T
hrowing her weight into the metal door, Lucy crashed into a room lit by the buttons from a soundboard display. “Freeze! No
one move!” she barked as a lone silhouette lurched from blankets on the floor. “Put your hands in the air.”
Spying a switch near the door, Lucy flipped it, flooding the cave with light, illumining a wide-eyed female, who quaked with
terror as she held her arms high above her head. A quick glance around assured her there were no more rebels. Lucy’s luck
was running high tonight.
Keeping her pistol trained on the girl, she kicked the door shut and bolted it. Searching the cave for weapons, she came up
empty-handed. “One false move and I’ll shoot,” she warned, not putting it past the female rebel to try something. “I’ve killed
one rebel tonight, and I don’t mind killing another,” she added fiercely.
“I am not with the FARC,” insisted the young woman.
“Stand up,” Lucy ordered, “Keep your hands where I can see them!” she added as the girl reached beneath the blanket.
“I need my crutch,” the girl explained, showing the hand-carved stick to Lucy.
As the girl struggled to stand, Lucy realized one of her feet had been blown off, presumably by a landmine. “Have a seat,”
she offered, tempering her hostility with pity and waving her toward the only chair, positioned before the soundboard. “My
name,” she added, “is Luna de Aguiler. I’m with the United Nations.”
“I am Maria,” countered the young woman, her fear fading. “I was abducted by the FARC when they raided my village four years
ago.”
Lucy sent her a steady look. “Would you like to leave La Montaña, Maria?”
“Oh, yes!” she cried, suddenly luminous.
“Then I need to make an announcement on your radio.”
The hope in Maria’s face turned to fright. “Rebels will hear what you say. They will send soldiers to kill us!”
“How long will it take them to get here?” Lucy wanted to know.
The woman shrugged. “I don’t know. An hour, maybe two?”
“We’ll be gone by then,” Lucy assured her with more certainty than she felt. “Please. Put me on the air. A helicopter will
come for us in half an hour, I promise.”
“But only the rebels listen to this station,” the woman argued.
Despite herself, Lucy had to laugh. “Trust me,” she said, stepping closer. “Others are listening.” Like the National Security
Agency, the eyes and ears of the CIA.
With reluctance, Maria nodded and reached for a knob, twisting it to silence the music. “You may speak into the mike,” she
whispered, handing it to Lucy. “Push the button.”
Lucy depressed the button on the mike. “Mayday, mayday,” she announced with crisp American consonants. Picked up by an orbiting
AWAC, it would take time for her message to be forwarded to the NSA, then put through filters to confirm her identity. “This
is Luna de Aguiler with the United Nations. Six-nine-seven-two-three-six,” she added, throwing in her CIA identification number
for good measure. “Request immediate extraction from the summit of La Montaña, Colombia. Hostiles closing in. I repeat…” She
stated it a second time, intending to replicate the process every five minutes.
Straightening, she nodded at Maria, who eyed her with mixed terror and idolatry. “It’ll be all right,” she added, bracing
herself on the desk as sudden fatigue swept through her.
But then the doorknob gave a jiggle. With a gasp and an inner cry of despair, Lucy whirled to face it.
“
¡Abre la puerta!
” commanded a gruff voice on the other side.
Open the door!
“Don’t say anything,” Lucy cautioned, her heart thudding with terror and dismay.
How could the rebels have arrived so quickly? There had to be an outpost nearby.
Oh, God. Oh, no.
This couldn’t be happening, not when she’d come so far, endured so much.
Boom!
The imprint of a boot put an indentation in the metal door. Maria whimpered.
“Quick, hide under here,” Lucy instructed, pushing the girl under the protection of the soundboard. “They won’t harm you,”
she added reassuringly.
As the door shuddered on its hinges, she darted across the room to stand behind it, gripping the pistol fiercely.
Great. Just fucking great. Here she was, headed into a fight for her life, and she had only three bullets left.
With a sob of regret, she thought of Gus, who’d had to live with his father’s death and would now blame himself for hers.
I’m sorry,
she cried silently, pressing her back to the rough wall. The intruders continued to pound on the door. Bits of cement crumbled
to the stone floor, indications that the hinges would soon give away.
Her stiff fingers cramped around the pistol. Well-aimed shots to the center torso were the only thing that might save her
now.
All at once the door lurched. With a loud groan it twisted inward, providing the intruders just enough space to wedge their
way inside.
The dust cleared; still, she waited, guarding her precious bullets.
This is it,
she thought, praying for a speedy death—no more agonizing torture.
As a shoulder edged into the room, accompanied by a quick peek, she pulled the trigger. Her sluggish brain was still processing
the pattern of the intruder’s camouflage when her bullet whizzed by him and ricocheted off the opposite wall.
“Lucy!” exclaimed the voice she’d heard so often in her dreams this past week she was certain she’d imagined it. “It’s us!
For Christ’s sake, don’t shoot!”
“Gus!” she croaked. The pistol clattered to the stone floor as the strength drained out of her. He spun around the door in
time to catch her wilting body.
“I’ve got you, Luce,” he rasped, crushing her against him as they sank to their knees. Delicious heat leapt off him. His familiar
scent enfolded her. Lucy tried to climb inside of him, so wildly relieved it was all she could do not to burst into sobs.
“I’ve got you,” he repeated as she squeezed her eyes shut and breathed, just breathed.
Hot tears seeped through her lashes to track her filthy cheeks. She was vaguely aware that four more SEALs had stepped inside
the cave, calling words of reassurance to Maria, who crept from her hiding place. Opening her eyes, she took in the painted
faces of her saviors—Luther, Harley, Vinny, Teddy, and Gus, her one and only partner. “I thought you were the rebels,” she
admitted hoarsely.
“They’re right behind us,” Gus informed her.
His words sent a shaft of fear through her heart. “But how? I just sent out a mayday.”
“They’ve been tracking us all day,” he explained, “since we captured and questioned Buitre this morning. He’s dead, by the
way.”
She let the announcement sink into her consciousness, a balm to her fears. “Good,” she said, quelling painful memories that
threatened to unfocus her. “But how did you know I’d be here?”
“We got to Arriba right after you escaped. How’d you manage that?” he asked with amazement.
“It was a total fluke,” she admitted wryly. “The lock around my neck fell open.”
Horror flickered in Gus’s eyes as they fell to her chafed neck. “And then what?”
“Then I shot the first guard paying his hourly visit. I tossed his keys at the other captives, who took out the second guard.”
And in hindsight, she could scarcely believe her own temerity.
“We heard the other captives heading downhill in the dark,” said Gus, “but I knew you had more sense than to go with them.
I knew you’d remember the E & E extraction point.”
“I hate to break off the reunion,” Luther interrupted gently, “but we’ve got a helo extract to prepare for.”
Lucy’s relief mounted. She wouldn’t have to wait on pins and needles now for her mayday to be processed. She’d be flying out
of here in a matter of minutes.
“Vinny, find out our helicopters’ ETA,” rapped out the OIC. “Tell them I want a read on the number of hostiles closing in.”
The reminder of a lingering threat put a damper on Lucy’s euphoria.
“Harley and Teddy, set up a perimeter outside,” Luther added.
“Have some water,” murmured Gus. Ignoring his leader’s urgency, he pressed a canteen of reviving water to her lips. “How do
you feel? How’s the hip?”
“It’s healing. I had a raging fever from the filthy knife they used, but I survived.”
“My brave girl,” he murmured, stroking her cheek with a gloved hand. His eyes glimmered wetly as he gazed down at her. “I’m
so sorry for what happened, Luce,” he added hoarsely.
“Don’t. It wasn’t your fault,” she insisted. “You couldn’t have known Buitre would dump you in the river. God, Gus, I don’t
know how you survived that, but I knew you would,” she added, clutching him harder.
“We went after you that night,” he told her quickly, “but we were too late. They’d already removed the microchip and used
it to lure us away from you.”
Lucy cringed at the memory of her torture.
“How’s your hip now?” he pressed. “How badly did they hurt you, Luce?”
“I’m fine,” she insisted. “They didn’t break me, Gus. If anything, they taught me how much I want to live.”
At her confession, his eyes blazed with love and words unspoken. Only this wasn’t the time to talk about the future.
“Gus,” interrupted the OIC. “Get Lucy dressed in cold-weather gear. We’re moving out.”
“Maria has to come with us,” Lucy insisted, meeting the girl’s hopeful gaze. “They’ll kill her for allowing me to broadcast.”
Luther and Gus both slid Maria an assessing look, taking in her missing foot.
“So be it,” said the OIC, shaking off his rucksack. “Let’s bundle you both up.”
“M
OTHER
H
AWK, THIS IS
B
ABY
B
IRD
,” Vinny called on a note of desperation. “State your ETA, over.”
With Lucy trembling in his arms, Gus prayed the rescue helicopter would arrive at any moment, preferably with a backup helo
for fire support. The rebels were now keeping radio silence. The SEALs had no way of knowing how close they were.
Even with their backs to an escarpment, the icy wind pierced their protective clothing. The frozen pond between the mountain’s
twin peaks shone an iridescent blue under the starry sky. If they weren’t rescued soon, they would freeze to death or fall
under attack by the approaching rebels.
“Baby Bird, this is Mother Hawk and Hunter Hawk.” The heartening reply sounded crystal clear. “We are within two miles and
closing. Over.”
Gus shared looks of relief with Vinny and Luther.
“Roger, Mother Hawk and Hunter Hawk,” Vinny replied. “We are five in number with two civilians. We have a sniper and scout
positioned on a ledge. Do you see our FLIR? Over.”
“We see you, Baby Bird. Get FLIR patches on those civilians.”
“Wilco, Mother Bird.”
Luther was already grubbing in his pack for glint tape, sticking the Velcroed tabs on Maria’s shoulders, then handing two
to Gus to put on Lucy.
“Hunter One will approach forward of your position to defend the rescue,” continued the pilot. “You may position infrared
strobes on the LZ now. Keep your heads low and watch for rotor downdraft. Over.”
“We copy, Mother Bird. Look for our strobes. Over.”
“I’ll do it,” offered Luther as Vinny reached for the pack with the strobes. “Stay here and man the radio.”
Gus watched Luther dart from their shelter and run in a low crouch toward the flat area that rimmed the lake. A whip-crack
shot rode the edges of the wind, and Luther fell into a crouch, consulting Harley on his headset. In Gus’s arms, Lucy flinched.
“That’s Harley,” he reassured her, not bothering to add that it was also Harley’s signal that the rebels were closing to within
firing distance. Damn it!
“Vinny,” he said, trying to mask his urgency, “the second the helo lands, you grab Maria and go. We’ll be right behind you.”
“Hooyah, sir.”
The whiz and bang of a sixty-six-millimeter rocket launcher, fired to retard the rebels’ approach, made Gus’s heart pound.
“Is that Harley, too?” Lucy asked between chattering teeth.
“Yes,” he reassured her.
But then the rebels retaliated, filling the frigid silence with a thunderous barrage, and he could no longer deny that the
bad guys had caught up to them.
Peering desperately up at the night sky, he was gratified to see the silhouette of a Pave Hawk helicopter detach itself from
the inky sky.
“Here comes the rescue helo,” warned Vinny, preparing to gather Maria in his arms.
The radio crackled. “All call signs, this is Hunter Hawk. Preparing to suppress enemy forces. Get your people on the rescue
bird, now! Over.”
Seeing Luther occupied, Gus summoned the sniper and scout. “Harley, Teddy, pull back now!” he ordered.
Twenty seconds later, the twosome skidded into the alcove, dropping down next to them. “Elite Guards,” Harley shouted over
the vibration of descending rotors. “Sneaky bastards slipped around from the east side.”
Buffeted by a stiff wind, the rescue bird teetered, snatching their attention to the landing zone. Gus’s heart almost stopped
as the immense rotor came within inches of striking the escarpment. The slightest contact could send the helicopter crashing
to the ground in a massive explosion.
The skilled pilots managed to bring it under control, easing Gus’s fears. The bird touched down at last, whipping up flecks
of granite as it waited for the SEALs’ approach.
“Go, go!” he shouted, urging Vinny to precede him.
Lieutenant Lindstrom was the first to greet the crew, waving his teammates over as he took up a defensive position by the
doors.
With Maria in his arms, Vinny lumbered out into the open. Bullets immediately ricocheted off the granite at his feet, driving
him back into cover.
Son of a bitch.
The Elite Guards had caught up to them, firing rounds that struck the helicopter with musical
pings.
Luther fired back, but the mounted gun, loath to put friendly forces in harm’s way, did not.
Where the hell was Hunter Hawk? wondered Gus, breaking into a sweat under his cold-weather gear.