Chapter 8 #3
Once past the checkpoint, she slowed, waiting for them.
Several shots rang out.
Marta flinched. Oh, no. Please don’t be them.
Suddenly, the back door of the van opened.
Marta’s gaze shot to the rear-view mirror.
Raul dove in.
“Where’s Crusher?” Marta called out.
As soon as Raul was inside, Crusher jumped into the back of the van. “Go!” he called out.
Marta stomped on the accelerator, sending the van shooting forward.
Behind them, two of the six men staggered to their feet, reaching for their rifles.
The two men lunged toward the front of the van as the men they’d left behind fired.
Her heart racing, Marta pushed the van faster, the ping of bullets hitting metal, making her even more determined to put distance between them.
A hand on her shoulder made her jump.
“They’re out of range,” Crusher said. “You can slow down.”
She glanced briefly in the rear-view mirror, her gaze connecting with his. “Are you sure? What if they catch up?”
“We shot the tires on their SUV. They won’t be coming after us too soon.” He smiled at her in the mirror. “You did good.”
She laughed, her voice shaking, a sob threatening to rise up her throat. “I’m not the one who was fighting armed men with my bare hands.”
“You kept your cool,” Crusher noted. “You were amazing.”
Marta didn’t feel amazing. Her hands gripped the steering wheel as if her life depended on it, while the rest of her body shook.
Crusher squeezed her shoulder, gently. “If you pull over, one of us can take over the driving.”
She shook her head. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather keep driving a little further. Just in case they’re able to follow.”
With a nod, Crusher slid into the passenger seat, brought out his burner phone and keyed a text message. “I just let Swede know what happened at the border crossing into Costa Rica,” he said.
A chirp indicated an answering text.
“Swede says the plane in Costa Rica will take us to Mexico City. From there, we’ll take a commercial flight to Miami. There will be about a four-hour layover between the time we arrive and the time we leave on the next flight.”
Marta shook her head. “So much time getting places. I need to get to a lab. I have to work on an antiviral or another way to slow the transmission down.”
“I’m sending word through Swede to Royce to touch bases with our State Department guy to have whatever you need ready.
” Crusher keyed more information into his cell phone.
“Swede says he’ll pass on the information.
For now, I need to bring up the map so we can get to the plane and get you to Miami.
” He brought up the map to their destination and quietly gave her directions as she drove.
Soon, Marta’s grip eased on the steering wheel, and her body quit shaking.
“Is it always so intense?” she asked.
Crusher shrugged as if taking on six armed men was normal. He glanced back at Raul, who had a bruise on his cheekbone and a bloody lip. “You tell me.”
Raul brushed his fist over the bloody lip. “Just another day.”
When Marta rolled her eyes, both men laughed.
Before long, they arrived at a small airstrip.
Marta pulled to a stop near an airplane sitting on the tarmac.
“That’s our ride,” Crusher pushed open his door, dropped down from the van and came around to help Marta to the ground.
Raul joined them as they stared out at the plane. The pilot descended the steps and walked toward them.
Crusher held out his hand to Raul. “Thanks for the ride and the help. Sorry about the bullet holes in the van.”
Raul took Crusher’s hand, pulled him in for a hug and pounded his back. “It was a pleasure to assist. No worries about the holes. I have a cousin who works in autobody repair.”
Raul turned to Marta. “Eres tan valiente como eres hermosa.” He smiled and translated, “You are as brave as you are beautiful, mi amiga.”
She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “Thank you, Raul.” When she moved back, her brow puckered. “Will you be all right?”
He nodded. “I have friends in Costa Rica where I can stay for a day or two before I return to Panama City.” Raul lifted his chin toward the plane. “It is time for you to go.” He kissed her cheek and stepped back.
The pilot reached them. “Jack Bailey?”
Crusher nodded and held out his hand.
“Hank Patterson said I’d find you and a young woman here. Glad you made it.” He nodded at Marta. “I’m to take you to Mexico City. If you’re ready, we can go. I’ve already filed my flight plan.”
Crusher glanced down at Marta. “Ready?”
Marta nodded. “I am.” With one last smile back at Raul, she turned toward the plane.
Crusher hooked Marta’s arm as they followed the pilot.
Not until they were in the air did Marta allow herself to take a deep breath.
“Are you okay?” Crusher asked over the roar of the jet engines.
Marta shook her head. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay. It took a lot to get this far, and we still haven’t gotten to the real problem.”
Crusher took her hand and squeezed gently. “We’ll get there. Have faith.”
She hoped they did.
The lives of millions were at stake.