Operation Willow Quest (10 page)

“Like what?”

“I’ll think of something.” He glanced down at
her and his eyes softened slightly.

She nodded and bit her lip.

Chapter 8

They were dropped in a
neighbourhood
every guidebook she’d ever read had warned to avoid at all costs, but Del
tugged her from behind him and she saw he wasn’t in the least bit concerned.

“You stay here and I’ll handle the rest,” he
said, indicating a sheltered courtyard, before he vanished inside a building
beyond.

Fighting the urge to call him back, Willow took a deep breath
and looked around cautiously. Compared to the area surrounding the place, the
courtyard was quite pleasant. Plants sprung from pots in shades of fuchsia,
reds and yellows, and the walls were painted a pale shade of buttercup—which,
even though was flaking off in parts, only added to its rustic charm. Willow gave a wry twist
of her lips; people paid a landscaping team a small fortune to achieve this
kind of look in the city. She sat down on a step.

As her gaze dropped to her laptop, she suddenly
remembered the package. Unzipping her computer bag, she logged on and opened
the envelope—pulling out a tiny memory stick. She slipped the stick into her
computer and quickly went about emailing the contents to herself as a back-up.
As she waited, she bit the inside of her lip anxiously.
What’s so important about this stuff that it made someone want Terry
dead?

The power icon at the bottom of her screen
eventually began to flash after the files had finished downloading and warned
there was only a few minutes left to plug into an alternate power source,
before the computer would shut down. She would’ve liked to look at the
documents, the last one having just completed downloading, but that would have
to wait until later. With a small huff of frustration she powered down the
laptop and stowed it, then lowered her computer bag to the ground and waited
for Del’s
return. Feeling extremely tired, she took the opportunity to close her eyes and
hoped the nagging ache behind her forehead would soon disappear. Moments later
she felt a presence nearby—her eyes opened and she saw Del. She caught a momentary softening of his
set features and blinked uncertainly, but in the space of that blink his face
was once more set in an uncompromising mask.

“We’re all set. We’re meeting a guide who’ll
get us to Panama,”
he said, easing down beside her on the step. There wasn’t a great deal of room
and Willow
could feel the heat from his large body next to hers. She found it comforting
and decided for the time being to simply enjoy it and forget about worrying
what it all meant.

“We’re going to cross the border?” she asked. “Why
can’t we go to the embassy?”

“The embassy’s the first place they’ll expect
us to go.”

“How are we going to get there?” she asked doubtfully.

“I hope you like hiking—we can’t risk
travelling by bus. The police and
Trèago
will have
all that watched so we’ll have to do it the hard way.” He nudged her shoulder
playfully. “We’ll be okay.”

She summoned a weak smile, grateful he was
trying to appear optimistic about their situation; she just hoped he knew what
he was doing.

* * * *

What the
hell am I doing
?
Del thought
about the trek before them and grimaced. The terrain they had to go through was
bad enough accessibility-wise without the added danger of guerrilla forces that
roamed and controlled the large majority of the country they would be going
through in order to reach the boarder.
Well,
Delaware, you
better pull a rabbit and a half out of your hat this time buddy. Something
tells me we’re
gonna
need a small miracle to get out
of this one…

Resisting the urge to rub his face in
frustration, he smiled down at Willow
instead and hoped he looked confident enough to reassure her.

“Come with me,” he said, getting to his feet
and putting out a hand to help her. They went through the doorway he’d
disappeared into earlier and down a narrow hallway. A door stood open and Willow looked around the
small room curiously. There was a single bed with a mat on the floor. A small
window opened out into the courtyard where they’d just been sitting in a few
moments earlier.

“What’s this?” she asked, indicating the small
room.

“We have about two hours before we need to move
out. You can rest in here until we’re ready to go,” he said, dropping the
luggage at her feet. “We have to repack these and I’m afraid we’ll have to
leave some of it behind, so pick carefully. It’s a long way to walk and we
can’t afford to be carrying too much with us.”

Willow
frowned down at her
suitcase. She was a light packer at the best of times, and mentally went
through her belongings deciding what to eliminate. Del disappeared but returned soon after,
tossing her a backpack to transfer her things into. She kept only her jeans and
shirts—things she would need to travel in. The rest could be left here; it
wouldn’t break her heart to part with any of it. Her cameras though were a
different story.

“You were supposed to get rid of this stuff.” Del’s exasperated tone
caused her to glance up from where she was cramming things into the bulging
pack.

“I did—but I’m not leaving my cameras or
laptop…I don’t care if I have to drag the damn pack behind me the whole way—I’m
taking it with me.”

With a muttered curse, Del shook his head, then crossed the room
towards her. Picking up the bag, he tested its weight and sent her a dark look
before dropping to one knee and opening his own pack and
reorganising
the contents. When he finally seemed satisfied he closed it securely and turned
back to face her. “Here—I’ll carry yours.”

* * * *

He didn’t much like the thought of lugging so
much weight about on his back—he felt like he was back in boot camp—but he’d
done worse and without a doubt would do so again. Still, it wasn’t heavy
artillery and weapons they were talking about here. This was supposed to be easier.
“I hope you remember what a nice guy I am, Sheldon,” he warned. “I might have
to call in a
favour
or two after this.” He lifted the
pack on to his back experimentally.

“Yeah, you’re a real gem, Delaware,” she muttered, but seemed relieved
he wasn’t making her leave any of her precious equipment.

“Get some rest—we’ve got a long hike ahead of
us,” Del told
her, relieved when for once she didn’t open her mouth to argue. She looked
exhausted and he couldn’t blame her. She’d had a lot to deal with today. She
wasn’t as tough as she liked to make out—he’d caught glimpses before, when she
hadn’t been aware of him watching her in the hospital for one, as she’d looked
down at baby Emily. He’d caught her misty-eyed expression before she’d closed
her eyes. Then at the news of Terry Sinclair’s death…he paused at that, unsure
about the relationship there. The photo in the office he’d seen when they’d broken
in tonight—of Sinclair and her dead husband—had given him a strange
gut-reaction.

He felt like a jerk. Whenever her husband’s
name was brought up he bristled like a junk-yard hound. The guy was dead for
Pete’s sake, yet he still felt a surge of red hot jealousy whenever he thought
of him.

He let his gaze drift over her now as she
slept. Her long, graceful fingers were tucked beneath her head and her dark
hair falling in sharp layers, framing her face, fell across her now like a veil
as she’d rolled over on her side. He’d always admired the wholesomeness of her
looks—the suntanned skin courtesy of long hours outdoors and her simple, no
make-up-fuss-beauty. He’d always thought her name an apt description of her
with her willowy, well-toned body, and the generous swell of her
breast—something he often found difficult to ignore.

Dragging his gaze away, he tipped his head back
against the wall behind him, and took advantage of the opportunity to catch up
on some of his own sleep. He only needed a few minutes—his body was well used
to drawing energy from short naps over the course of his military career. A few
minutes could make all the difference.

* * * *

A thin middle-aged man stood in the doorway. “This
is our guide, Jorge,” Del
said with a toss of his head towards the dark-skinned man. The newcomer watched
them with a quiet patience that told her he’d spent a long time observing and
learning the ways of the world.

“
Buenas
noches
,” Willow
said quietly, greeting the man, who inclined his head and greeted her in return.

They moved through the house and Willow was surprised to
see so many little bodies sleeping on mats scattered across the floor of what
looked like a living room. All other doors of the house were closed but Willow imagined they too
had to be filled, for the left-
overs
to have to use
the living room as a bedroom.

Willow
slid her pack onto her
back and followed the men. They stuck to back streets and dark run-down parts
of town, making their way out of the city and into the countryside. It was a
long walk made longer by frequent stops to duck out of sight of oncoming
vehicles and various occupied establishments. Eventually the built-up city gave
way to wider spaces and less traffic and a little later they were finally in
the relative safety of the countryside. Once they reached thicker cover, they
were able to rest, though the altitude was taking its toll on Willow. Sitting down, she tried to fight down
the queasy feeling she’d developed during the strenuous hike.

“Here take these,” Del said, handing her two small tablets,
“they should help. It’s the altitude.” He watched as she popped the pills in
her mouth and handed her a bottle of water to wash them down.

“Just like a Boy Scout,” she said, handing back
the water and closing her eyes, “always prepared.”

He chuckled dryly. “Yeah, that’s me, Boy Scout
material. You think you can go on a bit further?” he asked after a brief
silence. Willow
nodded, biting back a sigh. She didn’t want to, but under the circumstances she
had no choice—they needed to get as far away from Bogotá as possible.

The sun was well and truly up and it was
nearing midday but they continued on, making slow, steady, progress. When they
stopped for a brief rest and something to eat, Jorge sat quietly off to one
side, keeping a lookout as they rested.

Willow lay down and closed her eyes, grateful
for a chance to sleep, despite the buzzing insects and the hard ground, but all
too soon a gentle shake from Del had her back on her feet and they were moving
upwards once more. Thankfully, the altitude sickness seemed to have been eased
by the medication Del
had given her and made it easier to concentrate on placing one foot in front of
the other. The landscape had changed yet again; by nightfall they found
themselves in thick jungle. The terrain made it difficult to negotiate in
places and Willow
spent more time slipping down muddy embankments and tripping over exposed roots
than on her feet. Mosquitoes were another problem. Their constant high-pitched
whine as they hovered, eventually became just another part of the environment
around them, making Willow glad that as part of her constant travelling
activity, she was vaccinated against most diseases. But it wasn’t the
mosquitoes that had her worried. She kept her eye out for other, more threatening
nasties
…leeches and snakes being up there in her own
personal top ten list of disgusting things.

Seated around a small fire once they stopped
for a meal break, she glanced down at her filthy attire and grimaced. The
gentle trickle of a stream nearby had her digging through her pack to bring out
the small bar of motel soap she’d hastily rescued from her suitcase while
repacking. She was smelly and grimy and could do with a nice hot shower, but
for now, a quick wash would have to do.

There was a lot to be said for soap. Just being
able to wash away the grime, sweat and smell, replacing it with the baby powder
scent, was enough to breathe back a small amount of humanity into her soul,
regaining a little bit of energy the last few days had sapped from her. As she
was sitting back down next to Del
on the ground, a movement caught her eye and she glanced over to see him rubbing
his thigh.

“How’s your leg holding up?”

He glanced up at her, surprised for a moment
before giving her a shrug. “It’s okay.”

She shook her head before reaching for another
handful of dried fruit. “It won’t kill you to admit you’re hurting, you know.”

“All right—it’s throbbing
like a Goddamn drum…what are you going to do about it?” he asked tersely, and
when she sighed he shook his own head slowly. “That’s right, so what good is
acknowledging it?” he pointed out stiffly. “Lay down and get some sleep. We all
need a break.”

She heard him release a slow breath and
listened to the strange jungle noises around them. The small fire offered a
sense of security and she watched the flames lick at the branches and wondered
what was going to happen to them. She didn’t recall dozing off, but she must
have because sometime later she found herself sitting on the blanket breathing
heavily and the sound of her scream echoing in her ears.