One Touch of Topaz (2 page)

“They’ve come?” Ricardo’s voice made her jump.

She drew a deep, steadying breath and nodded. “I think so.” Only a little longer. She only had to hold on a little longer, and Luz and the others would be on the helicopter. Lord, she was tired of being afraid.

Ricardo’s hand was gentle as it clasped
her shoulder. “Take them to the helicopter as soon as it lands in the glade. I’m going to backtrack and see if I can spot the patrol.”

“No, I’ll go—” She stopped. He had already faded into the forest. She should have known better than to try to talk him out of anything, she thought wearily. He knew he shouldn’t be walking on that leg any more than necessary. It might be only a flesh wound, but the bleeding had started again on the way from the caverns.

“Samantha?”

Luz was beside her, nervous and hesitant, as she had been since they had freed her from the Abbey.

Samantha nodded. “They’re here, Luz.”

Luz bit her lip, her gaze on the sky.

The helicopter was overhead now, slowly descending to the grassy clearing. The roar of the rotors shattered the stillness and brought a rain of fresh panic. Oh, dear God, was the patrol close enough to hear?

Luz slipped her hand into Samantha’s and squeezed it gently. Samantha wasn’t sure if
the child was intending to give comfort or take it. Luz knew about fear, and she could probably sense Samantha’s terror no matter how she tried to mask it.

The helicopter was now on the ground, the lights splaying brilliantly in a circle around it.

It was time to go.

Later Fletch would find it curious that the first thing he noticed about Samantha was her hair. Not that it wasn’t lovely hair. The rich, vibrant chestnut mane shimmered under the lights; it was pulled away from her face and fastened in back with a plain tortoiseshell barrette. Then, as she stepped up to the bubble window to stand beside Skip at the pilot’s controls, he saw her eyes and knew at once who she was and where she had gotten her code name. Her eyes were the color of topaz; not the pale, tawny gold of the Brazilian stone but a darker shade, closer to the amber tint of the jewel found in the
wilds of Siberia. They dominated her thin, fine-boned face, blazing with vitality and strength. She was dressed in a worn khaki shirt, trousers that looked two sizes too big for her, and combat boots. Fletch experienced a violent and completely unexpected surge of resentment that had something to do with the obscene contrast the military garb made to the fragile grace of her body.

Then she smiled, and he forgot delicacy and remembered only warmth and radiance. “Thank you for coming,” she said softly. “I’m Topaz.” She shook her head wearily. “No, that’s not right. It’s hard to remember that everything’s over and there’s no reason to be cautious any longer. I’m Samantha Barton.”

“Skip Brennen. This is Fletcher Bronson.”

She nodded, scarcely giving Fletch a glance. “We have everyone ready to go.” She waved to a huddled group on the edge of the glade, and they started toward the helicopter. “You two won’t have to get out of the copter. There’s a patrol on our heels, so
we’ll have to hurry. Ricardo and I will get them on board.”

She walked quickly toward the rear of the helicopter and was sliding open the door by the time the first of their passengers reached her. Fletch felt a swift surge of pity as his gaze ran over the men, women, and children standing by the door. They looked as emaciated as the survivors of Auschwitz.

The adults boarded first, and then the children were lifted aboard. Finally there was only one gangly girl of twelve or thirteen with enormous dark eyes who clung to Samantha Barton like a shadow.

“You have to get on the copter now, Luz,” Samantha said gently. “There’s not much time.”

The child shook her head.

“It’s going to be fine. We have people who will take care of you and send you to a fine school.”

The child only clung closer.

Suddenly a man limped to Samantha’s
side, a frown marring the classic handsomeness of his face. “Samantha, for all that’s holy, get her on board. That patrol will be here within ten minutes.”

Fletch was abruptly jarred from his fascination with both Samantha Barton and the scene unfolding before him. He had been sitting back objectively viewing these people as if they were on a movie screen. It was completely out of character for him to stand on the sidelines without participating in the action. “Let’s get going. I have no desire to spend any more time in this wonderful island paradise, and certainly not as the guest of the junta.”

Samantha gave him an exasperated glance. “I’m trying. Luz is—” She suddenly fell to her knees, clasped the child’s thin shoulders, and gazed into her face. “Luz, listen. You’ll be all right. It was a terrible thing that happened to you, but it’s over now. The hurt won’t stay unless you let it. If you’re strong, the pain will only make you stronger and more beautiful. I’ve told you this so
many times before, and it’s true, Luz. You don’t need me. You don’t need anyone. Go now.” She smiled. “I can’t leave until you take off, and you don’t want them to catch me, do you?”

Luz shook her head and then hurled herself into Samantha’s arms. Then she was gone, scrambling into the helicopter.

Samantha gave a sigh of relief. “That’s better.”

“Can we go now?” Skip asked.

Samantha nodded. “That’s all. We can’t thank you en—”

“No.” The Adonis with the bandaged leg and the limp shook his head. “One more passenger.” He smiled at Samantha, his white teeth flashing in his dark face. “Get on board,
querida
. This is the end for you.” He turned toward the cockpit. “Can you make room for one more? She doesn’t weigh much.”

“Skip?” Fletch asked.

“She shouldn’t weigh much more than one of the children. I think we can manage.”

Samantha stood very still, gazing at the wounded man. “You were planning this all along, weren’t you, Ricardo?”

He nodded. “Don’t argue with me, Samantha.” He suddenly looked unutterably weary. “It’s over, and there’s no way you can help us now. You know what they’ll do to you if they catch you.”

“I’m not arguing.” She smiled faintly. “We don’t have the time. But would it be too much to ask you to give me a good-bye hug?”

“Samantha …” Ricardo enfolded her in his arms. “Go with God. You know I—” He broke off. He stood quite still, swayed, and then slowly crumpled to the ground.

Samantha stood clutching a small hypodermic needle in her left hand. “Go with God, Ricardo,” she whispered. “I’ll miss you.”

“What the hell!” Skip was staring in bewilderment at the man on the ground.

“What did you do to him?”

“It’s only a sedative. He’ll wake up within
the hour.” She was still staring down at the fallen man with glittering eyes. “I knew he would try to put me on the helicopter so I was prepared.” She lifted her head. “Will you help me with him? We have to get him on the helicopter right away.”

Skip shook his head. “We can’t take him. He weighs too much.”

“But I’m not going,” she said desperately. “And Ricardo only weighs about one hundred and sixty pounds. That’s not so much.” She took a step closer to the glass-enclosed bubble of the cockpit. “Look, you’ve
got
to take him. He’s Ricardo Lazaro, and it’s only a matter of time before they catch him. You have to get him off the island.”

“A hundred and sixty pounds …” Skip shook his head. “That’s still too much weight.”

A shock of fear shivered through Samantha. “Isn’t there something else you can take out?”

“The copter’s already stripped. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to leave him.”

“I can’t.” This was truly the end then, she thought numbly. The end for both her and Ricardo.

“Take him.” The passenger door was opening and Fletch Bronson was stepping to the ground.

Skip immediately protested. “Fletch, we can’t—”

“I’m staying. You won’t have a problem with weight.”

Fletch was coming around the front of the ’copter, and Samantha’s eyes widened. She had been so tense and absorbed, she had been only marginally aware of Bronson as a shadowy figure in the passenger seat. There was nothing shadowy about the man coming toward her with swift, impatient strides. She had seen pictures of him in the newspaper when he had first arrived on St. Pierre four days ago, but they had failed to capture the presence of Fletcher Bronson. The man was a Titan. He stood at least six-five and was too large-boned to be considered slim, though there was no spare flesh on his body.
He was probably in his early forties; his auburn hair, closely barbered to suppress rebellious curls, was threaded with silver. The planes of his cheeks were broad, his rust-colored brows thick, bold slashes above those cool green eyes. No one, Samantha thought, would call him good-looking. Yet there was something fascinating about his bone structure, a subtle beauty in the well-defined curve of his lips that made one want to keep looking.

He picked up Ricardo as easily as he would a sleeping child, deposited him in the helicopter, and slid the door closed. Then he stepped back and grasped Samantha’s elbow, carrying her with him away from the aircraft. “Now get out of here, Skip. Come back for us tomorrow night about this time. It should be safe by then.”

“But what if—”

“Move!”

Skip sighed as he turned on the ignition and the propellers started whirring. “I’m
moving already.” A moment later the helicopter rose sluggishly into the air.

Fletch immediately turned to Samantha. “I gather we can’t wait to bid them a lingering farewell?”

Samantha shook her head. “The soldiers will be here any minute.” She turned and set off across the glade toward the shadowy protection of the rain forest. “Come with me.”

“I intend to,” Fletch said dryly. “I have no intention of wandering around in these hills by myself. Do you know a safe place to hide out tonight and tomorrow?”

Samantha smiled back over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I know a place. I’ll take good care of you.”

She meant it, Fletch realized with shock. It was absurd, of course. He hadn’t needed anyone to protect or care for him in more years than he could remember, and he certainly had no confidence in Samantha’s ability to do so, either. She looked as ethereal as the moonlight. Too damn ethereal. He felt
an odd resentment as he saw how loosely her khaki trousers hung on her slim hips. “Since you’re not even carrying a rifle, you’ll forgive me if I find it difficult to believe you could overpower a patrol. Lazaro’s forces must have been even more impoverished than I’ve heard if he couldn’t afford to give his followers weapons.”

“I don’t like guns,” she said simply. “Ricardo knew that and never suggested I use one. I was principally a courier and radio operator.”

“How understanding of Lazaro.”

“Ricardo is very understanding,” she said earnestly. “And weapons won’t help if the patrol catches up with us. We’d do better to avoid them. I know these hills, and I won’t let you be caught.”

“Thank you,” he said, and for some reason he found the intended irony entirely missing from the words.

“It’s I who should thank you,” she said gravely, “for giving up your place to Ricardo. I owe you a great debt.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said bluntly. “I never do anything I don’t want to do. I just had too much sense to stand there arguing until the soldiers appeared and caught all of us.”

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “I see. Well, then I’m grateful that you’re so sensible. It was a lucky break for Ricardo and me.”

Her steps quickened as she entered the luxuriant, junglelike shrubbery of the rain forest.

Fletch pursed his lips in a soundless whistle as he looked around the cavern. “Well, I’ll be damned. You obviously do all right for yourselves. As a hideout, this is on the grand scale.”

“It is pretty, isn’t it?” Samantha moved the lantern in her hand, playing the light over the walls of the cave on either side of the stony path they were traversing through the cavern. Stalactites, varying in shades
from cream to peach-amber, hung like giant icicles from the ceiling far above them. “It’s very safe, too, with that thick brush cover in front. We were lucky to find this place.”

“How long have you used these caverns?”

“About two years.” Her tone was somber. “When we first discovered it, things were much different. There were still more than five hundred of us. We had hope.” She straightened her shoulders as if shrugging off a burden. “Well, that’s in the past. When Ricardo finally realized four months ago that he wasn’t going to be able to overthrow the junta, he disbanded his forces, telling his men to go home. Then there were only four of us left. Ricardo, me, Paco Ranalto, and Dr. Salazar. We managed a few last raids on the Abbey, but we all knew it was really the end. Ricardo sent Paco and the doctor away two days ago, but he still needed someone to help get the refugees off the island. He didn’t argue with me when I told him I wouldn’t leave him.”

No, she wouldn’t have left Lazaro, Fletch
thought with a pang that was strangely like the throb of a fresh wound. That last embrace they had shared had practically shouted of the love existing between them. “What would have happened if you’d been caught with him?”

“Nothing very pleasant.” The lightness in her voice was obviously forced. “But I would have survived. I wasn’t really important to them. The junta wanted Ricardo badly to make an example of him. You were his last chance to get off the island, but I knew he wouldn’t take it.”

“So you saw that he did. Where did you get the sedative and the hypodermic?”

“From Dr. Salazar. He brought Ricardo into the world and knew we had to save him. He loves him very much.”

“As you do?”

She glanced over her shoulder, and her thin face was again illuminated by that incredibly radiant smile. “As I do.”

Fletch experienced another twisting pain of an intensity that shocked him. Why
should the woman’s willingness to sacrifice her life for Lazaro matter? She was nothing to him. Granted, she possessed a rather ethereal beauty, but he had never been attracted to her type before. His mistress of the moment was dark, lush, and experienced enough to please even the most demanding voluptuary. This child would break in his hands.