Chapter Eleven
Reese rammed the pointy heel of her shoe into the doorjamb and closed the door hard, hoping to slow her pursuers. When she turned to survey the room she found herself in, she frowned. Pipes hung from the ceiling, and machines filled the room. These were the heating, air, water supply and other mechanical devices necessary to operate a huge hotel and convention center.
In the middle of the room, Lawrence Sabando faced off with his brother, Jean-Paul, the president of the DRC.
“If the rebellion is successful,” the president said, as he poked a finger at his brother’s chest, “you will be responsible for this country’s disastrous fall into chaos.”
“Better than being ruled by a tyrant,” Lawrence responded. “Your time is finished as president.”
“The country isn’t stable,” Jean-Paul argued. “Having an election will cause great unrest.”
“We are brothers, but we must do what we must.” Lawrence held out his hand, as if to shake his brother’s.
The president’s eyes narrowed, but he took his brother’s hand.
Lawrence gripped his brother’s hand and shook it. “A man must do what a man must do.” Before Jean-Paul could pull his hand free, his brother twisted his free arm up behind his back and pulled a pistol from beneath his jacket.
Reese was too far away from the two men to interfere with what was happening.
Jean-Paul cried out, “What is this?”
“I’m taking the country back for the people.”
“You do not know what you are doing.” The president stood on his toes to relieve the pressure on his arm. “My army will slaughter your rebels.”
“Not if you tell them to back down,” his brother replied.
“I will not.”
“Then you will die, and our people will elect a new leader.”
Reese couldn’t believe what was happening. As if they didn’t have enough problems outside the door to the room they hid in. Inside could get just as messy. Reese had to do something before the situation spiraled out of her control. “Uh, sirs.”
Ferrence stepped forward, closer to the two men than Reese. “Maybe we can talk this out peacefully.”
Lawrence swung his gun toward Ferrence. “All you want is to get your hands on our minerals. You don’t care about our country.”
“I care about getting out of this alive,” Ferrence said. “As I’m sure your brother does.”
Reese glanced around the room at the frightened dignitaries. “Look, there are a lot of people in here,” she said. “Could you take your argument where others won’t be hurt?”
Lawrence snorted. “Foolish woman. Other countries have hovered like vultures, preying on our natural resources, raping the lands of what is ours. The people of the Democratic Republic of the Congo deserve to be free of oppression from my brother, from the countries that would force our people into slavery, and make our children work in the mines from the day they learn to walk to the day they die. This ends now.”
A shot rang out.
Reese dropped to the ground. Only, the sound came from behind them. Pounding sounded on the door, and then the door burst open, her shoe having done little to keep the rebels out.
Three men rushed in, pointing rifles at the dignitaries huddled in a corner.
Lawrence said something in Lingala and then waved his gun toward the hostages. “You will follow these men out of this room and into the van waiting in the parking garage.”
Reese glanced around the room, looking for anything she could use as a weapon.
Lawrence’s eyes narrowed. “If you do not do exactly as I say, my men are instructed to kill one delegate at a time to gain your compliance.” His gaze settled on Ferrence and then Reese. “Who will be first?”
Reese held up her hands. “I’ll do whatever you say. Just don’t shoot these people.”
“I’m not arguing,” Ferrence said. “You want me to go into a van? I’ll go.” He started for the door and stopped when a man blocked his path.
Reese gasped when she realized it was Diesel, standing on the other side of the threshold. “Don’t try anything,” she called out. “They have their weapons trained on the delegates.”
Diesel ducked back out of the doorframe.
Seconds later, a shot was fired, whizzed past Reese’s ear and splintered the doorframe, inches from where Diesel had been standing a moment before, but was now gone.
Reese gasped and held her breath, praying the bullet hadn’t ricocheted off the door and hit Diesel.
“Stay close together,” Lawrence said.
His men shoved their rifles into the backs of some of the dignitaries, herding them out of the room and into the garage.
A dark van skidded around a corner and came to a stop, steps away from the door.
When Reese stepped out of the room, she shot a glance around, searching for Diesel. He was nowhere to be seen.
“Don’t try anything, or we will shoot the delegates,” Lawrence called out in English, and then in French.
More rebel fighters filled the garage, surrounding them. Outside on the street, sounds of gunfire made it feel like an all-out war was going on.
“You will not get away with this,” the president said. “My men will kill you and your rebels.”
Lawrence shook his head. “Not if I have you as a hostage.” He pressed the handgun to his brother’s head. “Get in the van,” he called out to the delegates.
One by one, they climbed into the van, until it was packed with people. Then four armed men climbed in with them.
When Reese and Ferrence started to get in, Lawrence stopped them.
“No. You two will come with me and my brother.” Lawrence nodded toward a group of men. “Follow me.”
A mob of armed men gathered around Lawrence, his brother, Reese and Ferrence. Together, they reentered the conference building. In their strange little huddle, they walked down the long hallway, passing other members of their rebellion, until they reached the elevator bay.
Lawrence touched the button with the barrel of his pistol.
When the door opened, Lawrence shoved his brother in first, holding tightly to his arm, with his gun pressed to his head. He turned and nodded toward Reese and Ferrence. “Get in, or I kill my brother, and then I’ll kill one of you.”
Ferrence and Reese entered simultaneously, and five of the rebels crowded in behind them, all carrying wicked-looking guns. The doors closed.
“Take us to the top, brother,” Lawrence said. “I know you only reserve the best with the people’s money.”
“I don’t have my key,” Jean-Paul said.
“Then I suppose you will die.” Lawrence pressed the gun harder to his brother’s head and started to squeeze the trigger.
“Okay, okay, it’s in my pocket. Don’t shoot!” the president cried. With his free hand, he pulled his key card out of his pocket, waved it in front of the control panel and hit the button for the top floor.
As the elevator rose through the building, Reese wondered when and where this would end and whether Diesel had been hit. If this was the end for her, she wished she could see him one last time.
Reese wouldn’t let this be the end for her or her client. She’d been to hell and back and survived. She’d be damned if it was all for naught. She had to think she was in this position, at this time, for a reason. And that reason was to get her client out of hot water and get herself back home.
When they emerged from the elevator, Lawrence urged them to climb the stairs to the rooftop, where a helicopter touched down in front of them.
Lawrence waved Reese and Ferrence toward the helicopter. Once they were inside, he shoved his brother into a seat. Two other guards climbed in and pointed their rifle barrels at Reese and Ferrence.
As the helicopter lifted off the roof, Reese sat back in her helicopter seat, buckled her safety harness and went through every scenario that would get her and Ferrence out of this mess. She would not go down without a fight. First, they needed to be on the ground again, where they had a chance of escaping. Then she’d have to convince Ferrence to go along with her plan. Whatever that plan might be. She couldn’t wait for the SEAL team to find her. They might not make it in time.
* * *
“T-MAC, TELL ME you still have GPS tracking on Klein and Reese.” Diesel, T-Mac and Pitbull managed to get the hell out of the parking garage before the rebel forces converged on them.
“I’ve got Klein. Last night, while you were picking your noses, I snuck into Klein’s room and planted a tracker in his watch,” T-Mac confirmed.
“You have the GPS tracking device?”
“In my duffel bag back, in the hotel room.” T-Mac stopped and stared at the hotel surrounded by the mob of rebels and civilians. “How the hell are we going to get inside?”
“Service entrance.” They worked their way around the crowd of rebels converging on the hotel to the back, where trucks were backed up to loading docks, their drivers having deserted the area. The team entered through an open overhead door and slipped down a service hallway.
Ahead, they saw a crowd of people heading their way.
“In here.” Diesel ducked into a huge laundry room. T-Mac and Pitbull darted through the door and turned to see who was coming.
“I’ll be damned,” Pitbull said and opened the door right as the first person in line passed the door. He reached out and grabbed a man, dragging him into the laundry room. The man came in fighting.
Pitbull ducked a punch. “Buck, it’s me,” he said.
Buck stopped with his arm half-cocked, ready to throw another punch. “Pitbull?” He glanced around. “Damn, where did you guys come from?”
“Long story,” Diesel peeked out into the hallway, where more delegates stood, worried frowns on their faces. At least these hadn’t been bundled into a van and carted off to who knew where. “Where’s Big Jake and Harm?”
“That you, Diesel?” At the back of the group, Big Jake looked over the tops of the delegates’ heads.
“Bring them in here,” Diesel said.
Big Jake and Harm herded the dignitaries into the laundry room.
“I think they’ll be all right in here until the riot dissipates,” Diesel said. “We have to find Klein and Reese.”
“I thought you had them covered,” Buck said.
“Until Lawrence hijacked them. He loaded a van full of delegates going to who knows where.”
T-Mac held up a hand. “I slapped a magnetic GPS tracker on that van as it was driving out of the parking garage.”
Diesel grinned. “Damn, you’re good. But that doesn’t account for Reese and Klein. We need to get the tracking device.”
“We passed the utility elevator on our way through. Come on.” Buck checked the hallway and waved to the others.
The team ran for the elevator, while Big Jake stayed back to warn the dignitaries to stay put until the rioting was over. By the time the elevator had arrived and the five men had stepped in, Big Jake came around the corner and hopped on board. The elevator rose to their floor at what felt like the pace of ice freezing. By the time the doors opened, Diesel had ground the enamel off his back teeth.
Reese could be anywhere in the DRC. The longer it took to find her, the farther away she could be.
Inside the suite, Diesel raced T-Mac to the duffel bag and waited for his teammate to dig out the tracking device and turn it on.
He frowned down at the screen. “It appears as though Klein is right on top of us.”
“What do you mean?”
“The tracker is two-dimensional. They could be at the bottom of the building, the top or on any one of the floors.” His frown deepened.
“What?” Diesel demanded.
“They’re moving.”
“As in, driving out onto the street?” Buck asked.
“No. As if cutting across the city, going fast.” T-Mac turned toward the window. “There!” He pointed to the sky.
A helicopter flew past the window and away toward the east.
“Damn!” Diesel pulled his cell phone from his suit jacket.
“If you’re hoping to get more help, they won’t send any more assistance from Djibouti,” Big Jake said.
“I’m not calling Djibouti.” He scrolled through his contacts and found the one he was looking for. “I’m calling Marly.”
“Bush flights, Marly speaking,” a voice answered on the second ring.
“Marly, it’s Diesel. Please tell me you’re still at the airport.”
“I am. I just finished filing my flight plan back to Zambia.”
“File another to somewhere east.”
“I have to be a little more specific.”
“Pick a city. I don’t care. Reese and Klein have been taken by Sabando’s brother in a helicopter headed east. I need you to follow them.”
“They could be going anywhere. By the time you get to the airport, they will be long gone.”
“We have a tracker on Klein.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Marly said. “Get your ass to the airport ASAP. I’ll have the plane ready to go.”
“Will it hold six men plus you?”
“Easily. Why?” she asked. “Did you make some friends in Kinshasa?”
Diesel glanced around at his teammates, glad they were in this together. “You could say that.”
“Bring them. I’ll be waiting.” Marly ended the call.
While T-Mac gathered their equipment into his duffel bag, Diesel shed his suit, slipped on jeans, a T-shirt and the boots he’d purchased when he’d been out the day before. In less than two minutes, he was heading for the door, backpack in hand, carrying his dismantled M4A1 rifle. “Let’s go. We have a damsel in distress to rescue.”
“Oh, so now we’re in the knights-in-shining-armor business?” Pitbull asked. “Do we get to bring out our weapons for this one?”
“You bet.” Diesel ran for the utility elevator and punched the down button. Fortunately, the elevator doors opened immediately, and the men piled in.
On the ride down, Diesel clenched and unclenched his fists, his insides knotted so tightly, he could barely breathe. Why had Lawrence separated Reese and Klein from the dignitaries? And why did he feel the need to take them with him to wherever he planned on disposing of his brother?
“How are we getting from the hotel to the airport?” T-Mac asked.
“We’ll get clear of the riot and see if we can grab a taxi,” Big Jake answered.
Diesel was thankful his team was there with him. They helped to keep him together when he felt like coming apart at the seams. Normally level-headed when going into a dangerous situation, he was completely out of his element now. All because of a woman who’d slipped beneath his defenses and stolen a part of him.
Holy hell.
Diesel shook his head. Could it be? Had she stolen his heart in the few short days they’d known each other? Falling in love could not have happened so fast. Before Reese, he wasn’t sure he even believed love existed. Lust? Well, yeah. But love?
He felt as if someone had sucker punched him in the gut. Was that what love felt like? Why would anyone want to feel like that?
Reese had been taken away in a helicopter to God knew where. If they didn’t find her quickly, it might be too late.
The doors opened, and Diesel rushed out. He led the way to the loading docks and down backstreets not already crowded with rioters or rebels. He could hear the reassuring sound of footsteps pounding behind him, and he felt glad his team had his back.
Four blocks from the hotel and conference center, they were able to hail two taxis. The drivers promised to hurry toward the airport.
Hurry was relative. In the congested streets, nothing moved fast.
By the time the taxis dropped them at the airport, Diesel was so wound up, he leaped out of the cab and ran for the flight line where Marly’s plane sat waiting for them. Marly stood outside of the aircraft, talking to several DRC soldiers wielding rifles.
Diesel slowed to a more casual walk and waved at Marly. “What’s going on?”
“These men want to take my plane, but I explained to them we’re about to take off on an emergency flight to save a life.”
“You are the doctor?” one of the soldiers asked.
Diesel met Marly’s gaze, and then the soldier’s. “Yes, sir.”
“And these men?” The soldier glanced over Diesel’s shoulder.
“All in the medical field.” Big Jake stepped up beside Diesel. “An entire village has come down with the Ebola virus. We’re on our way in to help.” The man towered everyone standing on the tarmac. “Would you care to accompany us?”
The leader of the DRC soldiers tipped his head up and squinted at Big Jake for a long moment. Then he shook his head. “No, we will find another airplane. Carry on.”
Marly waved to the plane. “You can store your bags in the wing compartment. The sooner we board, the sooner I can get clearance from the tower.”
T-Mac loaded his duffel bag into the wing, and the men climbed aboard the aircraft. Diesel sat in the copilot’s seat beside Marly, settled the headset over his ears and held the GPS tracking device like a lifeline to Reese.
Marly started the engine, contacted the air traffic controller and waited for clearance to take off.
Moments later, they were airborne.
“Which way?” she asked.
“East.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t suppose you can be more specific?”
“Not really. Right now, it appears they are flying due east and they have a sizable head start on us.”
Marly nodded. “That works for now. I filed flight plans to Kananga, which is due east. Let me know if their direction changes.”
They passed over farmland, jungle and rivers. Every so often, Diesel would inform Marly of slight changes to their route.
She adjusted and pushed on.
By nightfall, their fuel was getting low, and the helicopter ahead of them was slowing. They were about thirty minutes behind the craft carrying Reese and Ferrence.
“I need to land at an airport, where I can refuel,” Marly said. “There’s one in Kamenbe.”
Diesel checked the tracker. “They stopped.”
Marly glanced at the device. “Even if I could land there, I wouldn’t have enough fuel to take off again and get to the nearest airport with facilities to refuel. I’ll have to overshoot their landing area and go on to Kamenbe.”
Diesel nodded, his fingers clenched so tightly around the tracker, his knuckles turned white. Marly was right. They couldn’t land where the helicopter did, even if they had enough fuel. “T-Mac, you don’t happen to have a parachute hidden away in that duffel bag of yours, do you?”
“Wouldn’t matter if I did—it’s stored in the wing.”
“Damn. I hate being so close, but so far,” he said. “Can we at least fly over the landing site so that we can see what we’re shooting for?”
Marly nodded. “You bet. But if you don’t mind, I’d rather not get in range of small arms fire.” She reached into a compartment and extracted a pair of binoculars. “Here.”
Diesel pressed the binoculars to his eyes. As they neared the location where the green blip was on the tracking device, Diesel glanced out the window.
The terrain had changed from jungle to huge scars on the land, where open-pit mining craters had been dug.
He could see the helicopter below. A couple of SUVs were pulling away from the aircraft.
The helicopter rose slowly from the ground, rising into the air.
“That’s our cue to get the heck out of here. That chopper has guns on it.” Marly increased the plane’s speed, sending it on its way to Kamenbe.
All the while, Diesel studied the land, the roads leading into and out of villages along the way. He noted several trucks full of men in military uniforms, carrying rifles and what appeared to be rocket-propelled grenades. The trucks stirred up dust along the roads, heading toward the mine. Diesel wondered if they were part of Jean-Paul’s army or the rebels fighting with Lawrence? Either way, they could stir up more trouble for Reese and Klein.
Since the helicopter was taking off, and the green blip wasn’t moving with it, Diesel thought it could be safe to bet Ferrence and Reese were still on the ground. Their best plan would be to get to Kamenbe, rent, borrow or steal a vehicle and get back out to the mine, and soon, before they could move the captives again.