Chapter One

Carmen stopped hating Garrett long enough to dig into the battered backpack hanging from her shoulder and hand him the wad of Vistarian currency. He took it from her and handed it to the man sitting on the other side of the little, scratched table.

Hernandez Garcia took the cash and looked at it. “Are you sure, señor?” he asked Garrett. “I am a loyal Vistarian. I would give you these things if you must truly have them.”

Carmen scowled at Garrett and turned to peer through the window of the small house. She stood next to Efraín, who was their sentry this time. Efraín had his rifle cocked and the butt resting on his hip as his gaze flickered from point to point across the landscape.

“Still okay?” Carmen asked in a murmur.

“Still okay.”

Behind her, Garrett spoke to Hernandez patiently. “It’s better that you have a way to explain to the Insurrectos why you lost your phone and your laptop. This way, you can tell them that strangers paid you a lot of money for them.”

“Why can I not say they were stolen? It’s such a lot of money, señor!”

“Because if they were stolen, you would have reported the theft to the community station as soon as they went missing and you would inform the telephone company, too. That would make the phone and the laptop useless to us more quickly that we would like.”

“Then I will tell the Insurrectos nothing!” Hernandez declared.

“Garrett,” Carmen said in warning. They had been in the house far too long already.

Garrett glared at her with flint gray eyes and turned back to Hernandez. “If you say nothing you will declare yourself a Loyalist. They’re still hanging anyone they think is a Loyalist without benefit of a trial.” He shook his head. “Take the money, Hernandez. Then you will merely look like an enterprising Vistarian.”

Hernandez nodded. “I will do what you say, señor. Only it troubles me to do so.”

“Troubled is a condition I can deal with,” Garrett said, standing. “Dead, I cannot cure.”

“Garrett,” Carmen urged him once more.

“Take a pill,” he snapped at her, in English. He picked up his rifle and slung it over his shoulder so it hung low on his back. Then he dropped the grubby serape over the top and donned the straw cowboy hat he favored. The scrubby growth on his cheeks and chin that he never shaved grew in much darker than his blond hair. With the hat, he didn’t look foreign at first glance. Foreigners were unknown on the streets of Vistaria’s cities and towns these days. The beard also hid most of the scars on his face, which would make him memorable.

The serape was an indeterminate gray-green color. The stripes of wool were once brighter and more varied. Time, dirt, smoke and sweat had turned the serape into a muted, dirty and disguising garment. It didn’t look like camouflage, yet it worked just as well to hide Garrett among the trees.

Carmen stuffed the laptop and cellphone into her backpack, then tucked her own rifle back over her shoulder and checked the safety on the Smith & Wesson. She wore a light jacket that came down to mid-thigh and hid the gun on her hip.

Efraín kept his gaze on the window while they prepared.

“Efraín?” Garrett murmured.

“Clear.”

With a last nod at Hernandez, Garrett stepped out of the house, taking the lead. Carmen followed him out and moved to his right flank, quartering the area without turning her head. It was clear, as advertised.

Relaxing only a little, she hurried after Garrett. He was already striding down the steep hill toward the trees. They had left the rest of the unit on the outskirts of town, in a tucked-away glade on the edge of the tree line. Only three of them heading into the town had been a risk, yet larger numbers would have drawn attention.

It was an overcast day, with an iron-gray sky that promised rain. The heat had not slackened for more than a week. It was the dog days of summer. Until she had moved to the States to study, Carmen hadn’t known what that meant. Now, moving through damp air bereft of the smallest breeze, her body sticky with sweat, she thought the name was perfect.

They maintained silence all the way out of Cerro Ciudad, which suited Carmen just fine. She glared at Garrett’s back occasionally. He watched their route ahead. For all she knew, he also watched through the back of his head and sideways. Garrett had instincts that had saved them more than once. She always monitored him to catch his first twitch of alarm.

No one lingered on the streets. It was siesta time and although a town this high in the foothills wouldn’t need to sleep away the heat of the day, the habit was ingrained. They made the clearing without alarm.

Angelo moved across the clearing and touched Carmen’s shoulder. That was all he did, although Carmen sensed Garrett’s scowl in reaction.

The eight of them moved through the trees, skirting the town. Their progress was nearly silent. Carmen was still learning how to place her feet and avoid branches that could snap. She was a city girl, while all the others except Garrett had grown up in the south end of the island. Hiking silently through scrub was built into them.

Garrett, of course, was a freak of nature. He never made a sound when he was moving.

When Carmen stepped on leaf litter that was drier than it looked and crumpled loudly, he glared at her over his shoulder.

She stuck her tongue out at him when he turned back.

The current camp was a mile south of the rail line and almost directly due east of the town, Cerro Ciudad. It was too close to Cerro Ciudad, yet it was in an unexpected place. They had been camped there for nearly two months and hadn’t seen a single patrol.

The Insurrecto patrols swept farther east into the flatlands. They didn’t seem to think a Resistance camp at higher elevations was possible. Either that, or they were too lazy and didn’t want to scramble around the knees of the mountains looking for them. Whatever the reason, it made life easier for Garrett’s unit.

As they drew farther away from the town, they relaxed their guard. Angelo fell back to the end of the line, where Carmen was checking their rear. He smiled at her.

He was a typical Vistarian—tall, with clear olive skin, black hair and eyes and a nice smile. Carmen smiled back at him. He was a good fighter and he took care of her in bed. It wasn’t his fault she often felt fifty years older than him, even though they were the same age.

“I found some coffee in that village we passed yesterday,” Angelo said. “I thought we could make spiced coffee when we get back.”

“We don’t have any nutmeg. Or ginger or cloves,” Carmen said. She spoke in a soft murmur. Her feminine voice was pitched higher and traveled farther, or so Garrett had warned her, more than once. “Although, I like coffee straight,” Carmen added.

Angelo grimaced. “American style,” he said, with a sniff.

Carmen laughed. “American style coffee got me through five years of college.”

“Miss Brainiac,” Angelo teased, using the English word. It was one of the few he knew.

Garrett whistled to get their attention. He held up his fist.

They halted, listening hard.

After forty seconds, Carmen heard what Garrett had detected. A train was coming from the south.

“Unscheduled,” Angelo breathed.

She nodded. An unscheduled train could mean many things, but for sure, the Insurrectos were behind it. They let nothing run on the tracks without their say-so.

Garrett waved them closer, so he could talk without shouting. They gathered around.

“Let’s hitch a ride and find out what’s on that train,” Garrett proposed. “Go.”

Carmen ran at as close to a full sprint as she could manage, heading downhill toward the tracks which glinted through the trees, just ahead. There was no danger of being heard with a train clanking and groaning.

The others were doing the same as Carmen, spreading out as they moved. This was a familiar task to the unit. They had hitched and raided many trains, usually at a profit.

It was good to move freely. Carmen leapt and scrambled down the hill, enjoying the sensation of her body working hard. She was fitter now than she had ever been in her life, thanks to hiking, running, fighting and climbing hills. For the first few weeks with the unit, everything had felt like it was uphill. Now, she barely noticed the inclines.

They were going to time it nicely. The train pulled around the wide bend and came into view. She angled her approach to the tracks, heading north so she was running alongside the train and inside the trees. It would let her emerge into the open once the engine’s driver had passed.

There were only two cars attached to the train, both of them boxcars. They were harder to latch onto, but not impossible. Carmen burst out of the trees, her boots digging into the rocky aggregate around the tracks. She leaned in toward the first car, aiming to grab the long handle on the door.

“Above! Above!” Garrett cried. “Duck!”

Carmen already had a grip on the door handle. It was pulling her along. The train was moving at a crawl because of the slope, although it was faster than she could run on the rocks that lined the tracks. She was committed.

She hauled herself up and put a foot on the floor that projected from beneath the door a few inches. Behind her, Angelo grunted as he did the same with the other car.

Machine gun fire ratcheted, right over her head. Carmen sucked in a surprised breath and hugged the door. Behind her, she heard the characteristic bellow of Garrett’s heavy duty .45.

A wheezy cough sounded from the top of the car. Carmen tightened her grip as a man wearing the mottled gray of the new Insurrecto uniforms fell past her, brushing her shoulder and thudding onto the rocks. His machine gun followed.

Carmen was a good marksman with a handgun and getting better all the time. Garrett, though, was far, far better. Damn him. No one else in the unit could have made that shot.

More submachine gun fire burst right overhead. Two guards? What the hell? What did they have in this thing that justified two guards on the roof? Anyone would think they were afraid the Resistance might try to hijack the train.

Gripping the vertical rail next to the sliding door of the box car, Carmen pulled out her Smith & Wesson and cocked it, then raised it to point at the roof. Carefully, she leaned outward, until she could see over the lip of the roof.

The guard was firing toward the back of the train and wasn’t looking at her. She took her time with the shot and got him in the torso. He reared back and clutched his side. Someone on the other side of the train—Ledo, by the sound of the light shot—took him in the head. He tumbled backward and disappeared.

Carmen holstered her gun and worked on the latch of the box car. It was rusty and gave way with a groan. Then she pulled the door aside and whipped her gun out once more for there were three more Insurrectos in the car. The door on the opposite side of the car was also opening.

The three men were pressing against the back of the car, peering through slits at the box car behind this one. The sound of the door opening alerted them. They were slow to turn.

She shot all of them in the knee, a shot apiece. They dropped, clutching their legs and screaming.

A fourth guard lurched into the doorway, bringing his rifle up to aim at her. Carmen squeaked in surprise. She swung her gun to point at him.

Before she could fire, another shot sounded. It was Garrett’s .45 bellowing again. The bullet whizzed past her like a miniature thunderclap.

The guard clutched his belly, looking down at it, surprised. Then he toppled sideways, revealing Garrett standing inside the other door, the .45 in his hand.

“You didn’t quarter the room, did you?” he said, his scowl back.

Angelo swung into the car from above.

“Take care of the driver,” Garrett told him. “Let’s stop this thing and check it out. There’s something strange going on here.”

Carmen agreed that this was odd. Six armed guards, only two cars and an unscheduled run?

Angelo nodded and swung back out onto the side of the car. He would work his way along until he reached the engine, then get the driver to halt the train. Depending on whether the driver was a Loyalist or not, Angelo would either use force or just ask nicely.

Garrett studied the three guards rolling on the floor in agony. “You should have gone for the head,” he said, “and made sure of them.”

“Listen to the doctor,” Carmen mocked. “I spared them. Sue me.”

The other five members in their team all swung into the car from either side. None of them was injured.

A rifle cracked, from outside.

“Guess the driver isn’t a Loyalist,” Ledo remarked with a grin.

The train’s brakes squealed and the train slowed.

Garrett was moving around the car, questing like a beast on the hunt. “It’s empty.” He turned on one heel to take in the whole car.

“Except for the rags over here,” Carmen said. She walked over to the pile of rags pushed up into the corner. They were musty, stained and ragged. She gave them a kick and her boot thudded up against something solid beneath them.

She looked at Garrett and raised her brow. Then she leaned and picked up the rags and tossed them away.

A small metal box painted army green was revealed. There were two padlocks, one per clasp and yellow stenciling on the cover.

“That is what six guards were watching?” Ledo said, as the train came to a shuddering halt.

“Wait,” Garrett said. “First, move the Insurrectos out of the car. Tie them to trees if they’re still alive. Carmen, give Ledo your zip ties.”

Carmen pulled the half-dozen plastic strips she had out of her pocket and handed them over.

“Do the same with the driver and anyone in the second car,” Garrett ordered as Ledo jumped down to the ground and the others followed.

Then Garrett moved to stand over the box, studying it. “The rags were misdirection. If the guards failed, they hoped the pile of rags would go unnoticed. As if the guards wouldn’t tip off anyone who tried to get in here, in the first place.”

He looked up. “We take it with us. Search the other car, take anything worthwhile that isn’t too heavy. Let’s move. I want to reach the camp in thirty minutes. I don’t want to be anywhere near this train when the Insurrectos find it.”

He bent and picked up the handles at either end of the long flat box and lifted…or tried to. He got one end up, then dropped it. “Well, that’s interesting.” he murmured to himself.

He looked up as Angelo jumped back onto the car.

“The driver was an Insurrecto, doc,” Angelo said. “Uniform and everything.”

“Seven guards,” Garrett muttered. “Angelo, you and Carmen take the box first. We’ll take turns carrying it.”

“Sure, doc,” Angelo said and settled his rifle over his shoulder.

Carmen picked up a handle and Angelo gripped the other. They hoisted the box.

“Oh, holy crap!” Carmen swore in English. “This thing is heavy!”

“The workout will do you good,” Garrett said and jumped down to the ground.

There was nothing of interest in the second car except for tins of soup and a camp stove for warming the soup upon, plus a dozen boxes and crates. They took the gas for the stove, which they could use for their own stoves, and the soup.

Garrett moved through the car, checking the manifest tags on the cartons and crates. “Company records. From the mine on Las Piedras Grandes,” he said to himself. “That makes sense.”

“It does?” Carmen asked.

“Let’s move it!” Garrett called to everyone in the car, ignoring her.

She wrinkled her nose at him and jumped down onto the rocky ground where Angelo was waiting with the metal box.

She braced herself. The others in the team always rolled their eyes when her lack of strength slowed them down. They didn’t make allowances for her being female, because Garrett wouldn’t have tolerated it.

Carmen would have to haul her end of the load for as long and as quickly as Angelo did, plus keep up with the others.

She lasted a quarter of a mile into the bush, then dropped her end of the box with a crash. “I don’t care what you think, I’m not carrying it another step. My fingers are crushed.”

Garrett moved back along the line, grinning. “You lasted two hundred yards more than I thought you would.” He jerked his chin at Archie. “Grab the end, my friend.”

Archie grinned. He was one of the strongest in the group. He picked up the other end with a grunt, his brows raising. Garrett lifted his end with what looked like no effort at all. “Princess,” he murmured as he passed Carmen.

Rain fell in big, fat stinging drops. “Perfect,” Carmen said with a sigh, looking up at the bit of sky she could see through the tree tops. “Just perfect.”

* * * * *

They reached the outer sentries for the camp with two minutes to spare out of Garrett’s thirty minute deadline. The rain had become torrential, which cooled things off, although it made walking in the sucking mud difficult.

It also diminished their hearing. They cocked their weapons without being ordered to, watched their flanks and kept checking behind. As they drew closer to the camp, their wariness increased. It wouldn’t do to lead someone to the camp itself.

When the outer sentries challenged them, Garrett dropped the box into the mud and straightened, kneading his fingers. The metal handle was thin and the weight of the box made it dig into flesh, squashing it. Carmen’s fingers still tingled.

Yet he picked up the box again, instead of swapping with someone fresh, surprising her. He wasn’t going to carry it all the way into the camp, was he? What was he trying to prove?

Garrett kept his gaze ahead, the rain dripping from the brim of his hat, and strode ahead. Archie struggled to keep up with him, swapping his hands on the handle, his breath blowing heavily.

When they reached the camp perimeter, no one emerged to greet them. The rain kept them indoors. The old monastery still housed a handful of Benedictine monks, even though most of the main building was in ruins.

Carmen had discovered it was the monks’ philosophy to stay where they were and remain a part of the community. The monks had been trying to restore the buildings by hand, using local resources and charity.

The war had ended their restoration work and the Insurrectos had halted their forays across the land to help villages and farmers in whatever way they could. Like everyone else in Vistaria, the monks had to have permission to leave their residence and travel anywhere. Travel permits were rarely issued.

Carmen wondered if the Insurrectos had any idea they had made enemies of the Benedictine order. Although the monks would never pick up a weapon or use force against the Insurrectos, they found other ways to support the Loyalists, including letting Garrett’s unit use the ruins for their camp.

In return, the monks enjoyed peace and security and everyone shared what food they had, including the produce from the monks’ garden plots.

The eight of them moved into the big refectory. It was partially roofed at one end. It had gaping holes where the windows had once been. The roof and the smooth floor were civilized luxury compared to the squats and lean-tos they had used in the past. It was much, much better than the tarpaulins stretched between trees that Garrett had been using when Carmen had first stumbled into the camp, seven weeks ago.

A fire burned at the enclosed end, which was a cheerful sight after the dismal day. Carmen was soaked to the skin. Standing in front of the fire, regardless of how warm the day, was appealing.

She shucked off her backpack and put it on the ground next to her sleeping bag.

Sleeping on hard ground was another thing she never thought she would do. Now, though, her measure of a cozy bed was a sleeping bag for warmth when she needed it, a mosquito net and something to keep off the rain. She didn’t have the net yet, although sleeping close to the fire kept most of the mosquitos away. Bliss was relative.

It wasn’t home, just like everywhere she had lived for ten years wasn’t home. Even the apartment in Boston she had rented for over five years while completing her degree hadn’t been home. The air had been too cool and crisp, the sun too weak and the accents she heard all day too foreign. Too English.

For now, though, this patch of concrete, marked out by her sleeping back, was her space.

She pulled off her jacket with some trouble and hung it over a brick projecting out of the wall above her gear. She untucked her shirt from her jeans and flapped it to get it to unstick from her body.

The fire beckoned.

Before she could reach the flames, Garrett intercepted her. He’d removed the hat, which made his gray eyes stand out and the anger in them more evident.

“A word,” he said and headed for the far corner of the ruins. Daylight was running out fast and the corners were full of shadows. No one lingered there when the fire was available for all.

Carmen sighed and followed him to the private corner. “What have I done now?”

He pulled her into the corner, his fingers over her wrist. “Keep your voice down.”

He’d removed the poncho. It would have been as sodden as her jacket. The shirt he wore beneath was a button-through cotton garment that stuck to his body as much as hers did.

The open collar showed the start of more scars on his chest. Carmen always wondered how far the scars descended, when she saw them. There was no way she would ever ask, though. Garrett didn’t welcome personal questions.

“Did you check that the electronics survived the downpour?” he demanded.

She lifted her chin to look him in the eye. Garrett was taller than her, which made him very tall. “Of course. They’re fine. The backpack is water proof.”

“Water resistant,” he corrected. “That doesn’t mean moisture can’t leak in.” He tried to push his hair away from his face, only it was soaked and didn’t cooperate. He dropped his hand with an impatient gesture. “We risked exposing ourselves in town because you insisted we set up an Internet connection. I hope you think it was worth it.”

“It will be,” she said. “We can’t go on shooting random Insurrectos and hijacking trains. It’s not getting us anywhere. We need a strategy, one that will align with whatever the Loyalists have planned. For that, we need to talk to them.”

Garrett shook his head. “The Internet is the most insecure network in the world. Anyone can use it. IP addresses can be figured out by a three-year-old.”

“It’s not perfect,” Carmen said. “But it works and there’s no other alternative.” She raised her brow. “Unless you’ve got a secure, untraceable satellite phone stashed somewhere you haven’t told me.”

From closer to the fire, loud metallic banging sounded. Angelo and Efraín and the others crouched around the metal box. Ledo had a chisel and hammer and was working at the locks.

Garrett ignored Carmen’s question. “We wasted a whole day on this computer business. Just make sure it all works. Check with Abbot Sergio to see if they will let you charge the battery with their current. And another thing…” He glanced around to see who was listening. “Tell your boyfriend to stop feeling you up when we’re working.”

Carmen’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Then fury wiped away the surprise. “Are you implying that either of us was unprofessional?”

“Not you. You’re the cold-hearted princess. I saw Angelo’s hand on your shoulder. I won’t have it, Carmen. Not on my unit.”

“Oh, a hand on my shoulder,” she said. “That threatens the security of the nation.”

“It’s a weakness,” Garrett said. “While he’s thinking about you, he’s not thinking about security and neither are you.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

Garrett stepped close to her and Carmen drew in a breath, surprised. He looked down at her. “He was this close.” His voice was soft. “Look me in the eye and tell me what you see in your peripheral vision.”

She glared, pissed as hell. She couldn’t believe Garrett was micro-managing her like this.

“No, lock gazes with me,” Garrett demanded. “I’m trying to demonstrate something, so stop steaming and look.”

Carmen looked. She kept her gaze on his gray eyes, defiant. “I can see movement from my right. The fire flickering.” The fire she wanted to be standing next to.

“What’s behind me?” Garrett demanded.

She looked over his shoulder—or tried to. He was taller than her. She couldn’t see anything. Her anger cooled a fraction. “It’s not like we were making out,” she said defensively.

“For a fraction of a second, your mind wasn’t on the job.” Garrett’s tone was cooler, too. “That’s all the time the enemy needs to step out and take aim. When are you going to get it through your head that I know what I’m talking about?”

Now she was embarrassed. “You’re right.” It took all her courage to admit that. “It won’t happen again.”

Garrett nodded. “You’ve got an instinct for this,” he said. “You’ve got natural talents and you’re smart. Don’t let a stupid mistake get you killed. I don’t have enough smart lieutenants I can rely on.”

“Jeez, Garrett, is that a compliment?”

“And then you have to open your mouth one last time.” Garrett sighed.

The metal gave a loud groan as it gave way. A cheer went up.

Carmen and Garrett hurried to where everyone was bent over the box.

Angelo threw the lid back. Someone whistled.

“Man…is that what I think it is?” Ledo said. He ran his fingertips reverently across the bright slabs of metal in the box.

“Silver,” Garrett said.

“The mine is closed,” someone pointed out.

“Not anymore,” Garrett said. “They’re pulling silver out of it, somehow.”

“It’s not even their mine,” Carmen said. “Astra Corp leased the mineral rights on The Big Rock for ninety-nine years.”

“I don’t think Serrano has any lawyers around to tell him that,” Garrett said. “Not that he would care about the legality. The Insurrectos clearly think the mine and the silver in it is theirs. Spoils of war.” He kicked the lid back closed. “Why do they want it? That’s the million dollar question.” He glanced at Carmen, his eyes narrowed. “Your Internet thing will be useful, after all.”

Gracia stepped up beside Garrett. She had deep, dark circles beneath her eyes from lack of sleep and her black hair showed premature gray streaks. Her face, though, was the calmest Carmen had ever seen.

“Doctor, Zuzen is getting worse.” Gracia glanced about the fire and lowered her voice even more. “I don’t think he’ll last much longer.” Her voice was rough and naturally low, adding to her aura of peace.

Zuzen had taken a bullet in the upper stomach a week ago. His screams of pain had kept everyone awake, until the monks offered an herb from their gardens that would make him drowsy and lessen the pain. They were so low on pain killers that only the worst cases received them.

When Garrett had reached for the little medical box that carried the few supplies they had, it had been Gracia who argued that Zuzen should not get one of the precious doses, for he would not live. Gracia’s ruthless expediency had shocked Carmen.

Garrett nodded at Gracia now. “I’ll be there in a minute.” The wounded and sick were kept inside the monastery, on the few proper beds the monks had to spare. When Gracia dropped from exhaustion, the monks would provide simple care until Garrett returned from whatever mission he was on.

Carmen watched Garrett head into the monastery, following Gracia. Carmen was hungry and exhausted. All she wanted to do was dry out, then curl up in her sleeping bag. Garrett had worked harder than her this day, yet his day hadn’t ended. Now he had to turn back into a doctor and spend the night taking care of people.

If he wasn’t such an asshole she might have felt sorry for him.