WAR: Disruption (28 page)

“That’s right.”

For a long moment they remained like that, forehead to forehead, breathing one another’s air. So peaceful and connected that he wished they could stay like this. Because he was terrified that if he let Emily out of his sight, something awful would happen and he’d never see her again.

She broke the spell by pulling away. Walking over to the edge of the gully, she stared down, shook her head, then walked several paces to the left. “I’m not seeing any safe path down. There’s no slope here, just a sheer drop to the tops of the trees.”

Max hobbled over and checked to the other side of her. He cursed. “You’re right. You need a place with minimal vegetation or at least low-growing bushes you can easily break through. Some place without too many branches that could snag the rope you’ll have tied around your waist. Not too steep an angle, so you won’t slide all the way down. Gentle enough that you can climb back up carrying the briefcase.”

“Still nothing,” she called from several yards away.

“Okay. Let’s split up again,” Max suggested. “You go left. I’ll go right. We’ll meet back here in half an hour.”

Unfortunately, the part of the gully that Max examined was more of the same. A straight drop from the edge through an impassable tangle of trees and bushes. When they met up again, he shook his head. “No luck. You?”

“Maybe,” she said. “Come look.”

The spot she led him to had a steep, but manageable slope that after a hundred yards or so ended at the crown of a large tree with branches big enough to hold Emily’s weight. The slope was dotted with bushes she could use to slow her descent, but it also had enough space between the bushes for her to move freely. “We don’t know what happens to the ground after that tree,” he pointed out. For all they knew, the ground dropped away after that.

“I know, but I don’t think we’re going to find anything better.” She shrugged. “Besides, worst-case scenario, the ground becomes too steep for me to walk down. I step into the tree’s branches and hope I can climb safely to the bottom.”

Max’s stomach lurched. Without walkie talkies, they wouldn’t be able to communicate once she reached the tree. Just as bad, the satellite phone wouldn’t work under the thick canopy covering the gully, leaving her no way to call Kris for help.

Yet, he suspected they hadn’t seen the last of the helicopter. Whether it had been searching for him and Emily or for the plane, they couldn’t waste any more time. She needed to do this now.

He checked the position of the sun, then his watch. It was only ten-thirty. “You have plenty of time before the sun starts going down. Let’s say that you’ll return no later than five.” At that point, the light would be fading, but full dark wouldn’t hit until six or so.

Emily nodded.

He glanced at her feet. “Do you think you can navigate the slope with your backpack on?”

She shrugged, then eyed the slope. “Honestly, given my blisters and how tired I am, I don’t think I’m up to balancing the weight of the pack on such unstable ground. Not with that steep an angle. Maybe you can use the rope to lower the pack to me after I’ve reached the tree?”

“Good idea.” He searched for the rope while Emily slipped out of her pack and removed several non-critical items. “Make sure you take first aid supplies and the night vision goggles with you.” He’d put a new battery in the goggles before they left the Jeep.

“Yes, Max.” He didn’t have to look over to know she was rolling her eyes.

A moment later she showed him the contents of her fanny pack. “Is this acceptable?” She’d packed her camera, one of the bags of groundnuts from her homestay mother, and a few basic medical supplies. At his nod, she fastened the bag around her waist, then checked that her water bottle sat securely within its special holder.

“All right, found the rope. Take this extra piece with you.” He passed it over, then looked around for a sturdy bush. “I’ll anchor you from here with this other rope. Once you reach the tree, I’ll send down your rucksack.”

After tying the rope to the trunk of the bush and testing it, he rummaged in his pack again. “Here, take my knife. You might need it to free the briefcase.”

She grimaced. “In case I have to cut it away from the courier’s body.”

“Yeah.” He’d already explained about the various setups for secure briefcases and that if the courier was chained to the briefcase, the chain would be unbreakable. He’d also warned her that the case would probably be booby trapped to destroy—or activate—the contents if she tried to open it. “You’ve got the surgical gloves?”

She nodded.

Knowing he had no other choice than to let her get on with it, Max tied the rope around her waist.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m ready.”

“Be careful.” He gave her a fierce kiss, trying to infuse good luck into her.

“I will.” She threw him a jaunty wave, but he saw her underlying tension. And exhaustion. Nerves tightened his belly. He would have given anything at this moment to be strong enough to make the trip in her place.

Hands clenched at his side, he watched as Emily sat on the edge of the steep slope, then reached forward to grab hold of the nearest bush.

“Take it slow, sweetheart.”

She nodded. After pulling against the bush to test that it would hold her weight, he saw her shoulders rise then fall before she slipped off the edge and put her feet on the ground. She teetered a moment and Max leaned forward, not that he had a chance in hell of catching her if she lost her balance. But she quickly steadied herself.

She took one hesitant step. Then another.

She gave him a thumbs up before shifting her grip to another bush and Max slowly let out the breath he’d been holding. Okay. Maybe this was going to work after all.

DESCENDING THE SLOPE was partly exhilarating and partly terrifying. Emily gained momentum as she went, but managed to use the bushes to slow her progress until she reached the edge. The ground there dropped quickly away, leaving a gap of about a foot between her and the tree. Fortunately, the wide branches in front of her appeared sturdy enough to hold her weight.

She waved up at Max and untied the rope from her waist. Then she waited for him to lower her backpack. After rearranging the items that had shifted during the trip, she shrugged her shoulders through the straps. Taking a deep breath, she stepped onto the nearest branch. When it didn’t break or bend too much under her weight, she moved toward the trunk and sat down. Peering through the leaves, she took a moment to plot her route. Nodding to herself, she pushed off and landed lightly on the branch below.

Twenty minutes later, she dropped from the lowest branch onto one of the tree’s exposed roots, then slid down the root to the bare patch of dirt at its base. She landed on her feet and threw her arms in the air like a gymnast landing after a particularly difficult vault.

Wanting to see how far she’d come, she turned back to the tree and looked up. And up. Whoa. She couldn’t even see the top of the gully.

Ugh. Climbing back up was going to be tough.

Well, nothing she could do about that now. She sat down to rest, took a long drink of water, and ate a few groundnuts and a banana she pulled off a nearby tree. Then she logged the coordinates of the spot into the GPS and began her hunt.

After two hours of pushing through thick brush and navigating the more open areas under the heavy canopy of the trees without any sign of the plane’s debris, Emily stopped for lunch and to rest her feet. She tried not to let her frustration get her down, but her lack of progress was disheartening.

Half an hour after she resumed her hunt, she finally found several pieces of the plane. She followed the trail deeper into the jungle, toward another white object peeking out from behind a flowering shrub. Birds called from the trees and insects droned. The helicopter hadn’t yet made an appearance, and between the heat and the soothing background sounds, she almost forgot the looming danger. It was peaceful down here. Yet also lonely. She wished Max could have accompanied her. She missed his company. Missed the way he looked at her as if he not only liked her, but respected her.

Since the accident, people had been more likely to look at her with pity than respect. She loved that Max didn’t care about her scars. That he saw her as someone strong. And she had to admit that part of her enjoyed Max’s attempts to shield her from harm. She couldn’t remember anyone ever doing that for her. Hardship made you stronger, so her parents encouraged her to resolve her own problems. And in the ballet world, teachers and choreographers used harsh words and grueling workouts to weed out those dancers who didn’t have the heart to stick with dance no matter the cost.

Max would pamper her if he could. While she wouldn’t be comfortable with that for long, she thought it might be nice for a little bit.

Spotting another glimpse of white, she pushed through a thicket of bushes. When she reached the object, she saw that it was a mostly intact window. Farther along, she spotted the full ensemble of a seat, complete with seatbelt. She was so focused on scouring the ground for new evidence she hadn’t already documented, that at first she didn’t notice the low buzz in the distance. It wasn’t until the roar grew closer that she stopped to listen.

Oh, crap. The helicopter.

She glanced up. At least the canopy would hide her from view. Still, she took refuge beneath the leafiest tree she could find. She hugged the tree and tried to keep her breathing as slow and even as possible, not an easy task when she worried about what would happen if the helicopter’s crew noticed Max. Would they shoot him? Land and take him prisoner?

Of course, the helicopter could belong to the government instead of the rebels or Dietrich. Still, what would she do if they took Max away?

Would Max fight? No matter who was on board, he wouldn’t tell them about his mission. In fact, he’d not even mention her presence in order to keep her safe.

After passing back and forth over the gully for almost ten minutes, the helicopter flew away. Emily waited another ten minutes to make certain she was truly alone before she left her hiding place.

All right. She’d better hurry. She wanted to be out of the ravine if the helicopter returned. Besides, the clouds were thickening. She didn’t want to be caught in a storm.

She widened her current search area. Five minutes later, she saw a new line of debris extending back from a large tree. She quickly photographed the find, then followed the trail deeper into the wilderness.

She’d almost decided that she didn’t have time to keep going if she was going to make it out before dark, when she walked around a flowering bush and saw two passenger seats on their side. One of the seats was occupied by a vaguely human shape. The body had been gnawed upon, leaving only traces of flesh visible where the man’s shorts and short-sleeved shirt ended. The breeze picked up a lingering stench and wafted it her way.

Bile filled her throat, but Emily choked it down. She glanced away, waited for her stomach to settle, then looked back.

Oh, God. The corpse was missing its left arm. Worse, she saw no sign of a briefcase. She circled the body and searched the nearby bushes, but still no briefcase.

A sense of failure swamped her. Fighting back the urge to just sit down and cry, she crossed her arms over her chest.
Think. Max is counting on you.
He’d warned her that because the crash had happened more than a week ago, the local animals would likely have fed on the courier’s body. Which she could see had happened. But only a large animal would have been able to carry the arm away with the briefcase dragging behind. So, she needed to look for signs of something heavy being tugged through the underbrush.

To her surprise, she found the trail quickly. After following it for several minutes, she spotted something silver up ahead in the vee of a tree. Was that the briefcase? Had a leopard dragged the arm and the briefcase up a tree? Had—

A thick odor of decay hit her. Emily gagged and pulled her bandana over her nose and mouth, inhaling the familiar scents of sweat, bug repellent, and sunscreen. A few steps later, she rounded a bush and her foot knocked against some obstacle. She glanced down. An African man lay on his back. Maggots crawled over his eyes, nose, mouth, and the torn remains of his throat.

Emily dropped to her knees and vomited into the bushes.

When she finished, she sat back on her heels. Her vision swam and dots danced in front of her. She waited for the dizziness to pass, then rinsed her mouth out.

All right. She’d stumbled across a new corpse. Maybe a local who’d spotted the briefcase and tried to retrieve it, only to be attacked by the leopard she suspected had taken the arm as its prize.

Which meant she needed to retrieve the briefcase and get out of here fast, before she suffered the same fate.

All right. You can do this.

She pushed to her feet and retied her bandana over her nose and mouth. Then she pulled on a pair of surgical gloves. Finally, keeping her eyes averted as much as possible, she sidled past the corpse to the base of the tree.

Yep, that was a silver briefcase stuck in the place where several large branches met. It was just low enough that by standing on one of the exposed roots, she was able to reach over her head and snag it by the handle. She pulled. The case was heavier than she expected and as it fell toward her, it knocked her off balance. She fell back as the security chain and what was left of the courier’s arm flew toward her head. She twisted to the side, tripped over the corpse, and went sprawling. The briefcase landed with a squishy thud nearby.

Her hand landed on the dead guy’s thigh. Something burst under her palm, releasing a rush of liquid. She shrieked and quickly crawled away, wiping her gloved hand on the ground. Then she glanced back to see where the briefcase had landed. It had hit the corpse’s head, splattering maggots and fleshy pieces. The thigh she’d touched had split open, revealing—

She lurched forward and barely pushed the bandana away from her mouth before she convulsed, heaving her remaining stomach contents onto a fern. Once her stomach settled, she let her head hang down and waited for the dizziness to pass. Then she removed her gloves, retrieved a sanitary wipe from her fanny pack and cleaned her hands. She rinsed her mouth again, then pulled out a piece of dried mango and chewed on it. When the lingering taste of sickness had faded, she tried to stand up, but her shaky legs wouldn’t hold her.