Chapter 1
Chapter 1
S ummer 1986, A Tiny Town in Rural Honduras
“ S ir, the men are dropping like flies.”
Major John Caruthers stared at the man, trying to hold his temper. He took a breath and then another. The man started to squirm and it was all John could do not to reach out and smack him. Weakness in any form made him see red. They were soldiers. Why was he the only one who seemed to comprehend that? “Why?”
“Sir?”
“I said why. Why are my soldiers, if such could be called that, dropping like flies, Sergeant?”
Now the man really started to squirm. “It’s a hundred and ten degrees, sir. The humidity alone…And provisions, are, well, sir…”
“I understand,” John said, nodding, and the sergeant sighed with relief that was short lived when John continued. “I mean, after all, we are here on vacation, aren’t we, Sergeant?”
“Uh…” the sergeant began, confused by John’s congenial tone.
“And there certainly aren’t any natives nearby who live and work in these conditions all the time, who are likely laughing at these so called trained men complaining about a little heat.”
“Well, see, uh…”
“Would you like me to turn up the air conditioning? Maybe order some ice cream?”
“Uh…” the man looked around the canvas tent, its flaps not fluttering in the thick, lifeless air.
The major placed his palms on the rickety desk and leaned forward. His voice dropped to a silky whisper. “Or would it be possible for the men to remember they are the most highly trained soldiers from the greatest country on earth, sent here on a mission of dire importance? Would you like me to come out there and tell them in person how I feel about grumbling and complaints, Sergeant?”
“Er, no, sir, I think I begin to understand.” With effort, he resisted the urge to tug his collar.
“Very well then, Sergeant, you are dismissed.” They shared the requisite salute and the sergeant back stepped out of the tent, resisting the urge to genuflect and tremble. He darted out of the tent and bent over, attempting to suck oxygen that wasn’t there. There is no air in this country, he thought, then immediately banished it lest The Major somehow gain the ability to see into his mind and hear the complaint.
“Did you tell him?” His buddy, Ackers, slipped up on his side and bent over to whisper in his ear. So far no one had been able to prove The Major heard everything that went on in the camp, but it seemed so. The men had taken to whispering everything like middle school girls at a sleepover.
The sergeant shook his head.
“You’ve got to,” Ackers said, giving him a nudge.
“He’ll kill me,” the sergeant said. “You don’t know. You just don’t know.”
“It’s going to be worse if you don’t tell him now,” Ackers hissed.
The sergeant pressed his lips together and shook his head. The stories about Major John Caruthers had circulated for years, becoming myth and legend—how he could go so stealth you never sensed him coming, how he tended to make troublesome people disappear forever, how he seemingly never ate, slept, or drank. The man was cast iron; he had no weaknesses, no family, never took time off, never took a break, had been involved in every major military operation since Vietnam, and had somehow turned every one in his favor. Had so many confirmed kills people stopped keeping count. Before this assignment, he’d been excited to work with the man. Excited. And now…now he wanted to get home in one piece. It said something that he feared his commanding officer much more than he feared the rebels and insurgents all around them.
Ackers squared his shoulders and stared toward the tent flap, the light of challenge in his eyes. “Fine, I’ll tell him.”
“Godspeed,” the sergeant said, still trying to draw a deep breath. Ackers took a step into the tent. The sergeant began a mental countdown. By the time he reached a hundred, Ackers had been tossed back through the flap, landing hard in the dirt at the sergeant’s feet. “How’d he take it?” he couldn’t help but ask.
Ackers didn’t answer. He clutched his stomach and retched, turning his head in time to heave into the grass.
T he girl won’t go.
That was the information the man imparted before John tossed him from the tent. He might not have tossed him, if he hadn’t been the last one sent to retrieve her. But he had personally failed and therefore had received his just due. John couldn’t tolerate failure any more than he could tolerate weakness. When he assigned a task, he expected it to be carried out, no excuses, no mistakes. They were the armed forces of the United States of America. The world expected nothing less than perfection from them, and Major John Caruthers would provide it or die trying. He didn’t care how many people he had to take with him along the way.
For a moment, he pondered leaving the woman behind. She was one lone botanist. How bad would it be, really, if they left her behind? But then his conscience smote him. She’s an American. That fact alone meant John and his men were honor bound to protect her, whether she wanted their protection or not.
The problem was, he’d sent four men. Four men had tried and failed to evacuate the little chit, and she’d somehow charmed them all into going away again without her.
“She says she wants to stay,” the idiot before this one informed him.
“It’s not her choice to make,” John had roared. Morons, all around. Some days he felt like he was drowning in them. They had a job to do, a clear cut job. What was so hard about following through and doing it? People mess everything up, he thought. It wasn’t the first time he’d thought such and it wouldn’t be the last because people always tended toward stupidity. No matter the country, no matter the language, no matter the demographic, people would always be as stupid and helpless as possible.
I’m going to have to do it myself, he thought, fighting the ever-present rage monster inside him. This girl apparently thought she was something special, able to charm whichever man got in her way. He almost smiled as he imagined all the ways her little plan was about to go awry. Prepare yourself, lady. You’ve never met the likes of John Caruthers.
If he’d known what waited for him, he would have aimed the warning at himself.