Amazon Burning (A James Acton Thriller, #10) (7 page)

Rio Negro, Northern Amazon, Brazil

Reading wanted to slam the radio receiver into the table repeatedly,
but realized that would only make him feel better for a few seconds. He turned
to Milton who had just hung up the phone.

“I hope
you had more luck than I did,” said Reading, returning to the rear deck.

Milton
shook his head. “I left a message for Rita, my secretary, but it’s three in the
morning there. We won’t get action from her end until at least eight.”

“Terrence?”

“Voicemail,
but at least he’s five hours ahead, so hopefully he can get some action.”

Reading
sighed. “Just what kind of action are we expecting? It’s up to the Brazilians
to send a search team, and one is already on the way. Three bloody days away!”

“With a
jungle like this, we need dozens if not hundreds of people.” Milton shook his
head. “She’s a needle in a haystack.” He noticed a light blinking on the
satellite phone and dialed the voicemail. He jotted down some numbers then
punched them into the GPS on the iPad. “Jim’s heard her again.” He handed
Reading the tablet computer.

Reading
looked at the three marked positions, the first their campsite, the second when
Acton had first heard Laura, the third this latest report. This latest report
was significant though, since it provided them with a general direction the
abductor was heading. “He’s heading east-north-east by the looks of it.”

This
would help narrow down the search area, but only if they could search now, not
in three days when any trail would be long cold. He zoomed in on the Google
Earth app and found nothing but a thick canopy that no search plane would be
able to pierce.

And with
the jungle filled with tribes and wildlife, he doubted any type of infrared
would help either. They needed boots on the ground. With Laura’s money they
could bring in people with ease, the problem was getting them here in the
middle of nowhere and quickly.

And they
needed an experienced tracker. He definitely wasn’t it, Milton was a bookworm,
and none of the crew seemed to be willing to leave their boat now that the
campsite had been compromised.

He
didn’t blame them, though he doubted there was any more danger. Fabricio had
said there was a tribe less than an hour north of here that they might be able
to ask for help, but they were very primitive, very scared of white people.
They weren’t one of the uncontacted tribes that Acton had been telling them
about on their voyage up the river, but their contact was minimal. They
preferred to keep to themselves, but show them enough respect and they might
just help.

Milton
was flipping through the numbers stored on the phone when he paused.

“Why
would they have a number for Kraft Dinner in here?”

Reading
looked up from the iPad. “Huh?” Milton held up the phone, showing the display,
too far away for Reading’s old eyes to make out. “What are you talking about?”

“It says
Kraft Dinner.”

“Kraft
Dinner? What the hell is that?”

“Pasta
and cheese with a chemically induced orange glow?”

Reading
grunted. “We call that Kraft Cheesey Pasta. Ours doesn’t glow.”

“Really?
What color is it then?”

“I think
we’re getting off topic.”

Milton
flushed slightly. “Sorry, you’re right. So back to my original question, why
would they have Kraft Dinner in their phone?”

“It has
to be some sort of code.”

“Initials
perhaps?”

“KD?”
Reading repeated it several times, unable to think of anyone with a first name
starting with the letter K. His eyebrows popped. “Is it Kraft Dinner, or Dinner
comma Kraft?”

“The
latter, actually.”

“So it’s
DK, not KD.” Reading smacked his hands on his knees. “Dylan Kane!”

“You
mean—”

Reading
held up his finger, cutting Milton off. Dylan Kane was actually CIA Special
Agent Dylan Kane, a former student of Acton’s who had dropped out of university
and joined the army after 9/11. He had excelled, joined the Delta Force,
actually training and serving with some of the Bravo Team members they had come
to know before being recruited by the CIA. He was secretive, but reliable,
having helped his former professor out on occasion, including on their recent
trip to Israel.

He might
just be the one they needed.

“Are you
going to dial it or am I?” he asked.

Milton
eyed the phone then shook his head. “You better, you’ve at least dealt with
him. I’ve only heard about him.”

Reading
nodded as he rose then took the phone from Milton. He pressed the button,
dialing the number, then punched in their number when it picked up, it merely a
paging service.

A pager
unlike any available to the general public, he was sure.

And
waited.

Hai Phong, Vietnam

CIA Special Agent Dylan Kane was in pure ecstasy as Trinh, a
stunning Vietnamese masseuse, squeezed and released his tense muscles like only
she could. She was the best he had found the world over, and with Trinh, there
was never a happy ending.

She was
strictly legit.

And
worth every damned penny.

And my
God, what he’d give for a role in the hammock with her. She was five foot
nothing of perfection, her accented English the sexiest he had ever heard. He
wondered if her level of attractiveness in his eyes was influenced by the fact
she wouldn’t sleep with him.

Not for
a lack of trying when he had first met her.

“No
hanky panky!” she had cried when he had given her the eye that changed most
women he met into putty, ready to be manhandled and carnally pleasured.

But not
Trinh.

“I
married!”

He
backed off immediately, never one to interfere in a marriage—unless it was part
of the job. As a necessity he had bedded married women, usually to get
information from them, or access through them to their husbands. At least one
half of the marriage didn’t consist of a good person. In the rare case it was
the woman, his morals remained intact. In the more common case it was the man,
the woman he romanced usually abused or neglected, and he gave them a night or
more of escape from their misery, again leaving his morals intact.

What
I do for my country!

He
moaned as Trinh’s elbow dug into his deep tissue.

God I
love this woman!

Whenever
he was in south-east Asia he made it a point to try and see her at least once.
She could go for hours, never taking a break, and when done, he felt like a new
man, ready to tackle the world’s problems singlehandedly. Which was usually how
he had to face them.

“Your
husband is a lucky man,” he murmured.

“You
tell him that!” cried Trinh. “He get jealous I give massage. He say you all
expect sex. He say I must be giving!”

Kane
realized he might have just opened a can of worms, never knowing Trinh to ever
mention her personal life. Or even talk much during a massage. Their
relationship, at least five years old, consisted of perhaps a dozen massages a
year that lasted two or three hours with few words spoken.

Should
I say something?

“It’s
only because he loves you.”

“If he
love me, he trust me!” She dug deeper with her elbow and he yelped.

Maybe
I should stay out of this.

His
phone vibrated on the table beside him. He reached over and saw the priority
contact, his eyebrows climbing slightly.

Professor
Acton?

“I’m
going to have to take this, Trinh,” he said, lifting himself off the table,
thankful for an excuse to end the massage that felt like it was turning violent
against all men.

“Okay,
you like I come back tomorrow?” she asked, stepping back and holding up a towel
for him.

He took
the towel and wrapped it around his waist. “If I’m still here, absolutely. Call
the hotel tomorrow around three.”

She
smiled and looked at the money sitting on the table nearby. He nodded. “Go
ahead, you earned it.”

“But I
not finish.”

Kane
smiled at her refreshing honesty. “My fault, not yours.”

“I do
you extra good tomorrow! Extra long!” she smiled, picking up the money,
oblivious to how horny her statements made him, or how jealous her husband
would be should he hear them out of context.

“Have a
good day, Trinh,” said Kane as he dialed the number, his call relayed through a
private encrypted network he had established for himself years ago. It didn’t
go through Langley or any other entity. It was his own hardware set up in his
own secret location that allowed him to communicate securely and privately with
anyone he needed to.

Few had
the number.

“Hello?”
He didn’t recognize the voice. It was a man’s, deep, English.

“You
called?”

“Oh, hi,
Kraft Dinner I presume?”

Kane
laughed. “I beg your pardon?”

“Sorry,
it’s the name in the phone. A code.”

Kane
shook his head, smiling. “Just call me Dylan. This line is secure. May I
presume this is Special Agent Reading?”

“Yes.
Hugh.”

“How can
I help you?”

“Laura
Palmer—you remember her?”

“Of
course. Professor Acton’s wife.”

“Oh, you
heard?”

“I hear
everything.”

“Umm,
yeah.” There was an awkward pause. “Well, she’s been abducted.”

“Abducted!”
Now Reading finally had Kane’s attention. “Details.”

He was
quickly given the rundown of the abduction by a native in the Amazon
rainforest, and how Acton had gone out in pursuit. They weren’t able to reach
anybody for help beyond the locals who were three days away.

“And now
Jim’s missed his hourly check-in. I think something might have happened to him
as well. Is there anything you can do to help?”

“I’ll
call you back in an hour.”

“Thank
you.”

He ended
the call and began dialing another number through his secure network.

“Mr.
White.”

“Is that
any way to answer a phone?” he asked, a smile on his face as he heard the voice
of his old Delta Force buddy, Command Sergeant Major Burt “Big Dog” Dawson.

“Dylan?”

“You got
me. How are you, BD?”

“A
little busy right now, I’ve got about two minutes.”

“That’s
all I need. Listen, I understand you’re in Colombia.”

“How the
hell do you know that?”

“I know
everything.”

And he
began to relay the details as he knew them to the one person he knew was close
enough to possibly help his old archeology professor, he on the other side of
the world and about to begin a mission of his own that couldn’t be interrupted
for anything.

“You
have the number?” he asked when done.

“Got it.
I’ll get in touch as soon as I have a chance. I’m in the thick of something
right now so we might not be able to do anything right away.”

“Whatever
you can do is probably better than what they’ve got now.”

“True.
Listen, gotta go.”

“Okay, good
luck, BD. See you when you least expect it.”

He
laughed and ended the call, heading for the showers to cool himself off, Trinh
having done one hell of a number on his libido, but as he showered in the cool
water, his thoughts turned to his old mentor and his new wife, wishing there
was more he could do to help them.