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Chapter Twenty-Two 2 page

Allegro hit Pause and rubbed her eyes. She was getting bleary-eyed after watching hours of boring hallways. When she hit Play again, images flashed by that the hallway cam outside the professor’s office had caught during the late night and early morning between October second and third.

Zimmerman was evidently working late that evening. He’d still been in his office when the eight a.m. to eight p.m. loop from the camera ended, so she was looking for his departure, along with any abnormal activity. The eight p.m. to eight a.m. tape started where the previous one left off; two people were in the hallway—a professor whom they’d previously identified and a student. They chatted briefly, the student left, and the professor disappeared into his office, three doors down from Zimmerman’s. The man reemerged a few minutes later with his briefcase and departed.

Allegro fast-forwarded until the next flash of movement caught her eye. At eight forty on the time stamp, another known faculty member emerged from an office at the far end of the hall, this one a woman, dressed in her coat and carrying her purse and a stack of papers. She paused briefly at Zimmerman’s open door, apparently to exchange a few words with him, but didn’t go in. After she departed, nothing changed until the hallway darkened at ten p.m.

This was routine. The building’s main entrance was locked at nine-thirty, after the last of the evening classes there had let out, and lights were dimmed in the classroom and office wings a half hour later, probably to save energy. Light still spilled from Zimmerman’s office, but he looked to be the only one still working late in the hallway she was watching.

At ten fifteen on the time stamp, another flash of movement made Allegro stop the fast-forward and rewind.

“Hey, come look at this.” Allegro replayed the image at normal speed. “She’s way early.”

“And not one of the regulars,” Domino said, looking over her shoulder.

A woman was pushing a cleaning cart down the long hallway toward Zimmerman’s office, her back to the camera the entire journey. But even in the diminished light, Allegro could see she wasn’t wearing the right drab uniform that was standard for the company that serviced the building. It was a uniform, all right, but with a different style and lighter color.

They knew the crew always started work around two a.m. and didn’t hit this hallway until an hour later. They’d also memorized the faces of the five regulars, one man and four women, and none of them had the long dark hair this one did.

The two ops watched the cleaning woman bypass the closed office doors and go directly to Zimmerman’s. She paused outside briefly, then pushed the cart inside. After six minutes, she reemerged, keeping her head down at an unnatural angle.

“Someone’s obviously camera shy,” Allegro muttered. All of a sudden, the woman’s head turned abruptly, back toward Zimmerman’s open door. She went back inside the office for only a few seconds, and when she came back out, she pushed the cart back down the hallway and out of sight, keeping her face obscured.



“Go back,” Domino said excitedly.

“I saw it, too.” Allegro backed up the tape at slow speed and froze the image at the moment the woman had lifted and turned her head toward the door. “Gotcha.” There were three frames of her face or a portion of it, each a slightly different angle. They were dark, but hopefully, with some enhancements, they’d be enough for Reno to identify her.

She called Reno as she sent the images and told him to give them top priority. While they waited for his callback, they checked the video of several other cameras in the building to see if they could get a clearer shot of the woman. They found her going into the main entrance at nine p.m. and picked her up again going in and out of a janitorial closet, where she’d picked up the cleaning cart. Her face was never visible in either instance. She was clearly avoiding the security cameras.

Reno called Allegro’s cell four hours after he received the images, and she put him on speakerphone. After he revealed the woman’s name and address in Frankfurt, he reported, “Lengthy criminal record, including three years in prison for assault. Arrested twice in connection with murder-for-hire schemes, but not enough evidence to convict her either time. I checked the name against an international-flight database from the last month, without luck. Then I did a broad search of news reports and found her in the Frankfurter Allgemeine online. She was killed in a single-vehicle auto accident a week ago, on the fifteenth, not far from her home.”

“Damn. Send me everything you have on her, and check for aliases.” Allegro disconnected and turned to Domino. “Whoever’s behind this hired professionals to make sure they didn’t leave tracks. I say we head to Frankfurt, see what we can pick up there?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Domino replied. “I’ll update Monty while you get our gear together.”

 

Chapter Twenty-Four

Guaviare Jungle, Colombia

October 23

Zoe had been too restless to sleep when she’d had the opportunity, and now she was paying the price. Undone by her confrontation with the doctor and the day’s events, she’d paced last night, her mind churning, as Gianna rested. The medic had seemed to fall asleep the moment she’d reclined against her backpack, but not long after, when Zoe glanced in her direction, the doctor opened her eyes as though she sensed she was being watched. And every time she seemed to drift off into the next superficial slumber, she’d almost immediately awaken again, groaning and rubbing her temples. Gianna was clearly in pain, and Zoe had started to feel guilty about attacking her.

She knew the doctor was trying to save her and keep her safe. But the anger and hate she felt right now for all FARC guerrillas was stronger than reason, because they’d forced her to make a decision that would haunt her the rest of her life. She’d never forgive herself for leaving the Italians behind.

After fifteen or twenty minutes of unsettled repose, the doctor had gotten to her feet and announced it was time to move. She put her mask back on and told Zoe she could take hers off. Without another word, she’d shouldered her backpack and, with rifle in hand, started off again through the black jungle. It was so dark Zoe had to stick very close to her to keep from getting lost.

With nothing to chronologically orient her, Zoe had looked up hours later to greet another dawn, thankful that its presence brought with it another day of freedom and another day without symptoms. They still might make it. Tino had told her not to give up on home. For Zoe, her father was home, and as long as she could breathe she’d never give up on him. With renewed optimism she marched forward behind the medic, who had been practically power-walking after their brief pause.

But now, as the noonday sun beat down on them as they crossed a high ridge above the tree line, she was regretting she hadn’t rested. They’d paused only twice since then, just to relieve themselves, before marching steadily onward. The doctor had given her some panela to munch on for energy, but Zoe was still having a hard time keeping up, stumbling more frequently. Thank God, at least she’d been able to shed her mask. They were so high now she was struggling as it was to take in enough oxygen. The view all around them of the high Andes was awesome, but Zoe refused to acknowledge any beauty in this place. They’d been walking for what seemed like decades, and her T-shirt and even the waistband of her sweat pants were drenched with sweat.

The doctor showed no sign of slowing down. Occasionally she’d reach for her flask, or take a bite of panela, but she never faltered. She hadn’t spoken since the night before and had barely looked at Zoe.

Let her sulk. Zoe didn’t give a damn if the woman was angry or if she never spoke to her again, as long as she got her out of this overgrown botanical freak show to somewhere safe. Too proud to ask Gianna to slow down, she gritted her teeth and picked up her pace.

Another couple of hours passed before she finally got a chance to get off her feet, and only then because they’d reached a place where the jungle foliage was so dense it was impossible to get through it with their packs on.

“Wait here,” Gianna said, as she took off her backpack and set her rifle against it. She withdrew a machete from the pack and began hacking through the undergrowth with short, efficient strokes.

Zoe stretched out on the ground and closed her eyes, lulled to sleep at once by the metallic singing cadence of the machete. But, too soon, the doctor’s voice awakened her, telling her they were leaving. The sun had barely moved. She doubted she’d been asleep for more than a half hour.

The next stretch took them higher into the mountains. Even without her mask, Zoe was gasping for air with every step. Huffing, she reached for her flask, but only a mouthful of water remained. The other two bottles she’d set off with were gone, too. Bloody brilliant. She’d used much of her water to make the wet cloth for Octavia, who was now probably dead. Would her parents cover the body or sit beside her until they could join her in eternity? Zoe tried to push the thoughts away by moving faster.

Fetch shut her eyes and sniffed as she walked. The jungle was so dense where they were it was impossible to even glimpse the darkening sky. But the scent of coming rain was unmistakable.

Zoe hadn’t complained about the long trek. In fact, she hadn’t spoken to Fetch all day. The only indication she was still following were the muted sounds of her footfalls, usually close behind, changing in cadence every so often. Fetch didn’t know if Zoe’s usual misplaced pride or her anger drove her along, but she was glad they were making up lost time and relieved Zoe wasn’t blaming her for her misery.

Fetch had spent the whole day trying to forget Zoe’s words. Even though her hurtful accusations were based on misinformation, it still stung that Zoe thought her disgusting. Maybe she wasn’t a guerrilla soldier, but she was a soldier, nonetheless, and both had much in common. The cause might be different, but both fought for ideals and pledged to live and die for them.

Fetch made no excuses for what she did, and if Zoe had a problem with her, then too bad. It was ironic, though, that during the short period she’d known her, Zoe had displayed courage and strength and even compassion for her team. Her will to fight for her freedom, even if it meant losing her life, was a trademark of a brave soldier.

Zoe was breathing heavily behind her, but she seemed otherwise all right, drinking and snacking as they walked. Clearly, she was getting the message that if she ignored her body’s needs she’d collapse and they’d lose time again. They were making good progress, even though the terrain today had been some of the worst they’d faced. When they weren’t battling through the thickets, they were baking in the open spaces of the exposed plateaus. And it was rarely level this high in the mountains; the constant slip-sliding up and down one steep slope after another was murderous on the feet. Zoe’s had healed quite well from her previous long trek, but they had to be hurting, though she never complained. Still, at this pace, they should reach their destination in another day, two at most.

They were moving along a rocky ridge, headed toward another stretch of jungle, when Fetch heard a thud behind her and Zoe groaned, “Ungh.”

She pivoted and found Zoe on the ground, wincing and clutching her knee.

“I’m fine,” she said, without looking up. “It’s nothing.”

“Will you let me look at it, or should we spend thirty minutes arguing about why I’m not worthy?”

When Zoe didn’t respond, Fetch looked closer at her knee. The sweat pants were torn, and blood was seeping into the material. Zoe sat rocking while she held her leg.

“Zoe?”

“It hurts.”

Fetch pushed Zoe’s hands away and gently rolled up the leg of her sweatpants. A gash, about four inches long, at the base of her kneecap was bleeding and needed immediate attention to keep from getting infected. But she was relieved it wasn’t deep enough to require stitches. “I’ll clean this up and you’ll be good as new.”

“I doubt that.” Zoe leaned back on her elbows. “Good and new are two words I can’t fathom at the moment.”

Fetch cleaned and disinfected the wound with Betadine before she wrapped gauze around the knee. Zoe didn’t recoil or complain. As she pulled the leg of the sweatpants down over the bandage, she felt the first few drops of rain. Within seconds, the trickle turned into a steady stream.

Zoe lay on her back and stretched out her arms. “That feels so good,” she said as the rain poured down. “It’s been so bloody hot.”

“We need to settle until it passes. Let’s get under the trees. It won’t be as bad there.”

“I don’t want to move.” Zoe opened her mouth wide to catch the drops.

Fetch found it difficult not to stare at the way Zoe’s T-shirt was conforming to her breasts as the rain soaked it. She was beginning to see the outline of her nipples, which dangerously distracted her. “It feels good now, but you’ll regret it once the sun goes down and you cool off.” She extended her hand and, surprisingly, Zoe took it and allowed herself to be hoisted to her feet.

Fetch led her under the trees, but it was starting to pour and even the jungle’s dense canopy felt inadequate. Shrugging off her backpack, she quickly dug through it for a tarp. “Get under here.” She shouted to be heard over the loud drumming of the rain as she unfurled the canvas.

Zoe ducked under with her, and together they held the tarp over themselves while they ran to a fallen log nearby, Fetch carrying her backpack with her free hand. She tied the corners of the tarp to trees with quick-release knots, so it formed a canopy over them while allowing her to see in all directions. Zoe shed her rucksack and they sat side by side on the log.

“Get comfortable,” Fetch said, keeping her gaze forward so she wasn’t further tempted to ogle Zoe. “We could be here for a while.”

“Can we collect some of this?” Zoe asked, looking longingly at the deluge all around them. “I ran out of water hours ago, and I’m thirsty as hell.”

“You should’ve said something. Get your flask and bottles.” Fetch dug into the backpack for hers as well. She angled one corner of the tarp so the water hitting it streamed into the containers, filling them all within minutes. Zoe drank greedily from her flask, then handed it back to Fetch to top off again. “We should eat something, too, as long as we’re stopped anyway.”

“Cold beans again, I presume?” Zoe asked as they opened their packs.

“I didn’t have much choice.” I had to take what wouldn’t be missed right away.”

They took turns eating because they were sitting so close together. Zoe put her mask back on while Fetch ate, then Fetch donned hers so Zoe could. When they were finished, they stared out at the clearing they’d just come from. Neither spoke. The sky was the color of dark charcoal and it was dumping so much rain now there was a virtual wall of water in the open spaces. Huddling with Zoe under the tarp felt intimate to Fetch, but even their touching shoulders and thighs didn’t seem to help bridge the awkward distance between them.

When the deluge subsided, Fetch finally spoke. “We should be at the safe house in two days.”

“Thank you for taking care of my knee,” Zoe said at the same time.

“Welcome,” Fetch replied. “We’ve made good time today.”

“I’m not surprised. We’ve practically jogged our way here.”

“I know, but it was necessary.”

Thunder boomed close by and Zoe jumped. “If I ever see a rainforest again it’ll be too soon.”

“It may be more refined, but the jungle you’re going back to is just as merciless.”

“But it’s one I can navigate.” Zoe sighed. “And take a long hot bath.” She didn’t speak for so long Fetch had started to think she’d dozed off.

“I don’t know what scares me more,” Zoe finally said. “Getting caught by the guerrillas or getting sick.” She went silent again for several seconds. “What are the odds we escape both?”

“We have so far.”

“I keep waiting for that first cough.”

“Sounds to me like you’ve answered your own question,” Fetch replied. Zoe was clearly terrified about the possibility—no, the probability—she had the virus. She was, too, but it was pointless to worry about it.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll be next?”

“Sure, but I deal with fear differently.” Fetch tried to sound optimistic. “I let it serve me and not the other way around. If I let fear take the upper hand, I let it distract me from fighting the dangers ahead.”

“But fear is necessary for survival. Natural selection and all that.”

“Very. But the trick is to take it from an instinctive to an intellectual level. Instead of letting it freeze you, listen to what it’s telling you and calculate your next move.” She’d learned that lesson early at the EOO, and it had saved her ass on more occasions than she could count.

“All that sounds untenable when you’re running for your life.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be running. Sometimes your best odds are to fight.”

“I can see how that would apply to a bunch of trigger-happy Neanderthals,” Zoe said. “But how do I fight this disease?”

“You can’t. But don’t let the eventuality of it distract you with fear. We’ll worry about that if and when it happens. Right now, we have another battle to win, and nothing’s uncertain about that one.”

Zoe went quiet, as if contemplating their conversation. “It doesn’t make sense,” she said after a long while. “I should be sick. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe you got lucky.”

“How?” Zoe asked. “Tino was right. I drank from their water, ate from their food. I spent a lot of time with Octavia, and I was with Kylee the day before she died. I didn’t know she had the virus, but she was apparently ill.”

Fetch didn’t know how to reply. Realistically, Zoe should be dead, or dying at the very least.

“Why am I still alive?” Zoe turned and looked at her, her deep blue eyes beseeching Fetch for an impossible reassurance.

“I don’t know, Zoe,” Fetch replied quietly. “The incubation time is five to six days before the first symptoms.”

“So I should have—”

“But you don’t.” Zoe was right. She shouldn’t still be asymptomatic. Unless… The thought almost made her smile from relief. “Maybe some people are naturally immune. It happens.”

Zoe shook her head as though the idea was impossibly far-fetched. She broke a stick from the log they sat on and poked at the ground absentmindedly. “My luck has sucked so far,” she said. “Why would I be spared this disaster?”

“Luck has nothing to do with it.” The more Fetch thought about it, the more convinced she became she’d stumbled upon the truth about why Zoe wasn’t almost dead, despite all evidence she should be. Her spirits lifted. “Zoe, if you are immune, you could possibly help stop this virus.”

“We don’t even know that for sure.” Zoe still sounded discouraged, but Fetch could tell by her face that her enthusiasm was at least getting Zoe to consider the possibility she might be on to something.

“It makes sense. It’s the only thing that does make sense.” Fetch was exhilarated. “You could be the cure.”

“Even if you’re wrong about this,” Zoe said, tossing the stick away, “I feel much better knowing I may live to get out of this bloody zoo.”

Fetch wanted to believe she was right, and at the moment, she had every reason to. Not only might Zoe survive, but she could be the key to saving millions of others. Fetch glanced over at her, and, for the first time, saw hope on her face. Zoe was grinning as she stared out at the rain, and Fetch realized she’d never seen her smile so genuinely and spontaneously before. The result was breathtaking.

They sat and watched the rain pour down. Almost by tacit agreement, they simultaneously relaxed against each other—a wordless acknowledgement of a shared, new optimism for the future.

 

Chapter Twenty-Five

Zoe was startled awake by a sharp boom of thunder. She’d fallen asleep, without really meaning to, and found herself snuggled up against Gianna, with her head on the soldier’s shoulder. “Sorry about that,” she mumbled, and pulled away.

“You needed it,” Gianna said.

“How long was I out?”

“About ten minutes.” Gianna reached for her water and took a sip, lifting her mask just enough to drink.

“Why can’t we both get rid of these things?” Zoe pointed to Gianna’s mask. “I mean, if you were sick, you would’ve shown symptoms by now.”

“I was in San Jose del Guaviare right before we left,” Gianna said. “Although I was careful, I can’t be sure.”

“But if I’m immune, it doesn’t matter.”

“True, but for now it’s a theory. A good one, but—”

“Still a theory.”

“Let’s wait another day, okay? Just to be safe.”

Zoe reluctantly nodded and dug into her rucksack for her mask. “Only fair, then, that you get a turn to get rid of yours for a while. I’ve had mine off all day.” She put hers back in place and got up to stretch. The rain had slowed some within the protection of the jungle canopy, but it was still pelting down in the clearing.

Twin bolts of lightning lit up the dark sky as she watched, followed by the distant rumble of thunder seconds later.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Gianna asked.

“Humbling, more like.” After a minute or two more of watching the sky, she returned to her place on the log.

Gianna had removed her mask and looked lost in thought.

“What are your plans after we get out of here?” Zoe asked. With every passing day, she grew more curious about the doctor, who remained so much an enigma.

Gianna shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”

“Do you have an actual home? Or have you always lived out here?” She nodded toward the vast Colombian landscape beyond the clearing. “I mean, I don’t know how you people actually live.”

“It’s different for everyone. I have a place I go to.”

“But it’s not home?”

“No.”

“Is…was, this place, the jungle…home?” Zoe corrected herself. She found it sad to think that the doctor had given up the only life or home she’d known to rescue her and the others. Something about this whole story didn’t make sense.

“No.”

Gianna obviously wasn’t comfortable talking about herself, since all she was getting were one-word answers. Still, Zoe wanted to know more about the woman who was risking so much to save her. Understand why she was doing all this. “Do you have anyone waiting for you… somewhere?”

“Not anymore.”

Zoe remembered their earlier conversation about Gianna’s partner being killed. “How long has it been since she died?”

“Sam. Her name was Sam,” Gianna said quietly. “Three years ago.”

The tone in her voice told Zoe it was still a very painful topic. “There hasn’t been anyone since?”

“No one worth mentioning.”

“How long were you together?”

“Not long enough.” Gianna ran her hand though her short dark hair. “A few months.”

“Love at first sight, huh?”

Gianna smiled wistfully. “It would appear so.” She stood up and sighed. “My turn to stretch.”

Zoe watched as she moved away a few steps and limbered up, methodically stretching her arms, legs, shoulders, and torso in much the same way a marathon runner did before a race. The rain had let up, at least for the moment. But Gianna’s still-damp clothes clung to her body, outlining every curve and muscle and accentuating her small but well-proportioned breasts. When the medic turned her back and bent over to touch her toes, Zoe couldn’t help admiring the toned ass beneath the thin camo pants.

Gianna’s expression was distant and almost melancholic the entire time. She was evidently far away from this place in her mind, consumed by memories.

“I asked her to marry me,” the doctor said when she’d returned to her seat on the log.

“So soon?”

“Yup.”

“Pretty intense.” Zoe had almost said a little too fast, and corrected herself. “I mean…that’s wonderful.”

“Why delay, when you can’t wait to start forever with someone?”

Zoe didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t identify with that kind of fierce chemistry. She fidgeted with the end of the tarp uncomfortably.

Gianna turned to her. “How about you? Anyone you can’t wait to be with?”

“Aside from my father?”

Gianna nodded.

“No. I…uh…I’ve never had anyone like that.”

Gianna’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You’ve never been in love?”

“Other than a crush on my high-school art teacher, no.” She’d never felt more than a passing interest for another person, but her life was full without a better half. “I’ve never felt it necessary, and the U-Haul scenario isn’t for me. I’m not the type to fall in love with someone new every full moon either.”

“Neither am I,” Gianna said defensively. “I didn’t even know I was capable of love until I met Sam. I guess that’s why I knew it had to be right.”

“Then you’re fortunate,” Zoe said.

“Somehow her death doesn’t make me feel very lucky.”

“I’m sorry…that came out wrong.” She paused to find the right words. “What I meant is, even if it was for just a very small moment, you got to feel what it’s like to love someone so… passionately. At least you know you can. I can’t even begin to fathom what that must be like, never mind recognize it should it happen.”

“You’ll know when it does,” Gianna said with conviction.

“How?”

This time it was apparently Gianna’s turn to consider her answer carefully. A full minute went by before she replied. “Because you’ll know you’re willing to give your life to save theirs. Or die if it meant bringing them back.”

Zoe didn’t respond. She had nothing to say. Did love like that really exist? And if it did, was she willing to experience it? Did she have the emotional capacity for such a commitment?

She glanced at Gianna, whose face held a bittersweet serenity as she remembered her lost partner. Did anyone exist who could make Zoe feel that way, and would anyone ever feel like that for her? More important, would she ever get the chance to find out?

A long silence followed as both of them remained absorbed in their own reflections. The rain had started again, pouring sheets in the clearing. The sky was still so dark it was difficult to tell what time it was, but Zoe thought sunset had to be only a couple of hours away at most. She finally shook off the questions raging in her head and asked, “What happens when we reach the safe house?” She turned toward the medic. “We obviously can’t stay there forever. They’ll find us eventually.”

Gianna looked away, as though deliberately avoiding eye contact. “No, we can’t. And, yes, they will.”

Zoe tried to suppress the renewed sense of panic that hit her at the doctor’s seeming certainty the rebels would eventually catch them. Surely she had some idea of how to get them out of this. “But you have a plan, right?”

The doctor didn’t answer for a very long time, which only added to Zoe’s escalating anxiety. Gianna took a long swig of water before she finally spoke. “I’ll call in with our location. The extraction shouldn’t take long after that.”

“Call who for what?” Zoe almost choked. “You can’t seriously trust any of them. They’ll kill us and… well, you betrayed them.”

“I don’t mean the guerrillas.”

“I’m sorry? You lost me.”

“I need to tell you something,” Gianna said, but didn’t elaborate or explain for another minute or two. She seemed uncomfortable and it was driving Zoe crazy.

“How long is the dramatic pause going to last?” she asked. “What the hell is going on?”

“Six months ago,” Gianna said, “I was sent on an SAR mission. I had to locate hostages, and the fastest way was to infiltrate the FARC.”

Gianna had her complete attention, but Zoe was having a hard time absorbing what she was saying, in part because her voice had suddenly changed, quite dramatically. “On a what mission?”

“Search and rescue,” Gianna explained, speaking very slowly and deliberately.

There. She was certain of it now. Gianna’s fairly thick Spanish dialect had completely disappeared. Now she sounded like she was from the States. “What happened to your accent?”

“Let me get through this before I answer your questions,” Gianna said, as a hint of a smile lifted the edge of her mouth. “After the hostages were located, I was to call in the coordinates for a rescue. Inform them of the number of soldiers present and eliminate as many obstacles as possible. Neutralize traps, poison the water buckets to make guerrillas sick, and, at the last moment, blow up their ammo. In a few words, weaken them and prepare the hostages for extraction.”

Zoe was still a bit fixated on the change in Gianna’s voice, but she was listening intently to every word.

“It took me six months to locate my targets,” Gianna said. “Kylee, Willy, and the Italians. I had to go through a dozen other camps before I was sent to the one I was looking for. All that fell apart when the pandemic broke out. The military and everyone else originally involved in the mission were…are needed elsewhere, so the rescue took a backseat.”


Date: 2015-01-11; view: 620


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