Burn (Story of CI #3) (30 page)

Cail disappeared out the door in a crowd of terrorists and AK47s.

“Stay there!” Lázaro ordered Wara, a little breathless from avoiding her wild kicks. “Don’t make me knock you out!”

He’d already knocked her out so many times. Wara had no doubt Lázaro was serious. She stopped kicking at him and fell back into the chair, desolate.

A coil of dirty nylon rope sat on the floor, and Lázaro scooped it up, walked towards Wara. “This isn’t high tech,” he said, “but it should hold you for a while. I don’t need much time.” He cinched the rope around Wara’s shoulders, her chest, tying her tight against the chair back. Then he hauled the chair against a pillar and secured the chair against the pillar.

Wara sat there tied to a chair in the center of the room, unmovable against the thick pillar. Lázaro said he didn’t need much time. For what? To shoot her?

He had the Skorpion right there in the waistband of his pants.

Lázaro had what he wanted: the psychic and Cail.

Or at least he thought he had what he wanted.

Wara had given him back a lot of his memories.

Others he took by force.

He didn’t need her anymore.

“I know you and I would never work,” Lázaro said matter-of-factly. He leaned over her, tightening all of the knots in the rope, so close she could smell sweat. “It was just a nice dream,” he said. “The two of us. Instead of just me. I’m leaving you here. Eventually someone will find you. But I’ll be long gone.”

Lázaro leaned into Wara and kissed her on the mouth before she even realized it was happening. “Goodbye,” he said.

Then all she saw was his back as he limped towards the double doors, the Skorpion in one scarred hand.

THANK GOD, THEY DECIDED TO LET LALO out of house arrest. It had been getting really boring in the mission compound, especially after Cail took his weapons away.

Lalo didn’t really blame her. He felt bad for what he’d made her see last night.

He was carrying again now, though, because there was no way he was going to walk around Timbuktu helping the kids get loaded up, unarmed. They needed to move seventeen injured children to the hanger and get them situated in the plane. One nurse got to go, a tiny little thing who didn’t seem to weigh an ounce over a hundred pounds.

The bad guys hadn’t shown up yet to make a play for Lalo, so he was still good to go. He spent the morning carting IV poles and bedding through Timbuktu to the plane. The ambulance was gonna ferry the kids over and the hospital staff would get everyone nice and cozy inside.

Lalo was at the hangar, kneeling inside the plane and checking on a cute little girl with a million beaded braids when Alejo burst into the plane. He banged his elbow pretty hard on the metal doorframe on the way in and swallowed a curse.

“The AT guards can’t find Jonah,” Alejo said. “He’s missing.”

That was weird. Jonah Jones was not the guy who was gonna sneak off the premises and into a city surrounded by terrorists just to get some fresh air and say that he could. “Not answering his cell,” Alejo said.

Sharp, cold fingernails immediately started to prick Lalo’s insides. “Who has a twenty on Cail?”

Alejo’s face darkened. “Who has a twenty on Cail?” he said into the radio. Lalo was already pushing past Alejo out of the plane. He and Alejo jogged through the mass of hospital people and kids on stretchers. “The last place I saw her was at the hospital with you,” Alejo said. “About twenty minutes ago. You were talking with her.”

He and Cail had a little chat under the shade of the hospital gate, just taking some time to drink a little water and cool off. Cail wanted to ask him if he was ok, and it was obvious she was worried about Lalo having his pistol back.

He’d told her that their chat the other day in the laundry room had made all the difference in the world to him. He was not planning on doing anything violent to himself in the near future.

And it was true.

Sitting there last night with Cail in his arms, Lalo realized he did not want to live without her, either.

He was going to fight for that. Whatever it took.

Whatever evil he had to face.

“Cail got a phone call,” Lalo remembered. He starting jogging faster towards the hospital. The sweat was pouring down his back. “When we were talking, someone called her. She walked away to take it. I got back to work.”

Caspian came on the radio. “I haven’t seen her since Cail was with you, Lalo. She was talking on her cell. You went off to start loading stuff.”

No one had seen Cail. She wasn’t at the compound, and the AT guards would know, because they were combing every inch of the place for Jonah, who they had somehow lost.

Jerry the manuscript guy came on the radio from the compound to suggest that maybe Cail and Jonah had snuck off somewhere together. “I know Jonah’s engaged and all,” Jerry huffed slowly onto the airwaves, “but I think she was an old girlfriend. You’re out in the middle of the desert and…well, things happen. Old flames and all that.”

Lalo was having to concentrate harder to breathe. Every nerve in his body was on fire. Jerry was blabbing on and on as if Jonah and Cail were rebellious middle-schoolers, playing hooky from P.E. to make out behind the lockers and smoke weed.

“Listen to me,” Lalo finally yelled, very loudly. It must have come across as deafening over the radio. “Marquez has them.” Alejo blinked, stunned. “He must have gotten confused. He thinks Jonah is me. Marquez got the wrong guy, but he has them. He came back here because he thinks he’s the one who can hand Cail and me over to Tsarnev and make a helluva lot of money.”

Lalo felt his face pinch into a mess of hard lines. Caspian jogged up behind him, stood there staring at Alejo and Lalo.

“There are six of us,” Alejo said grimly. “With the AT guys. One has to stay at the compound, someone has to stay here with the kids.”

“Great, but where are we going?” Caspian snapped. “We have no clue where Marquez would have taken them. Cail’s been gone for at least an hour. Jonah probably for longer.”

Lalo felt heat bubbling up from the molten center of his heart, turning his face crimson, setting his ears on fire.

Lalo was not going to let these people hurt Cail.

Even if it meant playing with fire.

“I need some shade,” Lalo croaked. “I can’t think like this.”

The guys probably thought he was breaking down, but they led Lalo over to a spreading tree outside the hanger, away from the bedlam. Lalo stood in the lacy shade and closed his eyes, every atom feeling the fear. “I’m gonna find her,” Lalo told his friends, “and then we’re gonna go and get her.” Lalo pointed at Caspian. “Tell Yancey to stay at the compound, Rick to get over here and watch the plane. Johnny can come with us.” He nodded at Alejo. “Get us some transportation. I’m gonna be busy for a minute.”

Lalo sank down onto the pebbles, knees folded up in the air. He curled forward and clasped his hands around his knees, felt his eyes roll back into his head like a cheap circus freak show. There was a part of his brain that he never, ever entered. It was hard when he was sleeping, but even then, he never let himself see the things that part of his mind could see.

Because there would be the fire.

But today Lalo was just gonna have to get burned.

He steeled himself like he had not done since he was sixteen years old and let himself think about Cail. It had been a long time since he’d done this, and he had to take some time to focus.

Everything went white for a second as he kind of soared over the city and saw sand and towers and the heavy desert vehicles with men leaning against them under the hellish sun. He could smell the sardines they were munching on and the smell of fish bones and oil made Lalo start to gag.

Then he began to feel the fire, poking at his gut like red-hot brands. Lalo did not want to go there. His need to find Cail had nothing to do with evil. He fought to block it out, just to see her.

He still had the gift.

All these years, he’d figured he did but was afraid to use it. It was like his father could track him, somehow, whenever Lalo did remote viewing. Or maybe it was just the evil force connected to his father, mocking Lalo, torturing him.

Whatever that evil was, Lalo wanted nothing to do with it. Especially if it helped his father somehow track him, like Lalo feared when he saw that eye of fire and felt the wicked laughter.

He, Lalo Navarro, was not this. Daniel, the boy who got sold to Russia like a suitcase of uranium, was not this. He was not that evil and he wanted nothing to do with it.

Lalo felt his sight hone in on what looked like a palace, settle down through the rotting ceiling where white scorpions scuttled along the cracks. That’s where he saw her, sitting on a broken chair. Lalo could make out every detail of Cail’s face, down to the zit along the left side of her nose, each jewel on her white bandana, the jade-colored leaves of her rose tattoo escaping the neckline of her shirt. He sensed other humans in the room, but ignored them because he’d seen what he wanted. There was time for figuring the rest out later.

It was getting hotter. Time to run.

Lalo broke out of that place panting, so wet with sweat it was like he’d just taken a dive into a pool. “I saw her,” he gasped. “It was Qaddafi’s palace. She’s in the room off the northeast corner of the main entry room, big double wooden doors.”

“How many hostiles are there now?” Alejo asked.

Lalo hauled himself painfully up off the ground. “Not very many. Three to four.”

“Is Jonah there?”

Lalo rubbed his temples, hard. “I didn’t see him. I was kind of in a hurry. But she has to be with Jonah. They think Jonah’s me, and they need Cail with him as insurance.”

Sick, sick people.

“What about Marquez?” Caspian asked.

“Look…he has to be there, too. He must have taken Jonah, then called Cail when she was with me and used Jonah to get her to the palace. Marquez must be one of the armed guys I saw milling around there.”

He hadn’t looked at anything else in detail before backing away from the heat. Only Cail.

“Johnny and Rick will be here in two minutes,” Alejo said. “I’m starting the vehicle. Meet me there.” And everyone ran off.

Everything around Lalo still looked misty. He hadn’t totally come out of it. And he didn’t want to, yet.

After so many years of being afraid, refusing to look for things because he would run into his father, there was something Lalo needed to see. He made himself focus again, grimacing as he brushed against the heat and the flaming eye. It kind of felt like the skin was peeling off his face from the flames, exposing raw muscle and tendon.

But of course that was just in his head.

All of a sudden, Lalo saw the white waves. When he dreamed about Romina, he always saw the waves before he stopped himself, too scared to try to see her and end up finding his father instead.

For years, he had hoped, a little. Maybe Romina lived by the sea, in some little cottage or something, surrounded by tranquil white waves. Maybe she’d married a nice guy and had a couple kids with black curly hair like hers and that fat dimple on their chins when they smiled.

The day they ran away from Markov and Romina cut up her foot on a rusty nail and Lalo had to leave her hidden and draw the Russians away…maybe, when Lalo came back and found Romina was not behind the shipping crates, it was because she had been rescued. By someone kind who didn’t hurt her anymore so that Lalo would obey.

Cream-colored smoke cleared from Lalo’s eyes and he could finally see the icy waves, the white mounds he’d always started to see in his dreams but pushed away in fear.

Now he was awake, and the white mounds were even colder than in his dreams.

They were tombstones. Not waves. And there was a whole field of them, rising from the blue-green grass.

Lalo stopped. He didn’t look beyond her name on the bone-white stone to see where the cemetery was.

He knew she was gone.

THEY DROVE LIKE CRAZY PEOPLE OVER to the palace, Alejo, Lalo, Caspian, and Johnny. The crumbling fortress Qaddafi built sat there rotting in the sun, shimmering against the heated sand like a half-eaten gingerbread house.

There weren’t any guards outside, but Lalo had seen a small number of hostiles inside the premises. Maybe they were getting ready to move out, and since there were so few of them hadn’t placed a guard outside.

Or maybe they had already moved out and taken Cail and Jonah with them.

Alejo was a mess. If Lázaro was here kidnapping Cail and Jonah, where was Wara? Because Lalo hadn’t said anything about her and Alejo just couldn’t ask.

Alejo was still trying to get what Lalo could do. Alejo had seen a couple things that were hard to believe over the past year, but remote viewing really sounded like science fiction, even to him.

They leaped out of the car and ran into the palace, weapons drawn. They quickly cleared a huge pink hall, then a few side rooms that held only boxes and cobwebs.

Everything clear. No hostiles in sight.

No Lázaro or Wara or Cail or Jonah.

Lalo and Caspian ran through some double doors in the back.

Lalo had seen Cail in a room with double doors.

Alejo heard Lalo call for him.

No one sounded upset, so it couldn’t be problems with Cail, like Alejo had been half-dreading since showing up and seeing no guards around the place. He and Johnny entered the room at the back.

Alejo’s vision sparked.

Through the double doors, Lalo was cutting rope off of Wara. He pulled her up from an old chair and she wrapped her arms around Lalo for support as he ripped now-loose coils of rope off her body and let them cascade to the floor.

She was wearing gray sweat pants with red mud stains from hip to toe. Dried earth splattered down the front of a long sleeve shirt the color of grass. Wara’s hair was tangled along the side of her neck, a dark contrast with her pale skin.

Caspian’s eyes went huge when he saw Alejo standing there in the doorway.

Wara saw him, and Alejo saw her knees buckle and Lalo catch her.

Alejo moved across the room like a tornado, crashing the chair to the floor and propelling Wara Cadogan across the room by her neck. He slammed her against the dirty yellow wall, and Wara’s eyes rolled around in her head at the impact. He felt her pulse throbbing against his fingers, her skin hot and feverish.

Alejo held her there with one hand, plastered against the wall like a ragdoll. Everyone was yelling. At him. Alejo was sure weapons were trained on him. The whites of Wara’s eyes were rolling towards the ceiling as she gasped for breath.

“Let her go!” Lalo repeated, who knew how many times. “She could know where Cail is!” Out of the corner of his eye, Alejo saw Lalo aiming his Glock right at Alejo’s thigh. “Let her go, Alejo!”

Alejo let her go, heard himself inhale raggedly. Wara dropped to the floor like a stone, wheezing and curled up into a little ball. Her gasps echoed all around the cavernous room.

“Are you gonna be good now?” Alejo heard Lalo ask through the buzzing in his head.

“Yes.” Alejo sank down to the floor, dizzy.

“I needed to talk with her!” Lalo yelled. He lowered the Glock and stalked across the floor to where Wara was trying to get her breath back. “Damn it!” Lalo dropped to his knees and helped Wara sit up, leaned her back into his chest. “Let’s see how badly you hurt her.”

Lalo was angry.

Alejo was shaking.

Caspian and Johnny were keeping an eye on the door. “Is she alright?” Johnny asked.

Wara was still wheezing. Lalo grabbed her hand and squeezed it while she flopped there against his chest, trying to breath. “You’re ok,” he told her under his breath. “You’re ok. It’s ok.”

Wara’s neck was mottled red with Alejo’s fingerprints. Her eyes flashed over to him and imploded with fear.

Lalo checked the damage over quickly then scowled at Alejo. “Wara. Cail and Jonah aren’t here. Do you know where they are?”

Wara coughed, then gurgled. “Lázaro took her,” she croaked. “He gave Jonah…Tsarnev. Said…Tsarnev should contact…hand over Cail.”

Lalo’s eyes slid shut. “You don’t know where they went?”

Wara shook her head.

“Damn!” Lalo growled. “Caspian, keep an eye on her. Don’t let him touch her!” Lalo glowered at Alejo. “I have to find out where she is.” Lalo took Wara by the shoulders and leaned her back against the wall. He slumped down next to her, long legs sprawled in front of him along the concrete floor. His eyes rolled back in his head. Lalo was obviously going to use his powers to figure out where Lázaro had taken Cail.

Wara was still white as a ghost, except for the crimson marks where Alejo tried to choke the life out of her. Alejo sat there on the floor shaking, and Wara pulled her muddy knees up into her chest, still wheezing, huddling at Lalo’s side.

Marquez left Wara here. Alive.

Or she didn’t want to go with him.

And what am I doing?

What the hell did I do?

When he walked in the room and saw her, Alejo had just been so angry.

And now he didn’t know what he was.

“She’s at the airport!” Lalo announced, struggling to open his eyes. “With Marquez.” The face he made at Alejo was grim. “Are you gonna be ok with her?” Lalo kissed Wara on the cheek. “I was worried about you,” he told her. “When you were gone.”

Lalo narrowed his eyes at Alejo.

“I’m fine,” Alejo said. He was not fine. But he didn’t have it in him to attack her again. Alejo was still sitting on the floor blinking, shocked at finding Wara here like this, shocked at the violence that had roared out of him when he slammed her against the wall.

“Let’s go,” Lalo said. “I bet Marquez will try to take the plane to get himself and Cail out of here. After we get Cail, we’ll go after Jonah. Marquez will tell us where he is.”

Damn right he would. When they all caught up to Lázaro he was going to rue this day.

Wara unsteadily shifted positions, folded her knees under herself and faced Alejo, kneeling on the rough concrete. “Alejo, I’m so sorry,” he heard her say. His eyes darted up to her face and it was hollow. She was crying. “Maybe someday you can forgive me.”

Alejo needed to get up. But he couldn’t see because tears were blurring his vision and dripping off his chin onto his vest. He almost took her hand to help her up off the floor, almost pulled her into his chest to hold her. But Alejo just couldn’t.

Hell, he could barely even see because he was still crying.

“Get up,” he told her. “We have to go.” He stood up and Lalo and Caspian lifted Wara to her feet.

Eyes still blurry, Alejo unfastened the sides of his vest and without a word pulled it off over his head. He slid the vest over Wara’s shoulders, tightened the sides around her ribs, smoothed out the Velcro flap on the front.

“You need this,” she said hoarsely. “Alejo, please don’t.”

Her voice seemed to come from miles and miles away. He ignored her and turned away.

Somehow, Alejo made it out of Qaddafi’s palace and they headed out to save Cail.