Morgan's Mercenaries: Heart of Stone (24 page)

Cam wiped her eyes with a trembling hand. Blood had dried across her face and jawline. “Once we stopped tumbling, the cockpit filled with smoke. I screamed at Maya, but she didn’t answer me. I got unharnessed and fell on top of her, because of the way the Cobra was sitting on its nose and side. I managed to get her out of the burning gunship, sir. She fell about ten feet to the ground. I jumped out and pulled her away from the helo, in case it exploded.”

Dane stood there watching her face contort. Cam shakily ran her hand through her tangled hair. “I heard trucks coming. I tried to get Maya to come to, but she was unconscious. I didn’t see any other wounds on her, sir. The side of her helmet was dented where that limb slammed into the side of her head. The helmet saved her from worse injury, but she was out cold. I saw two vehicles hightailing it down the road toward us. I knew they were druggies.”

Gulping, Cam, said in a broken voice, “I had a decision to make, Major. I couldn’t carry Maya into that jungle with me. It was impossible. I decided to try and escape, to get back here to get us help.” Cam closed her eyes and pressed her hands to her face. “I feel like I abandoned Maya, but I know I did the only thing I could do. I’m sorry…just so sorry….”

Dane reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder. “You made the right decision, Cam. If you tried
to carry Maya into that jungle, the druggies would have captured both of you. It’s all right…let’s get you to the dispensary. Come on…we’ll figure out what to do next after you get taken care of. Come on….”

“A
re you ready to meet your fate, Captain Stevenson?”

Maya sat on a stool as Dr. Alejandro Lazaro finished stitching up the cut she’d sustained during the crash. Her left temple ached, and pain kept jabbing into her left eye. The doctor, a thin, balding man, with a well-trimmed gray beard, stepped away. Faro stood in the doorway of his villa, where he’d brought her. The ride from the crash site, on a series of back roads, had taken over an hour. The villa, unseen from the air because it had been built below the thick canopy of trees, was small and functional.

“Let’s get on with it, Faro.” She had been stripped of her chicken plate and helmet. Sitting on the wooden stool, Maya felt Faro’s intense inspection. His mouth curved indulgently. Anyone who did not know of him would think him a rich Peruvian from Lima. He leaned languidly against the doorjamb, his arms crossed
against his chest. It was noon, and Maya could smell the odor of spicy food wafting into the small medical facility.

“So, Doctor, is she ready for her last flight?”

Lazaro peeled off his latex gloves and dropped them into a small basket near the table. “
Sí,
she is,
patron.
”

Eyes narrowing, Maya watched the two armed guards standing near Faro. She’d been waiting for an opportunity to escape, but none had come yet. And with her concussion, she often experienced sudden stabs of dizziness that almost made her fall to the right. If she was going to try and escape, she couldn’t have that happening or she’d get nowhere.

“Come, Captain. One last sumptuous meal.” He gestured for her to get up and follow him.

Maya eased suspiciously off the stool. The guards lowered the barrels of their guns—at her—as she crossed the red-tiled expanse. Faro chuckled and moved into the spacious, sunlit dining room, where he sat down at the end of a long, rectangular table. There was a five-tiered chandelier hanging above it. Floor-to-ceiling windows on one wall showed off brilliant bougainvillea in bright red, fuschia and orange colors against the dark green foliage around the villa. Beyond that was the thick, dark jungle. No wonder they’d never found this villa!

Two maids, dressed in black dresses with starched white caps and aprons, waited anxiously to serve them. It would just be her and Faro dining, apparently.

“Sit there,” he ordered Maya congenially, and pointed to the other end of the table. “You must eat well. It is your last meal.”

Maya pulled out the heavily carved, straight-backed mahogany chair and sat down on its burgundy cushion.
Faro was smiling like a jaguar who knew he had his quarry. At either end of the bright yellow dining room, guards took their stations on the thick cream carpet. Again, she’d have no opportunity to escape.

The first maid hurried to her and placed a bowl of fragrant vegetable soup before her. It was a creamy yellow color, with slivers of almonds and shreds of orange cheese floating in it.

Genially, Faro dug into his soup and delicately picked up a piece of bread and slowly tore it apart. He dipped it judiciously into his soup with two fingers. “You know,” he began in a jovial tone, “you have no idea how long I have envisioned you sitting here, eating with me. Eating your last meal.” He waved a piece of bread around to emphasize his words. “You have been my nemesis, Captain Stevenson. Until you moved into your base to stop me, it was very easy to get my cocaine out of Peru and around the world.” He sipped the soup noisily and then chewed on the bread, his eyes never leaving her.

Maya ate, though her stomach was tight with tension. She knew that to have any hope of escape, she’d have to have nourishment. Eating was the last thing she wanted to do right now, but it was necessary.

Her mind spun with options. Questions. Fear. Opportunity. What was Dane doing? Did they know by now that she and Cam had been shot down? They must know. Dallas would initiate the S.O.P. for rescue. Would they ever find her? No, Maya didn’t think so.

Her head was aching. The pain would increase and then lull. When it worsened, she’d be struck with the dizziness that made her want to fall to the right.
Think!
She had to think. No one at the base, other than Dane, knew about her guardian. It hurt to think of even con
tacting him mentally, because it took a lot of mind focus and concentration to do so. With the pain and dizziness, Maya found it impossible at the moment.

“Even if you get rid of me, you’re not getting rid of our commitment to stop you, Valentino.”

Chuckling, Faro shrugged. “Ah, but if you cut off the head of the snake, the body will gradually die, no?”

“No.” Maya glared at him and continued to eat. Once the soup was gone, the maid quickly whisked the bowl away. A green salad with croutons was set before her. Maya’s stomach rebelled. A sudden wave of nausea made her push it aside. It was instantly taken away. Reaching for the glass of water, she drank deeply from it.

Faro studied her and then ordered his soup to be taken away as well. The small maid, a Q’uero Indian, moved in and took it instantly. Her eyes were full of fear. She set the salad before Faro. He politely thanked her and poured the raspberry vinaigrette over it.

“You know, your twin sister has been a real thorn in my brother’s side in Brazil,” he told her in a soft, dangerous tone. “And you helped put my brother in prison. That is unforgivable.” He stabbed his fork into the fresh salad as if stabbing a living thing. “I thought I’d killed her that night at the compound.” He lifted his head and stared down at Maya. “But for whatever reason…she lived.”

“Your brother deserves prison, Faro. So do you. We’re not as easy to kill as you might think,” Maya snarled. Her anger and hatred rose, cleansing away the pain and dizziness momentarily. “And I swore I’d get you for trying to kill her.”

“Ah, blood vengeance. Good. Good. Well, that’s something I can certainly understand.” Faro broke off
another piece of bread. Slathering it with butter, he murmured, “We had no idea the two of you were related. Inca hasn’t been seen by many people, and never allows her photograph to be taken. And, of course, you…well, I had never seen you except in your gunship, so we didn’t put two and two together…until recently. When we did, I told my brother you must both die.”

Maya said nothing. A plate filled with vegetables and a huge piece of steaming beef was placed in front of her. This was typical Peruvian fare. They ate only twice a day, and when they did, consumed a generous amount of food. Yellow potatoes, orange carrots and other vegetables surrounded the beef. Maya forced herself to begin to eat.

“You know, there are other drug lords, one from Colombia and one from Ecuador, who are joining forces with me.” He gave her a pleased look as he finished his salad. “With our combined money, we are purchasing more Russian military aircraft. Pretty soon, you are going to be outgunned down here. Even with the addition of those new D model Apaches we’ve been seeing of late.”

“So the back door to Bolivia is
that
important?”

“
Sí,
it is. That is why you must die, Captain.” He patted his lips gently with the white linen napkin and nodded his thanks as the maid placed the main course in front of him. “I have good news for you. My men were unable to find the other pilot who flew with you. Perhaps she is out in the jungle right now, dying. As soon as we’re done, I’m taking you to our heliport,” he informed her. He sliced into the beef with short, precise strokes, like a surgeon performing an operation.
“I’m going to be sporting about this, Captain. I’ll give you a helicopter to fly.”

The news that Cam had at least escaped Faro’s men made Maya’s heart soar. And at the mention of the copter, she snapped her head up. Her eyes narrowed on him. “To fly?” she asked.

“Of course. I will give you a sporting chance to escape.”

She chewed on the potato, not tasting it, and watched him warily. “You’re going to let me fly away?”

He chuckled indulgently. “Well, not exactly. I will have my three Kamovs up in the air to make sure you fly
El Cañón de Muerte,
the Canyon of Death, where I will ‘hunt’ you down.”

Stunned, Maya sat back. The Canyon of Death. Yes, she knew it well. It was located in Bolivia, the top rim at fourteen thousand feet. The canyon was nearly a mile deep, and resembled the Grand Canyon in some respects, with narrow confines, yellow and ochre walls, and in places, white speckled granite. The canyon was forty miles long. And it twisted and writhed like a snake that had been attacked. The walls of the canyon were narrow, and with one wrong move, a helicopter pilot could crash into the rock and die. Furthermore, the winds up through the dry canyon could be wicked and untrustworthy. Especially around noon, when the radiant heat made thermals rise from the earth.

“You see,” Faro told her genially, “I am going to give you a sporting chance to survive this little man…er…woman hunt, Captain. I will be in my favorite helicopter, a Russian Hind. I will have a Kamov stationed at either end of the canyon, and one above it. You will start at the north end and try to fly to the south end of it. If you get there, before I find and shoot
you down, then you win. On the other hand, if I catch you first, well…too bad….”

“What kind of helo are you being so generous with?” she demanded darkly.

He gave her a pleased smile and cut up his potato into precise, small bits. “You’re very perceptive, Captain Stevenson. I expected that of you, you know? I’m giving you a Vietnam era Huey—a Slick, I think, is how you refer to it?”

A Slick? Maya’s mind raced. That was a medical helicopter, a workhorse helo from the Vietnam days. It carried no ordnance and no weapons. Her mouth tightened. “I see,” she whispered, “you’re in an armed Hind and I’m in a Slick with no way to protect myself.”

He grinned hugely and popped a slice of carrot into his mouth. “Ah, you see. Yes, well, you
are
the hunted one, after all, Captain. And judging from your legendary flight skills, I felt that just giving you an unarmed helicopter against my Hind would be fair enough. No?”

“You bastard.”

His smile fell. He glared at her. “Such table manners, Captain. Didn’t they teach you better in
Norteamérica?
”

“Go to hell.”

He grinned ferociously and ate more of the food. “No, Captain,
you
are the one who is going to hell. As soon as we’re done with your final meal, I’ll take you to the canyon by helicopter. Our aircraft are waiting for us there, as I speak. You will have a three-minute head start and then I will take off after you. If you try to escape or leave the canyon, the Kamov will shoot you down. The canyon is half a mile deep; 2500 feet.
You can fly up to seventeen thousand feet, but that is your limit. You can choose to fly through the canyons or above it with this altitude restriction. Frankly, the slick wasn’t made for 14,000 feet, much less anything higher, so my suggestion is you fly within the canyon. But that is up to you. If you go above the altitude I’ve restricted you to, then my Kamov will be happy to send a rocket into your Slick.”

Maya didn’t believe for one minute that Faro would give her a three-minute head start. Still, the idea that he was giving her a helicopter at all provided a glimmer of hope. The Slick was unarmed. It was slow and bulky compared to the Cobra, which was a true gunship. Plus, the high altitude would be very hard on the bird. Faro was right: even at 14,000 feet the helo would labor mightily. It lessened her chance of survival. And the Russian Hind was a huge monster, with a lot of power and enough armament to match the Apache arsenal. Her mind spun. She knew the canyon well. Wondering if Faro knew that, Maya said, “What made you choose that canyon?”

“It’s risky. It’s dangerous to fly in. I fly it all the time.” He placed his flatware on the table and held up his long, expressive hands. “It is where I hone my skills, Captain. I know it like the back of my hands, literally.”

She nodded and pushed the plate aside. Maya understood very clearly that if she made it to the south end of the Canyon of Death, the Kamov at the end would shoot her down. There was no way Faro was going to let her escape. And she was sure that the orbiting Kamov above the canyon would have his radar targeted on her Slick at all times.

“What happens if I win, Valentino?”

He erupted into mirthful laughter. “Oh, you won’t, Captain!”

“But if I do?” Maya whispered. “Are you going to let me fly free?”

Patting his lips, his eyes sparkling with vast amusement, Faro said, “I am a Spanish gentleman, Captain. Of course, I’ll let you go. If I’m down, then more than likely I’ll be dead.” His lips curved away from his perfect white teeth. “But how you could possibly take me down is a mystery to me. I am the one with rockets on board my helicopter—not you. All you can do is act like a rabbit—running, hiding, ducking and dodging. Your only way to ‘win’ is to run, not confront. No, I’m not worried about losing our little hunt.”

Of course he wasn’t. Maya wiped her lips with the linen napkin. “Then let’s get saddled up, Valentino, because if you think this is going to be easy, you’ve got another think coming.”

Dane straightened up. Four pilots huddled around the map in the small room and talked in low tones. Rubbing his neck, he listened to them discuss possible search patterns to locate Maya’s whereabouts. Cam was there, despite her injuries. She had a broken right arm, now in a cast and sling. These pilots knew the area well, and he had to defer to them.

His heart ached. Where was Maya? Did Faro Valentino have her? His gut said yes. A cold chill worked up his back and he turned away. Opening the door, Dane moved out into the well-lit hall of HQ. It was quiet. The whole base was in shock over Maya’s disappearance. He saw it in every woman’s face. He felt the thickness of shock rolling through the fortress even though no one said anything. In some women’s eyes,
he saw tears. Others had sat down and cried outright. Still others had a grim look of determination on their faces. It was clear they were angry. So was he.

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Dane looked at his watch. It was 1300. The crash had occurred at 0700. It felt like the day was going to stretch out forever, with no resolution. Standing in the empty hall, he looked toward the exit, a good hundred feet away.