No Easy Target

  Nicos hesitated. It was going to be a bother and he didn’t want to wait two minutes, much less two days. He wanted to get down there to Nalsara and feel the familiar surge of excitement and power going through him as the blood flowed.

  But that bitch Margaret had screwed everything up for him, and Salva could be right. He didn’t need an expensive war with those stupid fanatics when a short delay might give him time to find an edge.

  He turned away. “I guess I’ll do it,” he said grudgingly. “I’ll call Brukman back and tell him that he can have a little more time. But if Patrick dies while I’m fooling around with this business, you’re going to pay for it, Salva.”

  * * *

  “Nicos is going down to Nalsara?” Lassiter repeated. “You’re certain, Cambry? No mistake?”

  “No mistake,” Cambry said. “He was foaming at the mouth and finally decided that Brukman wasn’t good enough and that he wanted the pleasure of the kill himself. I believe you pissed him off, Lassiter. This isn’t good, is it?”

  “Hell no. When?”

  “I’d say soon. As I said, he’s foaming. He called back ten minutes later and told Brukman that he might have the day or two he wanted but not to count on it. And that he’d kill him if he let Patrick die before he got down there. So what am I supposed to do?”

  “The same as you’ve been doing. But talk to Father Dominic and see if there’s any other hiding place we could tap if we have to get Patrick out of the monastery in a hurry. And you’d better have the sentry who’s keeping watch on Nalsara be on alert and report any sign that they’ve been given orders to leave the detention camp and start a search. Just in case Nicos calls anyone at the camp but Brukman. And I’ll phone Dr. Armando and see if there’s any chance at all we can get Patrick out by helicopter in the next day or so.” He hung up and turned to Mandell in the pilot seat next to him. “You heard. Not good. Nicos is not going back to his island; he’ll be going to Nalsara. And he’s going to be right on top of us if we can’t get Patrick out.”

  “Then you’d better come up with something to take care of it,” Mandell said. “Please make it interesting. What do you do first?”

  Lassiter got to his feet. “First, I go back in the other cabin and try to convince Margaret to stay in Bogotá when we land and not take that helicopter to Nalsara.”

  * * *

  “No way,” Margaret said flatly. “I told you I wouldn’t let you hide me away, Lassiter.”

  “We may all be running and hiding if we can’t move Patrick before Nicos gets down there. The situation has changed. Stay in Bogotá, Margaret.”

  “You said we might have one or two days before Nicos is on the move. That might be enough time.” She shook her head. “Yes, the situation changed and you’ll change with it. It’s what you do. I sent you a name on Salva’s call directory and you used it to get Patrick free. You got me away from Nicos. You’ll find a way to make this work for us. Well, just include me in your planning, because I’m going to be there.”

  His lips tightened. “Margaret…”

  “Discussion’s over. Start planning, Lassiter.”

  San Gabriel’s Monastery

  The dawn was breaking, but the trees in the rain forest were so dense that it still appeared night as Mandell drove the van through the gates of the monastery and into the courtyard. “Everything seems quiet enough, Lassiter,” he said. “No word must have trickled down here yet from Montego. There’s been no report of any action at the detention camp. And this place is as peaceful as when we left it.”

  “That doesn’t mean it’s going to stay that way. We’re going to have to get ready to move fast and hard.”

  “Fine. That’s what I’ve been waiting for since we came down here.” He parked in front of the arched oak doorway, jumped out, and helped Margaret out of the van. “And maybe Cambry actually did a good job of filling in for us. Though I hate to admit that the team could get along without me. I think I’ll just go talk to a few of my men and check on progress while you two go see Patrick.”

  “That seems to be a good plan,” Lassiter said drily. “And it would keep you from having to hobnob with Father Dominic or any of these monks who are being so good to Patrick.”

  He shrugged. “It’s just better if I avoid them. I was a little too aggressive with Father Dominic, and that won’t make me very welcome. Besides, by now they’ve probably talked enough to my guys on the team to get a fix on my place in it. They’ll know who I am and what I do.” His lips twisted. “Though Father Dominic saw right through me from the beginning.”

  “It didn’t help that you were carrying that rifle that looks like it’s a part of you.”

  “It is a part of me. And that’s what the good father saw. Look, these monks are good people and it’s hard for them to know how to deal with someone like me. They don’t generally teach it as a course in theology.” Mandell strolled across the courtyard toward the gates. “Besides, I need to go back to that detention camp and make sure my guy was right about there not being any activity.”

  “Be careful,” Lassiter said sharply.

  He waved a casual hand. “Always.”

  Margaret frowned as she watched him walk away. “He doesn’t like the monks?”

  “It’s not a question of liking or disliking.” He opened the door for her. “As he said, it’s the comfort level. I told you that Mandell was a great sniper.”

  She nodded. “Over a thousand yards.”

  “But that’s a purely clinical assessment. Mandell was the golden boy. Whenever there was a shot to be taken … or a man to be killed, the military called on Nick Mandell.”

  A man to be killed. The words came as a shock to Margaret. Lassiter was right: She had been thinking too clinically. A sniper was trained to kill. Mandell had been trained to be the highest form of killer.

  “Yes, but it was his duty to his country.”

  “But somewhere along the way, you can get confused with duty and the sheer excitement of being the best, of taking that next perfect shot.” He wasn’t looking at her as he led her through the halls. “Particularly if you’re as good as Mandell.”

  Her eyes were narrowed on his face. “You know what that feels like.”

  “I’ve had my share of kills,” he said. “Yeah, I know how he feels. That’s why I hired Mandell when he decided to get out of the service.”

  “From what I’ve seen lately, it doesn’t seem that different,” Margaret said. “Unless you just pay more.”

  “Oh, I pay more, but it’s definitely different,” he said grimly. “There’s no way that Mandell could quit cold turkey. He’s too good. There would always be some agency that would need a killer as skilled as a Renaissance assassin. They’d offer him an impossible kill and he’d do it. When he works for me, he gets a taste now and then, but not enough to feed the addiction.”

  She thought about it. Mandell’s wry humor, his easy, casual manner. “I … like him. He doesn’t seem like…”

  “Did you expect him to be all brooding and morose? I don’t know what he feels inside. I wouldn’t ask him. Mandell made his choice a long time ago. He’s lived with that choice, but now he recognizes that the choice is starting to consume him. So he’s stepping away from it.”

  “And from those monks, too? That could be a mistake. Forgiveness is a major part of religion. They might offer comfort and understanding.”

  “Mandell doesn’t think so. These monks are pretty unsophisticated. It would take a good deal of forgiving and understanding.” He paused. “Mandell has eighty-two confirmed kills.”

  “My God.” Her eyes widened. “I had no idea.”

  “If you counted the unconfirmed kills, it would be far higher. And he hasn’t been a sniper for all that long. Give him a few more years and he’d be breaking records. He chose not to do that.” He stopped outside Patrick’s room to meet her eyes. “You’re shocked. I wanted to be honest with you because Mandell is part of my life. But are you going to be able to accept him a
s he is?”

  “Of course I am,” she said impatiently. “I told you that I liked him. Animals in the forest hunt for food and kill every day. Only human beings hunt for other reasons and then count their kill. Do you think lions or tigers don’t kill more than that over their lifetime? It wasn’t Mandell who decided to go on the hunt. He was chosen. And I’d bet he wasn’t the one who counted the kills. It seems like some kind of boastful bureaucracy-type thing to—”

  “I hear you.” He was chuckling. “All I wanted was a yes or no. I didn’t know you’d bring in the lions and tigers.” His smile faded as he reached for the knob of the door to Patrick’s room. “I don’t know if you’re ready for this. It’s one thing to see a photo; it’s another to see Patrick in the shape he’s in now. I saw what it did to you on the ship and it’s already scaring me.”

  “It’s scaring me,” she said soberly. “All the time we were coming here, I kept thinking of what would happen when I saw him.” She moistened her lips. “I’ve never actually seen him, Lassiter. I’ve never met him. Yet I feel as if I know him.”

  “Because you sense how I feel about him?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Maybe. I just wanted so badly for him not to be in pain any longer. I wanted him to be strong and well and not…” She made a face. “All this talk.” She pushed open the door. “I just have to go for it.” She stopped for a minute when she saw the white-draped bed, the still figure.

  Cambry was sitting in a chair by the bed, looking at his computer, and he glanced up with a smile as they came into the room. “Hi, Margaret. You look much better than the last time I saw you.” He got to his feet. “As I recall, you were facedown on that pier and causing me all kinds of guilt and trauma.” He came toward her and gave her a quick hug. “Good job,” he said gruffly. “I’m sure Patrick would say the same if he could keep awake long enough for us to tell him about you.”

  “I think I’m better learned from experience, don’t you?” She turned away from him to face the bed. Patrick was so pale, his face lined with pain. And he was deeply asleep, as Cambry had said. She drew closer to Patrick’s bed, and it was then that she saw Juno lying on the floor beside the bed.

  She raised her head as Margaret approached.

  Help him? You might heal?

  She leaned down and touched Juno’s head.

  That’s what we’re trying to do. And you’re doing your part too, Juno.

  He mustn’t leave. Too sad. You said she might come back, might still be with me. Not yet. He might not come back, either. Mustn’t let him leave.

  She swallowed to ease the sudden tightness of her throat.

  Then don’t do it. You’re doing all the right things. Just keep on doing them. Let him feel you. Let him feel the love.

  Silence. Those huge dark eyes looked wonderingly into her own.

  You are not her. But you say the things she says. How is that?

  What could she say? Juno needed an answer and sometimes there were no answers.

  I don’t know. Maybe it comes from her. Maybe it comes from what you are together. She bent down and stroked her head again. Or maybe you’re remembering what she would say if she were here. Make up your own mind.

  I will. She laid her head on her paws again. But I’m glad you’re back. I feel better when you’re here.

  I feel better when you’re here, too. She straightened and turned to Cambry. “You’ve taken great care of her. I think that Patrick is healing her as much as she’s healing him.”

  “I had the same idea.” He turned to Lassiter. “But now that I have you to take over Patrick’s care, could you give me an hour or so’s break? Having Mandell’s men answering to me and being the one to give them orders wasn’t my cup of tea. Plus, keeping an eye on Patrick’s vitals and having Juno stare at me accusingly for the past twenty-four hours; all this responsibility is weighing me down.”

  “You seem to have risen to the challenge,” Lassiter said. “Did you talk to Father Dominic about anywhere that might be safe to move Patrick if it becomes necessary?”

  “They’ve come up with a few places. There are a couple villages in the area that might work. I think he was relieved at the idea of getting rid of us. You can talk to him yourself.”

  “I’ll sit with Patrick for a while,” Margaret said. “If he wakes up, all the better. I need to get to know him.”

  Lassiter nodded. “But if he does wake, I need to talk to him.” He turned to Cambry. “Unless you managed to get the names of those other prisoners at the camp?”

  “Three,” Cambry said. “Patrick was trying, but he kept blacking out. Fidel Damos, Diego Estefan, Pierre Gilroy. I ran them by your contact in the CIA and he came up with three missing persons with links to Nicos. Damos is one of Nicos’s men who disappeared suddenly after a smuggling deal he was handling fell through. Diego Estefan was the leader of a rebel group that the government was trying to squash. He was considered something of a patriot. He had no direct connection with Nicos, but the government could have paid Nicos to have him disappear. Estefan’s group is lethal as hell and was giving the government forces major headaches. Pierre Gilroy appears to be a good guy who owned a coffee plantation near a river that had great access to sea-lanes. He refused to sell to Nicos and was abusive enough about it to piss him off.”

  “So they all ended up in Nicos’s detention camp,” Lassiter said grimly. “Plus Patrick and two more.”

  “But we have Patrick now,” Margaret said. “And we’ll get the others out. No one deserves the kind of savagery Nicos is handing out.”

  “You’re damn right we will.” Lassiter turned and moved toward the door, with Cambry at his heels. “But Mandell is right: We have to make sure we know that camp backward and forward before we make a move. And once we break those prisoners out, we have to find a way to get them safely away. Some of them may be in almost as bad shape as Patrick, and Nicos has guards all over this rain forest. I’ll have to work on an exit plan that won’t get them killed.” He opened the door. “But to do that, I need to know who I’ve got to deal with in that prison and all the prisoners’ conditions. I think I’ll stop by and have a talk with Brukman before I do anything else. I’ll see you in a few hours, Margaret.”

  She gazed after them resignedly before she turned back to Patrick. Lassiter was already in high gear, and she envied him. It would have been good to be able to be more active to accomplish something that would bring Nicos down. But she’d offered to stay with Patrick, and she couldn’t have everything.

  She dropped down in the chair and gazed down at Juno. I guess it’s just you and me. How are your pups doing?

  * * *

  Ed Dietrich rose swiftly to his feet when Lassiter walked into the storage room they were using as Brukman’s cell. “Everything’s going well, sir. Did Cambry tell you? Brukman did exactly what he was supposed to do when he talked to Nicos.”

  “Yes, did he tell you?” Brukman asked sarcastically. He was sitting in a chair in front of the window overlooking the courtyard with his hands cuffed behind his back. “I was meek and obedient and I saved your ass. All I’d have had to do was tell Nicos that you were stranded down here with Patrick and he would have had this place overrun with his men within a few hours. I was very tempted. You promised me an airline ticket. When do I get out of here?”

  “When you’re no longer useful. You have to be here in case Nicos calls again,” Lassiter said. “And you know what Nicos would do to you if he found you’d betrayed him.”

  “There might be a way around it.” He leaned back in his chair. “And I keep remembering what you did to me in that rain forest. I hate your guts, you know. It might be worth the risk.”

  “If you even started to go in that direction, Dietrich has orders to make certain you don’t even finish the first sentence.” His lips twisted. “Quietly. Perhaps a broken neck? All of Mandell’s men are very skilled.” He glanced at Dietrich, who was standing by the door. “And Mandell’s told him what scum h
e’s dealing with now.”

  Brukman muttered a curse. “Then get me out of here. I’m not going to be caught in this cage like a rat if Nicos finds out what you’ve done to him. I stalled him, but there’s no telling how soon he’ll decide that he can’t resist coming down to tear Patrick apart. I’ve watched him for years, and that’s possible. Hell, he likes it too much.”

  “Like you.”

  “No, with me it’s a job.”

  “And what’s worse?” Lassiter made an impatient gesture. “I didn’t come here to discuss letting you go. I want to know the names of the other two prisoners you’re holding. I have Estefan, Damos, and Gilroy.”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Give me the names.”

  “Screw you.” He started to laugh. “My God, you’re going to try to get them out? Aren’t you in enough trouble? You’re certifiable.”

  “I want the names.” He paused. “And what kind of condition they’re in.”

  Brukman shook his head. “I’m not telling you any of their names. I don’t have to do it. You believe I’m too valuable because of Patrick to waste time and effort on trying to torture it out of me. Find out for yourself. As for their conditions? A couple of them are close to Patrick’s. None that bad. Some of them are a little better.” He smiled. “But they’re all in very, very poor shape. I do such good work.”