Operation Summer Storm (12 page)

“Here, when I decide you are to die…you die,” he told them with a triumphant smile. “Until then, you may go back to your hut and rest.” His evil smile made the bile rise in her throat.

A push from behind caught her off guard making her stumble forward and almost fall. Something inside her snapped. She was sick of being pushed, prodded and terrified out of her wits. Rounding on the surprised soldier, Summer beat at his chest, yelling and screaming still in shock only moments after witnessing a cold-blooded murder. Outraged by the abuse they’d unleashed upon her sister and her friends.

She never saw it coming—the rifle butt against her temple. The flash of pain dulled almost instantaneously as she lost consciousness and fell to the ground.

* * * *

Hidden high on the mountain slope above the camp, Tate had been unprepared for the sudden appearance of two soldiers towing a terrified Summer into camp like an animal at the end of a rope. Lying in his position, his eyes pressed against his powerful binoculars in disbelief, Tate swore long and hard, dropping his head in despair. The plan would have to be amended. Instead of four hostages, there were now five.

The fear that clenched his gut made it hard to concentrate on his mission. He stopped and cursed, this was a whole new experience. He’d never been personally connected to a hostage before this mission; they’d only ever been faceless details on a piece of paper.

That was before Summer Sheldon bulldozed her way into his life.

A whole can of worms had now been opened. Tate knew, even if she hadn’t told them who she was here with, they’d be suspicious of a lone female in the middle of the jungle. Waiting until tomorrow would no longer be an option for them. It would have to be tonight. With their decision made, they began to plan the best vantage points and attack zones. They were used to missions going haywire—it was the nature of the beast after all, so coming up with a plan B, C, and D was nothing new. What was new, though, was for the first time ever in his distinguished career, Tate—Ox—Maddox found it hard to keep his focus.

Then Tréago had appeared.

All four men had taken a collective breath. Fingers itched on triggers, each of them wanting nothing more than to squeeze the trigger and put a bullet through the bastard’s head. Years of training and discipline were the only thing that stopped any of them from actually fulfilling their fantasy. They needed to take him in alive. Too much depended on a trial.

Watching the execution was hard but they had been out-numbered and out-gunned. Their best defense lay in careful planning and positioning…and then Summer had opened her mouth. Tate groaned when he saw the commander stop before her. From his position, he’d gotten a good look at the expression on her face and knew what was about to come. Summer was about to crack—and she had—spectacularly. Taking on a group of rebel soldiers who outweighed, outnumbered, and out-gunned her had not been the smartest move—but Tate had to admire her spirit, if not her stupidity.

Over the years he’d witnessed many atrocities—and by any measure, a hit to the head was not the worst that could happen. But it had stirred a reaction inside him so potent that without thought—he almost leapt to his feet. Had it not been for Del pushing him back down, he probably would have headed down the mountainside—determined to take on the entire camp—
Rambo
style.

“What the hell are you doin’ man?” Del hissed as he restrained Tate.

He shook his head and wondered the same thing,
what the hell
am
I doing?

Tate’s eyes were fixed on Summer’s pale face. She lay at the feet of the commander like a limp rag doll, an ugly red mark covered her temple in the shape of a rifle butt.

“She’s all right,” Del told him, eyeing him strangely. “She’s just knocked out.”

The three men who’d always known him for his ability to hold an unwavering nerve in a crisis, now regarded him with varying degrees of curiosity. That’s when it hit him.

He’d fallen for her.

She was the most argumentative, pig headed woman he’d ever met—and she was the one who’d finally done him in.

Biting down hard on that train of thought, he pushed it to the back of his mind to chew over later. Right now he had to keep his mind on staying alive. Snatching the binoculars from Del with a muttered curse, Tate once again settled down to watch the camp below. He saw them take Summer into the commanders’ hut and frowned, worried at what this might mean. Were they taking her there for medical attention…or for reasons far more sinister? All he could do now was wait for darkness to give them the element of surprise.

It was the longest Goddamn sunset he’d ever had to sit through.

* * * *

Summer’s head pounded with every breath she took and she bit her lip to keep from groaning aloud. The sound only echoed in her head, making it ache even more. She tried to work out why it hurt so much, but in the end gave up. Even thinking hurt. The sound of the toad’s voice brought everything flooding back and in a blinding flash, it all came back to her…

At first she’d thought he’d been speaking to her, but after a few moments she realized he was on the phone. Trying not to draw attention to herself, unable to face his endless questions while her head felt as though it had been squashed in a vice, Summer remained where she was and tried to gather her scattered wits.

“I will have the tape delivered to you immediately. Yes, I imagine it should make her start talking. What will we do if she still refuses to talk? Oh no, I have not forgotten all my little tricks to encourage a reluctant informer to reveal what I need to know. I would be happy to come and pay your guest a visit. It would be my pleasure,
monsieur
Tréago.”

Summer heard a disconnecting beep and the phone dropped back onto the desk. Her heart now pounded in time with her throbbing head…Tréago? Oh God, it all made sense now; that’s why Willow wasn’t here, Tréago had her… and that was who the man in the car had been; they were talking about Willow.

Had the execution filmed today been in order to make Willow tell them about the file? Where the hell did these people have her sister? The realization that she was obviously not anywhere in the camp was both a relief and a catastrophe. A relief because at least this crazy man didn’t have someone torturing her in a nearby hut, and a catastrophe because now they would have no idea where she had been sent.

Wresting with an onslaught of emotions, Summer realized it would be up to her to find out where they’d taken her sister. There was no way she was leaving this place without her.

Lifting her head slightly, she gave a gasping moan as pain stabbed at the back of her eye sockets and across her skull.

“So, you have decided to come back to us?”

Opening her eyes, she blinked to clear her blurry eyes. The room came into focus and she managed to look over at the man who’d spoken. “I was hoping you were just a bad dream,” she said quietly so as not to jar her pounding head.

“We did not finish our discussion earlier. I’m eager to continue.” He smiled, folding his chubby hands across his desk, looking as though he were prepared to wait an eternity for her answer.

Summer felt an immediate flood of dread as he called out for one of his soldiers to come inside. Ordering Summer to her feet, she was heaved upright and pushed toward the Generals desk by the overzealous soldier showing all the compassion of a serial killer with a hangover. Summer was forced to grab the edge of the desk in order to keep her balance and sent the man a venomous glare over her shoulder as he turned and left the hut without a backward glance.

“What you were doing up here in the mountains?” she heard the steel-edged anger which ran beneath the surface of his words.

“I am an ecologist,” she told him wearily.

“You are lying to me. You have no documents, you have no equipment, and you have no research notes,” he said not bothering to hide his obvious suspicion.

“I am searching for the appropriate place to make a base camp. My equipment is far too heavy and expensive to carry around with me.”

He stared at her, weighing up her answers carefully. Summer wasn’t sure if she’d managed to bluff him or not. She could almost bring herself to be thankful to the pain in her head and face giving her something else to focus on while he pondered her story at excruciating length. Under normal conditions, she probably would have broken down and admitted her guilt long before now.

Her gaze rested on the desk, its worn and tattered surface covered by a large, colorful aerial photo, crudely taped to the desk and a satellite phone. The new technology seemed so out of place in this strange outpost of outdated, recycled bits and pieces.

“I still do not believe you,” he said at length, “but for the moment, I have no choice. You are however, my hostage and will be kept here with the others.” He strode to the door and pulled it open shouting an order. The same soldier who’d pushed her earlier came forward to pull her roughly by the arm back to the hut.

The fact this man was a contact of Tréago’s was more than a little unsettling. Once the connection was made between Willow and herself, they would surely use this to their advantage. After all if they weren’t above using torture, God only knew what they’d do if…when…they realized they had Willow’s sister, right underneath their noses.

Chapter Eight

The mood in the hut was subdued, more so than it had been previously with the death of the Doctor weighing heavily on everyone’s mind.

Summer gazed toward the two nurses. Michelle was rocking the much larger Anna back and forth comforting the distraught young woman. They were taking the loss of their colleague and friend understandably hard.

Summer worried her bottom lip. What were they going to do? The two nurses were in no condition to travel any distance on foot. They would need medical attention as soon as possible; and finding Willow’s location would mean they’d be stuck here in the jungle, for who knew how much longer.

She caught Michelle’s eye and summoned a confident smile, “Just hang on, it’s going to be all right,” Summer told them.

“You think we have not said that to ourselves before?” Anna flared up at her. “What do you know? You have been here not yet one day. We have lived like this for weeks. No one is going to save us. We are all going to die like Philippe.” She sobbed uncontrollably.

Summer’s composure wavered. “We will get out of here,” she whispered, closing her eyes and trying to push away the terrifying images of the execution. Why hadn’t the men stopped the execution? What had gone wrong? How could they just sit up there and let them kill that poor man?

A little voice wondered if they were even still up there. Maybe they’d seen her taken and decided to leave; but immediately she knew that had not happened. If they hadn’t wanted to be here, they could have got rid of her at any number of places along the way. No. They were out there. She just wished they’d hurry up and get in here. They still had to find Willow and precious time was wasting while she was trapped in this horrible place. Her eyes started to close. She felt herself drifting away but she forced herself to stay alert. She had to be awake when they came down that mountainside. She sat up straighter and tried to concentrate on something other than her head.

She settled on the image of a certain naked mercenary, covered in soap suds and held it firmly in her mind.

* * * *

If Summer had been worried about missing some kind of signal from Tate, she needn’t have—the explosion which rocked the hut would have woken a dead man.

Immediately, she scampered across the hut toward the two women huddled fearfully in the corner. Anna was still too traumatized to be rational and Summer had to shake her and yell to get her attention. “We’re getting out of here Anna. You have to stop this and listen to me.”

“We’re going to die!” she screamed back.

“No, we’re not. You’re going home.”

“I’ll take care of her,” Michelle said with calm authority. Summer didn’t argue. She moved to the slits in the wall looking out to see utter chaos had engulfed the camp. Huts were exploding and the watchtower was on fire. Smoke hung heavily in the air. She could hear the rebel soldiers shouting amongst the confusion and terror—the screams of the wounded mixed with the rattle of machine guns as they echoed through the jungle night. Summer sent a reverent prayer everyone would make it out of this in one piece.

The women looked to Summer expectantly—waiting for her next move. Good question, she thought to herself—what now? Instinctively though, she knew they should wait—someone would come for them.

The door crashed open to reveal the dark figure of a man in the doorway of the hut. There was a fleeting moment of panic as she took in the black-smeared face before her. Icy fingers of dread ran up her spine as memories of the night she’d been kidnapped resurfaced—terror momentarily immobilizing her.
No! never again
. Summer pushed the fear to the back of her mind and her vision cleared. A surge of relief washing over her as she recognized Tate’s eyes, looking back at her from beneath the camouflage. She’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

Summer flew across the room and flung herself into his arms. Tate softened enough to hug her to his chest tightly for the briefest of moments before letting her go. “Okay, we have to get out of here—keep down,” he yelled over the gunfire to the women. He started at a gentle pace, no doubt to allow the women to keep up—mindful of the probability of a wide range of injuries.