WAR: Disruption (10 page)

But then why did she feel this wrenching sadness over leaving him behind? Shaking her head, she placed her backpack on the rear seat of the doctor’s small, four-door sedan.

“You have to go!” A skinny teenage boy with dark skin raced across the back yard and dashed into the garage. “You must leave now!” The boy waved his arms.

“Emily, get back.” Max bolted out of the house, shoved her behind him, and leveled his pistol at the boy. “Stop!”

The boy froze, the look of horror on his face almost comical.

“Easy, Max.” Dr. LaSalle put his hand on Max’s shoulder. “This is a friend. One of the boys who keeps the house clean.”

Max lowered his gun, but the tension didn’t leave his body.

“Abdullah, calm down.” The doctor walked over to the boy. “What has happened?”

“The rebels have arrived. They attacked the government buildings not two hours ago, and those they did not kill have now fled. Patrols are already marching through the street, looking for foreigners.” He removed a piece of paper from the pocket of his ragged khaki shorts and held it up so they could see it was a flyer with a bad photograph of Max under the word WANTED. “Looking for this man in particular.”

Emily sucked in a breath.

“Let me see that.” Max took the flyer from Abdullah and scanned it quickly. “No charges. It just says that I’m armed and dangerous and to report me to the nearest rebel patrol.”

“Wait,” Emily said. “The nearest
rebel
patrol? Not the police? Max, why do the
rebels
have a price on your head? What have you done?”

“Max has done the same as many of us,” the doctor said. “He has tried to stop the rebels from tearing this region apart.” He flicked his finger against the paper. “Very slick. I doubt the rebels prepared this on their own,” he murmured, sharing a tense glance with Max. “So, it appears that certain players are aware of your presence here.”

Max just shrugged.

“The reward for your capture is quite high. It is a good thing you are leaving.”

“Who—” She shook her head as Max ducked back inside the house. They wouldn’t tell her even if she did ask again what was going on.

Dr. LaSalle turned to the boy. “How close are they, Abdullah? Can we still reach the airport to get Mademoiselle Emily safely away?”

The boy shook his head. “No. The rebels have blocked off the streets to the airport and the government tanks are approaching. No planes will be leaving.” He bounced on his feet with excitement. “I have borrowed my cousin’s Jeep. Very good condition. Excellent for traveling over rough roads. Plenty of gas and oil.” Pride shone from his eyes. “I will take the lady over the border. The rebels entered from the west, so we shall leave on the northern road.”

The doctor hesitated, then shook his head. “It is the duty of you and I to help those injured by the fighting. I need you to serve as my eyes and ears here in the capital.”

Abdullah’s excitement dimmed. He opened his mouth to protest, but the doctor held up his hand. “However, we accept the gift of your cousin’s vehicle. Where is it?”

The boy pointed to the lane on the other side of the wall.

“Very good. For the moment, let us quickly gather supplies for our friends.” The two turned around just as Max ran out of the house carrying his rucksack and tugging his baseball cap down over his forehead. The boy tossed a set of keys to Max, then he and the doctor disappeared into the house.

Max handed a second baseball cap to Emily. “Put this on. It will provide a little bit of camouflage against anyone looking for us.”

She swallowed nervously, but did as he said. Then she pulled her backpack out of the doctor’s car.

Max met her eyes. “Ready?”

No. Never. This was too unreal. Too frightening to be her life. She didn’t want to have to run from the rebels with this mysterious, dangerous man. She just wanted to go home. But she nodded. What else could she do?

He gave her an encouraging smile. “All right, let’s go.”

Max grabbed her hand and ran toward the gate, which swung open as they approached to reveal a slightly battered Jeep with a bunch of jerry cans strapped under a cargo net on the roof. They threw their packs into the back seat. Max slid behind the wheel and tossed a phone onto the console as Emily strapped herself into the passenger seat. Max had just started the engine when the doctor and Abdullah raced up. They shoved several bags into the cargo compartment.

Max rolled his window down.

“Supplies and a first aid kit,” the doctor said. “Including antibiotics.” He met Emily’s eyes. “Please make certain that Max takes one pill every day for the next ten days and that he is careful of his damaged ribs.”

She nodded, then flicked a glance at Max. Just how badly had he been hurt?

“Head north,” Abdullah advised. “That is the safest way.”

Max held his hand out to the doctor. “Thanks, man,” he said as they shook. The doctor just nodded in return, then jerked his head to indicate they should leave.

As they drove down the concrete lane running behind the houses, the doctor called after them “God be with you, my friends.”

“Yeah,” Max muttered. “We’re going to need it.”

AS MAX DROVE toward the intersection with the main road north, an explosion rocked the neighborhood.

Emily squealed in alarm. “That felt really close.”

“Yeah.” Max gave the Jeep more gas. So much for the government’s declaration that they would never let the rebels over the border.

“Is Dr. LaSalle going to be all right?”

Max sure as hell hoped so. With light brown skin and slightly Caucasian features, it was clear Rene was mixed race despite his cornrows. But his friend was also smart and resourceful. Not to mention stubbornly determined to help those in need. “Rene knows how to take care of himself. He’s been providing medical care in conflict areas for years.”

Hearing a high pitched whistling, Max glanced over his shoulder. “Incoming. Hold on!”

He gunned the engine, swerving to the left as the rocket-propelled grenade exploded in the spot where they’d been a moment ago. The Jeep rocked under the force of the blast, but stayed upright. Max straightened the wheels and sped down the road.

“Oh, God,” Emily said. She turned in her seat, craning her neck to see out the back window. “Where are they? How did they find us so quickly?”

He glanced in the rearview mirror, but didn’t see any rebel vehicles or soldiers. “I think that was just a lucky shot on their part. Probably one of rebels fired at random in order to intimidate people and we just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“That’s not particularly reassuring.”

He shrugged. “What do you want me to say? The rebels don’t care who they hurt. Violence terrorizes people and the resulting fear helps them control the population.”

“You say that as if it’s normal.”

“For this part of the world, it is.”

Emily crossed her arms over her chest, settled deeper into her seat, then lapsed into an uneasy silence.

Ten minutes later, they reached the crossroads and found it heavy with traffic. Battered taxis vied with tro-tros, commercial trucks, and private vehicles to get out of town. Max joined the stream of vehicles as it inched across a bridge spanning a large irrigation canal. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. He didn’t like this slow pace. It made them too vulnerable.

“Looks like everyone is trying to outrun the rebels,” Emily said.

“Yeah.” Max’s impatience grew. His sixth sense warned him they needed to leave the group in order to stay safe.

Then the crowd’s forward momentum stopped.

“Max? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” He craned his neck, but couldn’t see past the small bus in front of him.

“Let me look.” Emily cranked down her window and climbed through to stand gracefully with one foot balanced on the open window as she peered over the crowd. Max’s heart skipped a beat. “Dammit, Emily.”

She shimmied back inside. “There are a couple of Jeeps blocking the road, along with one of those big army trucks with the canvas arching over the back.”

“Troop transport.”

She nodded.

Max steered the Jeep over to the side of the road, earning the ire of the other drivers who honked and shouted at him. But he didn’t care.

“Max?”

“We’ve got to get to that small side road up ahead before the rebels spot us. I’m on a wanted poster, remember?”

Max nudged the Jeep the last few feet, turned onto the unpaved side road, and slowly increased their speed so as not to draw additional attention. He killed the headlights, too, not needing them in the growing morning light.

“Did the white man at the way station work with the rebels to create the wanted poster? I know he shot Crystal because he thought she was you.”

Christ. How long ago had she figured it out? Recognizing the hint of panic in her voice, he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She watched him warily, her back pressed against the passenger door.

“You’ve cut your hair, but you had a long blond ponytail when you got on the tro-tro. That man saw Crystal’s hair and thought he was killing you. Who
are
you?”

The fear and accusation in her voice cut to the heart of him. “I’m one of the good guys.”

“So you say!”

He shot a quick, hard glance at her before returning his attention to the road. “Listen, can you put the hysterics on hold until we get safely away?”

“Hysterics? I am
not
having hysterics. I’m furious that an innocent woman was killed because she resembled you, you bastard! And I’m terrified because instead of being safe, traveling with you has put me in the sights of a killer!”

She took a deep breath and Max hoped she was done. Because, damn, his ears were ringing.

“What kind of trouble are you in?” she demanded. “And don’t you dare give me that crap about being a history professor working on some dry treatise.”

He rubbed his right ear. “I’m sorry about your friends, okay? I had no idea Ziegler was so unstable. He’s usually more careful than that.”

“See! You admit that it’s all your fault.”

He winced. “Yes. All right, yes. Ziegler killed her because of me. Are you happy now?”

“No. You’re too dangerous. Sue was killed because she had the bad luck to be standing next to your double, Crystal. I’m not going to sit here and suffer the same fate. Stop the car. I want out.”

 
Dammit, did she think he’d wanted Ziegler to kill that girl? That he didn’t care? “You want me to drop you at one of these houses?” He jerked his chin toward the window. “With the rebels demanding that all foreigners be turned over to them, do you really think you’ll be safer depending on the kindness of strangers than with me? Haven’t I kept you safe so far? If you don’t trust me, at least trust Rene. He thought I could protect you.”

“He didn’t know about your friend Ziegfried.”

“Ziegler. And yes, he did. Rene knows that if I could have stopped Ziegler from killing your friend, I would have.”

“Whatever. Just let me out.”

“No.” He sped up. “Believe it or not, you’re safe with me. I
will
protect you. From both the rebels and Ziegler.”

“I hate you.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to the club,” he muttered under his breath.

With a frustrated growl, Emily subsided into silence.

Great. Just what he needed. To spend hours trapped in a car with a woman who hated and feared him.

Emily shifted in her seat, trying to get comfortable. Watching her, Max was hit by a surprising wave of compassion that cut straight through his self-righteous anger. Dammit, she hadn’t asked for any of this. All she’d wanted was to draw attention to the plight of war orphans. It wasn’t her fault she got mixed up with him, or that trouble seemed to be all he knew lately.

Failure. You’re always failing the ones you care about. You failed to stop Dietrich before the attack that hurt Wil. You failed to hold the team together, letting them go off and form their own band under Kristoff. You failed to stop Ziegler from killing that girl.

Face it. Emily would be better off without you.

Max clenched his teeth and wrenched his mind onto the task at hand. He couldn’t afford to get stuck in self-pity or self-recrimination. He had a job to do. Get Emily safely to the border. Find the plane. Retrieve or steal the briefcase with the weapon prototype. Ruin Dietrich’s deal.

Right. No problem.

A check of the rearview mirror confirmed that no one had followed them, but Max didn’t relax. This road headed east, toward the rising sun. Any pursuers would see their Jeep silhouetted against the pink and blue sky.

Five minutes later, a massive explosion shook the ground, sending the vehicle into a skid. Max fought the wheel and managed to bring it back under control.

Emily stared in horror out the back window. “That was the bridge, wasn’t it?”

“Probably.”

“Max, all those cars. People will be hurt. Dying!”

“I know. If we’d stayed, we’d be dead, too.” He picked up his phone from the console where he’d been charging it via the cigarette lighter and handed it to her. “Text Rene about the bridge being hit. He’ll make sure the victims get help.”

Emily’s terrified eyes met his. “You’re sure Dr. LaSalle and Abdullah will be okay?”

“Yeah.” He said the word with more confidence than he felt. “Rene’s a survivor. Besides, he’s a doctor. Even the rebels might hesitate to kill a doctor.”

Emily’s lips tightened, showing that she’d picked up on his use of the word might. What could he say? The rebels were comprised of a lot of hot-headed, angry young men who were often hyped up on drugs, making them unpredictable. A rebel leader might see the advantage to keeping a doctor alive, but a trigger-happy boy who saw a light-skinned, well-dressed man was more likely to shoot on sight.

Even worse, if Ziegler and the rebels learned that Rene had helped Max escape, his friend would become a target.

But as he’d said, Rene was a survivor.

After a moment of scrutinizing him, Emily turned back in her seat and began to type. “Will the text message go through?”