WAR: Disruption (32 page)

Okay. She’d follow the road in the direction Max had been heading. Ducking back inside the jungle, she kept to the protection of the trees as she walked. When she found a spot where the trees thinned enough to allow a somewhat clear line of sight to the sky, she pulled out the sat phone. After raising the phone’s antennae, she called the number for Kristoff.

“Max, you bastard,” an American voice snapped, “what is it now?”

“Um… This isn’t Max, sir. He’s been captured.”

“Ah, f—” The man cleared his throat. “Sorry. My name is Kristoff. You’re Emily?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Details, please.”

She explained about Max’s decision to play decoy while she hid. That she believed Max had been captured. She refused to give voice to the possibility that he was dead, in case speaking the words made it true.

“But you didn’t set eyes on the helicopter or the soldiers?”

“No, sir. The helicopter was just a silhouette against the clouds when I left the road. But Max thought it was one of Dietrich’s. With thermal imaging.”

“Okay. Are you someplace safe?”

She shrugged, then answered, “I don’t know. I’m in the jungle just off the road. The helicopter left the area about twenty-five minutes ago. I don’t see or hear any soldiers. I haven’t even spotted our Jeep yet.” She kept walking, picking her way across the soggy ground. “I’m heading north, aiming for the rendezvous point with your contact.”

“Forget that. Our man didn’t check in last night, so it’s not safe for you to continue. I want you to head deeper into the jungle and find a place to hide. Then text me the coordinates and stay put until I can free up a team to extract you.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw metal glinting in the ray of sunshine peeking out from the threatening clouds. Was that—? She moved closer to the road. Yes.

Their Jeep sat at the edge of the jungle on the opposite side of the road. It had been shot full of holes and had four flat tires. Okay. She wouldn’t be driving away. Scanning to check that no one was nearby, she saw fresh ruts in the center of the road that had filled with water. She darted across to the ruined Jeep and crouched beside it. Waterlogged footprints surrounded the Jeep, then led into the jungle. A bit farther up the road, the footprints emerged from the jungle and stopped at a set of deep tire tracks.

Just as if a group of soldiers had been picked up by a large truck. Her spirits lifted.

The sun disappeared behind the clouds and thunder rumbled in the distance.

“With all due respect sir, no. I’m not going to hide in the jungle,” Emily said.

“Excuse me?”

“I just found our Jeep and there’s a bunch of footprints and tire tracks in the muddy road. I’ll bury the briefcase and send you those coordinates later. I need to follow the tracks before the storm that’s threatening wipes them out.” The sun made one more valiant attempt to break free of the clouds, but was immediately swallowed up.

“Emily—”

“Look, sir, I’m not suggesting that I try to rescue him. I know I’m just an inexperienced civilian.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth. “But I’m not leaving Max alone out there. I’ve become quite adept at moving through the jungle. I can find out where they’re holding him. Text you those coordinates so your team can rescue Max first. The briefcase won’t be going anywhere. ”

There was a long pause. “You…surprise me, Emily. That’s still a risky endeavor.”

“So? I love him. I’m not leaving him to be tortured and killed.”

“O-kay.” This time she heard admiration in his voice. Along with a tinge of amusement. “But you have to promise to text me your coordinates every hour, so that we can keep track of you. As long as you can see the tracks from inside the tree line, stay under cover. And use that Mylar blanket to hide your heat signature the second you hear a helicopter again. Something tells me that Max will have my skin if anything happens to you.”

“Agreed. I don’t have any wish to join Max in captivity.”

“Right. If you don’t need anything else, I’ll see about that rescue team.”

She managed a faint smile. “No, I think that’ll do it for now. I’ll text you the coordinates once I’ve buried the briefcase.”

“Good luck, Emily.”

“Thank you, sir.” She disconnected the call and slipped the phone into her pocket. She hoped the sun reemerged sometime soon, because the phone was almost out of power and without a vehicle to plug into, she’d have to use Max’s solar travel charger.

“All right. Let’s do this.” With a sharp nod to give herself confidence, she headed deeper into the jungle, looking for a place to stash the briefcase.

MAX WOKE UP with a splitting headache and found himself chained to stakes stuck in the dirt inside a tent. No surprise there. Ziegler wasn’t the most original jailor.

This time, they’d stripped him of all clothing and his watch. Leaving him no way to check how long he’d been unconscious. Plus, without his belt and his shoes he wouldn’t be able to retrieve his hidden weapons and tools in order to escape. Rolling his head from side to side—which ratcheted his headache from painful to excruciating—he saw that the tent was empty. Outside, he heard what sounded like guys hammering on metal tent stakes.

So. He was being held in a camp in progress. Not a lot of help. He didn’t even know what country he was in.

Besides, what he really wanted to know was if Emily was safe. The fear that maybe Ziegler had captured her, too, and she was staked out in a nearby tent made cold sweat trickle down his brow.

No. He had to believe she was free. That was the only way to keep his head in the game.

He tried to sit up, but the world whirled around him and he flopped back down, waiting for the dizziness to pass. It took him three times before he managed to sit up with a determined heave. He choked back a groan, but damn, that hurt. Ziegler’s men obviously hadn’t cared if Max got knocked around during transport. Even parts of his body that shouldn’t hurt, hurt.

So much for instantly freeing himself, then escaping. At this point, not only wasn’t he at maximum strength, but the iron chains running from the stakes to the manacles on his wrists and ankles weren’t long enough to let him stand up. He had just enough play in the chains to lay his wrists across his bent knees.

All right. First thing. Regain his strength.

Second. Break out of here.

Third. Scope out the camp for Dietrich’s tent.

If there was no sign of Dietrich, he’d disappear into the jungle and wait for the man to show up. Then Max would find a way to take him down.

Uh-huh. Right.

He eyed the manacles. If he had a thin piece of metal, he could pick the locks. He eyed the ground closest to him, but saw no convenient piece of metal sticking up.

Okay. For now, unlocking the manacles was out. He’d just have to wait and watch for an opportunity to get the tools he needed. In the meantime, if his previous captivity was any indication, he’d better mentally prepare for a shitload of pain.

You wouldn’t be in this predicament if you’d asked for help in the beginning.
The annoying voice in his head sounded an awful lot like Kristoff.

“No freaking kidding,” he muttered. But he still held fast to the belief that keeping his distance had protected Kris and the rest of the team from Dietrich’s sponsor.

While having backup made sense, Max didn’t regret what he’d done. If he ended up dying here, so be it. At least he wouldn’t be taking anyone else down with him. And he’d have the satisfaction of knowing that he’d done everything possible to stop Dietrich from hurting anyone else.

As long as Ziegler and Dietrich didn’t have Emily, all was good.

Please, let Emily be free.

Day Eleven

THE NEXT MORNING, Emily’s stomach growled as she stared through the lens of her camera at the camp she’d found yesterday. Most of the tents were up now, and the organized chaos of yesterday’s construction had calmed. The black-and-white logo on the uniforms of the men had been proof that the camp belonged to Dietrich even before she’d spotted Ziegler.

But although she’d been watching the men since dawn, she still didn’t understand why they’d chosen this place to set up what appeared to be a semi-permanent camp. Yes, it was far enough away from the road to be hidden from people passing by. Still, why here? Why not back at the ravine near the plane crash?

Across the camp, Ziegler exited from the tent where she believed Max was being held. She’d snapped so many photos of Ziegler that once she got home she knew his face would feature in her nightmares for years to come. If she’d seen him on the street she’d never have suspected that he was a cold-blooded murderer. She still thought he looked like a middle-aged banker. He wore a neat business suit that set him apart from the uniforms of the guards. Of average height and weight, he was neither particularly handsome or particularly ugly.

She snapped another photo. His smug expression made her stomach churn with anger. Suspecting that he’d just been torturing Max, she wanted to march across the camp and shoot him.

But then Dietrich’s men would kill her, leaving Max at their mercy. So she bided her time. Once Max was free, Kristoff and the others would make Ziegler pay for everything he’d done.

A guard patrolled a few hundred yards from her tree. Emily checked her watch. She’d been in this spot for nearly an hour. Time to move to another one of her observation posts. She—

The sat phone buzzed against her hip, startling her so much that she almost dropped her camera. She tightened her grip and bit back a curse, eyeing the soldier to make certain he hadn’t heard the phone vibrating. When he continued on as if nothing had happened, she slowly let out her breath. Once her heart rate had returned to normal, she scooted back on her tree branch and sidled around until the trunk was between her and the camp. Then she carefully, quietly, climbed down the tree and walked several minutes until she was well out of earshot. Only then did she search for a place where she’d get strong enough reception to put through a call.

“Emily, where the hell have you been?” Kristoff demanded. “You were supposed to check in last night.”

“I know, sir. I’m sorry. But the phone died not long after I texted you the briefcase’s coordinates. There wasn’t enough light to activate the solar charger until this morning.”

“Are you safe?”

“Er…”

Kristoff’s aggravated sigh reminded her so much of Max, that she teared up. “Emily, what have you done?”

“I’m not in any immediate danger. But I am outside of the camp where I think they’re holding Max.”

“Christ, Emily. You’re taking a risk.”

“I know, but I’ve spotted Ziegler. If he’s here, surely Max is, too.”

“Yes, that’s probably true. Describe the camp’s setup.”

Struggling to keep the discouragement out of her voice, she answered, “There are two dozen men in camp at the moment, with more arriving every hour.” How would Kristoff’s team manage to rescue Max with so many armed men nearby? “All of the men wear black uniforms with a black-and-white logo on the pocket. An hour ago, a large truck drove up bearing several crates. A team of men unloaded the crates, then set about raising a large tent made out of white canvas with the group’s insignia on the door flap. The logo is also displayed on the flag flying on the tent’s pointed roof. Once the tent was in place, the men carried the crates inside.”

“Good work. If they’re setting up a semi-permanent base, this is probably the spot where the deal is going down. What’s their perimeter security like?”

 
“The soldiers don’t seem to think this remote spot poses any risk beyond the occasional wild animal, because I’ve only seen them patrolling at the very edge of camp. They seem more concerned about someone approaching from the direction of the road.”

“Are you taking precautions not to be spotted?”

“Yes. I’m observing them from up in the trees and I’ve been switching my location every hour. I’m also keeping away from the side of camp closest to the road.”

“All right. Text me your coordinates. Unfortunately, I still haven’t heard from the man who was supposed to meet you, and the team I was trying to free up to extract you came under fire during a mission. Their helicopter is out of service. We’re working on another way for them to reach you, but it will take time. So stay safe. In fact, now that I know where Max is, I want you to move far away from the camp.”

“I—” Wait. What was that? She strained to hear.

The roar of an engine came from the direction of the road. Excited shouts and barked commands from inside the camp suggested the arrival of an important visitor. “Sorry, sir, I have to go,” she said hastily. “There’s a commotion back at camp.” Without waiting for his reply, she disconnected and hurried to the closest tree that would give her a good view of the goings-on. Once she’d climbed high enough to see clearly into the camp, she pulled out her camera.

A moment later, a small convoy drove into the clearing in front of the tents. The open-topped Jeep in the lead had two men standing in the back, each holding an assault rifle. Several dust-covered black Land Rovers followed the Jeep.

The camp’s soldiers formed two receiving lines around the edges of the clearing as men piled out of the arriving vehicles and set up their own perimeter guard.

An older white man wearing a lightweight suit stepped out. Thick gray hair swung just below his jaw, giving him a metrosexual look. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes. From the way every man in the clearing snapped to attention, she didn’t have to be a genius to figure out his identity.

Dietrich.

Which meant that the luxury tent the men had erected earlier belonged to him.

Emily continued to take photos as the group greeted Dietrich and he was escorted to his tent, but her mind raced. Fear tore through her veins. Max couldn’t wait for Kristoff’s men to rescue him. Once Dietrich realized that Max couldn’t give him the location of the briefcase, he wouldn’t have any reason to keep Max alive.

She chewed on her lip. What could she do?

After several minutes of staring at the camp, which now bustled with more activity than before, she decided to chance calling Kristoff back.