Page 46 of Vaquero
Chapter Eighteen
Meg leaned into the wind passing through the wide-open Blackhawk’s doors. They’d just entered Brazil’s air space and were flying at a fast clip over the northern rainforest instead of traveling directly over downtown Rio. This operation needed to be handled as covertly as possible. Hence the helo skimmed low over treetops and dodged flocks of birds to avoid radar detection. There was no sense spitting in the Brazilian president’s face.
She now knew Charlie wasn’t going back to save Julio or to locate Pepe. Uh uh. This mission was all about the Russian ICBMs, not saving a lost boy or a downed covert operator who might need an emergency exfil. CB was escorting blonde, buxom, and beautiful, Dr. Barbara Hazelton, the over-the-top sexy nuclear engineer from the UK’s Proliferation and Nuclear Policy Institute, to the pit. She’d already been on theIwo Jima, called upon to disarm the warheads that neither Washington nor the UK had been able to locate. Seems those two countries had been fully aware of the deal between Orlando Zapata and the Russians for months. They just hadn’t known the precise location where that transfer would take place.
By sheer dumb luck, it was Julio who’d stumbled on the Russians and the ICBMs. If not for Meg following him, and for Charlie tracking Meg, these missiles would already be in the wrong hands. She wanted to point that out to her Ranger buddy, but Charlie hadn’t yet given Julio credit for taking out Orlando Zapata, much less for locating the warheads.
Meg worried for Julio. Had he been exposed to radiation? Was he sick? Injured? Was he still near the pit, or had he fled with the villagers he’d rescued? Their village was maybe twenty miles from Giant’s Toes. Were they in danger from radiation leakage?
Which was why she’d covertly acquired the Glock now tucked in the back of her jeans, from the carrier’s munitions locker. Charlie didn’t need to know everything, but if push came to shove, she meant to be an actively engaged asset, not a whimpering please-don’t-kill-me victim.
Princess Di, aka Dr. Barbara Hazelton, tipped her head back and laughed at something Charlie said. They were both wearing bulky, full-body, heavy radiation suits, complete with TLDs, thermoluminescent dosimeter badges, to monitor exposure, if any, to leaking particle radiation. The suits were comprised of the latest nanotechnology that incorporated radiation-resistant materials into the lead and rubber embedded in the fabric. They’d have to put head covers and face masks on, once—if—those dosimeters registered the slightest alarm.
“Oh, no. It’s really quite simple once you understand Russian mindsets. You see,” she equivocated loudly in her adorable, clipped British accent. “Disassembly of any nuclear weapon is merely a matter of reverse engineering. What was designed, can always be un-designed. What is assembled can be disassembled. You said there was an explosion near the warheads?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Charlie drawled just as loudly. “Zapata was one paranoid motherfucker, so like a dumbass, he stockpiled diesel fuel in the pit. You’ll see the black smoke soon enough. That kind of fire could burn for months, maybe years.”
Her lush red lips pursed. “I’m afraid that may require an entirely different solution which has more to do with politics than common sense. I suggest we investigate as closely as possible before we offer any reports to our governments. I need eyes-on, not best guesses.”
“If you say so, ma’am.” Charlie poured on an extra dose of his good old Southern Boy charm.
Meg was sitting across from Charlie and the Princess. The sight of them flirting made her gag. She wanted to throw up in her mouth. He was a slick devil, chatting up this long-legged woman who could easily pass for a movie star, and doing it so soon after he’d all but propositioned Meg. The cocky ass hadn’t even strapped in this time, probably because he needed to prove he was invincible. For two cents, she could’ve shoved him out the chopper door just to prove he couldn’t fly. The dog.
Hazelton smiled. Charlie grinned. And once again, Meg swiped a hand over the new, clean bandana she bought onboard the carrier to disguise her substantial lack of hair. Not that she needed to compete with this woman, but just once, it’d be nice to be called beautiful. Not by Charlie though. God, no. He wouldn’t know the truth if it bit his big, hairy ass.
“How did you say those fuel tanks exploded?” Princess Di asked Charlie in what Meg thought was totally fake, but loud, innocence.
She cocked a closer look at this gorgeous blond. Had Hazelton just baited the superior macho male like a femme fatale pro? Did she suspect he’d left certain details out of his report? For that matter, had he mentioned Special Agent Julio Juarez at all? Did anyone know Julio was still down there?
The tiny hairs at Meg’s nape prickled to attention. How could Princess Di have deduced Charlie’s deceit, if that was what it was? Who exactly was this savvy nuclear engineer from the UK’s Proliferation and Nuclear Policy Institute? Had anyone checked her credentials?
Just then, the Blackhawk veered sharply to the south, forcing Meg to hang on tighter or risk sliding out of her portion of the molded bench. Her harness dug into her left side, exacerbating the dull ache that spread from her clavicle to her toes.
Doctors said every time her nerves tingled was a good sign. Nerves took a long time to regenerate, years even. But man, she was tired, and not in the mood to project a sense of sparkly positivity to talk herself out of the all-over pain creeping up her left leg. Strokes sucked, damn it. Yes, every little step forward was freaking progress, but why’d they all have to be such tiny baby steps?
Meg squeezed her eyes shut to block the sight of the flirty couple across from her, as much as to block the aching pain she lived with. She thought of her hero, Neil Armstrong, and the famous line he’d uttered when he’d first set foot on the moon:“That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”
She could use one of those giant leaps—right damned now. But that wasn’t going to happen, and this day might not end how she wanted. She might never see Pepe again, and that hurt her heart more than losing Julio. He was a trained covert operator, but Pepe was just a kid. Brave, yes, but all alone and fending for himself in a warzone.
Tears glimmered at all he might be going through right now. There were wild animals in the Highlands. Jaguars. Feral pigs as big as small horses. Poisonous snakes. Even an occasional harpy eagle. Couldn’t this helo fly any faster?!
Plus, Meg hadn’t been given a radiation suit. Oh, no, because Charlie had ordered her to stay with the helo, while he and Hazelton did their thing. She couldn’t even stand back and watch from afar while they descended into the dangerous pit. She’d have to be satisfied with whatever intel Charlie decided to pass onto his pilot. If Charlie found Pepe, would he rescue the boy? Meg felt certain Charlie wouldn’t leave a child behind. He wasn’t that heartless. But what would he do with Julio if he spotted him? Would Charlie run to his aid? Would he leave him behind again or—?
No. Just no!Banishing her negative thoughts, Meg cast her gaze forward to the column of thick, oily smoke ahead of the helo. Pepe hadn’t been missing that long. He’d know how to take care of himself for a day or two. He’d been forced to do that before, and Julio was too smart to be dead. If anything, Charlie had better worry about himself, not the other way around. Because Julio had been downright magnificent fighting those soldiers. He’d been fearless and brave and bigger than life. A man on a mission, intent on ending anyone stupid enough to stand in his way. And he’d saved all those poor, enslaved men, women, and children.
Her heart skipped a beat remembering. Julio had all but danced through the carnage, the fire backlit behind him, when he’d taken on Oz’s remaining guards. She’d never seen such a man before. Such daring.
“You promised,” she whispered to the wind. “You said if we both survived this day, you’d be in touch. Well, I survived and so did you.”I hope…
Meg swallowed hard. She could be wrong. Pepe might have gotten into trouble, and Julio might not have survived. But her heart was too intent on hope to entertain what could very well be the truth. All she had to hold onto was what Julio had said. She clenched her knuckles to her teeth.
He will be in touch. He will!
*****
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.Not the hefty rotor slap of a Blackhawk helo, but a helicopter nonetheless. Probably stolen or procured off the black market. Mountain guerilla warfare had certainly evolved. These guys had the means to rival any nation’s civil defense.
Julio opened his bleary eyes and cocked his head at the sound of a single approaching aircraft. He’d stolen a few minutes of sleep, just enough to keep the dizziness at bay. He was weary of the world of men. It was time to go to war again, and he was sick of it.
