WAR: Disruption (9 page)

“No. That’s the problem. Our source was the only contact we had in the area. With him dead—shot in the back of the head yesterday—we have no one to investigate for us.”

Max snorted. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a white guy. Not exactly inconspicuous. I go up there and start asking questions, Dietrich will hear about it.”

“Dude, give me some credit for not being a moron. I know you’ll stick out, but we don’t have a choice here.”

Max winced. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not. You’re just being your usual arrogant self.”

Despite himself, Max felt the corners of his lips curl in amusement. Damn, but he’d missed Kris.

“At the very least, I need you to monitor Dietrich’s progress,” Kris continued. “Either steal the briefcase once his men have found it, or call us in so we can take care of it.”

Max ran his hand over his face. “Why aren’t you sending a team in right now? Or one of the guys?”

“Because you’re there. And because the rebels are on the move and WAR’s busy putting out fires. We can’t spare a team unless we have a specific target.”

Max blew out a breath. “Fine. I’ll do it. But before I start, I have to get Emily on the first plane out of here tomorrow morning.”

“Rene can do that. I need you to head back north. In the general vicinity of a village called Bamasi.”

Max closed his eyes and gave a disbelieving laugh.

“What?”

“That’s not far from where I hitched a ride south. I have to warn you, the rebels are working with Ziegler and Dietrich and have already done some killing in that area.”

There was a long pause. “I know. Rene, you didn’t tell him?”

“I have not had the opportunity.”

Max glanced at Rene. “What?”

Rene’s lips tightened before he spoke. “A cell phone video showing Ziegler shooting an American girl, and the rebels killing her companion and several locals was sent to the local media and passed on to WAR.”

The memory hit Max with such force he bowed his head, clenching his fists to fight back the pain.

“Max?” Rene put his hand on Max’s head. “What’s wrong?”

Keeping his head lowered—dammit he did
not
want Rene’s pity—Max spat out, “Ziegler shot the girl because he thought she was me. I’d just cut my hair that morning. So when the girl turned to run and her blonde hair fanned out behind her, Ziegler shot her.”

“You were there?” Kris asked.

“Yeah. The women belonged to Emily’s tour group. Lucky for her, Emily had gone off alone into the jungle to take photos. She was on her way back when I grabbed her.” He swallowed back guilt. “I stopped Em from getting killed, but wasn’t fast enough to save the other women.”

“Max,” Kris said. “I’ve seen the video. Ziegler drew and fired too fast. The rebel standing next to him fired seconds later. If you were in the jungle, there’s no way you could’ve stopped them.”

“Dietrich wants me alive,” Max said, ignoring Kris’s attempt to relieve his guilt. “He wants to kill me personally. He’s made that perfectly clear. So I never expected Ziegler to react with deadly force in response to someone who might have been me. That puts him in direct violation of Dietrich’s orders.”

“I’m sorry, Max,” Rene said.

“The hell of it is, I don’t know how Ziegler ended up at the way station.” Max wished that Rene would step away and give him some damn breathing room. “I saw no sign of pursuit. I even checked my clothing and belongings for tracking devices and found nothing.” He rubbed his face in his palms. “I suppose it’s possible that a rebel sympathizer was on the tro-tro and had already reported to the rebels that there was a white girl on board before I joined them. Or maybe someone sent a text after I was picked up.”

“Was there enough time for someone at the way station to place a landline call?” Kris asked.

“Yeah. But Ziegler had to have already been on the road in order to arrive when he did. We reached the way station around dawn. I’m estimating that the trip from where I was held prisoner would be a good eight or nine hours by car. But Ziegler showed up roughly five hours after us.”

“It doesn’t really matter how he found you,” Kris pointed out. “The fact is, you didn’t race into the way station yards ahead of Ziegler, leading him to the tour group. You didn’t point Ziegler at that girl as a way to protect yourself.”

“Of course not!”

“Exactly. So stop taking the blame. Ziegler pulled the trigger. Ziegler. Not you. Get over it.”

“She’s still dead because she looked like me,” Max snarled, raising his head to glare at the phone. Couldn’t they see? This was precisely the type of situation he’d been trying to avoid by staying away from Kris and the others.

“Fine, you want another damn incident to add to that load of guilt you’re carrying around, have at it.” Kris’s voice offered no mercy. “Just pull yourself out of your pity party long enough to carry out this mission. Then you can go back to playing Mr. Martyr Man and be miserable all by your lonesome, you stubborn bastard.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, well, when are you going to get it through your thick head that we care about you? You’re family, whether you want to admit it or not.
We
don’t abandon family.”

“I—”

“Shut it. I’m not in the mood to hear your protestations that you’ve locked us out for our own protection. For the last damn time, we’re a team. That means we’ve got each other’s backs. Through thick and thin. No matter what.”

Emotion lodged in Max’s throat. It was
because
the team was family that he’d gone solo. Why couldn’t they accept that the level of danger they’d be in was unacceptable? “How many times do I fucking have to tell you? I’m not going to let Dietrich’s sponsor put you on some damn black list so that everyone in the U.S. military or law enforcement is after you. Or—”

“I said, shut it. I’m not arguing with you over this any more. Rene, work your doctor’s magic on Max. Then make sure he gets a good night’s sleep if you have to knock him out with a hammer. Max, check in before you leave tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir!” Max snapped.

“That’s more like it,” Kris said. “Good—”

“Wait! Kris…those women…” He cleared his throat. “God, their families need to be notified before the video goes public. Emily’s family needs to know she’s alive. And she’s worried about the safety of the other three women who were part of the group. They were stationed in the southeast region.”

“Don’t worry, we’re on it. The video was received by one of WAR’s informants. She knew better than to air it. She passed it on to us and then to a contact in the regional police that we trust. We’ll make sure the families are notified in an appropriate manner and look into the status of the other women.”

“Thank you. That will mean a lot to Emily.”

“You’re welcome.” With that, Kris disconnected.

“You heard the man,” Rene said, offering Max his hand. “Come down to the bathroom and I will examine your injuries. The sooner we get you patched up and tucked into bed, the better.”

“Thank you, Dr. Dad.” With a heartfelt groan, Max let his friend pull him to his feet. Damn. His muscles had frozen up after sitting too long and each step was agony.

I can barely walk and I’m supposed to go after Dietrich and this weapon tomorrow? Some superhero I am.

Day Five

“MADEMOISELLE. MADEMOISELLE IWASAKI!”

Emily tried to ignore the unfamiliar voice and snuggle down into the pillow, but an insistent hand shook her shoulder. “G’way.”

“Mademoiselle Iwasaki, you must wake up. The line will be forming soon at the airport.”

Emily cracked open one eye. “Huh?” The man bending toward her had light brown skin, black hair arranged in neat, short cornrows, and heavy lidded, bedroom eyes. It took her a moment to recognize Max’s friend. “You’re the doctor.”

“Yes. I will drive you to the airport so you can go home.”

Home.

That jolted her into full alertness. She sat up. Glanced around the small room that contained a twin bed, a wooden armoire, and a bedside table. But no clock. Purple batik cloth covered the louvered glass window, yet she saw no light filtering through. “What time is it?”

“About five in the morning. We must leave soon if you wish to arrive at the airport in time.”

That’s right, she wanted to be one of the first people in line. She swung her feet over the side then froze, staring at her bare, bandaged feet. Her clean toes stuck out from beneath pristine white bandages. Once again, the humiliation of having the doctor and Max see her mangled feet made her face burn. Yes, nasty, gnarly feet were a badge of honor among some dancers, but Emily had always found them just plain ugly. To the extent that she never wore sandals or open toed shoes.

“How are your feet this morning?”

Emily shrugged, then winced as her bad shoulder flared with pain. She’d spent too many hours in the car with her shoulder hitched up toward her ear. She began kneading the muscles as she replied, “They’re fine.”

He raised an eyebrow and her hand rose to cover the scars on her neck, even though she knew it was too late to hide them.

Why does it bother you so much that someone recently saw your scars and your ugly feet when Crystal and Sue are dead?

Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them back. To distract herself, she glanced around the room. There, in the corner by the armoire, was her backpack. Her sneakers—cleaned of dirt—sat next to it on the floor, but there was no sign of her socks.

The doctor noticed the direction of her gaze. “There were too many holes in your socks. Since you had an extra pair in your pack, I threw them away.”

She turned to stare at him. “You went through my things?” Had she fallen that deeply asleep?

He shrugged, unrepentant. “I would have kept the socks for you otherwise.”

Deciding it wasn’t worth arguing over, she glanced at her watch. “How long until we leave?”

“Twenty minutes. We had longer, but you were quite determined to stay asleep.”

She felt herself blush again. “Okay. Let me use the bathroom and I’ll be right with you.”

She waited for him to leave. When he didn’t, she raised a brow. “Dr. LaSalle, may I have some privacy?”

“Show me that you can stand on your own and I will go. And please, call me Rene.”

Rolling her eyes at his bossiness, Emily carefully stood up. Yesterday, even the soles of her feet had been sore. The bit about the pins and needles had been true, but the bottoms of her feet had also felt bruised from walking over such rough terrain with only a thin layer of rubber to protect her. But today there was just a mild stiffness from overexertion. She nodded at the doctor.

He gave her a short bow. “Be downstairs in fifteen minutes, please. Oh, and word came in this morning. The other three women made it safely over the border to the neighboring embassy.”

“Thank God!”

The doctor smiled and reached for the doorknob.

“Wait!”

“Yes?”

“Where’s Max?”

“Ah. Max is still asleep. Last night, he asked me to see you safely on your way.”

“Oh.” She glanced down to hide her disappointment. Well, what had she expected? That Max would put his life on hold for her?

No. But at least she’d thought he’d be around to say good-bye. She lifted her head and put on her expressionless pre-performance face. “Okay. I don’t think Max slept much while we traveled, so I bet he was exhausted.”

“Indeed.” After giving her another courteous nod, the doctor let himself out of the room.

Sighing, she made her way down the hall to use the facilities. With her remaining time, she gently worked her feet and body through a short series of stretches. Then, seeing that her time was almost up, she shouldered her backpack and headed out.

Along the hallway to the left, a staircase with an elaborately carved wooden balustrade led down to a sunken living room. The furnishings were all glistening, dark wood and bright silken fabrics. This was by far the fanciest house she’d seen in the country since her arrival.

Just how rich were Max’s friends?

Following the low murmur of voices, she found Dr. LaSalle in the kitchen talking to Max. Max flicked her a glance over the cup of coffee in his hands, but immediately returned his attention to the doctor.

Despite the lack of warmth in Max’s eyes, Emily’s heart still leapt at the sight of him. He looked one hundred percent better than when she’d last seen him. His skin had lost that grayish cast and he wasn’t holding his body so stiffly.

Continuing to ignore Emily, he yawned, then took a big sip of coffee.

Annoyed by his aloofness, Emily cleared her throat. “Dr. LaSalle, don’t we need to be going?”

“She is right,” the doctor said. “Max, we will finish this conversation when I return. Mademoiselle, if you will follow me out to the car.”

Emily intended to walk right past Max, but found herself stopping next to him. “Thanks again for all of your help, Max,” she said with icy politeness. “I hope you have a nice life.”

He met her eyes, some emotion burning there that she couldn’t identify. “Why are you mad at me?” he snapped. “I did what I promised. You’re safe. Rene will get you to the airport and then you’ll be on your way home.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know.” Somehow, the thought of leaving him here in this dangerous city didn’t feel right. She couldn’t help remember how easily that man had killed Crystal. How he’d probably meant to kill Max, instead. “Never mind, it’s probably just the stress of the past few days. Forget it.”

He held her eyes a moment longer.

Don’t stay
, she almost said.
Come with me. Be safe.
But with his freshly shaved cheeks revealing several bruises and cuts, she knew this was a man who never took the safer route. Fighting back a stab of grief that he might die here, all alone, she glanced away. “So. I’ve got to go now. Good-bye.”

“Good-bye, Emily Iwasaki. Safe journey. I know you’ll be fine. You’ve got grit.”

“Thank you.” Wondering why she felt the urge to run her hand along his cheek and press a kiss to his mouth, she tightened her grip on the straps of her backpack and headed into the garage. She’d heard that life-threatening events could create strong emotional bonds between strangers, but surely she hadn’t fallen for Max already. That was ridiculous.