The Echo of Violence (15 page)

Kate stopped before she blurted out her true thoughts. She didn’t know why he hadn’t killed her. Memories of that night flashed through her mind, a blur of painful attacks. Her face ached in throbbing waves. And she could barely open one eye. Her lip was split and hurt when she moved her mouth. The girl dipped a hand into the water bucket and washed her face with small fingers, careful not to hurt her. Her tenderness broke Kate’s heart. Joselyne made the rest of her pain fade.

“How are the other children?”

“They’re scared…but okay.”

“How is George…the wounded man? Is someone taking care of him?”

“He’s gone, Sister.” Joselyne shook her head. “I never saw them take him, but I think they…” The child struggled to tell her. “I heard them talking…after.”

Kate ached down to her soul for George and his family. To endure two tragic deaths from violence was too much to bear for those back home. And she hated that Joselyne had seen such horror. No one, much less a child, should have to witness such cruelty.

“Tell me what you heard, Joselyne. Please.” She reached for the child and tucked a strand of hair behind
her ear. “I must know what happened to George, for the sake of his family.”

“When you didn’t come back, none of us could sleep,” Joselyne whispered. “And after the storm came, we saw a light in the jungle. Those men. They were filming someone else. We didn’t know who, but later…that’s when I heard what they said.”

“If this is too hard, you don’t have to…”

“No, please.” Joselyne grabbed her arm and squeezed it, pleading with her eyes. “They laughed, Sister Kate. Those men laughed at what he said when he died. They made fun of how he begged for his life…and talked about his son. And they stole his wallet…and other things. Why? Why did they do that?”

Kate not only saw the distress on the child’s face, she saw her relief in being able to talk about it. The girl had seen things she did not understand. Kate didn’t comprehend these brutal men any more than the child did. Being captive, none of them were allowed to say much to each other. Misery and fear got bottled inside. Kate knew what it meant to speak freely. She felt the same, especially if talking allowed her to console Joselyne.

“I’m sorry…for all of this.” She kissed the girl’s hand. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“None of us should be here.” A tear rolled down Joselyne’s cheek. “I miss my father.”

“I know you do, honey.” Kate opened her arms, and the girl collapsed onto her chest. “Your father loves you very much. And if I have anything to do with it, you will see him again. I promise you.”

Kate knew she had no business making promises she couldn’t keep, but when she had stared into Joselyne’s eyes before, she had seen a child with a broken spirit. And she wanted to make things better, even if it required a goodly amount of wishful thinking for both of them.

“While it’s quiet, and it’s just the two of us, I want to…” Kate felt the sudden urge to tell Joselyne things that would die with her if they were never rescued.

Her stomach twisted with the knowledge that George had felt the same when he talked about his son. The man knew he was going to die and had come to accept it. Kate didn’t want to delve into her own motivation too deeply. Talking to Joselyne felt like the right thing to do, but she had to find a way to talk to the girl so she wouldn’t be scared.

“…I want to tell you about the dreams I’ve always had for you,” she began. The little girl rose and cocked her head, looking confused, but she listened and didn’t interrupt. “If I had a daughter, she would have been just like you.”

The child finally smiled and nestled back into the nun’s arms, laying her head on her shoulder. Kate talked about the future, the dreams she had imagined for Joselyne and the other children under her care. She wanted the girl to know that she could have choices in her life if she wanted them.

And woven into the story were her own hopes, her ambition to make a difference. Images of the young woman she had been flashed through her mind. Her family. The first boy who had ever kissed her. And her
devotion to God when she knew what she wanted to do with her life. Kate had so much more to accomplish, but she had a sickening feeling that she’d run out of time.

“It’s important to have dreams, Joselyne.” She stroked the child’s hair. “Do you have dreams, honey?” When the girl nodded, she said, “Tell me about them. I want to know everything. I want to hear your sweet voice…for as long as I can.”

In the muggy heat of the tent, she listened to the child in the dark, ignoring the pain in her body. She imagined them both safe and far away from their ordeal, but on the edge of her mind she wondered why Joselyne had been allowed to see her. She closed her eyes and held her, stroking her hair and whispering reassurances in her ear until a chilling realization hit her.

One man had made the decision for her to see Joselyne. And she had learned his name after he’d beaten her the other night.

On the surface, permitting her to see the girl might have appeared an act of kindness on his part. She knew better. In the brutal world of Abdul Kabir Sayed, the terrorist leader, everything had strings attached and a price to be paid.

In her quiet way she had resisted him, and that made him more enraged. She saw it in his eyes every time she stood before him. He expected her to bend to his will and accept his control over her fate. Kate wasn’t sure why her submission mattered to him, but it did.

And because the children meant a great deal to her,
they would become unwilling pawns in Sayed’s mind game. Reuniting her with Joselyne had only been a first step in a battle of wills that she wasn’t sure she had the strength to fight anymore.

New York City
Sentinels Headquarters

Without wasting any time, Jess had called Tanya Spencer, who directed her to take Seth to Garrett’s office. Tanya had met them on the way. Behind his closed office doors, Garrett hit a button that opened a safe room near his private elevator. Inside that reinforced chamber, he had a bank of high-tech computers with a control panel, a futuristic-looking conference table, and a weapons room. She also saw food and water reserves, oxygen tanks, gas masks, first-aid and other miscellaneous supplies—a small self-contained command center.

“You’re full of surprises.” Jess stepped into the chamber, sliding her fingers across the conference table.

“Honey, you have no idea,” Tanya said as she keyed data into a computer. “I’m putting in the coordinates Seth gave us for that video uplink.”

A low hum echoed in the room—sounding like
Star Wars
light sabers—and the center of the conference table lit up into an array of glowing pixels suspended in space. The holographic shape cast eerie shadows onto the faces of everyone in the room.

“Oh, no way.” Seth grinned and stepped closer to the table. He swiped a hand into the light and imitated Darth Vader. “Luke, I am your father.”

Tanya ignored him. “Now I’m pulling in an overlay of a topographic map of southeast Cuba.”

Holographic lights undulated and layered into the mountainous terrain of Cuba in a computer-generated mass. Jess joined Harper at the table, her mouth open like a kid on Christmas morning. A bright yellow dot of light glowed from a 3-D canyon to mark a specific location.

“Is that the bad guys?” Harper asked. He pointed to the glowing dot, pretending to crush them between his fingers.

“Yeah…your coordinates,” Tanya replied without looking up.

Jess was impressed by the technology. When she glanced at Garrett, he had his jaw clenched, and he looked anxious to assess the situation. The light show was only a tool for him to make decisions. Real lives were at stake.

“When I located the high-density bandwidth in Haiti and tracked that signal to Cuba, I noticed other cell phones in the area,” Seth told him. “That wouldn’t have surprised me in Chicago, but in a remote area in the mountains of Cuba, all the cell traffic seemed out of place.”

“That part of Cuba is host to a number of terrorist camps. And these groups have connections to their handlers in other parts of the world.” Garrett narrowed his eyes. “Alexa is behind enemy lines and operating in a global fishbowl of piranhas. She’s got to watch her ass and play it smart.”

While Tanya worked the keyboard, Garrett continued,
“We haven’t been able to contact her. The hurricane has disrupted communications. The storm shifted north before it hit land; otherwise, things would have been much worse.”

“Yeah, but she’s got a tracking beacon with her. Let’s try that,” Tanya pointed out. “I loaded her signal ID. It should be coming up…now.”

A pinpoint of red light shone from the top of a mountain. It blinked in regular intervals, a live signal. That seemed to please Garrett. If he couldn’t talk to Alexa, at least he could track her position. It was more than he had.

“Try her SAT phone,” Garrett told Tanya. “If her tracking-beacon signal is strong, maybe her phone will come in now.”

“Yeah, you got it.” Tanya picked up a safe-room phone and gave an order to one of her people. “Contact Marlowe ASAP and patch the call into Garrett’s safe room when you get the SAT connection.”

But a faint light flickered in a valley below the summit. Jess was the first to notice it. “What’s that? There’s another beacon out there. Are they both from Alexa?”

“That’s odd. She has more than one beacon for emergencies, but with a small team, I can’t see her splitting up like that.” Garrett’s expression grew solemn. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Why is that second beacon flickering?” Jess asked. “The signal looks weak.”

“For two reasons. That gorge looks pretty steep,” Garrett told her. “Mountains could block the signal, es
pecially if the satellite is low on the horizon. And that part of Cuba is dense with trees. A tracking beacon works best with a clear view to the sky.”

“Give me time to confirm that second signal,” Tanya said, working the keyboard. Jess knew from her training that a Sentinels’ tracking beacon would have identification embedded in its signal. It wouldn’t take long to ID the property assigned to Alexa’s team.

“Come on, Alexa. Talk to me,” Garrett muttered as he glared at the light show in front of him.

Jess knew what he was thinking. He could mobilize a backup team to assist Alexa, but he’d have no idea which tracking beacon would be hers. And the signal locations were far enough apart to make a difference. If he picked the wrong one to launch his support and guessed wrong, it would expose his intentions too soon and make it worse for Alexa and her team. And as close as the faint beacon was to the terrorists, by the time he rallied help, any skirmish could be over.

They had to talk to Alexa.
Now.

“If that’s Alexa on the ridge, she’s got ground to cover before nightfall. Whoever has the second signal in the valley, they’re practically on top of those bastards.” Jess shook her head, not taking her eyes off the holographic image in front of her. “But they’re too far apart and out of position to launch a simultaneous strike. What the hell is going on?”

I sure hope you know what you’re doing, Alexa.

Southeast Cuba
Sierra Maestra Mountain Range

Jackson Kinkaid hunched behind a tree with his back to a rock cliff. He leaned against the hard surface to catch his breath. Fever had robbed him of his usual stamina. He shrugged out of his gear to locate his meds. And he palmed more antibiotics and sucked down water from his hydration pack.

Overdosing on antibiotics was the least of his problems.

He retrieved his thermal infrared binoculars to get a better look at the village beneath his position. Four armed men stood guard with AK-47s on the outskirts of a clearing, and a lone sniper had taken a spot on a ridge with a bird’s-eye view of the canyon. Shanty houses were nestled along the tree line, with smoke curling from some of the stone chimneys. A communal fire pit burned in the center of the village, and makeshift tents made of worn tarps, cinder blocks, and corrugated metal were on the perimeter. Food preparation
and the smell of burning wood wafted in the evening air as men with dark skin primed for a meal. Most of the inhabitants wore paramilitary gear, and so far he hadn’t seen a woman in the camp. By the looks of the weapons and the setup, he’d found another terrorist training camp.

And the tracks he’d followed since the afternoon had led straight to the camp.

With his binoculars, he searched the shacks and tents for any sign of the hostages. The hovels on the edge of the village had the most potential. The armed guards concentrated their patrolling duties around a particular group of dwellings. For the sake of efficiency, he thought the hostages would be together.

Come on, Kate. Show yourself. Where are you?

Nightfall was closing in, and soon it would be too dark for him to identify the hostages. He’d seen enough to know these men held captives. A young girl had been hauled from a tent by a guard and moved to another hovel. She wore a tattered party dress.

He’d seen the girl before at the fund-raiser. Although he didn’t remember her name, he knew she was one of Kate’s students. And the guard had moved her to where more children were held. Since he’d seen Kate with four kids on the beach in Haiti, Kinkaid had little doubt that wherever the children were, the nun would be held, too. She was headstrong enough not to be separated from them. With confirmation of hostages, he worked on a rescue plan.

Alone, he knew he might not save them all, and that he’d have to improvise to do what he could. He didn’t
want to think about innocent lives snuffed out on his watch or be forced to leave anyone behind; but given the situation, that reality was a highly likely scenario.

With the sniper positioned on the ridge at nightfall, he figured the man had night-vision gear and had to be taken out first. And the guards nearest the children’s tent would be his next targets. His assault rifle would be a weapon of last resort. Any killing would have to be done in deadly silence. He wouldn’t get another chance.

Not knowing where Alexa and her team were, he couldn’t count on them for backup. He’d be on his own.

Targeting the sniper, Kinkaid made his way up the hill and took the long way around so that the guards wouldn’t see him. In his condition, the climb took longer. Sweat stung his eyes, and his vision blurred. And in the dark, his depth perception was off, a reaction from the infection. He wiped a hand over his face and blinked to clear his sight. His head ached, and a steady, incessant ringing in his ears hampered the use of his other senses. He was insane to attempt this rescue alone, but Kate and the other hostages had no one else. Not now.

On the ridge, Kinkaid stopped dead still when he smelled something on the muggy air. The sniper was smoking. To confirm his suspicions, he used his own surveillance gear and watched as the guard took another drag. A dull red ember glowed in the dark. The bastard had the nerve to smoke on duty.

His nasty habit would cost him.

Kinkaid set down his pack—grimacing with the pain—and ditched his gear close by. He slung his assault rifle over his shoulder, carrying the weapon only as a backup plan. When he slipped his bowie knife from its sheath, the blade whispered its lethal hiss, and he crept toward the enemy sharpshooter.

The man never saw him coming.

Sticking to her plan, Alexa had traveled the mountain ridge until her trackers saw no more fresh signs. Before it got too dark, her team had started to descend into the gorge with each man alert and moving in silence. She suspected the canyon had hostiles, and she’d given her orders. Rotating their duties, her men would launch a series of reconnaissance missions to locate their target. No fire. No food prep. No rest. They’d work through the night to make up for lost time. She sensed they were close and hoped luck would be on their side.

Her thoughts drifted to Jackson Kinkaid, and she pictured him alone in the cave, thoroughly pissed at her for leaving him and even more angry at her for drugging him. If he hadn’t been seriously hurt and in need of a doctor, she might have smiled at the thought of pulling one over on such a cagey guy.

But their situation wasn’t even remotely entertaining.

“Got a call from home base,” Hank Lewis whispered as he caught up to her and handed over the SAT phone. “Urgent.”

She gave the signal for her team to stop and take cover while she fielded the call.

“Martini One.” She kept her voice low. “Talk to me.”

It took a long moment for her response to make connection with the caller. SAT phones worked with a delay. She even heard the echo of her own voice.

Eventually the caller said, “We’ve triangulated the position of the target.”

She recognized the voice of Garrett Wheeler. He gave her the coordinates, and she relayed the information to Hank.

“Confidence is high on this intel, but we’re showing two active beacons. Can you confirm?” he asked.

She narrowed her eyes and thought about what he’d told her.

“Only one beacon active. X marks the spot for a pickup, with second beacon anchored.”

“That’s negative, Martini One. We show two beacons on the move. I repeat, two on the move.” Although Garrett’s voice sounded strained, he didn’t break protocol to reveal too much on the transmission—or ask obvious questions.

When he gave her the coordinates, she shrugged at Hank and relayed the information. At first her mind reeled with what it meant; but if Garrett showed two tracking beacons moving, that meant only one thing.

Kinkaid hadn’t stayed put. He was on the move, and that wasn’t possible, not in his condition.

“What’s going on, Martini One?” Garrett finally asked.

“We’ll evaluate the situation and contact you when we know more. Martini One out.”

Garrett wouldn’t be happy with her cutting him off,
but her team had to move. If she knew Jackson Kinkaid, he’d be pissing in the wind of a real shitstorm. And from what she’d seen of his feelings for Kate, he’d have little regard for an exit strategy. On this mission, the guy hadn’t backed down or compromised. He’d been reacting on pure instinct and showed no fear—as if he had a death wish.

“Damn it,” she cursed.

“What’s going on?” Hank knelt by her.

“I’m willing to bet our FNG is channeling Chuck Norris.” Alexa used an acronym Hank knew well. Fucking new guy meant Kinkaid. “I think he’s flying solo and found our hostages. Those coordinates will get us there.”

“You got orders?”

“Yeah.” She raised en eyebrow. “Let’s give him a hand. He can’t hog all the fun.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Hank grinned. To the men, he gave a hand signal, and they moved out, double time.

Alexa cursed Kinkaid under her breath and joined her men. She should never have left him behind.
Damn it!
If he weren’t already dead when she got there, she’d be tempted to shoot him herself—if that weren’t a waste of ammo.

A pungent smell filled Kinkaid’s nostrils in the heat—and rightly so, it stayed. The blood of the dead sniper not only left its odor and stained his clothes. It marked his soul. The memory of the nightmarish moment would plague him in the days and years to
come. And he had no doubt another face would haunt his nights.

He’d pinned the smaller man down with a hand over his mouth. The sniper bucked under his weight until Kinkaid plunged the blade into his neck. Warm blood gushed onto his hand, and arterial spray pulsated onto his clothes and face. It was over in seconds, and the man stopped struggling. When Kinkaid pulled his hand away, the guy’s mouth gapped open, and his eyes stared at nothing.

An eerie stillness replaced his desperate last breaths after his lungs emptied for the last time.

Few would understand, but Kinkaid felt it was his duty to remember. Taking a man’s life should never be easy, no matter what the reason. And forgetting or dismissing it would be an even greater offense.

Darkness had settled onto the gorge, leaving only a sliver of moon to cast its dim haze across the rock cliffs and trees. He crept down a slope toward the outskirts of the village. Digging his bootheels into the soil, he crossed the steep hill at a slant and braced an arm against the incline to steady himself. He avoided the dense underbrush and stayed clear of the established trail, fearing it might be booby-trapped.

When he made it to the canyon floor, he got a bad case of the shakes, and dizziness forced him to stop. He found a dark shadowy spot to hide and gulped more water, splashing some on his face and neck. The fever had gotten worse. His neck and shoulders ached, and sweat drenched his clothes. The infection seethed
through his body in a constant clash between churning heat and a rush of chills. He chose to believe that the pain racking his body was only weakness relinquishing its hold on him.

Push through it, Kinkaid.

When he peered through the trees using the thermal infrared imaging capability of his binoculars, the tactical gear allowed him to see in the dark, and ghostly colored images were magnified. The village had quieted down. Not much foot traffic. And the fire pit in the center of the clearing had been reduced to glowing red ashes. No one tended it.

Kinkaid did a quick head count of the guards he’d seen before and watched their movements until he felt ready to go. He stashed his pack in a safe spot to retrieve later—alongside the weapon he’d taken off the sniper—and grabbed his HK G3 assault rifle before he headed out. He’d have to travel light to move fast.

Come on, Kate. Be there with the kids.
He figured there would be only one reason Kate wouldn’t be with the children. She was already dead. Kinkaid steeled himself for that reality. He’d know soon enough.

Twenty minutes later

Kinkaid dragged the dead man’s body away into the brush, the last of the guards keeping watch over the hostages. He stashed the AK-47s with the two bodies. More armed men patrolled the camp perimeter. He’d have only a brief opportunity to speak to the captives and convince them to come with him.

Carrying his assault rifle, he crouched low and crept toward the hovel where he’d seen the children. If he found Kate there, he wouldn’t have to persuade the kids to follow him. Kate would know what to do, and she could help with the other captives, too. When he got to the tent, he avoided the side facing the clearing. That side of the tent was too risky and would force him to turn his back on the other guards.

Instead, he moved to the rear of the tarp and used his knife to cut through it. He opened the torn flap and found the children cowering in the far corner. When he used a small penlight to see inside, the beam flashed across the terrified faces of the kids. They squinted and held up small hands to block the light.

The oldest girl shielded the others. Her eyes were brimming in tears. And even though her chin was jutted out in defiance, her lips trembled. The child didn’t say a word, nor did she make a sound. Brave girl…and smart.

“Sister Kate. Where is she?” he whispered, and looked over his shoulder for any sign of movement. When the girl didn’t respond quickly enough, he repeated his question in French.

At the mention of Kate’s name, the expression of the oldest girl softened, and she whispered something to the other kids before she crawled toward him.

“Why are you asking about Sister Kate?” the girl questioned in English, letting him know she spoke his language.

“My name is Jackson Kinkaid. Sister Kate is my friend. I’ve come to rescue you…all of you.” He
craned his neck over the tent and looked into the clearing. A guard was edging closer. With three more tents to check out, Kinkaid was running out of time.

“Where is she?” he asked again.

The girl reached for his arm and tugged at his sleeve to bring him inside. And even though every move brought him pain, he followed her lead. She crawled toward the other side of the tent and pointed across the clearing.

“They have her there, the third tent to the left of the fire.” She pointed a tiny finger, keeping her movement masked in shadows. “She is very sick. They beat her. I thought they’d killed her.” The girl sobbed when a rush of emotions hit her.

He stroked her dark hair and kissed her forehead. “I’m getting you out of here. What’s your name, honey?”

“Joselyne.” She wiped tears from her face with a dirty hand and took a ragged breath.

“You’re a brave girl, Joselyne.”

He tapped her nose with a finger and forced himself to smile to put her at ease. Having the children and the other captives separated from Kate made things tough. He knew what he had to do, but the decision to leave Kate for last wasn’t an easy one for him to make.

“I have to check on the other hostages. Which tents are they in?” he asked. After the girl told him what he needed to know, he said, “Stay quiet. I’ll come back for you. I promise. Then you’re all going home.”

The word “home” struck him and brought unexpected and bittersweet memories. He hadn’t had a real
home in so long that the word sounded like a foreign language, but by the look in Joselyne’s eyes, she knew what home meant. And he was determined to make it happen for all the children.

With reluctance, he left the kids behind while he made contact with the other hostages. Scrambling from tent to tent had taken time. After he’d gathered the others, Kinkaid kept them moving and quiet. He positioned himself between the captives and the remaining guards on duty. If they were spotted, he didn’t want innocent lives caught in the cross fire. When they reached the children’s tent, Joselyne had the kids ready to go. In silence, they crawled through the opening he’d made in the back of their tent.