Cold Day in Hell (20 page)

“Keely told me about it right after she got married. But I thought the traitor had gone under. You mean he’s still causing trouble?”

“Yeah.”

“You think this traitor has someone listening to all SSI transmissions over the NSA satellites. Why would a traitor to the US care about a private hostage rescue mission?” Risto shot her a glance. “Money. I’m sure Cruz has made it clear to all and sundry by now he’ll pay for information about you—and if not you, for the DVD I stole. We know the traitor has serious connections to the South American drug trade and the terrorist activity in Colombia. He sells intel to all sides. He also likes to cause SSI problems. This fucker doesn’t like us at all. We’ve curtailed or sabotaged his lines of communication—

and put a serious damper on his commerce stream.”

“Scum-sucking bastard.” She viciously punched buttons on the phone. “One more asshole I can help Keely and Tweeter put away, well, that is, if Ren agrees to take me on at SSI. There’ll be money trails—there are always money trails.” She spoke into the phone. “Go to Plan C.” She listened to Tweeter’s response and looked at Risto. She covered the mouthpiece. “He wants to know the time table.” Risto grimaced. “Right now it’s fluid. Tell him we’ll contact him when we know better.”

She nodded and uncovered the speaker. “We’ll get back to you on that.” She punched the off-button and put the phone back in its charger. “Extra batteries?”

“In my backpack.” He patted her knee. “We’re well supplied. Conn and I planned on the potentiality of Plan C. We won’t use the phone unless we need to. Its feed is off NSA satellites through Keely’s contract work so we should have access throughout the Darien.”

Callie wrinkled her nose as she thought things through. “We need to let Keely know that it’s possible her traitor sold info to Cruz. She can back trace the transmissions made about this mission. If there is chatter lying outside of normal channels, she can set up a trap so we can obtain the IP address of the NSA computer used. If we can pinpoint the leak in the NSA we could follow it back to the DOD traitor.”

“They tried that route already.” He rubbed her leg. “The leak is as shifty as the traitor. They found the monitoring of SSI was done on several different computers, all of which were used by multiple NSA analysts.”

“Okay. Then who in the DOD has the authority to command NSA monitoring of SSI transmissions and to send Ren and the guys to that fake meeting in Argentina? Not many people in the DOD have that kind of authority to influence the NCS hiring of private security organizations and sending them on covert ops. I mean, NCS is part of the CIA and not even under direct DOD authority.”

“It has to be someone high up in the US intelligence community. Keely and Ren think they have it narrowed down to four or five people. But since the bastard has laid low since Ren and Keely’s baby was born, they haven’t gotten any other data to help pin him down. Keely has her trapping program running 24/7.”

“Well, he’s active now. Keely needs to know what we suspect.”

“It can wait, Callie. The data will still be there, right?”

“Yeah.” She yawned and jiggled her hands, massaging them to get the stiffness and soreness out. Risto’s rumbling snarl had her looking at him sideways. His gaze fixed on her hands and not the treacherous road. “Just stretching them out, Marine. Eyes on the road.”

“Little liar.” He shifted his narrow-eyed scrutiny back on the sorry excuse for a local connector road. “Check the first aid kit out for some pain relievers.”

“I have some in my tote.” She retrieved her bag from the floor of the back seat, found the ibuprofen and swallowed a couple dry. After putting the bottle away, she pulled out a small bottle of lotion and poured some on her sore palms and massaged the cream in, then stored that bottle also. She tucked the tote next to her legs. The ladies Ruger was in the side, zippered pocket; she wanted it within reach in case they ran into trouble. She looked out the window at the thick greenery as it passed and yawned several times in a row. “Not sure why I’m so sleepy.”

“Stress and not enough rest.” He rubbed her shoulder. “Take another nap. Things will get rough later once we abandon the Rover and have to hoof it to the riverside village to pick up our next ride. Plus, we’ll be camping out tonight—and will need to take watches. Get as much sleep as you can now.”

“What about you?” His look of shock at her concern hit her hard. Tears formed in her eyes and she quickly turned away so he wouldn’t notice them. Hadn’t anyone ever taken care of him before? Ever worried about him?

“I’ll be fine. You don’t need to take care of me, Callie.”
Like hell I don’t.
Even if she weren’t so attracted to him, she’d still take care of him.

He was risking his life to get her away from Cruz. The least she could do was assure he got rest and carry her own weight on the trail. Maybe she wasn’t an ex-special ops marine, but she knew how to nurture males. She turned back and considered Risto as he concentrated on the track masquerading as a road. He was strong, courageous and so alone. She’d never seen a man in more need of nurturing than Risto. She fell asleep with her gaze fixed on his strong profile.

* * * *

Risto propelled the
piragua
forward and away from some vegetative detritus clogging up the river. The long pole used to steer the flat-bottomed boat had proven to be too unwieldy for Callie who was used to canoe paddles. She sat in the back of the boat with a shorter pole which she used to shove the boat away from the shore when the river narrowed.

Aware she was sensitive about carrying her weight, he hadn’t voiced his relief that she couldn’t handle the long dugout pole. He admired that she knew her strengths and weaknesses: she’d admitted within the first half mile on the river she didn’t have the strength or the knack. It took a lot of man-handling to keep the boat in the middle of the river. The current moved steadily and, at times, swiftly, to the sea, but with eddies and submerged debris, the passage was fraught with danger. At this point of the Atrato, and because they were in the rainy season, the river was extremely navigable with the shores almost twenty feet from the middle. Later, they might have to get out of the boat in order to ford areas of the river’s tributaries where silt and plants grew thickly.

Callie had proven she was strong enough to handle the weight of the dugout by helping him launch it at the small village where they’d picked up the boat. Fording, if required, would be easy.

“Do you think Cruz realizes we’ve headed into the Darien yet?” Risto checked her face for any signs of additional stress and was relieved to see only mild interest. In her waterproof poncho and floppy hat, she looked like a jungle queen set off against a backdrop of the thickly treed shoreline. Her gaze met his and she smiled.

She was enjoying the journey. He hoped to hell she’d still enjoy it once they stopped for the night. He hadn’t decided whether to anchor in the middle of the river or attempt to find a secure shelter on the thickly vegetated shore. There were many abandoned river houses on stilts, left vacant when the local farmers fled the guerillas and drug dealers who’d taken over this area of northwestern Columbia. Even if he could find such a shelter, he wasn’t sure it would be any safer than taking turns sleeping and keeping watch in the boat. Plus, the middle of the river in a boat kept them away from the insects which swarmed the shores.

“Risto? Something wrong?” Callie leaned forward as if she wanted to touch him.

“No. I was thinking about tonight and where we should stop.” He looked up at the overcast sky and the clouds which had chosen not to drop their moisture for the time being. “We have about two more hours of light with the cloud cover being as thick as it is. And, as for your question about Cruz, no, I don’t think he knows yet. But someone in the village where we bought the boat will talk, however innocently, to the wrong person and he’ll know soon. We’re still in his paramilitary area.” She nodded and grimaced. “Yeah, not too many tall, blonde
norteamericana
females running around the Atrato River. You, they wouldn’t even remark on—your tanned skin, hair and eyes are dark enough to pass as a native.”

“Don’t worry about it. As you said before, we know where we’re going, he doesn’t.” He steered the boat. The rhythmic movements were soothing, as was the constant hum of the marshy jungles surrounding them. “Our biggest danger could be Ungaía since it’s a fairly large town and has some of the mod cons such as a residence hotel and some small restaurants.”

“Then we should give that place a pass.” Her words were spoken in a firm and calm tone.

“We’ll stop if it looks quiet. SSI’s local contacts will let us know if Cruz or Paco have had anyone asking questions. If we can get a motor for this boat, we could be at the coast three times faster. Plus, after spending the night in the rainforest, you’ll want a shower and some real food.” He’d picked up enough local fruit that, along with the MREs Conn had procured for them and any game or fish he could catch, they wouldn’t starve, no matter where they stopped.

“Risto, look at me.” He looked up. She had a fierce look in her eye. “I’m not a hothouse flower. I may not have done this kind of camping in a while, but I did accompany my brothers on extended camping trips to Montana and the North Woods in Minnesota. I can handle this. So, if you don’t feel Ungaía is safe, we don’t stop there. We stay on the river and it takes what it takes to reach the coast. I’m far more concerned about Cruz catching up with us than roughing it with heat, bugs, and wild animals.”

“Good.”

“So? What
are
the choices for camp tonight? Do we need to stop to build a shelter?

There’s definitely enough wood and palm leaves to build a snug one.” She gestured to the thickly treed shores. “Although we might have to build tree houses, the land looks saturated on both sides.”

“We have two choices: middle of the river or taking over an abandoned river house.” She scrunched her nose. “Well, the problems camping on the shore are the flooding, bugs and wild animals. On the river, there’s the danger of the anchor not holding and getting swept away if the current increases because of the weather behind us.”

“And the river anchorage also has the problem of a guerilla or drug smuggler coming along and seeing us.”

“Yeah, they’d have outboard motors and lights.” She stayed silent for a second or two. He wondered what brainstorm she’d come up with. “We should’ve gotten torches from the natives. Don’t they use them for night fishing?” Risto laughed. “I thought of that but ruled it out. Too many dangers on the river at night. I can always rig up something if we need to move fast to stay ahead of hostiles, but I wasn’t taking any chances.”

“If the river is dangerous at night, won’t it be just as dangerous if we’re stuck in the middle of it?”

“Yeah, but we’d also be in the boat and all packed and ready to go.” Risto poled away from a log lying ahead. “Staying on shore takes making-and-breaking camp time.”

“Time we could use to be down river and closer to the coast. Let’s just take it as it comes.” She arched her back and moaned. “I hate just sitting. I’m really ticked off that I can’t handle that damn pole thing.”

His lips twitched. She looked like a grumpy kitten. “You’re doing an important job. I have to pay attention and make sure we don’t get caught on debris. While I’m doing that, I can’t watch the shores for trouble.”

Callie’s face broke into a wide smile, the smile which had sold millions of dollars of cosmetics and designer clothes. He eyed the Ruger which was now holstered under her left armpit. Somehow, Conn, or maybe Berto, had found her a shoulder harness which could be adapted to fit her. He shook his head and silently snorted back a laugh. If her fans could see her now, dressed in jungle chic with a gun snuggled against her perfect breast and a wicked knife sheathed along her thigh. She was a cross between Lara Croft and Sheena of the Jungle.

“What were you thinking?”

“What?”

“That look on your face,” she prompted, “what thoughts made you look that way?”

“How did I look?”

She bit her lower lip and he almost groaned. He wanted to bite that lip and other various places on her body, then soothe them with his tongue.

“Happy. Peaceful. Like a man who had found his place in the world and knew it.” She waved an arm around. “You like the jungle?”

What should he say? He hated jungles. He did fine in them, but as she did, he preferred cold northern woods like the ones surrounding his home in the U.P. He couldn’t admit he was thinking about her and that she was every man’s, most especially his, idea of a perfect woman. And the fact that she was also a great companion for an adventure was icing on an already delicious cake.

“Risto?”

“I was thinking about you.” He went with honest. Something deep inside him wanted her to know how he felt.

“Oh?” She studied his face then said, “Thanks. I like being with you, too. Even though it is in a hot, humid jungle.” She sighed. “Want some water? You’re doing all the work and must be sweating off all your body fluids.” She dug in the packs at her feet and brought out one of the canteens. She moved one seat toward him, carefully balancing her weight and barely rocking the boat. She had a great sense of balance, probably from learning to walk on those high-heels models always wore. “Here take this. And here are some electrolyte tabs. I don’t want you getting sick on me.” He took the canteen one-handed as he maintained the boat’s trajectory with the pole and set it by his feet. He held out his palm and accepted the tablets she gave him. He swallowed them dry, then chased them with a drink from the canteen. He closed the canteen and handed it back to her. “Where did you get the salt tablets? From Conn?” She moved back to her seat in the bow. “No. I had them in my tote. I told you I didn’t deal well with tropical weather. I always carry them on shoots where it’s hot.” He chuckled. “When we camp for the night, I have to see what else is in that tote.” She grinned. “Maybe. If you ask me nicely, I might just let you.”