Jamie Freveletti - Running from the Devil
Sumner nodded. “I could certainly try.”
Emma sighed. “My concern is that we’d alert the guerrillas to our location.”
“We’re on borrowed time as it is. If we stay along the stream, they will surely catch us on one of their pass-bys. If we go to the interior, we risk the land mines. If we stay where we are, we risk growing old in these mountains.”
“Better than dying. How many land mines?”
“Colombia is one of the top five countries in the world with regard to land mines. We estimated that at least a thousand people are injured or die each year.”
Emma was aghast. “Who is planting them?”
“The paramilitary groups. They control their perimeters with the mines.”
“Is there no rule of law in Colombia?” She didn’t bother to hide her disgust.
“In Bogotá, yes. When dealing with the cartels? Only the rule of survival of the fittest.”
Emma grabbed the tent and popped it open. “Mr. Sumner, if that’s true, then I expect to survive. Because I am the fittest, not those goddamned criminals.”
Sumner raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.
Two hours later, they woke to the sound of a helicopter overhead. The blades chopped and whirred, sounding as though the machine would land right on top of them. Sumner and Emma stuck their heads outside the tent.
The night sky glowed in the north.
“They have a landing strip there.” Sumner stared at the sky.
“That’s close. Maybe two miles away, no more.” Emma watched the glow as well, straining to see if she could make out the shape of the copter. She popped her head back in the tent and grabbed her shoes and socks. “Let’s go.”
“Go where, there?” Sumner pointed toward the night sky.
“Yep. There.”
“And what do you intend to do once we get there? Introduce yourself to the guerrillas?”
Emma handed him his shoes. “You can fly a copter, can’t you?”
“Of course, but what’s your point?”
“Then let’s go steal one, shall we?” She grinned at him. After a few seconds, he shook his head.
“And I thought scientists weren’t risk takers.”
“You thought wrong.” Emma crawled out of the tent.
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Emma and Sumner were flat on their stomachs, staring at a helicopter squatting on a dark landing strip, looking like a dragonfly that was resting. Fifty yards away, a group of men crouched by a fire, talking in low tones.
“How long would it take to get that thing off the ground?” Emma said.
“Too long. They’ll reach us while the damn thing is still winding up.”
“We need a distraction,” she said. “How about if I pop up at the perimeter and taunt them? Then when they chase me, you can jump in the copter and rev it up.”
Sumner shook his head. “And what will that prove? I’ll be in the copter and they’ll have you hostage.”
“I’ll run in far enough to get them away,” Emma said. “After a few minutes, I’ll double back to the runway. They’ll never catch me. At least not on foot.”
Sumner shook his head. “And if I have to leave quickly? It’s too risky, Caldridge.”
Emma snorted. “Riskier than what? Staying in these mountains and getting killed? Dying of starvation? Sumner, we don’t even know which direction to head to save ourselves. I run like the wind. They won’t catch me.”
Emma and Sumner glared at each other. The sound of the men’s laughter floated across to them. Sumner gazed at the men again, assessing them.
“They’re playing craps,” he said.
“And drinking. If we let them go a little longer, they’ll be too impaired to catch me.”
“These guys are like cockroaches. They don’t die, they just mutate.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
After a long moment, Sumner shook his head. “Actually, I don’t.”
“I’ll work around to their right. When you hear them yell, run to the copter. Give me enough time to lure them into the trees, then get that piece of machinery moving.”
“And if I have to leave quickly?”
“Fly along the stream. I’ll be there.”
Emma put the backpack on her back. She’d left the tent behind. If they got out of there they wouldn’t need it, and if they didn’t, they could go back and retrieve it. She prepared to move. Sumner grabbed her arm.
“Be careful,” he said.
Emma nodded once, and then she was gone.
Three minutes later, one of the men in the craps game sent up a yell.
“You bastard! Why you throwing rocks?” He pushed at his neighbor.
“I didn’t!”
The two men squared off.
A rock flew into the circle and hit one on the back of the head.
The men exploded into action, grabbing their guns off the ground.
“In there. See it moving?” One man swung his rifle up and shot.
“Get it! Come on!”
The three ran into the tree line.
Sumner jogged, bent over, to the copter. He swung under the nose and crawled into the pilot’s seat.
The copter was an ancient Blackhawk. The backseats were ripped out. A couple of battered coolers were strapped to the floor on the right, held in place with bungee cords. A magazine picture of a buxom blonde in a tiny bathing suit was taped on the wall over the coolers. Someone had drawn a mustache on her.
Sumner turned his attention back to the control panel. He kicked the thing to life. The engine turned over and the blades started a slow rotation.
“Come on, come on,” he muttered. The blades whirred faster, but not fast enough to take off.
More gunshots cracked through the night.
The helicopter blades began to create their characteristic chopping sound. Sumner couldn’t hear anything over the copter’s din. He glanced back just in time to see two of the men plunge out of the trees. They fired rounds at the copter. Sumner didn’t hear the shots, but he saw the muzzle flashes. He turned on the helo light and yanked the collective. The helicopter rose into the air, rocking back and forth like a lazy fly. Bullets flew past him, flashing in the helicopter’s light like silver sparkles.
“Come on, you fat beast, move faster!” Sumner yelled at the dashboard, wishing that his will alone would make the copter respond. He couldn’t stay and wait for Emma. Bullets hammered at the helicopter’s skin. He rose even higher, trying to rock the copter back and forth to make it a more difficult target for the men to hit.
“Goddammit, Caldridge, where are you?” Sumner said. He rose three stories up before taking another quick look back.
He saw Emma burst from the trees to the left of the runway. Her arms and legs were pumping in a smooth, coordinated rhythm. She ran fast and efficiently, whipping down the side of the airstrip, chewing up the pavement. A man was chasing her, but it was clear he couldn’t hold on. Sumner watched the man stagger sideways, bend over, and put his hand on his knees, his chest heaving.
The helicopter’s radio crackled, and a voice barked at him in Spanish.
“This is Officer Lopez of Air Tunnel Denial, Colombia. Your aircraft is unregistered and has been deemed to be of suspicious origin. Please identify yourself.”
Sumner grabbed at the radio. “Officer Lopez? It’s me, Cameron Sumner. I’ve hijacked a para’s copter and I’m under fire.”
“Señor Sumner? You live!”
Bullets hammered into the copters skids. Sumner yanked the copter to the other side.
“Not for long if I don’t get out of here. Where the hell am I?”
“You are east of Cartagena along the Venezuelan border.”
“Report my coordinates to the guys in Key West.”
Sumner swung the chopper around and flew back the other way. He circled the runway and lined up. He flew the copter straight down the runway, nose down and tail up, remaining fifteen feet off the ground. He headed right for the men, who screamed and leaped sideways as the copter flew into them. Sumner slowed a bit, but as he came even with Emma, he watched her grab the copter’s landing skids. She wrapped her arms around them.
The copter tilted sharply left with the added weight, but Sumner corrected and continued forward. They were twenty feet from the tree line, heading for it, when the rocket-propelled grenade took out the tail.
33
LUIS WATCHED AS TWO MEMBERS OF THE FFOC DRAGGED THE tall man and a woman into camp. They were tied at the wrists and lashed together with ropes. Scratches covered the left side of the tall man’s face, and the pinkie finger on his left hand jutted out at an unnatural angle. His left arm bore a gruesome road rash, as if he’d been dragged across gravel. All of the scratches and gouges bled freely. Despite it all, he still walked with his characteristic efficiency of motion. The man scanned the camp, his eyes coming to rest on Jorge’s head, which had been placed on a stick at the edge of the forest, near the passengers. Luis had put it there as a warning to them. He liked the way it focused their fear.
The woman with the tall man looked like a wild creature. Mud covered her skin and her hair hung in thick oily clumps that resembled long snakes. Even filthy and covered with mud, Luis could tell that she was beautiful. Her eyes were cat-shaped and a vibrant green, and they sparked with anger while she scanned the camp. Luis knew that if she smiled she would show the straight white teeth that he thought of as the hallmark of an American. She wore cargo pants and running shoes of an indeterminate color, and on her back was a grimy backpack.
She stood as straight and unbending as the tall man, and moved just as easily. Her gaze came to rest on Jorge’s head and skittered away. Luis noted that she didn’t appear surprised to see the head, and also appeared not as afraid of it as he would have liked.
He walked up to them. As he did he kept an eye on the woman, waiting to see if she would shrink in fear at his commanding presence. She looked at him in a straightforward way, showing no particular fear of him, and no respect. It was then that Luis decided to break her.
“So, we finally find the woman responsible for stabbing two of my men and causing many more to desert,” Luis said.
The woman locked eyes with him, as if she were his equal.
He slapped her with an open hand. The sound of his palm hitting her cheekbone cracked through the camp. She staggered sideways. She regained her balance and looked at him again. This time anger shone in her eyes, but still no fear.
He hit her again.
She staggered sideways again, this time leaning into the tall man, who braced himself and managed to keep her standing. She raised her eyes again to Luis. She still showed no fear, just anger. It was as if the anger was a waterfall, flowing out of her. Something about it bothered Luis. The anger seemed unrelated to him. As if it came from a deep place inside of her and had nothing to do with the present.
Luis was a superstitious man. While he never believed in the El Chupacabra nonsense that his men babbled about, he did believe in demons, ghosts, bad luck, and evil portents. Something about this woman, and her proximity to the tall man, made a feeling of inevitability wash over him. It was an emotion that he did not like. He refused to label it. If he were a lesser man, he would have ended this operation two days ago, when he’d learned that the Cartone cartel was after him. But Luis was not weak. He refused to bend. He would see this operation to a successful conclusion in spite of these two worthless gringos. He would kill them both, after breaking them. He would triumph over it all.
Alvarado touched his arm. Luis snapped out of his reverie.
“What do you want?”
“The FFOC soldiers have news. They want to meet with you.”
“Tie him to that tree.” Luis indicated a tree in the middle of the camp. “We’ll have some fun with her later, eh?”
The men laughed as they dragged the prisoners away.
When they reached the main tent, Alvarado delivered the bad news. “The FFOC want you to bring the hostages south, Luis, especially the woman.”
Luis felt his blood pressure rise. The lying, cheating bastards wanted to take his prisoners away.
“I won’t do it.” Luis’s voice was flat.
“You must do it. They have sent thirty of their best men here to find and kill you if you don’t.”
“They will try to kill me either way, Alvarado, you know that. And why the woman, eh? What’s so special about her? I refuse to give them my only bargaining chip. Never! The deal was I march them north, guard them, and get twenty percent of the ransom money. If they are so afraid of the gringos, then they should never have pinched their tail in the first place.”
“It’s not just the gringos that come, Luis. The Cartone cartel and the other paramilitary groups have taken back their weapons and are coming for us also. None of them wants to be extradited to the United States. The army comes, too. They want the aid from the United States restored. Without it, they do not get paid. We need to get the passengers out of here. It’s safer in the south.”
“And how do they intend to move them? Seventy people? It’s taken us days to get this far.”
“They are sending the planes. Interrupting their own business. This tells you how serious they are.”
“Planes! Are they crazy? They’ll be shot down in a matter of minutes.”
“Time is short. They say the others are arming and already have three helos in the air.”
Luis paced back and forth. He pointed a finger at Alvarado. “We stay here tonight. I’ll kill the tall man, and tomorrow morning we march to Panama, to the sea. We are not far now. We will sell the hostages there.”
Luis stalked out of the tent.
34
MIGUEL KNEW HE’D HIT THE FIRST CHECKPOINT WHEN THE TRAIL ended at a dirt road covered with tire tracks. They had been hiking for almost three days. He gave the men a rest and picked up his field phone. To his surprise, he had a message from Banner as well as Señor Lopez at the Air Tunnel Denial station. He called the Air Tunnel man first.
“Major Miguel? We had a suspicious aircraft sighting in your area. We believed it was a helicopter, flying low. When we attempted to establish contact, Mr. Sumner spoke back to us.”
“Cameron Sumner, in a helicopter? What did he say?” Miguel felt an adrenaline surge. It was about time they had a break.
“He had stolen the helicopter and was under fire. Within seconds, all contact was broken.”
Miguel’s mood crashed. “Was he able to give you any idea of where he was?”
“I have the actual coordinates. May I give them to you?”
Miguel’s mood rose again. “Have I said what an excellent program the Air Tunnel people run?”
A chuckle came over the line. “We do our best, Major Miguel. We do our best.”
Miguel called Banner at Darkview and waited while the receptionist routed the call elsewhere. When Banner finally came on the line, his news was not as uplifting as Lopez’s.
“Margate pulled the plug on aid to Colombia until the passengers are returned safely. He’s demanding extradition.”
