Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
“Y ou stupid cows!” Tefere David screamed at his ten soldiers. “I told you to shoot HIM, not at her!” and he glared at his men. They had talked earlier to one of the fishermen on a dock and, although the Ethiopian did not know her name but had seen and remembered her frizzy red hair, had found out that Willow Chamberlin, along with another white person, a man, had rented a boat from him some hours before. It was easy enough to ask another fisherman on the dock, cutting his catch for the morning: which way had they gone. What color was the boat painted? Tefere always dressed like the locals, who had no reason to suspect the deadly cache of weapons stowed away in dark-green canvas bags, hidden from view in the gang’s pickup trucks parked nearby.
Breathing hard, he shook his finger at all his teen and older soldiers where they crouched on the hillside from which the enemy had slipped away. “Cows! Every one of you! You can’t shoot to kill!” He touched the long knife he carried sheathed in a badly scarred leather scabbard hanging from his left hip. “I ought to slice all your throats!” Satisfaction thrummed through Tefere as he saw his men’s eyes widen. He’d sliced open more than one soldier’s throat for screwing things up before. They all looked mortified as well as terrified, kneeling, the butts of their AK-47s resting on their thighs.
“Get up!” he barked. “Track them! We need to catch her! And do NOT harm her! Any of you get grabby and bruise her anywhere on her body? I’ll kill you where you stand! Now get up!”
Instantly, the soldiers leaped to their feet. They were dressed as civilians, in ragged-looking clothes, only their sturdy combat boots hinting at their true nature. Most wore turbans wrapped around their heads. Tefere stabbed his finger toward the biggest and most experienced soldier.
“You! Start tracking them!” His gaze swept the group. “And stay alert! I want the woman! You kill the man.” Teka, the young lieutenant, gave a sharp nod, snarling orders at the others.
Instantly, the group raced up the slope toward the ruins. Walking quickly behind them, his AK-47 in his hand, Tefere glowered at the surrounding landscape. In some ways, it would be easy enough to track them, but in other ways, not so much. He couldn’t believe his soldiers were such poor shots. They’d had plenty of time to hone their skills for years in Darfur, in southern Sudan, before coming back to Ethiopia. All his men were in their late teens or early twenties. He’d picked them all up around the ages of ten or less, saving them from the slow death of starvation. He had become a foster father to them of sorts. He’s given them food for their bellies, something they’d never expected. He’d taught them how to fire pistols at first, and then later, as their arms grew longer and stronger, to shoot AK-47s. They were utterly devoted to him, worshipped him, in fact, and he could see the disappointment in their eyes that they hadn’t killed the man. They strived to make up for their failure, inspired by his words and anger, combing the top of the hill, looking intently for tracks.
His mind turned with options. What would those two Americans do? He considered all white people stupid and greedy. The U.N. Peacekeepers at Darfur? They were supposedly well-trained but were a complete joke! The only U.N. soldiers he avoided were from Germany. Those guys damned well knew how to shoot to kill. Beneath their facade of legitimacy, they were brutal hunters just like he and his men. Oh, and not to forget the South Koreans; those bastards were ruthless assassins. The rest? Useless as teats on a boar, in his opinion. He’d been trained from the age of nine by an Islamic Somali group led by Cumar Hanad, who had links with Al-Qaeda, across the border from Ethiopia. He’d loved learning how to handle weapons. Even more? Tefere coveted power. He’d had none since birth, but at nine years old, captured in a border raid and taken in by the Somali warlord, he’d found meaning to his life.
As his men spread out and searched like hunting dogs across the top of the knoll the ruins sat upon, David waited. He had changed his name to David because that biblical figure had slain Goliath the giant with just a slingshot and rock. Hungry to impress his new father, who doted on all the little Ethiopian boys he’d kidnapped, Tefere quickly became the favored youngster of the bunch.
At first, the best, grizzled soldiers would take him out to the henhouse where they’d give him a small hand ax. He was to catch the chickens, lay them out, chop off their heads, and then hand them over to the cooks. The soldiers wanted the boys to be sprayed and wet by the blood spurting out of the chicken’s neck as it flailed and jerked around. He learned to like the coppery smell of blood. It was like a badge of honor, and he let the blood sit on his clothing for at least a week, drying, so that by the time it was washed by the Somali women at the local river, the blood stains would always be there. And that was to remind everyone who saw him that he had been blooded. He had killed and he would kill again when ordered to do so. Without hesitation.
Tefere wanted that red-haired American woman. She would be a real prize. He could take her across the Ethiopian border, into Somalia, and parade her in front of his father and warlord, Cumar Hanad. Indeed, he would be richly rewarded. Every terrorist organization wanted white, American women to put on video as they decapitated them. Cumar would glow with pleasure over such a gift. Pride flowed powerfully within Tefere at the mere thought. He lived to receive praise from the warlord. Plus, he was sure, there would be gold coins to back up the pat on his head for a job well done.
Willow watched as Shep pulled out his long-sleeved denim coat. It was heavy fabric. To her surprise, he used his Buck knife, cutting off each arm. And before she could ask what he was doing, he pulled one of the sleeves up over her foot, covering its sole.
“This denim is going to last you well on the hike we’ve gotta make,” he told her, his hands moving quickly. “It will give the soles of your feet the protection they need.” He knotted the end of it in front of her toes, then used some white cotton cord he always carried to bind it around her ankle, making sure the cuffed material would not slip off her foot. “There. How does that feel?” he asked, lifting his head to meet her gaze.
“Amazing,” she admitted, moving her foot a little, the thick material remaining in place.
“Good, lift your other foot?” and he held out his hand, cupping her heel.
“How did you think of this?” she asked, stunned by how good the idea was.
Shrugging, he said, “I guess it’s that engineer’s brain of mine,” and he fashioned her second denim shoe, straightening and critically studying his handiwork.
“But, what about you? You have to have something to protect your feet too, Shep.”
He smiled and quickly cut up the rest of the jacket, placing two thick layers that would protect the soles of his own feet. “Engineers are always having to make do with little to nothing out in third world countries, Willow. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve jury-rigged things together to keep a project moving. My mind just sees things differently, I guess.” He sat down and swiftly wrapped each of his feet, enclosing them entirely, utilizing the rest of the soft cotton rope. “There.” He stood, walking around a little to make sure the material wasn’t going to slip or fall off.
Willow started to stand but he held his hand out to her.
“Let me help you? Let’s see how much of an aggravation that leg slice is going to be for you?”
She gripped his hand, feeling the strength in it. Choking up, she forced back so much of what she wanted to say; how grateful she was he was here with her. What if she’d come out here alone and been shot? She sometimes paddled the lake alone. What then? No one would be likely to find her. Of course, Willow always told Dev where she was going to be hiking or paddling, along with her objective and the time she could expect her home. Still, that would be too little too late, and the idea of being killed up on that knoll, lying dead in the ruins, chilled her, the goosebumps standing up on her flesh. Standing up, she released his hand and tested out her new ‘shoes’.
“This is wonderful, Shep,” she said, giving him a grateful look. Her heart ached with love for this man. There was so much she wanted to say but couldn’t. Not with the threat of death hanging over their heads. She walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his damp, sweaty neck, pressing herself against him and kissing him. All she wanted was to let him know that she loved him, even though they’d never mouthed a word of such to one another since their reunion. His response was hungry, eager, and she moaned as he wrapped her in a tight embrace, confirming what she already knew: that Shep still loved her just as much as she loved him.
As she regretfully eased away from him, staring up into his turbulent gaze, she whispered, “I want to survive this to be with you, Shep…” She saw the surprise in his eyes fleetingly, and then a tenderness that nearly drove her to tears as he cupped her jaw, kissing her with incredible gentleness, worshiping her mouth, worshipping her. It was as if they were in the first year of their marriage where everything had been heavenly; no fights, no disagreements, or misunderstandings. Just pure, beautiful love expressed for one another.
“You’re mine. You were always mine,” he grated, sliding his fingers across the damp but drying hair at her temple. “We’ll get out of this together, Willow. Come on…”
Giving a jerky nod, she held his hand, and they started down off the low knoll, weaving in and around the thick stands of trees and clusters of bamboo. Her nerves had settled down. The last adrenaline charge through her bloodstream had left her knees a bit shaky and Willow was indebted to Shep’s hand clasping hers for the time being. He led her onto the flat and increased the pace of their walk once she’d found her footing with her soft new shoes. The thick carpet of dried leaves crunched constantly beneath their feet as they strode at a good hiker’s pace, making twenty-minute miles.
Sometimes, Shep would stop, turn, and listen, his face intense, glistening with sweat, focused. She too, looked and listened.
“Nothing… yet,” he grumbled, turning, tugging on her hand.
“You think they’re tailing us?
“I do. Back at Artemis Security, Wyatt Lockwood gave us the mission briefing on Tefere David. He’s a hyena with no heart or soul. He was kidnapped at age nine by a Somali warlord. David was taught to kill at that tender age. Wyatt said he lives only to impress his warlord, Cumar Hanad. Once David gives his word about something, he’ll do it or die trying. He needs Hanad’s approval that badly. No, he’s not going to stop dogging our tracks, Willow,” and he shot her a grave look.
Mouth tightening, she whispered, “Okay… got it.”
***
Shep could feel Willow tiring. They’d been slogging along for two and a half hours. They stopped to hydrate and rest ten minutes out of each hour but, other than that, she pushed on hard and consistently. Her face was pale. He suspected that was due to the heat, as it was past noon and the sun’s rays bore down at their strongest this time of year. They were both sweating profusely. The freeway was a lot further than he’d anticipated. He noticed that Willow was limping more and more as the hours wore on. There were airliners flying in low toward the airport, so they knew which direction they were going, like they had a compass of sorts in the sky to aid them. Besides, Willow was damn good at directions, and she would tell him to head further this way or another, keeping him on that invisible route that would get them out of this forest and to a major highway all the faster.
He hadn’t stopped worrying about Tefere David. The hairs on the back of his neck were always up, warning him that danger was stalking them. He’d been in too many Afghan villages over his years in that country, to not trust his instincts. They had no weapons. All he had was a miserable Buck knife, which was a great pocketknife, but you didn’t take one into a gunfight where AK-47s ruled. And he knew, by the sounds of the weapons, that they’d been AK-47s for sure, another sign it was David and his terrorist soldiers.
Slowing, he caught Willow’s damp hand. “Hey? How are you holding up?”
“Fine,” she gasped. “We only have thirty minutes to go and we should pop out near that highway leading into Bahir Dar.” She pointed in the general direction they were heading, the leaves crunching loudly beneath their feet.
“You’re limping more.”
“Tough. I want to get the hell out of these woods and flag down a motorist. Let’s push harder.”
He loved her spirit and he saw the hardness and perseverance in her green eyes and the set of her jaw. Willow had never been a pushover. She was a strong-willed, self-reliant woman. She didn’t need a man in her life to fix anything for her. Although he’d always found himself wanting to. “You’re looking pale.”
“I get that way when I push myself beyond my physical limits.” She gave him a quick grin. “Hey, I’m a jet jockey, not a ground pounder like you. I don’t even think you’re breaking a sweat, Porter. I’m swimming in it,” and she made a disgusted face, tugging at the tee that stuck firmly to her glistening skin.
“Well,” he soothed, “when we get home? I’ll draw you the biggest, nicest bath you’ve ever had. Fair enough?” His heart melted at the grateful look Willow gave him.
“Sounds wonderful,” she admitted, her voice suddenly scratchy.
Shep saw the tears appear for a split second in her eyes, and then they were gone. Willow had rarely cried in front of him when they were married. She always took off and hid somewhere. There were times when he’d known she’d cried because her eyes had been red-rimmed. She would never talk about what made her cry. They’d missed so many opportunities to have serious conversations. He wanted to learn how to be a part of that emotional life she’d constantly accused him of never wanting to connect with. Yet, when she had a bad mission. She never discussed it. They both had top secret clearances and she could have said something to him but hadn’t. If they got out of this alive? He was damn well going to do everything in his power to change that situation with Willow. They both deserved a second chance.
Near three p.m., Shep halted. The woods seemed to be thinning out ahead of them. He gripped Willow’s hand. She was breathing hard, her face flushed. They’d run out of water and were nearing the heat-exhaustion stage. “Up ahead?” And he cocked his head, an ear toward a new and welcome sound. Was he hearing things or not?
“Do you hear that?” Willow demanded, her voice suddenly cracking with emotion. “That’s cars and trucks less than half a mile from here, Shep.” She looked behind her, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“I hear it,” he told her. Catching her hand, he wrapped his fingers around hers. “Come on, last half mile?”
She gave him a weary grin. “Let’s go for it.”
And they did. There were always downed branches here and there, hidden beneath the thick layer of leaves. There was a slight slope downward and more than once, Willow would wince and almost fall. Shep would steady her with his hand on her upper arm, slowing down, giving her time to rebalance. As they came out of the line of trees, a modern-day four-lane asphalt road stared back at them.
They hurried across it, the traffic moving around them. On the other side, Shep stepped up, trying to flag down a large, lumbering truck in the slow lane.
It sped on by, honking its horn, ignoring them.
He tried a black Mercedes Benz coming toward them at high speed.
The driver flew by, going at least a hundred miles an hour.
Shep cursed silently, seeing a white Toyota Hilux truck chugging its way toward them, dark smoke trailing out the tailpipe. It was going slow enough that he stepped out in the middle of the highway, waving his arms for the driver to slow down and stop. The driver had gray, curly hair, close-cropped, and was wearing dark glasses. His face was deeply lined and Shep guessed the Ethiopian man might be in his sixties. He slowed and pulled onto the graveled shoulder, stopping in front of them. Shep hurried to the driver’s side. He knew enough Amharic, along with a comfortable smattering of Oromo, and asked, “Can we get a ride with you into Bahir Dar? We need help. My wife is injured. We can pay you in US dollars.”
The man pushed his glasses up on his head. “Praise Allah. Does your wife need help?” and he was already out the door, coming around the end of the pickup. The man hesitated as he looked at their feet. Shep wasn’t going to try and explain. Uneasily, he scoured the slope and the thinning woods for any movement that would indicate Tefere David and his soldiers were just about upon them. What he didn’t want to see was dark shapes hurrying toward them, raising their AKs. The man moved to where Willow stood.
She greeted and thanked the driver in the Amharic she had become fluent in over the past year.
The driver nodded politely toward her.
Shep admired her knowledge of the language, speaking it almost with the fluency of a native-born Ethiopian, unlike his attempts. The man, about five foot seven, wearing jeans, and a white t-shirt with dirt smeared across it, stood, and listened respectfully to Willow. She made it clear they needed to get out of here pronto. That she needed to get to a hospital for her injured leg. Shep produced a wad of US dollars, and the man needed no further inducement, gesturing for them to climb in.
Shep placed his arm around Willow’s waist, and he could feel her leaning wearily against him, trusting him with herself. It was a helluva good feeling.
“I asked him for his cell phone. He has one,” she said. “Once we get in the pickup? Give Luke a call?” She pointed to mile marker nearby. “Give him this reference point?”
“Good idea,” he said. “You sit between us. I’ll take the door.”
Willow nodded, climbing in first, watching as both men got into the truck from either side. They were squeezed like sardines in the small space. Slamming the rusted door of the old Toyota shut, the driver handed Shep his beat-up cell phone and then quickly took off. In the distance was the port city of Bahir Dar.
Shep didn’t think he’d get Luke. He was right but got one of the security women on duty instead, Emma Anderson. He quickly gave her the details of their situation and the phone number of the driver’s cell. Within five minutes, Luke was on the phone.
“If you’ll take Willow over to the hospital ER? Dev and I will meet you there. Where are you?”
Shep gave Luke the marker number where they’d been picked up. Instantly, Luke swung into action, saying, “Okay, that puts you roughly five miles outside the city. I’m calling General Hakym right now. I’ll be back with you shortly.
“Talk to you then,” Shep promised, shutting off the phone. He’d given the driver sixty U.S. dollars. The man’s face had lit up, and he’d smiled, revealing the sight of half his upper teeth missing. That kind of money would keep him well-fed for a good six months, perhaps longer.
The man stepped on the gas, the Toyota chugging along, one long-broken fender banging and hanging off at an angle on the driver’s side. Shep placed his arm around Willow’s shoulders. She looked relieved as he told her what Luke had said. Weariness began to set in on her sweaty, dirt-streaked features. They were both physically as well as emotionally exhausted.
Shep was so damned proud of Willow, of how she’d kept her nerve and kept up her pace during the escape from the monastery ruins and the hard march to stay ahead of David’s soldiers. The edginess within him started to dissolve the closer they got to the city. Traffic slowed considerably, but their Ethiopian driver gleefully waded into it, making it look like an artform on four wheels as he snaked in and out of traffic like an Indy 500 pro. Within ten minutes, they were outside the hospital’s Emergency Room entrance. As they pulled up, Shep spotted Luke and Dev waiting near the doors, worried expressions on their faces. Luke was standing solid, speaking with somebody on his cell phone. Dev, on the other hand, moved restlessly from foot to foot, her face even more readable and filled with concern than his.
The moment Luke spotted them, he made a slight signal and Shep saw two of his people, a man and woman, appear. They carried no weapons on them that he could see, but he knew they probably had something tucked away in their waistbands hidden beneath their lightweight jackets. Both had their game faces on, and both were at full alert. He felt Willow sag against him and for a moment, as the truck came to a stop, she placed her head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her mussed hair, smelling the river muck in it.
“We’re safe now,” he murmured, squeezing her shoulders gently. “There’s Luke and two of his security people. Dev’s waiting to meet you, too. Let’s get you patched up and then we’ll go home.”
“Home,” she murmured, slowly lifting her head, giving him a teary look. “Do you know how good that sounds, Shep?”
His throat tightened. “Yeah, I do,” he answered, his voice low, barely holding back his own emotions of relief. They’d dodged a bullet, quite literally, and he silently promised her she was going to become the center of his life once again. This time, for good, if he had anything to do with it.
Luke opened the door and Shep slid out. Then, he reached in to help Willow slowly down from the cab.
Shep turned, shaking hands with the driver, who was grinning ear to ear. He thanked him in Amharic. The man more than deserved the life-changing sum he’d been paid for his assistance, and he handed him another wad of bills, probably amounting to a hundred US dollars. The driver clutched the prize, giving a seated bow, thanking him, tears in his eyes. Shep stepped back, shutting the passenger-side door and waving goodbye to the man as he drove away. Turning, he saw Dev hugging Willow. She was crying and Willow was fighting back her own tears. How like her. A combat fighter pilot didn’t break down in tears in the cockpit, no matter how tough the stress and danger, and that spilled over into everyday life.
Shep gave them the time together they needed, and he saw the look on Luke’s face as he struggled not to show any emotion. “Sorry to drag you out of your picnic plans,” he said, shaking Shep’s hand.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got the Ethiopian Army on this,” Luke continued. “They’ve got a helo in the air, with soldiers on board. The helo has infrared capabilities, so they’re going to be hunting aggressively for that unit in the woods. I’d like to go with them, but you’re my focus,” and he grinned. “If they find them, they’ll contact me immediately with details and then I’ll pass them on to you and Willow.”
“Sounds good. I know you want a report on this, but I want to be with Willow in ER. I’m sure they’ll just clean the cut on her leg out, stitch her up, shoot her up with antibiotics, and release her, but I’d like to defer the report.”
Nodding, Luke shoved his hands into his cream-colored lightweight jacket. He was constantly looking around, not being obvious about it, but remaining alert. “That’s fine. We’ll cover it later. Right now, I want the Army to find those bastards. I figure that David and his solders were tracking you, but as you know, tracking is an art.”
Grim, Shep said, “Yeah, and I was hoping like hell that they didn’t have any good trackers among them. We were walk-trotting for I don’t know how many miles. We put some distance between them and us and I think that made a big difference. Willow was carrying her pack that had our boots, socks, both our pistols and her cell phone in it. In the river, an underwater tree limb snagged her pant leg, and the knapsack slipped off her shoulder and sank. She would have drowned if I hadn’t been there to rescue her. I’m worried about that knapsack being found and blowing our cover. Is there any way to retrieve it, Luke?”
Luke’s gray eyes grew thoughtful. “As soon as I hear from the army about their search, if you or Willow can give me info on approximately where you lost it in the water, I can don my diving gear and go down and try to find it.”
“Like your SEAL days,” Shep said, grinning a little.
“Roger that. I don’t want that knapsack found by anyone else.”
“I agree,” Shep replied. “I can go with you and show you the exact spot. The current isn’t that strong, but if you can’t locate it? More than likely, it will spill out at the mouth of the river and into Lake Tana.”
“Not what we want,” Luke said, shaking his head. “You’re our project engineer. We can’t lose you. You’ve given me the intel I need. If we find that little blue boat you rented and where it’s tied up, that’s all the extra I need. The general’s soldiers will scour the area for David and his soldiers FIRST and then I’ll go.”
“Good,” Shep agreed. He shook his head. “Honestly? I wasn’t expecting an attack from David and his men. Last thing on my mind as we searched those ruins. It was supposed to be a day off and a picnic.”
“I warned you that David was after an American, preferably a woman.” Luke glanced over at Dev and Willow, who were just parting from their embrace. An orderly arrived with a wheelchair for Willow. She thanked him and gladly sat down, relief in her features. Dev accompanied her into the ER.
Shep said, “Wyatt thinks they wanted an American woman to behead on the internet.”
Shaking his head, Luke muttered, “I agree with their analysis. Dev is a target, too, and she knows it because I shared the intel with her. That’s an added reason she’s so upset about Willow, and you being attacked.”
“Sonofabitches are the scourge of the earth,” Shep snarled under his breath.
Luke clapped him on the shoulder. “I won’t argue that. You got out of there, that’s all that matters. General Hakym’s pilots will fly the coastline of Lake Tana in that area, looking for your boat. Be nice if they could catch all of them. David is notorious for escaping capture. Maybe this time, the general will get lucky. I hope so.”
“As soon as Willow is patched up? We need to get some rest.”
“I’ll need a report eventually, Shep.”
Nodding, he said, “Understood. Once you hopefully find that knapsack in the river. Willow and I will sit down with you and give you a detailed report,” Shep promised. He too, would like to see Tefere David caught along with his ruthless soldiers. But right now, his focus, his heart, was on Willow. He wasn’t sure if anything further would happen to them, but his heart was screaming at him not to leave her side. Would she allow him to stay over at her place with her? Help her through her leg injury? He knew the shock and trauma of the experience was still tearing her up inside. Would she say yes? He didn’t know.