CHAPTER 12

Dr. Phillips slipped away from dinner with his family to take the call in his study, pretending it pertained to a situation at the lab. He knew he might need the excuse later, something to rell his wife when he would leave in the middle of the night. Phillips hoped it wouldn't come to that, but his luck had been flushed down the toilet long ago.

He reported what happened on the tour with the Americans.

"I'm telling you, Delacorte's going to be trouble. He asked way too many questions. Good questions. And Jasmine gave me the creeps. She stared at me like I was food." Dr. Phillips gripped the phone, trying to mask his unsteady nerves. "I think they know what's going on."

"They know nothing." The man didn't hide his perverse amusement. "Don't ever play poker, my friend. You wouldn't be good at it."

"This isn't a game. I don't want—"

"I don't care what you want or don't want."
Venom. Pure venom.
"I have everything under control. It would be in your best interest if you remembered I'm the one in charge now."

Phillips shut his eyes. He was afraid to ask the question on his mind, but he had to know. "Are we still on for tonight? I think we ought to lay low for a while. At least until this is all over."

Even as he said the words, he knew what
all over
meant. Charboneau would be dead and his living torment would be worse. His new partner lived in Cuiabá, way too close for comfort.

Phillips had no doubt Charboneau was deadly, but at least the man had a certain civility. He knew the game of manipulation and how to play it, a much more tolerable bullet to the head. But the man on the phone wasn't encumbered by courtesy of any kind. Phillips had traded his seat in the frying pan for one in the fires of hell.

The silence on the phone made him swallow, hard. He waited for the man's answer.

"I have no interest in what you think, Doctor." A sickening throaty chuckle sent chills along the doctor's skin. "I've got Delacorte and his friend under surveillance. Focus on your end and you'll have nothing to worry about. Give my regards to your lovely wife."

The line went dead, but the man's threat came across loud and clear. Fear gripped the doctor's throat, the strain amassing to overload. If he made a mistake now, his family would pay the price. He knew he was in a no-win scenario.

But if presented with an opportunity to be free of all this, would he be man enough to take that chance?

Hard to tell how many tailed them. After comparing notes from earlier in the day, Christian and Jasmine knew it had to be more than one or two guys. Whenever they got a fix on a face, the target would blend into the crowd and they assumed someone new took his place. They had to start all over again, searching the crowds for familiar faces from place to place. No doubt about it, whoever pulled surveillance over the last few days knew what they were doing.

But would their surveillance setup handle what Christian had planned?

Leaving the hotel once again, he walked with Jasmine, a repeat of their first night in Cuiabá, out for dinner. They strolled down the main drag in front of the hotel as if they had the whole evening and weren't in a rush. Nearing a busy intersection, the light changed. Dressed in dark attire to blend in, they stood on the street corner amidst other pedestrians. Christian stared straight ahead but directed his comment to Jasmine on the sly.

"You know what to do?"

"Yeah, I'll meet you as agreed, but keep in mind .. ." She glanced toward him, issuing a personal challenge he knew would come. ". .. if one of us doesn't make it, I'm going it alone."

One of us? Christian smirked at the implication. Obviously, Jasmine planned not to fail.

"Don't you worry about me." He grinned. "We'll see who gets there first."

As the light changed, Christian took off left against traffic and Jasmine went straight, hiding within the crowd. Being shorter and with dark hair, she would blend in. He dodged traffic and picked up his pace after crossing the street, then immediately ducked into a crowded restaurant with dim lighting. He had seen the cafe earlier on his walk from the Macumba store. With only furtive glances over his shoulder, he quickened his steps as he pushed through the dinner crowd, careful not to make a scene.

Catching the eye of a waitress, he asked as he kept moving, "You got a back way out?"

Christian followed where the young woman pointed and skipped through a hallway by the kitchen and out the back. Now he faced an alley, dark and murky. To his right, it led to traffic. To the left, it looked like a dead end, branching off in another direction. He didn't want to make a mistake and get boxed in. He jogged toward traffic and hailed a cab. No hesitation.

"Just drive," he ordered after slipping inside the taxi.

Crouching low in the backseat, he turned to catch a glimpse of a man running out of the alley, dressed like a local in nondescript casual clothes. The guy looked both ways, unsure which way to go. His frustration showed. Christian smiled and turned to face forward, staying low so he wouldn't make a good target.

He hoped Jasmine had the same kind of luck ... only not as quick.

After riding in the cab for nearly twenty minutes, he gave the cabbie directions to drop him six blocks from the sidewalk cafe they had coffee earlier in the day. They were to meet on the southeast corner. He kept to the shadows, avoiding storefronts and street lamps. He walked the block and ducked into alleyways and side streets to make sure he hadn't been followed. Now he sat on a concrete step leading to a subterranean basement of an older hotel. His head barely visible, he craned his neck to keep an eye out for Jasmine.

Just when he thought he'd won the challenge, and began to worry that she'd gotten into trouble, a red Fiat Grande Punto pulled to the curb near him. The windows were tinted. He couldn't see the driver. Christian tensed. His hand reached for the Glock 19 and pulled it from the holster when the passenger side window rolled down.

"What took you so long? I got bored waiting, so I grabbed us some wheels. You like?" Not waiting for an answer, Jasmine demanded, "Hurry up. Get in. We ride in style."

The woman was certifiably nuts. She would get them arrested yet. Holstering his weapon, Christian shook his head and darted for the car.
Hell, he had carryon luggage bigger than this damned Fiat.

At six-four, Christian had trouble getting into many vehicles. He yanked open the passenger door and shoved into the tight seat. Not wanting to call attention to the stolen Fiat, he didn't have a choice but to make it quick. He crammed into the front, his knees practically to his chin. Once inside, his head bumped the ceiling as he fidgeted to adjust the seat.

Jasmine couldn't hide her amusement.

"You see? Big is not always better." The words were out of her mouth before she had time to think. "On second thought, forget I said that."

"You did this on purpose," he complained, folded into the future piece of scrap metal like a glassy-eyed sardine. Jasmine didn't say a word. Her grin said it all.

Using only running lights for the last few miles, Jasmine drove the red Fiat with both hands on the wheel, using the curves in the road and the dense treeline to mask their approach to Genotech Labs. Without a full moon, the night closed in on Christian, pitch-black. The pale lights cast eerie shadows onto the road and the thick vegetation along it, playing tricks on the eyes. An animal darting into their path would cause serious damage. His companion leaned forward, peering through the windshield, searching the darkness for man and beast.

"We won't get much closer. I don't want to risk being heard. Sound carries out here," she reminded him. "I'm pulling over if I can find a good spot. We can walk the rest of the way."

"Works for me." Out of reflex, Christian reached for the gun in his holster. His elbow hit the door panel. "There's a dirt road to the right up here, just before the last bend. I remember it from our taxi ride."

He pointed, and Jasmine pulled onto the shoulder. The change in terrain caused the vehicle to lurch right and take a hard bump. Christian rammed his head into the ceiling.

"Hey, watch it." He ducked and shoved a hand onto the dash. "I'd like to make it out of this tin can in one piece . . . and without a brain tumor."

"Sorry." She pretended to care, but the smirk on her face told him otherwise. "You know, technically, you can't get a brain tumor from a little bump on the head," she mumbled loud enough for him to hear. "A concussion perhaps. Or maybe a little head-trauma-induced brain bleed."

Christian gritted his teeth and stared straight ahead, cursing himself for the lack of foresight to bring earplugs.

Jasmine followed a narrow dirt trail until she was satisfied the vehicle wouldn't be seen from the main road. She doused the lights, drove into the brush, and killed the engine. Christian flipped the switch for the interior lights so they wouldn't go on when the doors opened and jack with their adapting night vision. While he did, Jasmine reached into the backseat and pulled out her backpack. She unzipped a pocket and retrieved a small plastic bottle. When she opened the cap, the smell of it hit his nose in the tight quarters of the Fiat. Bug juice. The woman thought of everything.

"Put this on. You'll need it." She slathered it onto her face and exposed skin.

"I love the smell of DEET in the morning," he teased, doing his best Robert Duvall impersonation from
Apocalypse Now.
Jasmine gave him a sideways glance, clearly not a fan of movie trivia.

Once outside the car, they shut the doors, careful not to make a sound. Mosquitoes bombarded him in a thick swarm, but the bug juice kept most of them away.

"Stick to the treeline. Follow me." Jasmine gestured and led the way, shrugging into her backpack.

She traversed a gully, digging in her heels and leaning into the hill to keep her balance. Jasmine cut a path diagonally, then back down, heading for the valley floor. Christian followed, keeping the security

floodlights of the lab in his sights through the dense trees, an orientation point. In the dark, tree limbs and shrubs slapped his pant legs and arms. He couldn't avoid them. But as they crept closer, the sounds of the night muffled to deathlike stillness. Any noise they made drew attention from the nocturnal wildlife. He sensed their eyes on him, quietly watching.

Eventually the terrain leveled and Christian became aware of water nearby, a convergence of several tributaries. The swirling water captured the moonlight on its surface, giving shape and size to the streams. Jasmine headed for the water and veered left to follow its confluence. Heavy brush grabbed at his boots.

Suddenly, a shrill cry ripped through the night. Pitiful and agonizing. Then it stopped . . . dead. Thrashing of water followed. In a swell, other animals screeched and yowled, rippling through the hillside.

What the hell was that?

The sound sent adrenaline coursing through Christian's blood as he dropped to a knee. A primal reaction. He peered through murky shadows toward the noise. Caught in the bluish haze of night, a large caiman surged down the creek. A distant relation to the crocodile, the creature undulated beneath the surface of the water, dragging its prey from the bank. In seconds it was over.

In this place, death came silent and in the blink of an eye.

Jasmine knelt by his side and waited for the quiet to return. "Let's go," she whispered.

Being in a valley west of the lab gave them cover from the security lights that strafed the night sky, but the refuge wouldn't last long. They angled toward the side entrance to the lab's med clinic and clamored up a small hill on all fours, staying low. Halfway up, he and Jasmine stopped to listen.

Dense humidity and the close vegetation intensified the heat. Every scratch and cut on his body ached, inflamed. And to exacerbate the condition, his clothes clung to his skin, damp from perspiration. Sweat trailed from his forehead down the side of his face. More trickled down the small of his back. When he wiped the back of his hand across his face and mouth, he got a serious taste of bug repellent. Nasty stuff.

Satisfied they were alone, Jasmine pressed ahead. "Last push, slow and easy."

At the crest of a hill, she scrambled into a thicket and slipped out of her pack. Christian knew the woman came prepared for a small skirmish, but mostly he wanted the water she carried in her pouch.

After she tossed him a bottle, he downed a large swig, cooling his throat. Jasmine quenched her thirst with another one, then retrieved night vision binoculars and shifted her focus to the west entrance of the heavily guarded facility. She assessed the situation.

"Two men at the gate. Armed," Jasmine muttered. She passed the binoculars to him for a look. "More walking the grounds inside. Hard to tell how many."

Christian rolled onto his belly and checked out the layout for himself.

"We could be in for a long night." He knew this would be a long shot. But after today's tour, something didn't feel right about this place. He trusted his instincts.

An hour stretched into two. And Christian's headache had returned with a vengeance. After sweating away the bug repellent, they applied more. Just when Christian thought their efforts would be a lost cause, Jasmine punched him in the arm.

"We got company."

Headlights along the ridge flickered between the trees. The sound of a car approaching carried through the night. It turned into the main entrance to Genotech and made the switchbacks, heading into the valley. Dust kicked up in its red taillights.

On cue, the guards looked like they expected company. They raised their weapons and stood aside as the gate slowly opened. Obviously, they waited for someone they knew. Dressed in a white lab coat, Dr. Phillips joined them and paced, looking at his watch. A familiar gesture.

"He's working late," Christian whispered, binoculars up. "No rest for the wicked."

A dark sedan pulled into the light and stopped at the guard station. From the shadows in the vehicle, Christian saw more than one man, but not much else. Phillips leaned down to speak to the driver. The doctor gestured for him to pull ahead. After the car parked, two men in suits got out of the front seat. Christian caught a glimmer off the belt of one of the men when his suit coat opened. A badge reflected the light. The men were . . .