Page 73 of Fear No Evil

At this moment, there were only two things Jake could do. One, he could make his way toward Gallo, pretend to seize his hand for help, then rip themondooff the bridge and into the river‍—only his minions would probably kill Jake for doing that. But option two was even less appealing. He could let himself fall off this flimsy crossing into the raging river below him and hope that he survived.

With a loud squeak, the nail holding down the board under Jake’s left arm tore from the track, making up his mind for him. He groped for a different board, but the movement jarred his tentative balance. Gravity jerked him loose off the bridge, and all he could do was align his body so he wouldn’t snap his spine when he hit the water.

With Lena’s heartrending scream in his ears, he plummeted toward the river, arms tight to his side, breaking the impact with his boots.

Water slammed up Jake’s nostrils and closed over his head. With the force of a collision, the current engulfed him and dragged him downstream at a sobering clip.

To protect his limbs, he curled into a ball. He could see nothing underwater but shades of dark brown. A log clipped the side of his head, leaving his ears ringing. His shoulder slammed into a boulder before he glanced off it. The branches of a submerged tree raked over him.

Desperate for air, Jake clawed for the surface and discovered his boots were too heavy to swim in. As they were filling with water, the sat phone in his heel was doomed. He wouldn’t be calling the JIC anytime soon.

But if he shucked the boots, he’d at least get to breathe. Breathing would be nice.

Sluicing along underwater, Jake struggled to untie the laces. By the time he tugged off one boot, then the other, his lungs and nasal passages were burning. He tore off his jacket next, using it like a parachute to slow him down. At last, he shook it off and strained for the surface.

When his head broke free, he gasped in the smallest bit of air before the current yanked him under again. But he’d glimpsed his surroundings long enough to determine where the shoreline was. He struck out in that direction while fighting to surface again and sucking in another breath of air. If he could just find something buoyant to hold on to. God, please!

A log floating on the surface caught his eye. He groped for it, threw an arm around it, and then held on while recovering from his oxygen deprivation. Once he found the strength to swim, he started kicking for the shore.

Zen Suzuki relaxed from a full-bodied stretch and looked back at the red and blue dots on the screen in front of him. They weren’t together anymore. In fact, the red dot was moving away from the blue one at a puzzling clip. “What the heck? Sir, you need to see this!”

Leaving his computer, Lobo came to stand behind Zen’s shoulder. “Is there a road there? What’s the terrain look like?”

Zen tapped a key, superimposing a topographical map over the image supplied only by coordinates and altitude. He blinked at what he saw. “Oh, he’s on a river. Did he get on a boat?”

“Not unless he’s whitewater rafting. Look how fast he’s moving.”

Silence fell between them as they watched the red dot travel farther and farther from the blue dot. Moving through water that fast without a helmet or life vest was a death sentence.

Lobo crossed to the nearest landline phone. “I’m calling the station chief.”

Zen inclined his face closer to the monitor. “Sir, he’s slowing down.”

Lobo retraced his steps. “Can you zoom in at all?”

“Maybe a little.” Zen toggled the appropriate key and stared. “Looks like he’s headed for the shore.”

Sure enough. The red dot was approaching the east bank. He and Lobo held a collective breath, waiting for a sign of life. “Come on. Move for us, sir.”

The red dot gave a jerk, moving less than a millimeter, but it definitely moved.

“He’s alive.” Lobo sounded certain as he headed for the phone to contact Whiteside.

Zen listened with half an ear, curious to know what the CIA station chief recommended. When Lobo hung up and turned around, he wore a scowl on his face.

Zen braced himself. The muscles in Lobo’s jaw were jumping. “What’d he say?”

“He wants us to wait an hour for Jake to contact us.”

“Uh…I hate to point out the obvious, sir, but if the sat phone went down the river with the lieutenant, he won’t be calling anybody.”

“I know.” Lobo thought for a moment. “Call in Harmony and Bambino. We’re going to move on this.”

Zen blinked. “Against the station chief’s wishes?”

Lobo turned toward the phone again, likely to set up transportation. “He’ll thank me when it’s over.”

The scream that erupted from Maggie’s throat had raised gooseflesh on her own body. Something had snapped inside her as she watched Jake plummet into the river. Gallo had knelt on the end of the bridge holding out his hand, but she remembered him telling Jake to cross the bridge last. Why? Because he’d planned to dismantle the bridge and dump Jake in it.

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