Beyond Redemption (13 page)

Angelique screwed the top back on the canteen and handed it to Taffe. “I’ve been here about three months, and when I arrived my boss told me you’d been missing for six months.”

Taffe sighed. “Nine months. Almost a year. My fiancé must have given up on me by now.”

“I’m sorry,” Angelique said. “I… Do you know where they’re taking us?”

“To some rebel camp up in the cloud forest in Ecuador. They have to get us out of Colombia because the Colombian army is still patrolling pretty heavily along the border. They plan to smuggle us into Ecuador. I guess they think nobody will look for us outside of Colombia. I heard them saying this General Medina met you in Brazil and ordered them to abduct you. I also heard García is just looking for a reason to hurt you.”

Angelique closed her eyes. “Jesus,” she whispered. “This trip just keeps getting better and better. I swear, if I get out of here alive, I’m resigning from Helping Hands and going back to work at Charity. New Orleans seems a hell of a lot safer all of a sudden.”

* * * *

Angelique didn’t know how many miles they’d hiked, but her legs were crying out for relief from the constant up and down. Evidently García wasn’t worried about being followed, because he hacked away at their path with his machete, taking no pains to hide their trail. Angelique and Taffe added their own signs to the trail by dragging their feet, leaving gouges in the earth. Whenever they stopped for water, Angelique made an effort to collect small stones to drop on the trail, and often used the smaller stones to play a telling game of tic-tac-toe on larger rocks. Mitch and Seth would easily pick up their trail if they were looking for her, and she had to believe, despite what she’d witnessed, that they would be looking for her.

For six interminable nights Angelique was forced to listen to García sweat and grunt over Taffe. The girl only cried out once and came to her the next day, worried because she was bleeding from her anus. The pig had forced her into anal sex and had been none too gentle about it. Angelique comforted her the best she could and told her she’d see what she could do to stop it.

On the seventh night out Taffe excused herself to use the “facilities,” and Angelique looked across the campfire.

“So have you always known you were gay, García?” The man stiffened, glaring at her. She shrugged. “I only ask because I’m researching the individual’s realization of their homosexuality and the onset of actual homosexual activities.”

She stood up, not bothering to look at him, and strolled to the small stack of firewood near the edge of the forest. She wasn’t the least bit surprised when he followed her, backing her into a tree trunk, a hand at her throat.

García was a primitive, uneducated man, and Angelique intended to use his ignorance of medical and social sciences against him, to manipulate him into leaving Taffe alone for the duration of their trip. The knife was at her throat again, but she knew he wouldn’t use it, not unless she attempted to harm him in some way. It was strictly for show, as were his nightly demonstrations of virility.

“Believe me, Doctor, I am no homosexual. You have heard me with your little friend, after dark, when the jungle comes alive.”

She gave him her best academic look. “I have heard you, Mr. García. That’s why I asked. You see, studies have shown that men who are struggling against their latent homosexual tendencies will often engage in frantic bouts of heterosexual behavior, in order to prove to themselves and others that they are straight. Often this behavior will manifest itself in incidents of forced sexual intercourse. And, of course, anal intercourse, because, well, anal intercourse is a huge component in homosexual sexual activities.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “When we get to our location, may I interview you for my study?”

The blow staggered her, and she felt her knees wobble. Taffe dashed across their tiny campground to catch her as she tumbled sideways. Just before her eyes rolled back in her head, Angelique heard Benito García curse them both and tell Taffe to put her blanket next to the doctor’s.

The embers of the fire were dying when Angelique came to with a groan.

“Shh…Doctor,” Taffe whispered. “Do not wake him. He has been drinking, and I fear what he might do if he wakes up.” She shook a damp rag and placed it on Angelique’s aching jaw. “I’m so sorry he hurt you. Thank you for what you did. I think he’ll leave me alone now.”

“No,” Angelique whispered, pulling her in for a hug. “It’s probably my fault he hurt you. I humiliated him in public and he threatened me, but since Medina wants me, he can’t take his anger out on me. I suspect that’s why he focused on you. But you’re right; I think it will stop now.”

García pushed them hard for the next few days, shaking them awake before sunrise and refusing to stop until the sun went down. From the way he was moving, Angelique suspected they were close to their destination, and heaven only knew what would happen once they arrived in the camp of General Alejandro Medina.

* * * *

Angelique suppressed a shudder as they stepped into the clearing, determined to show no fear. Standing in the center of camp, surrounded by leering men, she kept her arm securely wrapped around Taffe’s shoulders. Chin jutting stubbornly, her upper lip curled in disdain, her expression said she smelled something bad and didn’t care who knew it. One man approached, taking a lock of hair between his fingers to test the softness. He smiled and reached to touch her cheek. Angelique jerked her head away.

“If you value that hand, you will keep it to yourself.” Her Spanish enunciation was precise despite the clenching of her jaw. She spoke softly, for his ears only. “That goes for both of us.”

The man gave her a hard look but stepped back as footsteps approached.

“Dr. Vernet, what a pleasure it is to see you again! I am honored to have you in my camp.”

Angelique gave him a tight smile. “General Medina.”

“Please, you must call me Alejandro.” The general turned the full force of his smile on her.

“Alejandro, then. You are aware that we are here under duress? And that we have been roughly treated?”

The handsome general frowned at his lackey. “Yes, and Benito will be dealt with, believe me. However, since you are here, you will be my honored guest and, perhaps, inspect the health of my troops? We have a small infirmary set up on the other end of the camp.”

“I would be happy to check on your men, General. I assume you have quarters available for Taffe and myself? We’ll share accommodations if that’s all right with you.”

The general, hands clasped behind his back, gave her a nod. “Of course, Doctor. García will show you to your tent and will see to your every need. You will join me for dinner? My cook is preparing
locro
. The potatoes were freshly dug today, and both they and the cheese come from a nearby village, so the soup should be especially flavorful. I will also have the cook bake some
pão de queijo
. You have eaten the cassava rolls before?”

Angelique smiled warmly. “Indeed I have, General…er…Alejandro, and please allow me to thank you for your kind consideration and generous welcome. We will look forward to breaking bread with you.” The general never blinked, but Angelique knew damn well it wasn’t the man’s intent to invite Taffe to dinner. She’d outmaneuvered him quite smoothly, if she did say so herself, and he flushed when she turned her Southern belle charm on him. “I’ll look forward to speaking with you later, sir.” She turned a smug gaze on García. “You have medical supplies, I assume? I’ll need to sort through and categorize what you have.” Once again she smiled at Medina. “I hope that’s all right, Alejandro?”

“Of course, Angelique.” He glowered at García and barked, “See to it our guests have everything they require.” He spat out some more orders and turned on his heel, departing.

Angelique was pleasantly surprised by their quarters, which consisted of a large, wood-framed canvas tent. The dirt floor was covered with layers of brightly colored rag rugs, and there was a cot on either side of the tent, one large enough to fit two occupants comfortably. A large table sat between the cots, covered in a deep red cloth. Two oil lamps sat at each end of the table, and there was a mirror in the center. There was another table, along with a chair, perched near the foot of one of the cots. Angelique assumed this was to be a desk for her use, as it held a couple of yellow legal pads and a package of black pens. Medina was prepared for her.

Her legs shook as she stood there looking around. For a hostage she was certainly getting the royal treatment. FARC was not well-known for their gentle treatment of their captives, even the wealthy ones, so Medina certainly had something more in store for her than mere ransoming. The handsome general clearly intended to avail himself of her body. She gritted her teeth. Like that was going to happen.

“We have to stick together, Taffe,” Angelique said once García was gone. “We can’t let them separate us, and we can’t let the general know we suspect his motives are less than pure. If we play our cards right, we both just might get out of here without being…abused.”

Taffe sighed tiredly. “Perhaps you will, Angelique, but I don’t think I’ll be so lucky.”

“All the more reason to stick together. If one of us has to pee, the other one goes along to watch her back. We’re in this together, okay?”

Tears welled in the woman’s eyes. “Works for me.” Her voice shook, and she burst into tears, covering her face with her hands. “I want to go home, Angelique. I’m so tired of being dirty and hungry. I want to go home.”

Angelique guided her to a cot and sat down beside her, holding her as she cried. “Shh…hush now. We’ll get out of here. Somehow. I just know it.” She rocked the young woman, continuing to reassure her. “Stretch out on the cot now, and take a little rest until they come for us. You’ve got to be exhausted. I know I am.”

“Yes,” Taffe whispered. She lay down, closed her eyes, and in moments was asleep.

Once Taffe fell asleep, Angelique stretched out on her cot and knew no more.

“I’ve got the camp.” Mitch’s relief was palpable. Angelique was no wilting flower. She was a fighter, and she’d do her level best to keep herself alive.

“How far?” Seth’s voice was whisper quiet.

“Three klicks. Maybe a little less.”

Crouching low in the dense foliage, he crab-walked toward Mitch. “Any sign of patrols?”

Mitch shook his head. “I’m gonna use the sat phone and give the army our location. They’re so firmly entrenched here they probably feel safe. Sentries once the sun goes down, for sure, but the camp should be relaxed otherwise. We should be able to get close enough to put eyes on her.”

Seth grinned. “We ain’t wearin’ jungle camo for nothing,
bon ami
. I’m gonna set a few claymores around, give ’em the impression there’s more of us.”

The jungle dwellers took no note of their passage as the two men melted into the background and made their way closer to the guerilla camp.

It was a good site for a camp. Close to water and surrounded by enough rainforest to provide good cover when the military did a flyby. Medina had been smart, hacking small areas out of the jungle to meet his specific needs, clearing the smaller trees and bushes while leaving the canopy intact. A small clearing for the infirmary. Another area for camo tents to house his troops. The kitchen was snugged up near the waterfall where the spray would dampen the rise of smoke and the cool water would help preserve their perishables. There was landing space for a helo or two, but that was it. Troops would have to rappel in from a chopper.

Mitch gestured for Seth to split off and stifled a laugh as the former Special Forces operative scaled a tall tree, M16 slung over his shoulder, and disappeared into the canopy. Mitch dug in beneath the forest floor, pressed his throat mic against his neck, and spoke softly. “You settled in, Monkey Man?”

“Where y’at, sweet thing?”

“If you can’t see me, I’m not telling. Any movement in the camp?”

Seth snorted into the mic. “Siesta time, son. No joy.”

“Best get some rest while we can.”

“No siesta for ground dwellers. This here’s fer-de-lance territory. One of those bastards crawls up your pants’ leg, your dick’ll turn black and fall off.”

Mitch grimaced at the thought. “Nice imagery, Boudreaux. My dick and I both thank you.”

* * * * *

Angelique and Taffe completed the medication inventory in the infirmary tent. Angelique gave Taffe instructions as to how to set up for a general med check and went to do rounds. Most of the injuries and illnesses were typical to the climate—tropical immersion foot disease, infected cuts, dengue fever, and several cases of malaria.

“There seem to be plenty of antibiotics,” Angelique told the medic. “The worse cases of immersion foot need to be started on IV antibiotics immediately. I assume you know how to start an IV?”

“Sí, señora. I am very grateful you have come to tend the soldiers, but there is a young boy you should see immediately.”

Angelique followed to where a young boy of ten or eleven years lay on his bed. She smelled rot before the medic pulled back the sheet. It was all she could do not to gag. The young boy’s leg was black and moldy looking, with dead tissue from his foot to above his knee. Large chunks of skin had fallen off. The child was in serious danger of losing his life to a deadly snakebite.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” She looked at the medic. “Fer-de-lance?”

“Sí, Doctor. The venom is very fast acting.”

“How long has he been like this?”

“Two weeks. His brother carried him here from the village. He was given the antivenom, and it has stopped the progression of tissue death. I have done what I can, but I am no surgeon. As you can see, the skin is falling off.”

“Yes, tissue necrosis from the hemotoxins in the venom. He’s already lost most of his calf, and the necrosis is advancing beyond the knee. That leg is going to have to come off or he’ll die. We can continue with IV antibiotics, but the longer that leg stays on, the quicker he’s going to die. Frankly I’m amazed he’s still alive.”