Chapter 13
C onversation was impossible. What passed for roads in the country was nothing more than a glorified collection of mud and potholes. The Jeep lacked both shocks and power steering and bounced them around violently. Occasionally they saw people out and about, but Ethan didn’t stop, not until the Jeep sputtered and died, out of gas, did he bale and lift Amelia down.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“We’re in a country in the dead center of Africa, the Central African Republic.”
“But the people who took me are Russian,” Amelia said.
“There’s a big Russian presence in Africa. Long story short, you’re caught up in a war over conflict diamonds, blood diamonds.”
“Piedmont’s trying a case over diamonds,” she said.
“I know,” he said, teeth gritted.
“Oh,” she drawled, making the connection.
“Amelia, are you hurt? Did they hurt you?” He cupped her face in his hand, searching her eyes.
She shook her head.
“The truth. You can tell me anything, you know that.”
“They drugged me to knock me out when we reached the airport, and they tossed me around a bit. But other than that, they didn’t touch me.” She paused. “They didn’t rape me, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He hugged her, pressing her tight against his chest. “You’re going to be okay.”
“I am okay,” she assured him. “It was scary, but it’s over now.”
“Um, not quite,” he said. He let her go so he could see her face. “This country, the CAR, it’s not doing so well right now. In fact, it’s really, really, really dangerous, and you should know I’ve been a lot of dangerous places and therefore don’t say that lightly. Assume everyone we see here wants to kill, kidnap, or rob us, not necessarily in that order. I’m not sure which of us is a higher priority target—you because you’re blond and pretty or me because I’m an American agent.”
She smiled. “Hey, you admitted it.”
“After this, I don’t think we’re going to have any secrets between us,” Ethan said.
She rested her hands on his biceps. “Ethan, I will do whatever you need me to do, I can help however you want. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. We’re going to get out of this, I can feel it.”
“The optimistic good cheer is a step in the right direction. First we need to get gas, and then we need to find a place to stay. We also have to find a robe and scarf for you to try and tone down the pretty. You’re like a flashing neon sign that says, ‘Kidnap and sell me, please.’”
“That might have been more graphic information than I actually needed, but alrighty then. Let’s get gas, find lodging, and cover me up. Do you think maybe we could work food into that equation?”
“Did they feed you at all or give you any water?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Aw, baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think. Here.” He rifled in his pack and handed her a power bar and bottle of water. “Don’t drink any tap water. Don’t even brush your teeth with it.” He was slightly worried about her health. He had been inoculated against everything, up to and including anthrax. She’d had none of the requisite shots one needed when venturing to Africa. She was susceptible to everything, adding another layer of danger to an already dangerous scenario. “Don’t touch any animals, and especially not dogs or cats.”
“Why?”
“Rabies.”
“Rabies is actually a thing here?” she asked.
“Everything is a thing here. Are you current on any vaccinations?”
She nodded. “The salon made me get boosters for nearly everything, Hep-A, Hep-B, MMR, a T-Dap and the flu shot.”
“Good, that’s good. Just do what I said, try not to touch anything, wash your hands as much as possible, and tell me if you get bitten by a mosquito.”
“Is there anything in Africa that doesn’t want to kill me?” she asked.
He picked her up and brought her level with his face. “Me.” He kissed her cheek and set her down again.
“A cheek kiss, really? You just saved my life like flipping Jason Bourne, we’re five thousand miles from home, may never get back again, and you kissed my cheek?” she said. “That’s not what the hero’s supposed to do. Have you never watched a movie or read a book?”
“I need to focus on my mission. After that, we’ll talk,” he said.
“Talk. Can’t wait. Maybe things will get crazy and we’ll end up conversing .” She faked a gasp and covered her mouth.
“After this, we’ll ‘talk,’” he said, using air quotes. “Better?”
“You’re on the right track,” she said.
Ethan had no idea how it was possible to be having fun in their current situation, but he was. He took her hand and headed toward the makeshift little town on the horizon, hoping it hadn’t been overrun by terrorists or Russians or gangsters, hoping to find one good person to help them out. Mostly he was hoping to find one person who spoke English and not French, the national language.
When they arrived, he saw no signs of Boko Haram or Isil, but he also found no one who spoke anything but French. He must have said Parlez vous Anglais fifteen times before Amelia rolled her eyes and busted out an entire paragraph in flowing French.
Someone answered her in kind. She nodded a few times and spoke back to him. Ethan stood looking between them like the hapless moron he was.
“He has gas. He’ll sell it to us for a hundred dollars, American,” she said at last.
“What just happened here?” he asked, slack jawed and dumbfounded.
Amelia bit her finger, feigning innocence. “Did I not mention French was my minor? My family thought it was, in my brother’s words, the stupidest, most frivolous minor on the planet. Who’s laughing now, Darren?”
“I am,” Ethan said, chuckling. “Are you ever going to stop surprising me?”
“No,” she said.
“Good. Tell him to get the gas, and I’ll give him the money. Also see if he can get some sort of cover for you.” She turned to the man, said more words, motioned to her body and hair, and he disappeared. “Knowing you’re fluent in French might have been handy information, chicklet.” He poked her waist.
“It’s the middle of Africa. How was I to know they spoke French here? I thought it would be Swahili.”
“This used to be a French colony, and so was Cameroon,” he said, feeling much more cheerful over their prospects. The language barrier had been one of his biggest concerns, and now that was gone.
The man returned with the gas and a robe and scarf for Amelia, and they paid him the money. “Ask him if he knows a good, safe place to stay the night, west.” He pointed to the west. Amelia asked him the question and relayed the answer.
“He said to get off the main road before you hit the border. The gangs keep a lookout for cars and trucks and there are often raiders. Going by foot is a safer bet. He said anywhere the terrorists haven’t invaded would be a good idea for lodging.”
They thanked the man. Amelia donned the robe and green flowered headscarf that, in true Amelia fashion, was quite becoming. “You’re not supposed to look even better in that getup,” Ethan groused.
“I’m sorry, but headscarves are kind of in right now. I wear them a lot, actually. This one’s super cute. I wonder where I could get some more.”
“I can’t believe we’re trying to escape this country with our lives and you’re contemplating where to shop,” he said.
“You don’t hear me complaining and trying to get you to stop being a commando, do you? You be you, and I’ll be me,” she said, frowning.
“That wasn’t a complaint, it was more of an observation. I like you exactly as you are, you know that.”
“Better than your dry cleaner?” she asked.
“I don’t know, Mr. Kim is pretty sweet,” he said. He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I already told you I was sorry.”
“I know, but you hurt my feelings.”
“I was trying to; I wanted to push you away,” he said.
“Why?” she asked.
He shrugged. “To see if you’d come back. It’s a thing I do, but I’m working on it. I’m trying not to with you.”
“Ethan,” she said.
“Hmm,” he replied.
“I’m still here,” she said, giving his hand a hard squeeze.
“Hey, Amelia.”
“Yes?”
“I’m still here, too. And I’m usually long gone by now.”
“I know,” she said. He liked that she didn’t ask anything of him, didn’t broach the future, didn’t press him for more. She just smiled and gave him the look, the tender one that said she thought he was worthy, a man to be admired.