Operation Willow Quest (9 page)

“Tonight?”

“It goes against everything I’ve been trained
to do, which is taking into account all the possibilities and evaluating each
of them carefully. That’s the complete opposite of what we’re about to do.”

“How many times has anything gone exactly to
plan?” she asked skeptically. “Even with months of training and
planing
, you can’t tell me you still don’t have to go out
there and improvise a little?”

“At least we know what we’re up against before
we go in,” he answered dryly, looking at her with a strange light. “How do
you
know what we do anyway—I thought
marines weren’t your
thing
,” he said,
raising an eyebrow.

She shrugged. “It’s just common sense,” she
retorted, determined not to get into a fresh round of debating the good and
evils of military force…with a Marine.

He made a slight snort in his throat, but
didn’t comment further.

“So we go in tonight?” The thought made a
slight trickle of fear run down her spine.

“Guess so,” he acknowledged.

They spent the rest of the afternoon mapping
out the plan of attack. Del drew a brief
sketch of the alarm layout while Willow
tried to follow carefully. With a dismal shake of his head, Del finally looked over at her and sighed.
“I guess it’s as good as we can make it under the circumstances,” he muttered.

It’ll
have to do
, she thought desperately. After spending an afternoon
thinking about
Trèago
—or the men he worked
with—catching up with them, it was enough to frighten her into agreeing to make
a hasty retreat as soon as they located what they were looking for. “Do you
have ski masks?” Willow
asked him, as she came out of the bathroom wearing the darkest clothing she had
with her.

“Ski masks? Don’t you think that might be a
little over the top?”

‘“Burglars wear them, I’m assuming it’s not to
ward off the cold,” she snipped. “I thought you’d think of it.”

“It might surprise you to discover that I’ve
never actually committed a felony before in my life,” he told her, sounding a
lot like he’d been insulted.

They made their way down to the office
building, only too aware of the dangers of walking any big city’s streets at
night, let alone Colombia’s.
Willow bit her
lip uncertainly, as a sudden image popped into her head, of the two of them
being mugged on their way to commit a
misdemeanour
of
their own. She didn’t think Del
would find the irony amusing at the moment though, as he jiggled the lock with
a nasty-looking set of tools he’d brought along, so she kept the thought to
herself. With a snap the lock clicked open—the noise sounding loud in the quiet
street around them.

Once inside they hurried towards Terry’s
office, but Del
signalled
for her to wait where she was. He was gone
only a few minutes, but Willow
spent the time scouring the shadows, positive they’d be discovered at any
moment and dragged off to jail.

He touched her shoulder, making her jump in
fright and she let out a shriek of alarm. Clasping her hand over her mouth, she
looked over at Del
in silent apology, grimacing as he rolled his eyes, then narrowed them in warning.
Justly chastised, she nodded to assure him she was fine to keep going and followed
him into the reception area she’d been in earlier that same day.

Pointing down the hall, Del led the way to another door and opened
it quietly. Terry’s name was on the front and she paused when she saw it,
before brushing her sorrow aside for the moment. There was too much at stake
right now. Willow
went straight for the large desk. Pulling on the smooth timber drawer handles,
she gave a small groan when they refused to budge. “They’re locked,” she
whispered across to Del,
who stood guard at the door.

Moving back to allow him access to the drawers,
she watched as he deftly worked his magic set of tools once more and jimmied
the lock. Rifling through the contents, Willow
shook her head impatiently as she caught his frown of enquiry. “It’s not here.
The little package I saw him put away isn’t in here.”

Del
started on the other
side of the desk, shaking his head when he too came up empty.

The filing cabinet was next and Willow opened the drawer
containing T’s, wishing it were that easy—but there was no file relating to
Trèago
. Carefully she flicked through the other cupboards,
searching for some name or an item that might jump out at her.

“Find anything?” Del asked, coming up behind her and looking
over her shoulder.

“Nothing,” she said with a shake of her head,
unable to keep the disappointment and despair from her voice. “At least nothing
working in the dark under this pressure. Maybe we could take some of these
files back to the hotel room with us?”

“No way,” Del said, then gave an impatient sigh.
“We’re out of time, the security guard will be making his rounds soon, and I
don’t want to be here when he does.”

Willow let her gaze wander the room, the
bookcase on the other side catching her eye, and she moved toward it quickly,
moving books about, hoping to find something hiding behind them.

Del
followed her progress
across the room, shifting his glance between Willow and the doorway to the outer office.

“There has to be
something
here,” she said with a frustrated grunt in her throat.

“Maybe whatever you thought he had was with him
in the car. Maybe it’s gone,” he whispered.

Shuffles from outside made both of them freeze
in their tracks. “It’s the guard,” he muttered. “Get under the desk.” He
quickly pushed her in before him.

Willow
felt her heart thump
in alarm as the footsteps echoed through the empty office building, drawing
closer. Del
sat huddled beside her, his eyes trained on the floor—ready to spring into
action if the need arose. There was a rattle and a squeak as the door opened,
before a beam of light bounced around the room in a routine check. Then the
footsteps retreated and the room was once again dark and silent.

Willow
released the breath
she’d been holding—too scared to breathe in case she gave away their hiding
spot. Easing out from under the desk, Del
put out a hand to help her to her feet before moving toward the doorway,
checking the guard had gone. Waving her over, he ushered her through the door
and went back to fix the alarm he’d somehow
immobilised
on their entry. They slid out a side-door entrance, keeping to the shadows as
they crept back around to the front of the building. Willow was tempted to run
all the way back to the hotel but Del eased her back alongside him and took her
hand in his, keeping their pace to a cautious stroll.

Expecting at any moment to be tapped on the
shoulder by a police officer and slapped into a pair of handcuffs, she was
relieved when they made it to the motel without incident, letting out a small
sigh of relief as they stepped into the elevator.

“Miss Sheldon, wait.”

Willow
thought she might pass
out as a man in hotel uniform came running towards the lift, thrusting his hand
between the doors and making them spring back open. The puffing, round little
man flashed them a relieved smile. “Miss Sheldon, I’m terribly sorry, there was
some kind of mix-up today, and somehow this got overlooked. I’m very sorry
about the delay,” he
apologised
profusely.

Willow
sent Del a confused glance before turning back to
the man, noticing the envelope he held in his hand which he extended toward
her. With numb fingers, she reached out, murmuring a “thank you”, as she stared
uncertainly at the package in her hand. Her name was scrawled across it. The
door slid shut in front of the hotel concierge’s beaming face and Willow sought out Del’s
gaze with a small hopeful smile. Noting the lack of postage stamps on the
yellow envelope, she
realised
someone must have
delivered it.

“You have got to be kidding me. If that’s what
I think it is—we risked our necks to break into an office looking for something
that was at the front desk the whole time,” Del growled.

Willow
went to rip open the
package but Del
caught her hand and shook his head. “Wait,” he told her, his stare fixed on the
numbers above the door as they counted their way up.

As the door closed behind them inside the room,
Del turned to
face her and she couldn’t help the relieved smile which broke out across her
face as she stared back at him. “How does it feel to be a felon?” he asked, as
he returned her grin.

“Terrible,” she lied, unable to wipe the smile
from her face. They stared at one another until with an impulsive action she
leant forward and kissed him quickly. “Thank you,” she whispered, suddenly feeling
shy and awkward.

“Any time,” he said in a slow drawl that curled
her toes and made her heart throb painfully.

“I don’t think there’ll be a second time—my
heart wouldn’t stand the excitement.”

“Are you going to open that thing now, or
what?” he prompted, glancing down at the envelope.

She was giddy with relief—for a moment she’d forgotten
all about the package she held in her hand. Crossing the room, she tore it open
and emptied the contents onto the bed. A small memory stick fell out, and Willow withdrew a piece of
folded paper.

Del
moved closer and
reached out to pick up the memory stick, rubbing his thumb across the plastic
object thoughtfully.

Willow
gave a murmur in her
throat, still reading. “Terry says here that he sent me copies of the information
he was going to hand in to authorities…” She paused, pushing away the tightness
in her chest.

Del
walked across the room
to the window.

“We need to see what’s on these,” muttered Willow.

“Not just yet,” he said, “get your gear, we’re
leaving.”

She stared at him, concerned by the rough
urgency in his voice. “What?”

“Grab whatever you have and let’s go. The
police just pulled up out the front and I don’t think it’s a social visit.”

She grabbed her computer and suitcase, already
packed in anticipation of their departure, and followed Del out of the room. As she reached out to
press the button to call the lift, Del’s
hand shot out and stopped her. “We’ll take the stairs.”

Sparing him a wary glance, she followed him
silently. His soldier mask was back in place and she felt a slight tremor of
fear scuttle down her spine at its appearance.

He carried her suitcase
easily in one hand and his own luggage in the other, while she followed behind
with her laptop and handbag. Their footsteps echoed eerily on the staircase as
they made their way down to the ground floor, stopping when they reached the
lobby level, where Del
carefully looked out. “Damn,” he whispered under his breath. Easing the door
closed, he turned, heading back up to the level above. Going through the door,
he set off in a jog and Willow
hurried to keep up until they reached a door at the end opening on to a narrow
staircase leading down.

“Where does this go?”

“It’s a service entrance,” he told her briskly.
The silence was nerve-racking compared to the echo of the fire escape
stairwell. As they moved along the long corridor they passed several doors and Willow
realised
they were back down behind the restaurant and
reception area. Opening a door on the right, Del looked out once more and seeing the
coast was clear, beckoned her to follow. They walked across a loading dock
where she assumed trucks brought in the supplies for the kitchen and laundry
items were dispatched.

Coming out on a side street, she followed him
around the block, behind the hotel. They grabbed the first available taxi. He
spoke briefly to the driver, scanning the area as the car pulled out from the
curb.

“You know we’re not going to get on a flight
out today, don’t you?” Willow
said quietly as he continued to keep an eye on their surroundings. She knew
from previous experience most airlines over booked and it was common for people
to have to wait an extra day or two until another departure became available.
Topped with the fact you had to be at the airport several hours earlier than
your flight—just to get to the ticket counter. There was no way they’d make it
now.

“We aren’t going to the airport,” he said,
without looking at her, “the police will have the airport sealed up pretty
tight.”

“Are you sure they were at the hotel looking
for us? How could they have known?”

“We might have set off a silent alarm as we
left, or someone could have seen us—who the hell knows? Could have been one of
a thousand things…I wasn’t going to stick around to find out,” he told her
gravely. “Spending a couple of years in a Colombian jail wasn’t something I had
in mind when I came down here,” he added.

“But if it wasn’t us they were after than we’re
running for nothing,” Willow
said.

“Willow,
they’re on to us.” His certainty gave her a chill of unease. “
Trèago
probably pays half of them and if he doesn’t it’s a
sure bet whoever he’s got on his payroll, does. We have to find another way out
of here.”