside. And I’m praying whoever is up there isn’t a very good shot.”

“What if they shoot the plane down?”

“They’ll try. But I’m going to get us out of here.”

She didn’t respond to that. Dev knew what she was thinking.
How in the world was he going to do that?

Since he didn’t have a clue, he could only act on instinct and years of training. “We’ll be all right. Just follow me,” he told Lydia, his breath winded. “Stay to my right.”

She did as he asked, crawling along beside him. Dev dug his elbows into the dry rocks and sand, the grime of dirt, weeds and wildflowers sending up a cloud of dust. He glanced over at Lydia and saw her grimace each time they took a slow slide toward the next rock.

“I hope we have bandages in that plane,” she hissed, the pain etched on her face causing her to draw in a long breath. “I’m going to be scraped to pieces.”

“Just keep moving, sweetheart,” he told her. “We’re almost there.”

Two more rapid-fire shots rang out, and this time Dev felt the whiz of a bullet as it passed right over their heads. “Lydia?”

“I’m here. That was so close, I think it split the hairs on my head.”

“But it missed, right?”

“Yes. I’m right behind you.”

They made it to where the plane sat at the end of the haphazard runway. Dev had tried to hide it near a group of aspen trees, just in case. Now that the “just in case” was here and they were being attacked, he turned to lie on his back, sweat and dirt merging on his face. “Okay, here’s the tricky part.”

Lydia let out a snort. “And here I thought we’d gotten past the tricky part.”

He reached out a hand to her. She lay on her stomach staring over at him, then she glanced down at their joined hands. “I’m listening.”

He saw the trust in her eyes and the little bits of columbine blossoms in her hair, and fell in love with her completely as they lay there in the dirt and flowers, with shots being fired all around them. Lydia never faltered, never gave up, even when she was fighting him tooth and nail. She might get weary, but she was still willing to fight the good fight. For God. And for him.

Because he saw the love in her eyes now, he could acknowledge that same love in his heart. Maybe it had been there all along, but now it shined brightly against the blue of the Colorado sky. So brightly, it almost blinded him with its hope and longing. He would not lose her now. He had to get her out of this mess.

“Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be. But, before we go—let’s go over our list of options again.”

He let out a sigh. “We don’t have any options. If we go up that mountain, they’ll track us and shoot us.”

“We could just stay here until dark.”

“And let them get in even closer? Not a good idea.”

She glanced up toward the plane. “What’s next then?”

“We’re going to run to the plane, but you need to stay low to the ground. When we get there, squat down beside the back pilot’s side wheelbase, okay? It’s not much, but if you crouch there, you’ll be shielded. Hopefully the rising sun and the thickness of those aspens will both work in our favor.”

“Hopefully.”

“I’m going to open the door on the pilot’s side and I want you to get in as fast as you can.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be right behind you.”
Trying to keep from getting shot myself.

“And then, you’ll just crank her up and we’ll take off?”

He didn’t want to mention just yet that they didn’t have much fuel. “Something like that.”

“I hope that plane is bulletproof.”

“If I know Alfred Anderson, it is.”

He gave her hand a squeeze, then he leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Ready?”

“Absolutely.” It was feeble and weak, but her eyes still held that look of trust and resolve. “Let’s go.”

Dev rolled over. It was too quiet out there, which could mean the shooters had given up, or that they were moving in. “On the count of three—” He ticked off the numbers, ticking off prayers inside his head while he said the words.

They rocketed out from behind the brush and shrubs, the sound of gunfire, closer now, rising to follow their paths. Dev prayed while he ran beside Lydia, his hand reaching to shield her and to try and keep her down as she moved. Bullets hit rocks behind them and bounced off the plane in front of them, but Dev kept pushing Lydia forward. “The wheel,” he called to her. “Get behind that wheel.”

Lydia dived toward the plane’s tiny covered wheel, grabbing at the mushroom-shaped white metal covering, her body curling up in a tight little ball, her head down.

Dev scrambled toward the nose, then hopped around the plane to grab the door. Another shot rang out, then he heard Lydia’s cry of pain.

And saw blood running down her arm.

Intense agony poured over Lydia as a scalding pain caused her arm to go numb. She looked down at the blood spilling against her hand, then glanced up in time to see Pastor Dev’s hand snaking out toward her. She tried to reach him, but she felt sick, the waves of nausea rolling over her with the precision of a fast-moving waterfall. She was going to pass out.