Jamie Freveletti - Running from the Devil

The copter tilted sharply left with the added weight, but Sumner corrected and continued forward. They were twenty feet from the tree line, heading for it, when the rocket-propelled grenade took out the tail.

33

LUIS WATCHED AS TWO MEMBERS OF THE FFOC DRAGGED THE tall man and a woman into camp. They were tied at the wrists and lashed together with ropes. Scratches covered the left side of the tall man’s face, and the pinkie finger on his left hand jutted out at an unnatural angle. His left arm bore a gruesome road rash, as if he’d been dragged across gravel. All of the scratches and gouges bled freely. Despite it all, he still walked with his characteristic efficiency of motion. The man scanned the camp, his eyes coming to rest on Jorge’s head, which had been placed on a stick at the edge of the forest, near the passengers. Luis had put it there as a warning to them. He liked the way it focused their fear.

The woman with the tall man looked like a wild creature. Mud covered her skin and her hair hung in thick oily clumps that resembled long snakes. Even filthy and covered with mud, Luis could tell that she was beautiful. Her eyes were cat-shaped and a vibrant green, and they sparked with anger while she scanned the camp. Luis knew that if she smiled she would show the straight white teeth that he thought of as the hallmark of an American. She wore cargo pants and running shoes of an indeterminate color, and on her back was a grimy backpack.

She stood as straight and unbending as the tall man, and moved just as easily. Her gaze came to rest on Jorge’s head and skittered away. Luis noted that she didn’t appear surprised to see the head, and also appeared not as afraid of it as he would have liked.

He walked up to them. As he did he kept an eye on the woman, waiting to see if she would shrink in fear at his commanding presence. She looked at him in a straightforward way, showing no particular fear of him, and no respect. It was then that Luis decided to break her.

“So, we finally find the woman responsible for stabbing two of my men and causing many more to desert,” Luis said.

The woman locked eyes with him, as if she were his equal.

He slapped her with an open hand. The sound of his palm hitting her cheekbone cracked through the camp. She staggered sideways. She regained her balance and looked at him again. This time anger shone in her eyes, but still no fear.

He hit her again.

She staggered sideways again, this time leaning into the tall man, who braced himself and managed to keep her standing. She raised her eyes again to Luis. She still showed no fear, just anger. It was as if the anger was a waterfall, flowing out of her. Something about it bothered Luis. The anger seemed unrelated to him. As if it came from a deep place inside of her and had nothing to do with the present.

Luis was a superstitious man. While he never believed in the El Chupacabra nonsense that his men babbled about, he did believe in demons, ghosts, bad luck, and evil portents. Something about this woman, and her proximity to the tall man, made a feeling of inevitability wash over him. It was an emotion that he did not like. He refused to label it. If he were a lesser man, he would have ended this operation two days ago, when he’d learned that the Cartone cartel was after him. But Luis was not weak. He refused to bend. He would see this operation to a successful conclusion in spite of these two worthless gringos. He would kill them both, after breaking them. He would triumph over it all.

Alvarado touched his arm. Luis snapped out of his reverie.

“What do you want?”

“The FFOC soldiers have news. They want to meet with you.”

“Tie him to that tree.” Luis indicated a tree in the middle of the camp. “We’ll have some fun with her later, eh?”

The men laughed as they dragged the prisoners away.

When they reached the main tent, Alvarado delivered the bad news. “The FFOC want you to bring the hostages south, Luis, especially the woman.”

Luis felt his blood pressure rise. The lying, cheating bastards wanted to take his prisoners away.

“I won’t do it.” Luis’s voice was flat.

“You must do it. They have sent thirty of their best men here to find and kill you if you don’t.”

“They will try to kill me either way, Alvarado, you know that. And why the woman, eh? What’s so special about her? I refuse to give them my only bargaining chip. Never! The deal was I march them north, guard them, and get twenty percent of the ransom money. If they are so afraid of the gringos, then they should never have pinched their tail in the first place.”

“It’s not just the gringos that come, Luis. The Cartone cartel and the other paramilitary groups have taken back their weapons and are coming for us also. None of them wants to be extradited to the United States. The army comes, too. They want the aid from the United States restored. Without it, they do not get paid. We need to get the passengers out of here. It’s safer in the south.”

“And how do they intend to move them? Seventy people? It’s taken us days to get this far.”

“They are sending the planes. Interrupting their own business. This tells you how serious they are.”

“Planes! Are they crazy? They’ll be shot down in a matter of minutes.”

“Time is short. They say the others are arming and already have three helos in the air.”

Luis paced back and forth. He pointed a finger at Alvarado. “We stay here tonight. I’ll kill the tall man, and tomorrow morning we march to Panama, to the sea. We are not far now. We will sell the hostages there.”

Luis stalked out of the tent.

34

MIGUEL KNEW HE’D HIT THE FIRST CHECKPOINT WHEN THE TRAIL ended at a dirt road covered with tire tracks. They had been hiking for almost three days. He gave the men a rest and picked up his field phone. To his surprise, he had a message from Banner as well as Señor Lopez at the Air Tunnel Denial station. He called the Air Tunnel man first.

“Major Miguel? We had a suspicious aircraft sighting in your area. We believed it was a helicopter, flying low. When we attempted to establish contact, Mr. Sumner spoke back to us.”

“Cameron Sumner, in a helicopter? What did he say?” Miguel felt an adrenaline surge. It was about time they had a break.

“He had stolen the helicopter and was under fire. Within seconds, all contact was broken.”

Miguel’s mood crashed. “Was he able to give you any idea of where he was?”

“I have the actual coordinates. May I give them to you?”

Miguel’s mood rose again. “Have I said what an excellent program the Air Tunnel people run?”

A chuckle came over the line. “We do our best, Major Miguel. We do our best.”

Miguel called Banner at Darkview and waited while the receptionist routed the call elsewhere. When Banner finally came on the line, his news was not as uplifting as Lopez’s.

“Margate pulled the plug on aid to Colombia until the passengers are returned safely. He’s demanding extradition.”

“There goes the deal,” Miguel said.

“Right.”

“Any news on the paras’ response?”

“The Cartone cartel is hunting Rodrigo to kill him, the other paramilitary guys are hunting the Cartone cartel, Rodrigo, and the FFOC to kill them, and the Colombian military has orders to shoot on sight. They’re all converging on your area.”

“And the passengers?”

“Caught in the middle. These guys kill. None of them has any experience in actually saving people. I wouldn’t count on any passengers surviving the shit storm that’s coming your way. So get the hell out of there. It’s going to be raining fire in your area in the next twenty-four hours.”

“You want me to pack up and go? Just like that?” Miguel was astonished.

“I don’t want it, the Colombian government does. When Margate pulled the plug on aid, the Colombian president demanded an immediate withdrawal of all U.S. military personnel in Colombia. He said that any further search and rescue will be conducted by the Colombian army.”

“You said I have twenty-four hours. If that’s all I get, then I need more backup. I need a guy, a leader, who can do what it takes without me being there to hold his hand. The guys I have here are good, but too young to be of help.”

“Margate refused any additional assistance. I can’t overrule him, and even if I could, I’m not sure I want to. I’d be putting whatever poor slob I picked into a death trap.”

“Banner?”

“Yes?”

“Where are you? How do you feel about coming back into the field?”

The silence on the end of the line was almost palpable.

“I’ll get back to you,” Banner said. Then he hung up.

Miguel mapped out the coordinates. “He’s ten miles away, due north.”

“Did Sumner say if Ms. Caldridge was with him?” Kohl hated the idea of leaving the path and heading up the road. He was sure Ms. Caldridge had continued through the jungle.

“He did not.” Miguel sat back on his heels. “I know this landing strip. It’s on the Air Tunnel map.” He hauled out the ATD’s map showing the known landing strips. “There’s a second near an abandoned training center for Colombian military.”

“Maybe it’s not abandoned now. Maybe it’s filled with passengers,” Kohl said.

“Maybe. The good news is that I think I know how to get there. The bad news is that it’s back down the path. It’s a switchback that cuts in about five miles from here.”

Kohl groaned. “Five miles on that path will take us another day.”

Miguel hit him on the shoulder. “We have a direction, Kohl.”

“What about Ms. Caldridge?”

“The human race car? Don’t worry about her. She’s probably run all the way to Cartagena by now.”

35

EMMA SAT NEXT TO SUMNER, WHO WAS TIED AGAINST THE TREE, and watched the sentry walk around the wooden watchtower. Every so often the man took a hit off a flask he kept in his boot. He’d swallow the liquid, smack his lips, and spit down to the ground. Once it got dark, he put his rifle on the parapet and jumped down. He put the liquor bottle next to four others that sat open in a row on the ground. He waved at Emma, giving a guttural order in Spanish.

“He wants you to help build a fire,” Sumner translated.

Emma rose wearily and assisted three male passengers to start a fire. The passengers’ clothes were soaking wet. One coughed while he shoved dried sticks under a collection of wood, some of it still wet. While the passengers worked stacking the wood in a large pyramid, Emma walked to the edge of the camp collecting dried weeds. She’d pull a few, then push them under the sticks for kindling. She concentrated her weed-searching efforts close to the open bottles of aguardiente. Each time she returned to the bottles, she pulled a seed pod from her cargo pants’ pockets, hit it with a stone to break it open, and dropped it in the liquor. By the time the bonfire was burning, Emma had managed to fill the bottles undetected. The flames lit the night sky. She would have enjoyed her first dry heat in days if it wasn’t for her fear of being thrown on it in some awful sacrificial manner. She didn’t trust Rodrigo.

“He’s insane, isn’t he?” Emma whispered to Sumner when she returned to sit next to him.

“I think so, yes.” Sumner’s voice was bleak.

“He isn’t the leader, you know. Smoking Man in the shirtsleeves at the airstrip was.”

“Rodrigo couldn’t lead his way out of a paper bag.”

Mathilde sauntered over. She stopped in front of Sumner, tossed her hair, and struck a pose.

Sumner ignored her.