Chapter Thirteen

Josh climbed out of the little Cessna and stretched mightily. It had been a cramped three-hour flight down to Acapulco. His shirt, the one he had thrown on as he’d left the house in the small hours of the morning, stuck to his back. The front of it had set-in wrinkles that came from sitting too long.

He looked around. This section of the airport was reserved for small, private planes. The hangars were an ants’ nest of prop planes, small jets and the golf carts personnel used to move around the tarmac.

The sky was a dismal dun color. The wind pushed at Josh, coming from a south-westerly position. Most of the frantic activity on the tarmac was because of the coming storm. All these planes were too small and too light to be left out unprotected. Even tied down, they were vulnerable. The planes were being towed into the hangers, where they would cram like sardines until the storm was over.

Nick strode across the tarmac, in the black cargo pants and camouflage shirt he wore when he participated in army exercises and maneuvers. Even in this odd light his red hair was distinctive. A Loyalist non-com walked with him, carrying a heavy canvas bag over one shoulder and wearing green fatigues.

Did the combat clothes mean Nick had been mixed up in something? Was the offensive already underway? Josh had spent three hours trying to figure out what the panic could be, when the coming storm would bring everything and everyone to a grinding halt.

Nick surprised Josh by giving him a hard hug. “Thank you,” he said. “This will make a huge difference. They’re inside?”

“In the cabin with me. You’re right, they don’t take up much room, packed down.” He jerked his thumb back toward the interior of the plane. The door was still ajar and rocking backward and forward with the wind surges.

Nick nodded. “I have another favor to ask.”

“You’re going to be buying me drinks for a century at this rate,” Josh told him. “What now?”

“I need to borrow the plane.”

“And fly it to where?” Josh asked. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s a hurricane heading in our direction.”

“You looked up the reports then.” Nick pointed toward the west. “That-a-way,” he said.

“Into the storm?”

Nick shook his head. “If we go now, we’ll be back before the storm hits. Your Cessna is the only way I can get the goggles where they need to be in time.”

He patently wasn’t going to explain himself beyond that cryptic remark. Yet he had said on the phone this morning it was urgent and he had repeated himself just now when he said this would make a difference.

“I’ll send the pilot into Acapulco to hunker down for the duration,” Josh said. “Your fixed-wing license is current, right?”

Nick rolled his eyes at him, then waved the non-com toward the plane. “Go do your stuff, Pedro.”

“Sir.” Pedro stepped around them and climbed into the plane, hauling his heavy bag in with him.

“After you,” Nick said. “I’ll let you break the bad news to the pilot.”

“That he doesn’t have to fly into the face of a hurricane?” Josh asked. “I think he’ll take the news quite well.”

Twenty minutes later, after a hasty refuel and consultation with traffic control, they were airborne again. Josh sat in the copilot seat next to Nick. He could tell from the sure way Nick handled the controls he was a good pilot.

Behind them in the cabin, Pedro was doing something mysterious with the big carton of goggles that involved stuffing it in an even bigger heavy-duty plastic bag and attaching yet another plastic bag and glow-sticks to the opening. When Pedro pulled a heavy air canister out of his bag and pushed the spout into the mouth of the bag around the carton, Josh understood.

“We’re literally dropping the goggles off?” he asked Nick.

“A low altitude approach so we don’t startle the Insurrectos on Las Piedras Grandes, then drop the goggles, bank and get the hell out of there.” Nick’s voice sounded tinny through the headset. “Flores knows we’re coming. By the way, there’s a software application I sent you via email. I want you to install it on your phone, your computer, anything that runs on digital fuel.”

“I saw the email. I wanted to check with you before hitting the ‘execute’ command. What does it do?”

Nick described the impenetrable security shield the software provided.

“That would be damn useful in the corporation,” Josh remarked.

“We’ll sell it to you,” Nick told him with a grin. “For now, it’s just for you and others who are helping us. I’d like to keep the list as short as possible.”

They were out over the ocean now. Josh’s gaze pulled ahead to the horizon. Angry black clouds banked there, a thick wall of them. Lightning flashed inside them. “It looks bad,” he murmured.

“I’ve seen worse,” Nick said. “It would scare the crap out of you if we were up higher. I’m staying under the radar.”

“I noticed.” The surface of the sea looked as though it was only a few feet beneath the wheels of the Cessna. Then Josh spotted a boat heading for the coast and it was almost microscopic, which told him they were higher up than he’d thought.

After ten minutes of flying almost directly east, Nick banked the plane. “Five minutes, Pedro!” he called. “How’s it coming?”

The sound of hissing air had been coming from the cabin for the last few minutes. “I’ll be ready, sir!” Pedro yelled, for he wasn’t wearing a headset.

Nick straightened up the plane and Josh saw the compass was hovering over east-south-east. “You mentioned Las Piedras Grandes,” Josh said. “Now you’re heading for the south end of Vistaria. Does that mean what I hope it means?”

Nick gave him a quick glance. “We’re going to win back your mine for you.”

“In the middle of a hurricane,” Josh finished.

“The President suggested it would be a good idea,” Nick said mildly.

“Because launching an offensive into the middle of a Category 4 hurricane is something heads of state order all the time,” Josh added.

Nick grinned. “It was Duardo’s idea. It’s brilliant.” He outlined the strategies and risk-reducing tactics they were taking.

Josh realized that his dash to Acapulco had been even more vital than Nick had suggested over the phone. He was glad he hadn’t waited for a moment after they had ended their phone call last night. “The President of the United States told you to get the mine back?”

“Not in so many words, but this is a big break, Josh. If we can get the mine back, the President will look favorably upon the Loyalists.”

“I think he already is,” Josh murmured. “That’s an under-the-table deal he’s made with you. He wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t want to deal openly with you somewhere down the road.”

“I reminded him that if we go under, he’d have to put up with Serrano slopping his soup next to him at State dinners. We look benign next to Serrano.”

Josh could feel tension in his chest loosen. “It’s good to know the President is on Astra Corp’s side. Jason didn’t think he had been heard.”

All the time they had been talking, Nick had been dropping altitude. Now, Josh could make out individual waves. Toward the horizon, the coastline of Las Piedras Grandes was a brown smudge. Just ahead, he could see a collection of boats bobbing on the surface, close together. No two boats looked alike, yet Josh knew he was looking at the Vistarian navy.

“Get ready!” Nick yelled. “Josh, could you help Pedro with the door?”

Josh put the headphones over the twin controls and climbed into the cabin through the narrow doorway. Pedro tied a rope around his waist. The other end was tied around the leg of one of the cabin chairs. He cranked open the long door handle. Josh grabbed one of the other handles and they slid the door sideways, forcing it back against the air stream rushing down the side of the plane. The plane wobbled as the air pressure in the cabin equalized with the outside and Nick adjusted the control to compensate for the drag of the open door.

The carton of goggles was sitting inside the big plastic bag and the mouth of the bag sealed with a plastic zip tie. Before sealing it, Pedro had blown compressed air into the bag, swelling it up like a balloon, so the plastic was taut. Attached to the bag was a second bag, also inflated, but empty. It would provide more buoyancy to the carton in case it was too heavy for the bag it was inside. Attached to the neck of both bags were four glow-sticks, which Pedro had cracked and shaken up. Their ghoulish green glow would help Flores find the bags in the water.

“Now!” Nick called.

Josh helped Pedro wrestle the awkward bags and carton over to the door and without hesitation, they tipped the parcel out into the air. Pedro immediately pulled the door shut.

Nick banked the plane sharply and Josh grabbed at the arm of the nearest chair as the floor tilted. He looked out the window. A tiny dinghy set out from one of the bigger dories, heading for the goggles. Josh couldn’t make out where the goggles were as the plane was already too high and too far away. It wasn’t his problem anymore.

The plane straightened, then did a little shimmy, the wings waggling up and down. The air pilot’s form of goodbye.

Josh let out a heavy breath. “And good luck,” he added, to himself.

* * * * *

It was nearly one in the afternoon when they reached the ramshackle and abandoned motel Nick directed them to. By then, Téra carried one of the smaller children, as were most of the adults, including Calli, who walked beside her. It was a subdued line of people who traipsed into the weed-covered parking area of the motel.

The wind had grown stronger throughout the morning. Now it moaned and whistled, plucking at their clothes and tearing loose anything that wasn’t tied down. It wasn’t just tumbleweeds rolling across the gravel road they followed. They watched weeds and small uprooted bushes roll and bounce across their path and once, a sheet of corrugated iron.

Calli watched the iron flip and rise into the air, floating for a moment. “We have to go faster,” she’d said thoughtfully and reached for the nearest child and picked him up. “Everyone, gear down and move faster. Pass it on.”

The murmur travelled back along the drawn-out line of people trailing behind them. As the children were lifted, the adults increased their speed.

When they reached the motel, Calli turned to Minnie, one of the few adults not carrying a child. Calli had flatly refused to let her. “Assign rooms, please, Minnie. Téra, could you help? Rubén, too. The sooner we can get everyone inside and locked down, the happier I’ll be.”

Minnie conversed swiftly with Rubén, as they counted out the number of rooms the motel offered. Then they moved down the line, grouping people into the right number, then giving them a room number. People streamed along the verandahs and up the stairs to the next floor as they were assigned a place. Most of them walked with one shoulder turned into the wind to stop themselves from staggering.

Téra watched them struggle to move against the wind and wondered how the rest of the army would fair.

Minnie touched her arm. “We’re in the command center,” she said, lifting her voice. “The motel reception area.”

Téra nodded and held out her arm. “Hang on to me. You’ll get blown away otherwise.”

Minnie laughed, but took her arm. “I’m just glad we can stop walking. My feet are hurting.”

“You’re the one who got knocked up,” Téra pointed out.

Minnie didn’t respond. Her smile, though, was warm and small. Being pregnant suited Minnie down to the ground, which had been a surprise to Téra. Her first impression of her future sister-in-law had been a petite woman far too interested in her own appearance, a mismatch for Duardo’s obvious infatuation. However, Duardo had been right all along. Minnie had hidden depths Téra was only starting to learn. The way she organized the supplies for the big house was astonishing. They had wanted for little since she had taken over the task.

“I hope they left behind the furniture,” Téra told her. “Then you’ll have a comfortable chair to sit in.”

“Any flat surface behind a vertical one that stops the wind is all I need,” Minnie said. “I never thought wind would drive me crazy, but it never stops, does it?”

The reception area and the offices behind it had been stripped of anything useful. All that was left was permanently nailed down or built-in fixtures, such as the big reception counter. Carpet covered the area that had been a lounge bar, off to one side of the reception area.

Téra helped Minnie settle down at the back corner of the lounge, where the two walls would give her back some support.

“Don’t stay near the windows,” Calli warned as everyone spread out, looking for a comfortable spot. There were ten people, including Rubén Ray, Mama Roseta and other key personnel who helped run the big house.

Téra would never say it aloud, but she was relieved Rubén had been left behind. At least one man with a gun strapped to his hip was a comfort. There were two privates Rubén supervised, who had mild injuries and were in recovery. They were also armed, although they had been equally helpful with the children.

Téra moved over to the heavily carved teak bar at the back of the room. There were no windows nearby, so she stepped around the bar and studied the narrow area. The floor was vinyl tiles that looked clean.

She settled herself on the floor, her back against the shelves under the bar. There was nothing on the shelves but dust and there was just enough room to extend her legs. Later, she could swing herself around and lie on the floor. The bivouac would give her some privacy. Possibly, it was the most luxurious accommodation anywhere in the motel.

She rested her head back, closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh.

A squeak of shoe leather jerked her eyes open. Rubén Rey stood at the end of the bar. He’d moved around it to check behind. He raised his hand. “I see I’m not the only one who thought this would be a good place to hide. I am sorry I disturbed your sleep.”

“No, wait,” Téra told him. “You’re welcome to hang out here too, if you want. As long as you don’t mind me snoring next to you.”

He hesitated, his dark eyes behind the glasses studying her. “I wouldn’t presume—”

“Come and sit down,” Téra said and closed her eyes again.

“Téra,” he said quietly and much closer to her.

She looked. He had moved silently and now crouched just in front of her. He was studying her again.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” she said tiredly.

“Do what?”

“Examine me, like I’m a line of code or something.”

“You’re neither code nor something.” He rested his arm on his bent knee. “That’s why I don’t think I’ll stay here in this little nest of yours.”

Téra sat up straighter. The exhaustion she had been feeling fled. Her heart thudded. “I don’t understand.” Only, she did understand. She could see it in his eyes. If she played dumb, it would delay what he would say.

Rubén smiled. It was a wise expression. He knew she was being deliberately stupid, too. He bent closer and touched his mouth to hers.

As a kiss, it barely qualified. Her heart zoomed, anyway.

As he pulled away, she found her voice, which had momentarily fled. “Rubén, I—” she began.

He touched her lips, silencing her, then shook his head.

“I know,” he said. “I know more than anyone. You’re still hurting over his betrayal. For dying. For making you fall in love with him. I know, Téra.”

She swallowed. His quiet words made all the sick, hard feelings swoop back into her chest. Her eyes stung.

“When you’re ready,” Rubén said, “you can give me that kiss back. I can wait. I will wait as long as it takes. That’s why I won’t stay here with you. You need your space.”

He got to his feet again.

Téra reached up and slid her hand into his. He had a big hand and his fingers looked too big for the keyboard, yet they always moved gracefully over the keys. Only now did Téra realize she had been watching Rubén far too much. She had noticed details a more casual observer would miss.

She looked up at him. “You’re right,” she said. “I’m not ready to kiss you. Only, I would like you to stay. If you don’t mind.”

His smile was warm. “I don’t mind.”

Téra realized she was smiling, too, as he settled on the hard floor beside her.