No Turning Back (24 page)

He rummaged through the bag without any regard for the care she'd taken in packing it. It irked her enough that she stopped reading and aimed a disapproving frown at his back. She'd specifically organized everything in there to maximize space, and so she'd be able to find any given item fast. He was ruining it all.

He paused and turned his head to see her. “Where is it, at the bottom?”

Her eyes remained on the pile of once carefully wrapped and folded things lying in a heap in the dirt next to the bag. All her clothes, her deodorant, the little finger toothbrushes and dry shampoo she'd packed.

“You think we were spending the week pleasure camping or something?”

She raised a brow. “Just because we're in the middle of nowhere on a mission doesn't mean I can't keep clean.”

He rummaged even deeper, scowling. “Christ, Wallace, where the hell are they?”

“They're in a Ziploc bag.” She had to restrain the urge to push him out of the way and do it herself.

He dug deeper, gave the works a shake. She flinched. “Labeled with a P-touch I'll bet.”

She glared. “So?”

Grinning, he turned back to her with a gleam in his eyes. Then he stuck his arm in up to the elbow and wiggled it around.

She narrowed her eyes.
Jerk
.

The smile widened. “You can't stand it, can you?”

No. She set the computer aside and leapt up, reaching for the bag but he held her off with one arm. “Just give it to me,” she demanded, “I'll do it myself.”

Smothering a laugh, he held up his other hand. The Ziploc was already in it. Which meant he'd been riling her on purpose.

She snatched it from him. “God, you are such a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah.” He handed her a bottle of water while she took three tablets. “And you're way to tightly strung.” The glint in his eyes turned wicked. “I'll work on your knots later.” Leaning close enough so his chest brushed her shoulder with an electric tingle, he murmured, “I'm going to love unraveling you, sweetheart.”

Her mind went blank from the wave of erotic heat spreading over her skin. God, the memory of his hands on her naked skin... She couldn't believe she'd let him distract her like that. Face burning, she brushed past him and headed for her laptop. “Don't you have work to do?”

Davis had done a good job choosing their location, Luke noted with approval. The cave was large enough to accommodate the team and their equipment, but the terrain surrounding it was steep, and the trails narrow. An enemy force would have a hell of a time getting up here, and if they did, they'd have to stack up almost single file on the approach and that would make them easy targets. Not that it would stop them. They'd keep on coming until every last one of them was dead.

He knew firsthand the resolve of the Pashtun people. He'd spent years crossing back and forth over the Pakistani-Afghan border, had lived in a cave much like this one for months at a time as a guest of the mujahedin while on covert missions for the CIA. If it weren't for the pain in his head and the subsequent dizzy spells, he might have stepped back in time.

At first he'd thought the increased severity might be from altitude sickness, but he couldn't see why it would affect him now when he'd never experienced symptoms at this elevation before. The headache felt the same, though, a sickening pounding in his temples. Altitude sickness would also explain his nausea and lack of appetite. Sleep disturbances were another common symptom, but it's not like he'd notice those. He only slept in quick snatches when he was out in the field.

He covered a wince as a shock of pain exploded in his skull. Could be he was just getting old. Shit, he was fifty. On the downswing from his prime. Maybe that's why he wasn't healing up like he used to. He'd suffered all kinds of injuries and wounds over the years, but the most he'd ever been laid up by a concussion was two days on his back, and that's when he'd been blown out of his clothes by a mortar round that landed too close. This should have run its course by now, but it was getting worse and starting to affect his vision. The doctor in Basra hadn't said as much, but maybe he really did have something wrong with his brain. The initial tests had shown some bruising and swelling, but he'd left AMA before they could do more. Could be he had a bleed somewhere, and the altitude was making it worse.

It was all for shit now anyway, at over nine thousand feet up in the Hindu Kush deep in enemy territory. If things deteriorated he'd approach Ben, the resident medic, and much as Luke hated even thinking about it, he might have to stand down from any operations. Things out here were dangerous enough without him losing his edge and getting someone killed.

“Luke?”

He nodded to Sam and headed to where she was hunched over her computer. Hard, dedicated worker, that one, and she'd been through hell the past few days. “What's up?” He crouched next to her.

She gestured to the screen. “E-mail just came in to your account.”

She was checking his e-mail way out here in the middle of nowhere?

“I didn't read it, but it's from your son.”

All Luke's muscles tensed. He nodded at her to open the file and read it, then waited a few seconds while she did. “An emergency?”

“No, it just says they've moved the wedding up by a few months to mid-November so Christa can make her training camp.”

He withheld a sigh. Perfect. It meant he'd probably miss his only child's wedding. But hey, on the bright side, at least they'd invited him. As little as six months ago he wouldn't have been. Peering over Sam's shoulder, he scanned the message, tensing further when he got to the postscript at the bottom.

You might want to talk to mom ASAP.

Not likely. Not after that disaster the last time he'd talked to Emily over the phone. But why Rayne would tell him that could only mean bad news. This wasn't a “Hey, Dad, you should talk to Mom about the arrangements". Uh-uh. The only reason his son would have e-mailed him in the first place was because he couldn't reach him on his cell. Up here, they had to use satellite phones and that wasn't a number he gave out, even to his family.

An unreasoning fear pooled in his guts. Was something wrong with Emily? The urge to make sure she was okay was so strong he nearly grabbed the satellite phone sitting next to Sam, but he held himself back. If something was wrong, Rayne would have said so, and talking to his ex was a distraction he didn't need right now.

“Everything okay?” Sam asked, going through some electronic files. Obviously she sensed something was wrong but wasn't looking at him because she knew it would make him uncomfortable.

“Yep. Fire one back saying I'll be in touch when I can.”

“Sure.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard and finished with a flourish on the send button. “Done.” She studied a fingernail. “Do you, uh... want to send anything else?”

He cast her a sideways glance. She'd spent time with Bryn in Baghdad. Since Bryn was his son's best friend and tight with his ex-wife, she had more dirt on him than the CIA ever would. How much did Sam know about his past? “Maybe later.”

“Okay.”

In true Sam style, she buried her nose back in her work and tuned him out completely. He could have been standing there stark naked and she wouldn't so much have glanced at him. Now, if Ben was in his birthday suit next to her, that might be a different story, but as far as the power of concentration went, hers rivaled the best Luke had ever seen.

“I'm going down into Karim's village to do some recon. Can you get me a transmitter?”

She stopped scrolling and finished reading a line before replying. “Got one right here.” She dug in her bag and pulled out a plastic film case. Popping the cap off, she pulled out a micro transmitter. “Anywhere near the head should be fine. Let me code it in.” Her slim fingers danced over the keys again, connecting the device with the radio link. “Voila. You're good to go.” She held it out to him, about the size of a pea.

“You're a gem, Wallace.” He peeled off the backing and fixed it to the back of his cherished St. Christopher medallion. Em had given it to him over thirty years ago, and he'd never taken it off. Not once.

Waiting for the heat in his thumb to warm the adhesive, he finally let it go. “Test, test.”

She gave a satisfied nod. “Clear as a bell.”

He crossed the cave to get a pistol, and shoved it in the waistband at the small of his back under his wide-legged loose pants that men wore in these parts, and decided on an AK just in case. Next, he grabbed a wad of cash and stuffed his pockets full of candy bars. Whatever it took to grease the wheels. “You up for a little visit, Davis?” Tehrazzi was in these mountains. Luke was going to hunt him down.

Davis’ dark gaze slid over to him from where he was going over a topographical map with the twins and eyed the hardware Luke was carrying. “Friendly one?”

“Of course.” He patted the automatic rifle. “We're all friends in these parts.”

Trouble was, you didn't know for sure who your friends were out here. In Afghanistan, defecting wasn't cause for shame. You could buy an informant one day, and the next he might change allegiance if a better offer came along. The trick was setting yourself up to look like the better deal and hoping it stuck, while never giving them information that could be used against you. And then you'd better grow eyes in the back of your head, else you'd get a permanent crick in your neck from constantly looking over your shoulder. That was the only way to avoid getting shot in the back in these mountains.

After working through much of the night to get everything set up, Sam had slid into her bivy bag between the twins and fallen asleep in less than a minute. By the time the sun's glow touched the edge of the valley beneath them, they'd all been up and at their appointed posts. Sam and Rhys were monitoring the computers for new intelligence, Luke and Davis were out scouting the area, and Ben was guarding their location. Early in the afternoon, Sam's head came up when Rhys swiveled around.

“Got something,” he said, and turned back to his own computer.

Without wasting time asking what he'd found, she ran outside to get Luke, who was talking to Karim. His head came around when she appeared, his dark eyes watchful.

“Something's come in on the link,” she said, dread and excitement swirling through her.

Luke murmured something to the boy in Pashto and the youth sat in a patch of shade to wait, licking his lips as he tore the wrapper off another Hershey bar. Had the CIA ever bought information so cheaply before? The kid was a total chocolate addict. Luke followed her back into the CP.

“Where's Ben,” she asked.

“Right here.”

They glanced over their shoulders as Ben came striding up the slope, M4 in his hands. Her heart quickened.

“What's Rhys got?” Luke asked.

Sam shook her head. “Not sure.” Had to be important, though. Rhys wouldn't have bothered announcing it if it wasn't.

They pushed aside the blanket flap covering the cave entrance and crowded around the computer screen. Ben came up behind her, close enough that she could feel his body heat and catch the scent of cinnamon as he chewed his gum.

Rhys ran his fingers over the keyboard, bringing up an e-mail file, but she couldn't read most of it because it was in Pashto. “You have failed to meet our demands,” he translated in his deep voice, “and the first deadline has passed.”

Her stomach went tight as a fist. Ben laid a hand on her shoulder. She grabbed it without thinking.

“This video will give you further instructions regarding our agenda.”

“Formal for a ransom demand, don't you think?” Luke remarked. Then his keen gaze cut over to her. “I think you should step outside.”

She shook her head, her neck stiff with tension. “I want to see Nev.”

The seconds ticked past as his eyes bored into hers. Then, “Go ahead, Rhys. Fire it up.”

Rhys tapped a few keys and brought up the video clip.

She stared at the icon flashing on the screen as it loaded, heart in her throat. Was Neveah safe? Had they hurt any of the hostages?

The image of two masked men dragging a middle-aged man in front of the camera came up. He was swearing and struggling, his eyes bulging with terror. Sam swallowed hard.

“That the oncologist?” Luke asked.

“Yes,” Rhys answered.

The balding doctor was still fighting. “Let me go! You fucking crazy zealots, let me— ”

One of his captors kicked him in the ribs and he cried out, doubling over. Sam winced, bit her lip.
Please God, don't let them hurt him.

Ben tightened his grip on her shoulder. “Maybe you should wait outside,” he murmured.

She shook her head, mute as she stared at the terrified man on the screen. She needed to find out what they'd done to Neveah and wasn't moving until she knew.

The doctor started bawling as they bound him to a thick wooden beam and taped his hands behind his back. They bound his feet, too. Then a tall, masked man entered the frame. He wore a knife sheath on his hip. Something about him was familiar.

Sam sucked in a breath, guts clenching. “Oh, shit,” she breathed. “It's him. It's Tehrazzi's bodyguard.” She knew his posture, his stance. She couldn't take her eyes off the handle of the knife. He wouldn't use it, she told herself. He would only threaten the hostage, not kill him. What good would it do to kill a hostage?

Even as she thought it, she knew he might. She knew all about his reputation and had looked into his reptilian eyes when he'd pinned her to that brick wall in Baghdad. They'd been soulless. Full of simmering hatred.

“Sam,” Ben said. “Go outside. Now.”

She shook his hand off her shoulder.

On screen, the bodyguard stepped in close to the prisoner and drew his knife. A matte black blade, military issue like the ones Ben and the others had. The point appeared razor sharp.

“No!” the prisoner screamed, trying to wrench away. “Fuck you, no!”

As she watched in disbelief, Tehrazzi's bodyguard seized a handful of the hostage's hair, then wrenched his head downward.

The prisoner sobbed uncontrollably, thin shrieks of hysteria ripping out of him. He continued his futile struggle, tears streaming down his face.