Chapter 12
Dane smiled as he watched sweat trickle down the older man’s temples. They both knew Dane had the advantage. The cab hadn’t moved and the driver stared at them from the rearview mirror. The man whispered something Dane thought it sounded like a prayer.
“Take us to the U.S. Embassy,” he told the driver.
Floyd said something in Portuguese real fast—another set of directions. With a threat at the end. The driver shoved the car into gear. Dane knew he had to make a move and not underestimate Floyd’s mean streak even if Dane could outmaneuver him. The man would take a wild shot if just for spite.
The cab headed out of town, probably in the direction of the Tavares compound and most definitely not in the direction of the U.S.
Embassy. Floyd looked hot and unstable. Dane held his hand steady with the gun aimed dead center between his eyes.
He needed to make his move now and risk a shot to the gut.
There was a slight chance he’d be fast enough to make this work. And there was only one way to find out.
With his left hand, injured thumb and all, Dane shoved Floyd’s gun barrel off to the right and at the same time he cracked Floyd on the head with his gun in the other hand.
The motion was swift enough to make Floyd miss when he inevitably pulled the trigger, putting a hole through the front passenger seat. The cabby screeched to a stop.
Unfortunately, Dane’s knock to Floyd’s head wasn’t hard enough to put him out and they struggled against each other while the cabbie shrieked in Portuguese.
Dane had Floyd by the wrist but the man punched with his other hand and grabbed hold of Dane’s bad wrist. He was a damn filthy fighter, going after Dane’s weak spot. Naturally.
Dane heard the car door open and he knew they needed to get out of the cab and disappear before the police arrived.
He could play dirty, too. He whistled as loudly as he could, startling Floyd, and took that flash of time to slam his Glock against Floyd’s temple again.
This time the man was dazed enough for Dane to grab Floyd’s gun and jump out of the car before anyone arrived at the scene.
Stepping onto the walk, he disappeared into a building three doors down where the commotion hadn’t been seen.
The building happened to be a bank. He made his way to the restroom with the two guns stowed in his waistband under his shirt.
Catching his breath, Dane stopped and leaned over the sink.
He splashed water on his face, wincing at the sharp pain in his thumb and wrist and now his face, too.
After his heartbeat returned to almost normal and the adrenaline rush had passed, he went out to the lobby.
In his best Portuguese, and with his face angled so that the bruising wouldn’t be as noticeable, he asked to use a phone and called Acer for a ride.
*****
“Time to get out of this jungle.”
“What about Oscar?” David asked.
“They don’t have him. I don’t know what this is all about.
But I do know two things. Floyd is in hip deep—maybe over his head—and two, he wants us down here bad.
That’s enough reason to leave before we run into trouble again.
” Dane flicked a gaze at Shana. She stood like a blond bombshell centry.
He felt an uptick in his heartbeat, closely followed by a roll in his gut. He kept it to himself. Barely.
“Floyd had you—,” Shana said. Her tone was too flat. He knew she was trying to cover her worry. He supposed his bruised-up hand, the new bruise on his cheek and cut on his lip didn’t help.
“The Tavares family had us three days ago. And they did nothing with us. And when we escaped who did we run into?”
“Floyd.”
“Very coincidental that he knew where to find us.”
“But if he’s the one who wants you, then why did he let you go?”
“He didn’t let me go—I had to fight my way out.
We told him about we had a team here. He needs to find out what we’re all up to.
He needs to get the picture of our rescue operation—or get rid of us all and blame it on Tavares.
He figured it would be easy as long as we weren’t onto him.
He was setting us up and having Tavares do the dirty work. ”
“The Tavares clan is angry about us killing their brother so they’re happy to do it. There is definitely a revenge motive,” Shana said.
“Yes, but the Tavares people are not necessarily calling the shots. That’s why they put us in the dungeon—a keeper cell until their partner—maybe their boss—arrived.”
“Are you saying that Floyd is in charge of the operation?” David asked.
Dane nodded. “He pulled a gun on me. He’s either in charge or he’s partnering with Tavares.”
“What’s his end game? Why does he want to take you out all of a sudden? And what about Oscar? Where is he? Why did the CIA tell the governor that Oscar didn’t check in and is considered missing?”
“Because that’s what Floyd told them. I decided it would be wise to check back channels. I’ve placed a call. A mutual friend of Oscar’s and mine down in Haiti. One of the Doctors Without Borders—outside our community but reliable and in touch with Oscar. Oscar’s emergency contact.”
“Why didn’t you call him before?” David asked.
“I did. Got no response. I’ll call again today. I set up an appointment to chat on a secure line in”—Dane looked at his watch and hoped the communications gadget told time accurately—“five minutes.”
“But what’s Floyd’s end game? What does he want with you all of a sudden?” David pressed.
“I don’t know for sure. If you believe him, he says Tavares wants to trade us for some high value assets.
But I’m becoming convinced Floyd has another agenda.
What I do know for sure is that Floyd wants us here and he wants us dead.
That’s enough to tell me we should get out of this hellhole jungle ASAP. ”
Dane wanted most of all to get Shana out of there. In the meantime, he wasn’t going to let her out of his sight.
“You think Floyd is crazy?” Shana asked.
Her hands were off her hips and she stood perilously close to Dane now, not touching, but within heat-radiating distance, and within aroma distance.
Close enough for Dane to get drugged on her scent if he didn’t concentrate.
They were almost home. He almost had her on the way home safe and sound.
The house phone rang. Dane snatched it up.
“Dr. Randy. How the hell are you? More importantly, getting to the point—how the hell is Oscar?”
Dane listened. Shana leaned in. He put the call on speakerphone.
“Oscar isn’t here. I thought you were calling in to tell me—”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Thirty-six hours ago. When he found out Shana George had been kidnapped he—”
“He found out—who told him?” Dane’s gut rolled into a dense round cannonball.
“Floyd Parker—his handler told him—I thought you—”
“Shit.” Dane felt O’Keefe stir and withdraw from the huddle around the phone. He glanced at Shana. Her face was blank if pale.
She said into the phone, “Don’t tell me he took off to Rio to rescue me—”
“You’re Shana—Jesus.” The doctor paused and let the import of the situation sink in. “You need to contact him. He left a number with me. When I heard from him last he was outside of Rio—gathering assets he said.”
“Exactly what time did Floyd call Oscar?”
“The exact time? I’m not sure—like I said—about thirty-six hours ago—”
“Give me the number. If he calls you again tell him to abort the mission and tell him Dane Blaise ordered it. Shana is safe. Tell him to meet us at the extra safe house outside of Rio. He’ll know.” Dane got the number and ended the call and turned to the group.
“You were wrong about Floyd,” O’Keefe said before anyone had a chance to finish digesting the call.
“The hell I was—he knew Oscar wasn’t in trouble—he lied to us.”
“You don’t know that—Dr. Randy called Oscar’s phone but that doesn’t mean he knew Oscar was okay.”
Dane decided not to bother with the chief or his bad attitude at that moment. He said, “We need to get to Oscar.”
“I’ll call him now,” David had the smart phone in his hand and pressed in the numbers. They all listened while the call went to an anonymous voicemail message.
“He’ll call back,” Dane said. “No one ever answers a call from the field without assessing it first. I’m assuming he’ll ID your number.”
David nodded.
Dane turned to Shana. There was no way in hell he was letting her go back into the mouth of the lion. But he had no idea how he was going to stop her. That was problem number one.
Problem number two was getting Oscar out of where ever he was and with them to leave for the states. And problem number three was to figure out what the hell was going on with Floyd Parker.
Dane was convinced he was dirty, that he was behind it all.
But it was getting harder to prove instead of easier.
He had nothing solid on the man—not enough for the CIA and not enough for the U.S.
courts. A good lawyer would make the same argument that Floyd had, that Dane had been followed to the safe house where the Tavares people caught up with them.
The CIA practically presumed their people would look bad in the due course of their jobs, working with the enemy and their targets.
They would think nothing of any of the circumstances or actions that Dane had to report thus far.
They couldn’t give a shit if Floyd punched him out and threatened him.
They would need proof positive that he was working with Henrique Tavares himself and that it was not under duress and that whatever he did was not part of a grand plan to bring Tavares down. In short, they would need a confession from Floyd Parker himself.
“I’m going with you,” Shana said. “Unless you want to try knocking me unconscious.” She stood, hands fisted at her sides, and lifted her chin in a less than subtle dare.
“I’ve tried this before and it didn’t work out so well—”
“Nonsense,” David said. “You managed to extract Shana and live to talk about it. I’d say that worked out very well.”
“That was only because they wanted to keep us alive then.” He left hanging the implication that they’d likely be shot on sight this time around. Henrique Tavares was no fool.
“Floyd Parker will help—” O’Keefe began.
“Don’t count on Floyd for shit.” Dane barely held back a glare at O’Keefe. He knew his beef with the chief couldn’t go on. He needed to keep O’Keefe under wraps but the man was belligerent and out of practice and biased. Dane didn’t know why, but he promised himself he’d find out. Later.
David said, “First thing we need to do is find out where Oscar is and—”
O’Keefe had his phone out and pressed in a number. The phone was to his ear before anyone had a chance to stop him.
“Who the hell are you calling?” He knew it was Floyd Parker. Dane lunged for the phone. David stopped him by stepping in between Dane and O’Keefe and O’Keefe jerked away and started talking.
“Floyd Parker? Chief O’Keefe, Boston, here. We need your help. Oscar is on his way to the Tavares compound because he thinks Shana George is still in there—”
Dane couldn’t hear what Floyd was saying, but from the tone it sounded like something salty. Floyd had a soft spot for Oscar. This development probably wasn’t in his plans. But Dane knew Floyd would quickly make adjustments and use the circumstances to his advantage.
They’d be walking into a trap once again because goddamn Chief O-stinking-Keefe tipped off the enemy.
In spite of David’s restraining hold, Dane lunged and darted an arm forward yanking the phone away from O’Keefe and sidestepping away from both David and O’Keefe, put the phone to his ear.
“Floyd, you need to—” Dead air. He was talking to no one.
Dane tossed the phone onto a nearby table.
“Shit.” He ignored the glares of the two men and looked at Shana.
Her face was impassive, but her eyes had that look, the one that undid him, the one that saw inside him and wanted to console him.
Too bad he had no time for consolation right now.
“Floyd will alert Tavares. We’d damn well better intercept Oscar before he gets near the compound.”
“Floyd will alert the local police—” O’Keefe said.
“The local police will have nothing to do with this. Floyd’s never contacted the local police in his goddamn life for a goddamn thing.”
“Dane’s probably right,” David said. “But Floyd won’t want Oscar caught. He may be able to help us—”
“Don’t count on it.” Dane stepped over to where his backpack had been thrown and retrieved a map.
He’d station them around the perimeter maybe a thousand feet out and hope they spotted Oscar before he got closer.
It was a gamble because he was as certain as Rio was wild that Tavares’ men would be watching for Oscar too.
Acer said, “We can’t go back into Rio with that truck. We’d be spotted within ten seconds, Floyd Parker or no Floyd Parker.”
“We’ll rent some motor bikes on the outside of town—I know a place. We’re each going to take a post. Shana will stay with the truck—”
“Not on—”
“Someone needs to stay outside the perimeter. You’re the back up. We’ll need to get fresh throw-away phones.” He took a breath. “And we’ll need to use smaller weapons that can be concealed.”
“We’ll be out-gunned,” Acer said. “Maybe I should get another truck to keep some of the weapons.”
Dane shook his head. “You know as well as I do that our only chance will be to stay invisible and be quick. If you’re in a truck, you’ll be slow and vulnerable.”
“But well-armed.” Acer smiled.
Dane thought about it a beat. Acer folded his arms. He was determined—and he might have a point.
“Have it your way—take Shana and stay on the outskirts. Move in for the pick up when we get Oscar.” Dane pointed to the three spots on the map where he, David and O’Keefe would plant themselves for the watch.
With any luck, they might get there ahead of Oscar, but it would be close.
“Let’s try calling Oscar one more time,” David said.
“You read my mind,” Dane said.
David made the call, and left a message, more urgent this time. Dane hoped to hell Oscar still had his phone and wasn’t already in trouble. Or they’d all be in trouble inside of an hour.