Absolute Doubt (Fallen Agents of T-FLAC Book 1) Read online

  None of them had red hair, and all were of varying degrees of unattractiveness. They also all had the busty, child-bearing-hips body type. She'd seen other pictures of them, from when they were babies through adulthood. They were healthy eaters. None of them, by any stretch of imagination, could ever have fit into that white dress. Not even at sixteen.

  She listened for the helicopter, but the pulsing beats of the rotors were silent. Had it left? Or landed nearby?

  "My angels," Franco said proudly. "God has blessed me with eleven living children. Two nuns. Two priests. "

  "I'm sure you are blessed." Was Ash on his way up to the mine as she moved melting, pumpkin tasting, lúcuma ice cream around her bowl? He wouldn't set the explosives until Marcus got everyone out of the village, she knew. Was that happening now? Was Marcus biding his time until eleven to get her out? "I'm sorry to have missed them."

  "You're aware, I'm sure, of the landslide blocking the only road out of the valley? I have people coming in from Santa de Porres at first light with earth moving equipment. The road should be clear for your departure in the morning."

  "Thank you for your hospitality, Franco. I've overstayed my welcome. I was just so hopeful Oliver would've returned by the time I got here."

  "I'm sure your brother will be in contact when he's ready."

  He didn’t deny that she'd overstayed her welcome. And when Oliver was ready for what? To stop worrying her to death? River was going to kick his ass when he eventually showed his face, or sent her a damn postcard from Bora Bora.

  Throwing down his napkin, Franco got to his feet. "Father, I'm sure you have church business to attend to. If you’d excuse us, I’d like to take Miss Sullivan for a turn around the garden before bed. The light from the full moon is beautiful tonight."

  Over her dead body. "As lovely as that sounds, my shoes aren't made for that uneven paving, and I really do need my beauty sleep before an early departure." River rose. "I'll say goodnight and goodbye now, in case I miss you in the morning."

  Franco came around the table and took her by the shoulders as Father Marcus rose, too. "You’re a fascinating woman, Miss Sullivan. If only we'd met under different circumstances."

  River had just a split-second to brace herself as he pulled her in for a shocking, and unwelcome hug. Worse. His wet, open lips landed on the corner of her mouth before she realized what he intended. She reared back, resisted slapping him, and took a giant step back.

  Instead of engaging with him, River looked through Franco to address Father Marcus who looked as appalled as she felt. "Good night, Father Marcus."

  Turning on her heel, she practically ran upstairs. Locking her bedroom door, she dragged a heavy, ornately carved, velvet-covered side chair across the wide expanse of the carpet and rammed it under the door handle.

  When she was sure no one could push against it, she flopped down in the chair, her heartbeat manic. It was as if she'd just fled from a hungry man-eating lion. With Juanita gone, did Franco consider her his next tasty morsel? She shuddered as she stared sightlessly at the gory painting of dead animals over the fireplace.

  God, she wanted to get the hell out of here. Now. Home to Portland where things made sense, and counter-terrorists didn't make love to her as if she were their salvation.

  Her phone chimed, indicating a text message, and scaring her so badly she let out a shriek. "Dear God. I need a freaking Xanax." Or Ash.

  River slipped her phone out of her pocket to check if anyone had called her while she'd been in Los Santos.

  She recognized Carly’s number. But that was it for calls. Then she checked her text messages. There was only one, but she didn't recognize the number. Then she opened it.

  "Oh, shit, shit, shit!" It was from Oliver.

  I told you NOT to come!

  being held hostage in mine lab.

  can't escape

  send help.

  *Dangerous* Do. Not.

  Come. Yourself!!

  Go home River.

  She read it twice. "What do you mean you're being held freaking hostage?" At the lab? The same location where Ash and his men were, right this second? The same location that was going to be rubble in a few damned hours? "Shit, Oliver!"

  Breathe. Text him back. Warn him. River punched the phone number on the text as she jumped up from the chair. It rang twice before going went dead. "Damn it to hell!"

  This freaking no-phone zone was driving her insane. She pushed all the buttons on the side of the iPhone in the vain hope that something would make the call go through.

  Nothing did.

  She paced as she typed a return text.

  O. Call me.

  Text me.

  Tell me exactly where to find you.

  She paused. Should she tell him that the mine was going to be blown-up tonight? What if the person holding him hostage read his messages? Clearly her brother was already scared and desperate. How would telling him help him right now? Okay. No explosion warning.

  River pressed send, stopped moving aimlessly around the room, and looked at her phone, willing him to answer. Please. Please. Please.

  A red exclamation mark popped up on the screen indicating the text was undeliverable. She resisted throwing the useless phone across the room.

  Now what was she to do? Find somewhere in this godforsaken town where she could get a signal? There was nowhere, apparently. If Ash couldn't get a signal on his communication devices, she sure as shit wouldn't get anything on her iPhone. Even if she did get a signal, was calling her brother’s phone a good idea? Did his captors now have it? Were they monitoring it?

  Think.

  She had to do something. She couldn’t just sit around in her room hoping the cell phone gods allowed Oliver’s texts to get through to her. Crossing the room, she slipped off her belt, dropping it as she went. As she kicked off her sandals, she reached behind her with the other hand to unzip the dress. She tried calling the number again. "Come on. Come on."

  Feeling the frantic drumbeat of her pulse throughout her entire body as she disconnected, she tried the number again as she stepped out of the dress, leaving it in a puddle on the floor.

  Digging through her carry-on bag, she pulled out jeans, a black T-shirt, and running shoes. Thank God she’d kept these clothes back when she’d been giving things to Juanita. She’d pretty well given her everything else.

  "Holy shit, Oliver," River muttered, yanking on her jeans, and hopping on one leg as she pulled them over her hips. "It isn't the freaking cavalry on its way up the damned mountain. It's Ash and his men coming to blow up the building you're in!" And half, more than half, of the Qhapaq freaking mountain range with it!

  The explosion was going to be cataclysmic. She was already worried sick about Ash. Now she was freaked out about Oliver being in the middle of Armageddon. Ash and his guys weren’t even aware he was in the building. The good news was T-FLAC wanted him alive. The bad news was they didn't know he was exactly where they were going to set the explosion. They'd inadvertently kill him.

  "Who's holding you hostage, Oliver? And why?"

  River pulled the shirt over her head and shoved her bare feet into her running shoes. Oliver had always lived in his own little bubble, but it would be hard convincing anyone else that he could be working five feet away from World War 3 and not hear a thing going on around him.

  She knew her brother was just that oblivious. If he denied knowledge of Franco’s terrorist acts, she’d believe him. His single-minded focus, his ability to rule out all external stimuli, could make his deniability plausible. Despite the small fortune he’d sent to her, she knew in her very heart that he was too good a person to be mixed up in any of Franco’s evil acts, so he damned well needed a heads up from her on how much trouble he was in.

  She had to get up there before anyone did anything. At this point, having Oliver alive and behind bars waiting to explain his actions and prove he wasn't a terrorist, outweighed having Oliver dead. Surely, they could hold off on the big b
ang until Ash helped sort things out. Hopefully.

  Going up there tonight was insane and she damn well knew it. If there were any other choice, she'd have jumped at it.

  "I need a car." Sweaty hands made her fingers fumble on the zipper and button as she fastened her jeans. "Faster than ASAP. And a damned phone that works, as well as a loaded gun." And Ash. She really, really needed Ash. Now.

  Hyperventilating, River stopped dead in the middle of the room and closed her eyes. She had none of the above. Freaking out was not an option.

  Breathe. Focus. Make a plan.

  Breathe. Focus. Make a plan.

  She was smart, resourceful, and motivated.

  She couldn't go tearing through the house searching for car keys, although she would bet if she looked hard enough she would likely find a gun. No, that would alert Franco, and possibly end up endangering Ash and his men.

  Holy shit! Ram, the guy who'd helped at dinner was Ash's man. He not only had a gun, he'd have a way to communicate with the men at the mine. He also might have a vehicle. The problem was, as Franco's bodyguard, he'd be with Franco. Or if he was part of the group blowing up the mountain, he'd be with Ash. Shit. Either way he couldn’t be with her.

  He would help her, though, if she saw him, and if he was alone. Good. If not, she was on her own and had to get out of the house and next door to the rectory to find Marcus.

  Breathe. Focus. Make a plan.

  “Find Ram. If not Ram, Marcus.”

  A good start.

  Okay. She had a plan. A shaky plan, but a plan nevertheless. "Go!" River dragged the heavy chair away from the door, opening it enough to look down the well-lit corridor. The sweeping staircase was between the guest wing and Franco’s private wing. The corridor was empty.

  She ran, down the long, carpeted corridor, then down the stairs, taking them three at a time. She skidded to a stop in the vast marble entry hall to listen. No sound of voices. No Ram, but no Franco either.

  She silently moved to the heavy, carved front door, opening and closing it quietly behind her. Sprinting, she vaulted down the shallow stone steps and onto the street. The air smelled of rain and the streets were wet, dark, and eerily quiet as she ran.

  The wrought iron gate to the church and rectory stood open. River jumped over the abandoned, half-coiled hose, and darted down the path to the rectory. She pounded on the door. "Comeoncomeoncomeon."

  No response. "Shit." The door swung open when she turned the handle and stepped inside a dark house. Taking out her phone, she turned on the flashlight app. "Marcus? Are you here?" No answer. She checked the time. 10:17. He must be out rounding up the villagers to get them to safety.

  He was expecting her, she knew, but she was early. In her head, a metronome ticked away the minutes as loudly as Big Ben. No, that was her manic heartbeat. "Please walk through that door right now."

  No Ram.

  No Marcus.

  Oliver in serious peril.

  What the hell was she going to do?

  Go.

  She had to go.

  But she wanted someone to know where she'd gone, and she didn't want Marcus or Ram to be searching for her, potentially putting the lives of the other villagers at risk.

  The priest could be any-freaking-where right now. Oliver didn't have much time. None of them did.

  It was as if Ash, with his grim indication of what was going to happen that night, had planted a timer in her head. Now it was ticking off the minutes. Loudly, and with each minute, booming louder. She’d never been more acutely aware of time’s passage.

  She looked around. "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

  She still needed a car, a phone, and a gun. Not necessarily in that order. This was insane. But she was going to find someone before they inadvertently blew up her brother.

  Breathe. Focus. Make a new plan.

  "Beg, borrow or freaking steal a car."

  #

  22:30

  The temperature had dropped only a few degrees after sundown. It was now a balmy 81 degrees instead of 85. Daklin breathed in thick air, made muggy by heat and the dense cover of surrounding vegetation. Darkness pressed in around him. A mile ahead, beyond the thick tree line, four thousand watt stadium lights surrounded the outer fence of the mine and plant building. The blinding white LED flood lamps illuminated the compound and the surrounding vegetation within a three mile radius.

  The five of them had walked up from the bridge, cut their way through dense understory, and come up on the left side of the vast, gravel lot. Deep in the thick underbrush, Daklin and his men lay belly down in the flattened grasses and leaves of the jungle floor. They wore ghillie suits over their LockOut to blend in with their background. The dense black material making up the LockOut suit was impervious to just about anything. Climate controlled bulletproof armor, it was a head-to-toe jumpsuit.

  Usually, the strips of burlap of the ghillie would be covered with local vegetation as an effective camouflage. But in this case, vegetation was fucking non-existent between their location and the mine and building. Before they got to the steel gate protecting the entrance to the mine, they had a mile of cleared land, without the protection of even a blade of grass. The dirt-colored burlap strips of the ghillies were covered with sand and pebbles, and the men’s faces were mud-streaked.

  They watched movement on the guard posts and behind the fence through powerful binoculars.

  "Thirty-ish?" Daklin pitched his voice to Aiza, belly down beside him.

  "Yeah. They'll patrol until--" Aiza tilted his wrist to look at the big black watch strapped there. "--between 2300 and 2310. Then they switch out. They're no slouches. They switch out pretty fast. We'll have mere minutes to get in undetected. Ten minutes to cross without getting shot first. Diversion there and there." Aiza used two fingers to point where he and Nyhuis would cause a distraction so that the other three men could get by the guards without notifying a hundred-plus men of their intentions.

  After the charges were set, the issue would be moot.

  Aiza ignored the glistening thumbnail-sized bug crawling on his sweaty cheek. "You, Gibbs, and Turley get in under the north fence. I carved a space under that rock overhang two hundred yards to the left. See it?"

  No, he didn't. The lights were too bright, and the enormous rock overhang cast a deep shadow, but that would work in their favor, later. Exactly as planned. The five men would meet up inside the mineshaft at 24:15--2 hours and 45 minutes to detonation. They'd have to move fast.

  Turley, on Daklin's left, touched a fist to Daklin's shoulder. "Let me take lead on this, boss—-"

  "Asked and answered. Same goes for the rest of you. I'll tell you when to get the fuck out, and when I say go, you haul ass. That's a non-negotiable order. The chopper will do a quick round trip and return after taking Marcus and River to Abad. It'll be there when you get to the village at 02:00." Plenty of time for them to evacuate before the first explosion at 03:00.

  Something sinuous and slow moving curved and twisted over Daklin's right calf. A snake, and a big one, judging by the weight of its sleekly shifting body. He remained still, barely breathing.

  "Fuck." Nyhuis shielded his eyes. "We're gonna be sitting ducks out there."

  "If you know a way to teleport in, have at it," Daklin told him, his voice low as he glanced at the faintly illuminated dial on his watch. The rest of the snake’s body slithered free of his leg. In thirty minutes, River would be safely with Marcus. Ram was sitting on Xavier like white on rice until backup arrived. Only that backup was still two hours away. Delta team was cutting their way through the jungle to get vehicles into the valley to extract the priest and the rest of the villagers before the mountain blew at 03:00.

  A chopper would land in the village square for River and the pregnant girl at 24:00. Marcus would have a couple of hours to get all his chickens to roost. In the meantime, what was happening to River, to the people of the village, was unimportant. His job wasn't there. Worry and dread for them had no par
t in the job he was here to do.

  Focus.

  The next three plus hours would go fast. Daklin was damned glad River would be far gone when the first charge detonated.

  The men coordinated their watches. 23:05. Detonation--3 hours 55 minutes.

  Everyone had their jobs. Nyhuis was the wild card. Because of his tendencies to go rogue and off book, Aiza would partner him, keep him on track should he get a wild hair.

  Where it was dark, and in those few pockets where it was pitch black, they wouldn't be seen as long as they moved slowly. But out there—-fuck. Out there for more than a mile was zero coverage, and the blackness of night now banished, illuminated by giant floodlights. They were smack dab in the middle of the kill zone.

  Xavier's security force would see a fucking ant coming.

  Daklin had never been a praying man, but he thought three words that were as close to a prayer as he’d ever come. God. Help. Us.

  Maybe it was the time he’d spent in the bishop’s robes. Or maybe it was just the sudden urge to see River’s gray eyes one more time, which wasn’t going to happen even if he managed to get his job done. More likely, it was just a strong-ass desire for all to go as planned, so that he could get on the other goddamned side of the brightly lit kill zone and do his fucking job. Avenge Josh’s death. Rid the world of E- E-1x.

  God. Help. Me. "Let's do this. Move fast, move smart. Go, Go. Go."

  Seventeen

  11:05 p.m.

  Since Marcus was expecting her, River left a quick note for him on his kitchen table.

  It would take twenty minutes to get up to the mine office. Twenty minutes to find and free Oliver, twenty minutes back. An hour tops. And somewhere in there, she needed to tell Ash that she was there so he didn't blow her up. She also had to get into a highly secure facility without getting herself killed or giving away Ash's plans.

  "Yeah, right." She gave a mirthless laugh, painfully aware that she was in way over her head, and delusional, thinking she could pull this off. If she’d had weeks of planning, maybe. But alone? With no back-up plan to speak of? In an hour?