Page 89 of Fear No Evil

Hugging herself against the cold wind, Maggie hunted for a means of escaping. The oldest JUNGLA, Fernando, carried his chain into the latrine and shut the door. The others walked around their shelter in a tight knot with Frankenstein stalking them, eagle-eyed. Igor, also armed with a rifle, manned the gate. Even so, Maggie recognized this was obviously the best time to effect an escape.

She considered the chain-link fence, ten feet tall and topped with barbed wire. Even in her injured state, she was certain she could climb it, but the barbed wire at the top presented a deterrent.

Diego spoke beneath his breath, his thoughts evidently on par with hers. “You could fit between the top of the fence and the barbed wire, señora. You’re thin enough.”

Maggie assessed the narrow space. Heavens, was she really that thin? She would have to count on the men to tackle Frankenstein and seize his gun before Igor reacted. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility, but‍—“I’m not leaving unless we all leave.”

Diego slanted her a grateful look. “Are you married, Madeleine?”

The pain that lanced Maggie’s heart kept her from answering right away. Was she married? She ought to have married Jake years ago, but then she would never have become a case officer and never would have found that priceless information during her job in Venezuela.

“No.” And now it was too late. Jake was dead. Picturing his plummet into the river, she reviewed it in slow motion, detaching herself from the denial and anguish that had seized her at the time. He had hit the water feet first.

Hope shot like a sunbeam through a crack into her desolate thoughts. Could Jake have survived that tremendous fall into roiling water without snapping his neck? Could he have weathered the rapids sweeping him down the mountain? Navy SEALs were practically drown-proof. What if hewasn’tdead?

She had to be delirious to even consider the possibility. But if it turned out he was alive, and if he was well enough to get up and walk‍—well, then, he would come for her, no question.

Or was she just so gravely desperate that she would tell herself anything to stay alive?

CHAPTER 18

The sun was sinking behind the mountains to their west by the time Jake and David arrived at the illusive outpost calledArriba. Breathing harder than he ever had to extract the oxygen needed to feed his heart, Jake hid himself in the shadow of a stunted tree, while David identified himself to the guard in the first stone structure and was escorted to the gate of the enclosure, ostensibly to check in on the female captive, per General Rojas’s supposed orders.

The sky was a pearly pink hue, suggesting sunset was on its way.

On their arduous hike, they had planned a strategy that hadn’t changed once Jake glimpsed the layout. David would go in alone while Jake waited. His heart raced; his palms grew damp within the tactical gloves that kept his fingers warm. Jake’s future with Lena depended on whatever happened in the next ten minutes.

David was going to slip Lena three things: Gallo’s key ring, Jake’s KA-BAR blade, and Jake’s backup pistol. In English‍—which the guard hopefully didn’t know‍—David was going to whisper that Jake was right outside the gate. David would applythe paste he’d brought with him to Lena’s wound and leave. The rest was up to her.

Any number of things could go wrong. The hulking jailer who’d accompanied David into the second hovel might hear Gallo’s key ring rattle or might glimpse the weapons as David passed them off. Even if the young man managed to make the transfer, the JUNGLA captives, rather than aid Lena, might subvert her efforts, though Jake couldn’t imagine why they wouldn’t take advantage of the dynamic situation and cooperate.

Oh, God. Jake sagged against the trunk of the tree he hid behind. Peering up atArribaand the surreal color of the oyster-pink sky, he prayed,Please let this work. Just get us safely off this mountain, and I’ll take care of Lena from here on out, I promise.

Maggie had decided David wasn’t ever going to come back as he’d said he would. Feeling forgotten, growing more despondent by the hour, she had watched the feeble spindles of sunlight shooting through the cracks between the piled stone fade. Now, all she had left to anticipate were the vivid dreams brought on by her fever.

Just as she closed her eyes, surrendering to sleep, the grating of the gate outside the hovel caused her eyes to open. It was too soon for the hourly awakenings. Footsteps crunched across the ground outside, approaching the thick door. Both she and the JUNGLA captives braced themselves as Frankenstein pushed it open, admitting the glow of twilight and a slightly built figure.

“David!” Maggie dragged herself slightly more upright.

“Hola, señora.” With his back mostly to Frankenstein, he dropped to his knees beside her. “How do you feel this evening?”

Noting his tense tone, Maggie glanced casually at Frankenstein, who shut the door behind him. For a moment all was dark before the guard snapped on his flashlight and shone it in their direction.

From under the woolen poncho he was wearing, David produced a small wooden bowl with a cork lid. “I’ve come to put more paste on your wound.” With trembling hands, he pried the lid off, releasing the garlic-like aroma she had smelled before.

David’s nervousness was obvious. His fingers shook as he dipped them into the paste. Was he simply afraid of Frankenstein? Keeping watchful, Maggie rolled onto her left hip, exposing the site of her injury now that her slacks were so low. David shifted so the guard’s light upon her injury, a gash about an inch and a half in length, surrounded by angry red torn flesh in need of stitching. This was only her second time looking at it since Vargas had sliced her open.

With an anxious glance into her eyes, David began to dab a fresh layer of paste over the wound. Frankenstein watched his every movement, silently urging haste so he could go back to whatever he and Igor did on their own time.

When David’s left hand lowered the small bowl to the ground, Maggie followed it. Easing aside the flap of his poncho, he showed her the vest he always wore. Maggie stifled a gasp, for in place of the banana-shaped ammo usually in his pockets, the haft of a blade and the butt of a pistol stuck out. Where had David managed to get such weapons?

The vision spurred her heart into a canter. And now David was slipping his fingers into his pants pocket, retrieving what looked like a set of keys‍—Gallo’s key ring?! Before they could jingle, Maggie flashed out a hand under the guise of thanking him.

“Gracias,David.” Curling her fingers firmly around the metal components, she took the key ring from his graspand tucked it quickly out of sight behind her. Adrenaline coursed through her bloodstream, driving off her lethargy and sharpening her senses.

David wouldn’t get away with passing off the weapons, though, not unless Maggie could distract Frankenstein from staring at them.

“Hey, Diego.” She addressed her ally chained to the opposite wall while pushing the keys farther beneath her. “What do Colombians call men who are so hideous they look like monsters?”

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