The Lazarus Moment (25 page)

He
moaned again, something stirring.

Anywhere
else, I know where I would want this to head.

But he
preferred to keep his head intact, and he wasn’t about to get caught having sex
with his masseuse in a Muslim country where he might lose his head if he wasn’t
careful. No matter how liberal Dubai may appear, it was still a Muslim country
and he was still a foreigner.

His
watch jolted him.

And he
cursed to himself. His watch appeared to be like any other semi-luxury one, but
it was a highly customized CIA issue piece, it capable of receiving a signal
anywhere in the world. Its discrete notification method of using a slight
electrical pulse allowed him to know there was a message without anyone around
him aware. No vibrations, no beeping, and unless it was on his wrist with a
coded activation sequence entered, it functioned only as a watch.

He
pushed himself up on his elbows. “Sorry, beautiful, but I’m going to have to
cut this short. I forgot I’ve got a phone call to make.”

Helena
stepped back and grabbed a towel. She began to wipe the oils off his body and
he lay back down, enjoying the sensations, wishing he could continue this
unofficially.

“All
done.”

He swung
off the table and stood, his towel slipping off revealing himself in all his
glory. He turned away though not before he saw the widened eyes and the corners
of a smile. Lifting his robe off the nearby hook, he shrugged himself into it
and turned to face her.

“If you
want to continue this later, I can come back. I’m very good at nuru massage.”

Something
twinged below, threatening to take a peek outside his robe.

Are
you trying to get me killed, little guy?

He
smiled. “As tempting as that sounds, I better pass.”

She seemed
genuinely disappointed. “Are you sure?”

Kane
shook his head. “Beautiful, you have no idea how unsure I am.”

He
signed the hotel receipt, adding a generous tip then reached for his wallet,
giving her fifty US dollars, not confident she’d actually see any of the hotel gratuity.

Her eyes
widened and she beamed as she leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I
come by later and make you forget what happened to your President.”

Kane’s
eyes narrowed and he took her by the shoulders, pushing her back slightly.
“What do you mean?”

She stared
at him, puzzled. “You mean you not hear?”

He shook
his head. “Hear what?”

“Your
President. He dead. He die in plane crash today.”

Kane
felt his chest tighten and his stomach flip as his watch pulsed again.

No
wonder they’re trying to contact me.

He
expertly broke down her massage table then ushered her toward the door, her
disappointment at being sent away clear.

“I call
you later?”

He
decided to throw her a bone.

“Please,
but I might not be here.”

God
knows where I’ll be.

North of Air Force One Crash Site, Mozambique

Red raised a fist, bringing the team to a halt, everyone dropping
and grabbing water and rations. They had been pushing hard for the better part
of an hour as they tried to reach the President and the other survivors, though
with the forest so dense, it was slow going.

He took
a swig of water then a pull on a protein bar, savoring the chalky flavor, he so
used to them by now it no longer bothered him. He remembered the first time he
tried one he had wanted to spit it out. Now they tasted like home.

A sick
and twisted home, but home nonetheless.

They’re
familiar.

And when
you were a soldier in the field, something familiar that wasn’t trying to kill
you was sometimes worth its weight in gold.

Like
Coca Cola and Hershey bars in World War II.

His
breath caught, he activated his comm. “Control, Bravo Zero-Two, checking in,
over.”

“Zero-Two,
this is Control Actual. What’s your status?”

Red
smiled slightly at the Colonel’s voice. As long as the Colonel was on the job,
someone was looking out for their best interests, not the politicos. “We’re
making best time for the crash site with no signs of pursuit. Can you confirm?”

“Roger
that, UAV shows the rebel force has not advanced since your last assault. I
think we can safely say they won’t be bothering you before you reach the
survivors.”

“And the
secondary force?”

“The
first of them have cleared the ridge and are now making for the President’s
position.”

“How
far?”

“Less
than two miles. BD’s got them moving again, but it’s slow going with the
injured.”

“No luck
getting any more out?”

“Negative,
and there won’t be any more attempts. The rebels shot down a Seahawk that was
providing supplies and inserting a SEAL team. Two dead.”

Red
cursed, exchanging glances with the others. They all knew a lot of SEALs, the
rivalry well known and good-natured. He didn’t bother asking who was lost,
whether SEAL or crew, the loss was equally as bad. “Can you give us a bead on
the survivors? How far are we?”

“We’ve
got you one mile due west of the rebel force, and two miles due north of the
survivors.”

“Roger
that, and the rescue party?”

“Still three
miles south. They won’t make it there first.”

Red’s
jaw clenched. “We’ll get there, Colonel. Zero-Two, out.”

“Or die
trying,” added Jagger as he pushed himself to his feet. “I still think we should
hit them and try to slow them down.”

Red
shook his head as he stowed his water. “Negative. The Colonel’s right. Not only
are they probably expecting us to hit them, with two hundred guns, all we need
is a few dozen of them not panicking and we’re toast.” He pulled Jimmy to his
feet. “No, if we can join up with the main group, there’s BD and the guys, now
some SEALs, some Secret Service and Air Force personnel, and four of us.”

“Make
that five.”

They all
spun toward the voice, cheers erupting as Spock stepped out from behind a tree,
his hands raised slightly. Jimmy leapt forward, grabbing the man in a bear hug,
lifting him off the ground as the others surrounded their comrade.

“We
thought you were dead!” exclaimed Jimmy, returning their friend to terra firma as
he exchanged thumping hugs with the others.

“Rumors
of my death have been greatly exaggerated or some bullshit like that.” He grinned.
“No, I went over the falls but I guess was thrown clear. Woke up downriver.
I’ve been trying to find you guys ever since.”

Jagger
looked Spock up and down, apparently still not believing his eyes. “You heard
the excitement?”

Spock
nodded. “Kind of hard to miss. I had a feeling it was you guys. What happened?”

“About
seventy hostiles heading for the crash site,” replied Red. “We trimmed them
down to ten apparently. But now we’ve got two hundred making for the site and
we’ve gotta boogey.” He motioned toward him. “You good to go?”

“Absolutely.
Just need a weapon.”

Red
handed him his Glock and a few mags. “This’ll have to do for now.”

Spock
took them. “Anything else I need to know?”

Jagger
slapped Jimmy on the back. “Jimmy almost got shot in the balls.”

Spock
cocked an eyebrow. “Good thing it wasn’t you, they might have cracked those
chestnuts.”

Jagger
laughed, grabbing Spock by the back of the neck. “Man, you have no idea how
glad I am to see you.”

“Thanks,
I was pretty sure I was a goner too.”

“I know.
I thought for a while there I wasn’t going to get that twenty bucks back that
you owed me.”

Spock’s
eyebrow popped. “For what?”

“Cab
fare from the bar last Friday. It was your turn.”

Jimmy
jabbed a finger at him. “That’s right! And you owe me forty for your share of
the BBQ two weeks ago.”

Spock
looked at Red. “Permission to go back to being dead?”

Red
jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “You can always take point.”

“With
pleasure. Nothin’ but a bunch of loan sharks back here.”

Red
watched as Spock took the lead, a little too cautiously.

“Get a
wiggle on, Sergeant, you’re not dead yet!” laughed Jagger.

Spock
smacked his ass, inviting a kiss, Red reaching out and grabbing him by the arm.
“Dude, you fell out of the sky, have no body armor, and are carrying a handgun.
I’ll
take point.”

Spock
frowned. “Damn, I was hoping to get away from these bankers.”

“No such
luck, but cut the chatter. These guys are way too close.”

Red took
point, pushing through the underbrush toward Dawson and the others, listening
for the hostiles on their left flank.

We
have to get there first!

North of Air Force One Crash Site, Mozambique

Afonso Domingos stared down over the waterfall at the wreckage
below. He had left a small contingent to try and retrieve anything they could
using the boats. Once they had the hostages they’d concentrate on stripping the
aircraft bare with a larger team, but for now they had to focus on capturing
the President.

And
their payday.

The
dollar signs were dancing in front of his eyes, as he had read somewhere
before, the amount of money they could get almost unfathomable. In fact, he
wasn’t even sure how much to ask for. Millions for sure. Tens of millions?
Billions? He simply had no concept of that amount of money. He had seen one
hundred dollars once, and heard of someone who had been given almost one
thousand to buy some weapons, but out here, far from the capital, US dollars were
rare and small.

Yet
precious.

He had
instructed one of his people to contact a trusted friend at the RENAMO
headquarters with instructions to keep it quiet. If anyone would know how much
to ask, he would. For now they just needed to capture the man, then worry about
how much he was worth.

No
matter what the number, it would be enough to take care of them all, he of
course getting the largest cut.

He
closed his eyes for a moment, imagining what a Jaguar actually sounded like
when the engine revved.

If
it
revved. Are they truly as unreliable as I have read?

Shouts
ahead had him walking a little faster and he found a group of his men standing
around the remains of a campfire. “They were definitely here,” said one of his
men.

He
nodded. “And for some time.” A fire like this wasn’t made quickly, it took effort.
As he looked around there was evidence of bamboo having been chopped down and
stripped.

They
were making something.

He stared
up at the trees overhead. It was dark now, and too many things in the jungle liked
to hunt at night. He had no intention of losing anyone to nature, when there
were so many men to kill.

“Torches!”

They had
come prepared and torches were quickly lighting their way.

“We’re
close! You heard that crash just a little while ago. Our men, your brothers,
must have shot down one of those helicopters we’ve been hearing. That means
they’re still there! When we reach them, we’ll surround them then demand they
surrender. We must make sure we don’t kill the President! If he dies, then this
is all for nothing. Remember, the money we will make on this will allow even
your grandchildren to live like kings!”

A roar
went up among the men as their torches were raised over their heads, the group
pressing forward as more continued to climb up from the falls. Footsteps
pounded toward him and he turned, raising his weapon.

“Sir,
it’s me!” cried the voice of the runner he had sent earlier to find out what
had happened to Nyusi and his group.

“Hold
your fire!” he ordered, the man collapsing to the ground, his chest heaving.
“Water!” Water was quickly brought and the young man took several swigs then
pushed himself to his knees, still gasping.

“Sorry…sir…ran…all…the
way…I found…them.” He held up a finger, trying to slow his breathing some more.
“Only ten left.”

“Ten!”
Domingos’ eyes shot wide open as his jaw dropped. He had sent at least seventy
men ahead. They should have been here long ago.

Ten?

“They
encountered heavy enemy resistance,” explained the runner as he pushed himself
to his feet, leaning against a tree. “Nyusi said at least fifty American
soldiers. They were lucky to survive.”

Domingos
drew in a quick breath, anger taking hold over the shock. If the Americans had
been able to put fifty soldiers on the ground, they would have been able to
rescue their people and wouldn’t have bothered.

He knew
bullshit when he heard it, and he recognized fear when he saw it.

And his
men were scared.

If they
were about to face fifty soldiers, then they were doomed. He knew it and they
knew it.

Though
there was no way there were fifty soldiers.

“Nyusi
can’t count more than he’s got fingers, and he’s missing two of those,” he said
with a smile, nervous laughter from his men echoing through the trees. “If the
Americans had been able to put fifty men on the ground, they would have pulled
the President out and they’d be swarming all over that aircraft down there,” he
said, pointing toward the falls roaring behind him. He wagged a finger. “No, I
think Nyusi’s men got lost or tired, and headed back to the village to get
drunk while we did all the work!” A few curses could be heard. “I say
we
go get the President, and when we get the money, Nyusi and his men can kiss our
rich asses!”

Cheers
overwhelmed the falls, guns and torches raised in the air as the bravado of
greed was restored.