Secret Soldier Read online

  He nodded, as if understanding her silent message. “You might be questioned. They kept me in the same cell the whole time, but you were moved around. You might have seen something. In any case, you saw more than I did.”

  “Of course.” Whatever it took to capture those men and stop their plans, she would willingly do. “You’ll be going back, then?”

  “Be careful.”

  A large platter of food was brought out and set between them on the table, cutting off whatever response he was going to give. They ate in silence, his gaze straying to her over and over again. She refused to cry.

  “If things were different—” he said.

  “I’m fine.”

  He smiled. “I hate it when you’re so damned brave. And it definitely bugs my ego when you’re tougher than me.”

  She couldn’t help smiling back. “Suck it up, soldier.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The sand turned into rocky terrain as they rode for the border. Abigail stared at an enormous boulder through the tinted windows of the black SW that had picked them up. The driver, a distinguished-looking Arab man in his midforties, slowed for the border guards.

  “I don’t have any papers.” God, she hadn’t even thought about that. Her passport, along with everything else she had, had burned with her hut.

  Spike turned back from the front passenger seat. “You’re fine. Nothing to worry about.”

  The car stopped, the driver rolled his window down and flashed his ID at the guard. She waited for the soldier to ask for the rest of their papers, but he didn’t so much as look at them. He stepped back and waved them through.

  Right. She was playing with the big boys now. God, what had she gotten herself into? She glanced back, at the soldiers and Beharrain behind them. hkatar and the kids seemed unreal now. She had been picked up andswirled around by the winds of fate-and dropped at another location. But she could not forget the kids, what she came to Beharrain to do. They still needed her. No matter what came next, she would find a way back.

  “Almost there,” the driver said in perfect, unaccented English, speaking for the first time since he’d picked them up.

  She turned back to the road in front of them. Spike had been right about the Air Force base. It sprawled just a few miles ahead.

  Security was heavier than at the border, the gate well-guarded, but once again, they passed through with else. The driver wove his way around marching soldiers andd military vehicles, then stopped in front of one of the smaller buildings. He got out and opened her door. And a soldier was already there waiting for her. Where had he comee from?

  “This way, ma’am,” he said with a Texas twang. He was young and tall, with the reddest hair she’d ever seen.

  She looked back at Spike. He was deep in conversation with an older man in civilian clothing. He glanced up and caught her gaze. “I’ll find you before I leave,” he said to her and then turned back to the man.

  She could do nothing but nod, move forward. Then she was through the door and led down a long hallway. To the infirmary, she realized, when the double doors in front of her opened. She was ushered into a spacious room with beds lined against the wall, IV stands next to them, the air thick with the unmistakable smell of disinfectant. The unit was empty save for a middle-aged gentleman in green scrubs and a nurse.

  “We’ve been expecting you, Dr. DiMatteo. I’m Dr. Taylor, this is Jenny. How are you?”

  “Pretty good, all considered.”

  He gave her a warm smile. “Hop onto this examining table and we’ll check you out.”

  She did as he’d asked and held out her arm to the nurse, who was coming over with the blood pressure cuff.

  “Any pain anywhere?” Dr. Taylor examined the fading bruises on her wrists.

  “A couple of places that are tender to the touch, but nothing bad.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “New Jersey.”

  “No kidding? Me, too. Where in Jersey?”

  “Cherry Hill.”

  “My wife loves that mall.”

  She grinned. “So does my mother.” She spent more time there than a teenager.

  “One-thirty over eighty.” The nurse stepped away. “Let me listen to your heart.” Dr. Taylor put his stethoscope in his ears. “All’s well there,” he said after a while. “Why don’t you go through that door to the bathroom, give us a urine sample, then change into one of the gowns in there? I’d like to take a look at the rest of you. I promise nothing I’ll do will hurt a bit.”

  She followed his instructions.

  “Care to tell me what happened?” he asked once she was back on the examining table again.

  “They started to give me electric shocks, but I passed out almost right away. It could have been worse. I think they knew I didn’t have any information and were just messing me up to make Spike talk.”

  “Were you sexually assaulted?” His voice was somber, the look on his face sympathetic.

  “No.” Thank God, she was spared at least that.

  “Very good.” His smile returned. “I don’t see anything that would require medical attention. You’re a little dehydrated, but nothing serious. If you’d like, we could put an IV in, or you can just lie down here in this nice cool room for a while and have a couple of drinks.”

  “That would be fine.”

  “You can get dressed. Jenny will take care of you. It was nice to meet you. You’re a brave young woman.” He shook her hand before he left.

  Jenny handed her two soft hospital gowns to replace the paper one they had used for the examination. “First rest a little and drink a few glasses of liquids. Then I’ll show you to the showers and get you some clean clothes. I’m sure that would make you feel better.”

  Just thinking about a nice long shower made her feel better. “Thank you.” She went back to the bathroom to change.

  A man was waiting for her when she came out, Jenny nowhere in sight. He wore a black suit, his sunglasses in his hand. He looked like he walked out of the movie Men In Black. He was African-American, but the similarity to Will Smith ended there. This guy was a good two hundred pounds, serious as heart disease, with a shaved head that reflected the fluorescent lights. She half expected him to pull some gadget from his inner pocket, flash it in her eyes and erase El Jafar and Spike from her memory. Sure would have made her life easier.

  “Lawrence Jenkins. I work for the United States government. I have a few questions to ask you,” he said instead.

  She shook his hand, self-conscious of her clothes, although Jenny had given her two gowns and she’d put on one to open in the back, the other to open in the front, to make sure she was covered all around. “I’d be happy to help any way I can.”

  He pointed her to one of the beds. The bedside table held a large pitcher of clear liquid and a glass. “I’m to make sure you rest and have plenty to drink.” he said. “I understand you went through quite an ordeal.”

  She sat on the bed and poured.

  He remained standing, although there was a chair behind him. “I wish I could give you more time to rest, but we cannot afford to waste a single minute.”

  “It’s okay. I understand. I want to help.”

  “Thank you.” He nodded and sat finally. “How long have you known Jamal Hareb and how well?”

  She answered honestly with as much detail as she could, her head beginning to spin after a while as Jenkins moved on from one question to the next, scribbling notes, sometimes asking the same thing again, reworded, as if trying to trip her.

  They moved on from her relationship with Jamal to her work, to what she’d seen at the Hareb home, at the camp, how many men, what kind of weapons. The questions went on and on. Jenkins even had her draw a rough sketch of the buildings.

  “I’m sorry.” She set down the pencil at last. “That’s the best I can do. I was too nervous at the time to pay attention to details.”

  “You’re doing fin
e. You weren’t trained for this.”

  “If I saw it again, I could probably point out the building where the main headquarters are. I’m just not sure how many other buildings stood between it and the trailer Spike was held in.”

  “You’ve been very helpful, Dr. DiMatteo.”

  “As long as you find the camp, you can neutralize them, right? I mean drop a bomb on the whole thing or something?”

  “Unfortunately, that won’t work this time. They have a significant weapon that we can’t risk setting off. We’ll have to go in. That’s why knowing who’ll be where and what to expect is extremely important.”

  “Are you from the CIA?”

  “I work for the government,” he said unblinking.

  “I believe I was going to be recruited. Could we not still do that? Then I could go with you and point out the buildings and what I remember of them.” Did she just say that? Did she just offer to go back into that hellhole instead of running screaming in the opposite direction? What was wrong with her?

  Spike. He was going back—into unspeakable danger. If there was a chance she could help him, she would take any risk to do it.

  Jenkins shook his head. “We should have satellite pictures in another half hour. You can look at those and tell me what’s inside the buildings. That should be sufficient.”

  SHE WAS WEARING army fatigues, sleeping. Spike bent over to smooth the hair out of her face. “Hey, babe. Ready to roll?”

  Her eyes fluttered open, her gaze unfocused for a second before settling on his freshly shaved face. Her lips stretched into a smile.

  “Not in the hay, unfortunately,” he said. “The choppers are ready„

  She sat up so suddenly, their heads nearly collided. “I’m going?”

  “I was told you volunteered. You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “They asked me for an evaluation…” He dragged out the words, teasing her.

  She was wide awake now. “And?”

  “I told them you could handle it. The satellite pictures were worthless… What wasn’t already obscured by the camouflage overhead had been covered by the sandstorm. We’ll identify as many targets from the air as possible, then the chopper is going to drop the team in. You’ll be brought back here right away, before the first shot is fired.”

  “I’m going.” She grinned. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “They asked me if you were capable and I told them the truth. But if you’re asking whether I want you to go, the answer is hell, no.”

  Her smile widened, her kissable lips drawing his gaze.

  He swallowed. “I wish we didn’t have to hurry.”

  She looked great in pants, all legs. He stood, not trusting himself to sit on her bed. The small distance didn’t help any. And then he held out a hand to help her up and her touch made things worse. He pulled her close and kissed her, long and slow, then pulled away and leaned his forehead against hers.

  “I’m going to make sure nothing happens to you?”

  “I know.”

  He wished he felt as calm. He wished they didn’t need her. He wished she had refused to go. Funny, he couldn’t picture her doing that. She always stood up to whatever challenge came her way. He loved that about her.

  “Come on, then.” He led the way outside.

  The rest of the team was already in the chopper, nine men he trusted with his life and more importantly, with Abigail’s. The other five Black Hawks each carried eleven men of the Air Force Elite. He bent to avoid the spinning rotor blades, and she followed his example as if she’d been doing this all her life. He helped her inside the bird and got in after her.

  They had barely sat down before the pilot lifted off, the noise of the chopper overpowering everything. He was having major second thoughts about bringing her.

  She leaned over and pressed her lips to his ears. “What’s so funny?”

  He looked at her, confused, but then caught the amused smirks on some of the guys. “I made some statements in the past about never getting married.” She’d told the investigating agent everything and word had gotten around fast.

  She grinned. “Sorry I ruined your reputation.”

  He grinned back. “I’m never going to get any respect again.”

  Thompson elbowed J.D. across from him and said something. All he caught was “lovebirds.” Oh yeah, it would be a long time before he lived this one down. Not that the idea of marriage seemed so wrong now. He might have been rash in making a judgment before. He could imagine spending more time with Abigail. A lot more. But in his case, that was highly unlikely, marriage, in general, being completely out of the question. He didn’t have the kind of life conducive to setting down roots. By this time tomorrow, he might be on another continent.

  Abigail squirmed on her seat next to him. He gave her a reassuring smile and then put on his full combat gear-forty pounds worth of bulletproof vest, weapons and a gas mask. They felt like hell in that heat, not to mention the pain of the extra weight on his broken ribs. He’d been given the option of staying in the chopper and giving instructions from above, but he’d refused it. At least he’d been in the camp before. No way was he going to let Thompson, J.D. and the others go in without him.

  He scanned the ground and saw something straight ahead. He patted the pilot on the shoulder and pointed.

  They flew over the well-camouflaged compound, the individual buildings barely visible under the giant netting. The chopper lowered to get a closer view. Much better.

  “I was in that one.” Abigail showed him a larger cement building with a flat roof. “You were in the trailer. I think El Jafar’s quarters are over there. That’s where they took me to see him.”

  For questioning, she meant. His hands fisted by his side as he nodded.

  The sound of helicopters brought men rushing from the buildings and then running back in. A handful of shots were fired.

  He nodded to the team and they stood, ready for rapid rope descent. The chopper pulled off to the side. They couldn’t drop onto the netting and risk getting entangled. The ropes went down. He hooked onto one.

  “Stay down.” he told Abigail. He kissed her hard on the mouth, not caring who saw them or what they thought. Then he jumped.

  “You can sit up front.” The pilot was patting the seat next to him.

  Abigail clambered over as they pulled up and away. He handed her a headset and she put it on, watching in horror as all hell erupted below.

  “Can we stay?”

  “Sorry, ma’am, my orders are to take you to safety immediately after the drop.”

  The other choppers joined in the fight. She stared back, her heart clamoring in her chest as she watched Spike run toward the buildings. He was under heavy fire. Then the chopper turned and she could no longer see him.

  “Relax,” the pilot said. “Those guys are good. I’ll be coming back to pick them up in no time.”

  She nodded, wanting desperately to believe it was that simple.

  “So you’re a civilian?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t feel like making small talk while Spike was risking his life. “Can I listen in on the radio?”

  “Sure.” He set the dial to the right channel.

  The chopper instantly filled with the sounds of people yelling all at once. Orders being barked out. Gunfire. Then Spike’s voice. “Fall back, fall back.” A small explosion, more gunfire. Her limbs began to shake.

  Strange how she hadn’t really been nervous until now. And she was nowhere near the action.

  “Probably sounds worse than it is.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Want me to turn it back off?”

  She nodded.

  Below them, a covered army truck moved across the sand, toward the terrorist camp.

  “Not ours,” the pilot said and radioed the information to Spike’s team.

  He gave off a warning shot, but the vehicle didn’t stop. Then a comer of the canvas was pulled as
ide on the back and the strangest-looking weapon appeared.

  “Grenade launcher.” The pilot took an evasive maneuver, but it was too late. The weapon was fired and the next second the chopper jerked back.

  “Hang on. We’re going down,” he said.

  She gripped the seat, fought her rising panic. The pilot tried to control their fall, but only partially succeeded: The ground was coming closer and closer, rushing toward her. They hit with a bone jarring impact. Then there was nothing but darkness and silence.

  SHE WAS IN hell and the devil was trying to shake her soul out. Abigail opened her eyes and realized the shaking came from the truck moving at a good pace. She lay on the bottom between the terrorists’ feet.

  One of the men noticed she was awake and spat on her. “American whore,” he said, his face cold with hatred.

  “Let her be.” The voice came from behind her.

  She twisted her neck. Jamal. She scanned the rest of the truck. “Where is the pilot?”

  “He didn’t make it.” Jamal’s dark eyes shone like stone, the expression on his face hard. “You shouldn’t have come to Beharrain.”

  “I came to help.”

  “Us or the U.S. military?’

  “The children. Whatever else happened, I came to help the children.”

  “I’m sorry, then, that this is how things turned out.” He looked away from her.

  “It’s not too late.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “To retrieve something precious. Rest. You are our ticket out of here now. I can’t have you die yet.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. They were probably going to use her as a hostage to get out of the country. She tried to move a little and bit back a groan. Every bone in her body felt broken. At least she could wiggle her fingers and toes, which meant she most likely didn’t have a spinal injury.