Page 37 of Hot Soldier's Rescue

The sound of engines was audible inside the chapel now. Grandma woke the children, shushing them as they murmured sleepily.

Elise pried at the crack in the wood with her fingernails, but to no avail. It had to be some sort of trapdoor, but she had no idea how to open it. Which made sense. If it was a secret hiding place, it wouldn’t open easily.

Grandma and the children knelt beside her.

“Get under the altar cloth,” Elise whispered.

Shouting voices drifted in through the windows, and terror lined the children’s faces in the faint moonlight. They were trapped, and all four of them knew it. They crawled under the table, but it would only provide a moment’s additional protection.

“There’s a trapdoor, but I can’t open it,” she breathed to Grandma.

Grandma whispered back, “Look for a hidden switch.” The older woman joined her in frantically searching the floor with her hands.

Oh, God. Those were voices on the porch steps.

Mia pointed at the under side of the altar table. “What’s that?”

Elise looked up. A small lever of some kind protruded faintly from the underside of the table nestled next to one of the table legs. Elise pushed it. Nothing. She wedged a finger under it and gave it a tug. A faint clicking noise sounded below them.

She scrabbled backward fast, moving her weight off what turned out to be the trapdoor. Her rear end stuck out from under the table toward the crucifix as she yanked the trapdoor up with strength born of panic. It opened upward on silent hinges.

The chapel door squeaked open. A man shouted orders to someone outside as the children headed down the narrow wooden steps. Grandma turned awkwardly, climbing down into the cellar with maddening slowness. Several men joined the first one, noisily moving into the chapel. Flashlight beams glowed through the altar cloth as they searched the rows of pews. Elise scooted forward, flinging her feet down into the hole. She found a step with her feet and grabbed the trapdoor, pulling it down over her head frantically as she crouched on the step. Boots stomped into sight in the thin space visible beyond the altar cloth and a man spoke, no more than three feet away, as she eased the door fully closed.

It was stuffy and dusty and Elise jammed a hand over her nose as she felt a sneeze coming on. She held on to the door handle with her other hand and prayed the soldiers wouldn’t find the latch Mia had spotted. And if they did spot it, maybe she could hold the door down and not give away their hiding spot.

She held her breath as she heard the altar cloth being ripped away. Dear God, if You exist, and if You actually answer prayers, please don’t let those soldiers spot the trapdoor.

* * *

Ted crouchedbeside his Jeep on the outskirts of the town H.O.T. Watch had seen the refugees of Acuna headed for earlier. Colombian Army trucks were crisscrossing the place, turning people out of their homes and searching every building from top to bottom. Surely Elise and those two kids of hers weren’t the object of such a determined search. But a sick feeling in his gut said they were. Who were those children?

If they were, indeed, Valdiron Garza’s kids as Elise had all but admitted, why would the government be coming after them so hard? Although, a person had only to look at their father’s deeds to deduce the answer to that one. Garza might have worked for the Colombian government, but even his own bosses had been terrified of him. Now that he was gone, everyone—within the government and without—was out to wipe away anything that had to do with him or his memory. Kind of like when Stalin died in Russia or Saddam Hussein in Iraq.

Ted was getting damned tired of being one step behind the army all the time like this. He hated having to sit here, helpless, and wait out the search. There was nothing for him to do but pray Elise and the kids weren’t discovered or weren’t here at all. When he caught up with her, he wasn’t letting her out of his sight again for a good long time.

The search took over an hour, but he saw no commotions to indicate the army had found whoever they were looking for. They buzzed like angry bees as they headed for their vehicles and cleared out. The townspeople went back into their homes, and the night settled into silence once more.

Now, where would he go if he were a fake nun with two small children in tow? She didn’t know anyone in town and she dared not stay at a hotel. Had she broken into a business and hidden there? Except the army had searched the stores in town. Thoroughly, if the shouts and complaints of the shopkeepers were any indication.

“Talk to me about this town,” he muttered to the long-suffering duty controller at H.O.T. Watch.

“A thousand residents. Makes its legal income shipping local produce by river barge to the coast. Makes its real income refining cocaine. The populace is known to be loyal to the government.”

Which explained why no residents had been shot during tonight’s search. And which made it even more unlikely that Elise would’ve been hidden by anyone here, even if she was ostensibly a nun—

His train of thought derailed. A nun. Surely not. He spied the spire of the small church across town. It was as good a place as any to look. Although the army must have searched the place. What the heck. He might just be a little better than the local army guys at spotting a sexy nun with a couple of kids in tow.

* * *

Elise jerked fully awakeas a loud squeaking sound erupted. That was the chapel’s front door opening. The army couldn’t have come back. A townsperson, maybe, coming to check on the church? Someone coming to pray? At this time of night? Nah. Who, then? She eased up the wooden steps and positioned herself directly under the trapdoor once more. She pulled down on the handle to keep it from popping open if this latest intruder knew about the hidden latch.

The children had been afraid of the total darkness down here in this crude dirt cellar and had wanted to go back up into the chapel to sleep. But now she was intensely relieved she’d insisted they spend the rest of the night down here. If they were lucky, the local priest would discover them tomorrow. Although, her luck hadn’t been so great recently. Better safe than sorry.

The intruder was quiet, but in her hyperafraid state, she heard the faint whisper of fabric as he moved slowly through the chapel. Just as someone would if they were searching the place. He drew near the altar. She held her breath, even though there was no way he could hear her breathing through the thick wooden panel overhead.

The latch clicked, dammit. She hung on to the trapdoor as it would’ve popped slightly open and prayed the intruder gave up as quickly as the army had.

A whisper floated down to her. She couldn’t quite hear it and rose up slightly to press her ear to the wood. There it was again.

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