Chapter 5 #2
Crusher did the same, taking the opportunity to close his eyes for a power nap, not knowing what to expect when they arrived in Panama.
He’d contact Royce once they arrived in Panama City.
Royce would fill him in on where to head next.
He hoped they’d have time to sleep before heading out again.
He was tired, but Marta had to be beyond exhausted if the dark circles under her eyes were any indication.
The shower and clean clothing had done a lot to make her appear happier.
He’d make sure she had time to regroup, get clothing that fit and sleep before they made the next jump to Miami.
Miami.
He understood Marta’s trepidation over being handed over to the government. Even if the administration hadn’t fired everyone with any knowledge, working with the government meant wading through red tape and bureaucracy. From what she’d said about the pathogen, they didn’t have a lot of time.
Antivirals took a long time and extensive testing to develop. Twenty days didn’t seem adequate.
All the more reason to get her somewhere she could focus. The more Crusher thought about it, the less he thought handing her off to Devon would work.
But then Devon had hired SOS to bring Dr. Hale back to the States. To complete his mission, he had to deliver her to Devon Marsh.
The power nap he’d hoped to get didn’t happen. Not with potential scenarios swirling around inside his head and a sense of pending doom clouding his thoughts. Being cooped up on a plane didn’t help. He needed to move, needed action to push through the danger and deliver Marta to a safe location.
Trouble was, he wasn’t convinced Miami was the safest place for her.
Nor was she handed over to the State Department.
Working with Devon Marsh in the past didn’t assure him that the government would make the best use of Marta’s knowledge and abilities.
Typical bureaucracy moved, at best, at a glacial pace.
They didn’t have time for that. Marta wouldn’t go for that.
Crusher pulled out his satellite phone and texted Royce.
Crusher: Initiated Plan B. En route to safe house.
Royce: Roger. Will alert the welcoming committee.
Crusher nodded. More of Royce’s contacts had security assets in Panama. They hired out to visiting celebrities and wealthy individuals who wanted enhanced safety while visiting the country.
Royce texted the coordinates to Crusher.
After they landed and taxied to a stop at the general aviation section of the airport that serviced Panama City, an SUV appeared and drove across the tarmac straight for the plane.
Crusher tensed.
“That will be the rental car Royce sent for,” Slater said.
When the vehicle came to a stop next to the plane, the driver got out and jogged back to the facility.
Crusher released the breath he’d held. He wasn’t sure what they could have done had the driver attacked them.
Slater tossed baseball caps to Crusher and Marta. Across the front was a logo for a coffee brand.
“Your brand?” Crusher asked.
“No,” Slater said. “Just some swag from a coffee company that wanted to buy our beans. You could use them to help with your disguise.”
“Thanks,” Marta said and pulled her auburn hair up into a knot and stuffed it into the cap.
Wearing the oversized coverall, with her hair secured in the cap, Marta’s green eyes flashed, and she grinned. “No one would mistake me for an epidemiologist in this outfit.”
Crusher’s groin tightened. She wasn’t his usual type, but she had an undeniable pull on him. Something he’d have to get over. Marta was the asset. The mission. Nothing else. And soon, he’d hand her over to Devon. Mission complete.
Only he didn’t think he’d forget her anytime soon.
She might be more at home in a lab, but she’d proven resilient in the jungle, and she hadn’t complained, even when the injury on her wrist had given her a considerable amount of pain.
The fact that she felt responsible for the lives of so many put her in a class all by itself.
Not only did she care, but she also had the knowledge and training to do something about it, given a chance.
Marta Hale was more beautiful in a subtle, deeper way than any other woman he’d ever spent more than a night with.
His admiration for the woman had grown exponentially since he’d found her cuffed to a table in the compound, challenging his reason for being there.
Crusher lowered the steps and descended to the tarmac, his gaze scanning the buildings and rooftops. When he was satisfied there was no imminent danger, he turned and helped Marta out of the plane and onto the ground. His arm came up around her, naturally protective.
Slater appeared in the doorway, his gaze panning nearby buildings. “If it’s all the same with you, we’ll part ways here.”
“That’s probably for the best,” Crusher said. “The less we’re seen together, the safer you’ll be.”
Slater nodded. “It was nice to meet you and your lady.” He smiled and waved at Marta.
“Thank you, Mr. Slater,” she said, touching her good hand to the hat with a smile. “For everything.”
Crusher wanted to correct Slater. Marta wasn’t his lady, but the words didn’t irritate him. He actually liked how they sounded.
“Anyway,” Slater continued, “good luck out there. I hope you resolve your issue with Vasquez. The man loves money and power. He resents when people try to take either away.”
“Then he’ll be angry,” Marta said. “I’m not afraid for myself. What worries me more is that he has another scientist ready to pick up where I left off. If he succeeds in releasing the virus, millions could die.”
Slater’s brow dipped. “I’ll be tucked away on my coffee plantation, growing my own food, should that happen. Let me know if I can help you further. If you need a place to stay safe from an epidemic, come stay with me.”
Crusher reached up and shook Slater’s hand. “Thank you for getting us this far.”
He escorted Marta to the rental car and held the passenger door open for her.
Once she settled, he rounded to the other side of the vehicle and slid into the driver’s seat.
He brought up the map on his satellite phone and entered the coordinates Royce had texted to him.
Soon, they were driving out of the airport and into the busy streets of Panama City.
Marta sat beside him, her hands clasped in her lap, her gaze shifting from the road ahead to the side mirror and over her shoulder nervously. “Do you think Vasquez’s men will follow us to Panama?”
Crusher remained vigilant, checking all angles around them for any signs that they were being followed. So far, nothing seemed amiss. Yet, a knot had formed in his gut, and everything felt...off.
The coordinates on the map led them to a townhouse complex on the edge of the city, tucked between a sprawling apartment complex and an older marketplace.
Crusher slowed as they neared the address, but didn’t stop. As he passed the building, he noticed a man seated in a chair on the porch of the townhouse. He stared out at the street, unblinking. Something about the way he slumped in the chair made the nerves on the back of Crusher’s neck prickle.
“Do you see that man?” Marta said softly. “He’s not moving. I think he might be...dead.”
As she uttered the word, the same realization struck Crusher. He slammed his foot on the accelerator and shot past the house.
“Armed men are coming out of the bushes,” Marta cried.
Bullets slammed into the rear window.
“Get down!” Crusher yelled. At the first street he came to, he barely slowed and spun the steering wheel to the left.
The tires squealed, and the rear of the vehicle skidded sideways several feet before it straightened.
Crusher hit the accelerator hard, sending the rental car flying down the narrow street, dodging older cars and trucks parked against the curbs.
When a dark SUV appeared in his rearview mirror, he tried every evasive measure he could to lose the tail.
Marta twisted sideways in her seat, looking back. “I don’t see him. We lost him.”
Seconds later, an SUV shot out of a side street as they passed and slammed into the rear of the rental, sending it into a one-hundred-eighty-degree spin.
Crusher used the directional change to their advantage and headed back the opposite direction, turning onto another road as soon as he could. The other SUV had to take time to turn around before it could follow.
The road they entered was jammed with traffic, eventually slowing them to a stop.
Marta swiveled in her seat, checking the roads on either side and behind. “He’s back there,” she cried. “I can see him. Holy shit!”
Crusher checked his rearview mirror.
The SUV had driven up onto the sidewalk and was blasting through pedestrians, gaining on them where they sat, paralyzed in traffic.
“Get in the back seat behind me and be ready to jump out.”
“What?” Marta shot a wide-eyed glance his way.
“Just do it,” he urged.
Marta flung herself over the back of the seat. As soon as she was behind Crusher, he braced himself and waited for the SUV to catch up with them on the sidewalk.
The traffic chose that moment to ease forward an entire car length. Not that it would get them out of the jam, but it would give Crusher the wiggle room he needed.
The dark SUV barreled toward them. Thirty feet behind them. Twenty feet. Ten feet. Five. Then it was parallel with the rear of their rental.
“Hold on!” Crusher yelled and yanked the steering wheel to the right, slamming the rental into the front of the SUV and sending it crashing into the side of a building.
Crusher followed it, and the side of the rental shoved against the driver’s door.
When they came to a halt, Crusher threw the shift into park, engaged the parking brake, and yelled, “Jump!
He flung his door open at the same time as Marta and rolled out onto the ground. Hunkering low, he rounded her door, hooked her arm and raced through the stranded traffic before it started moving again.