Cindy Dees - Night Rescuer стр 2.

To Peru. As soon as possible.

Well, we can package it and express mail it for you or, if its really urgent, we can courier it down there for you. We can have it in Lima late tonight if we take it ourselves.

Oh, this delivery isnt going to Lima. Im afraid it isnt that simple. Its going way up into the Andes mountains. Im told there arent even roads to the final destination.

No roads? Man, that was remote. We can fly it in by helicopter or even air-drop your packagebut that would be pretty expensive. You might want to consider having us arrange a Peruvian guide to hump your package back into the mountains by llama. Itll take longer to get there, but it wont bankrupt you.

Im not worried about money. But the look in her eyes said she was plenty worried about something.

His invisible warning antennae wiggled. Something was up with her. What wasnt she telling him? After almost fifteen years as an army officer, much of it in command positions, he had a finely honed sense of when he wasnt hearing the truthor in this case, the full truth.

So whens your drop-dead date?

The woman started violently. I beg your pardon?

He rephrased quickly. When does your package absolutely have to be there?

Theres not a set deadline. But the sooner the better.

In that case, Id go with letting us fly it to Lima and then handing it off to a Peruvian pack train.

She turned over the plan for a few seconds. Her fawn-colored eyes gazed deeply into his, measuring whether or not he was someone to be trusted. If you think thats best

What the hell. He might as well close the sale before he went in back and finished himself off. He asked smoothly, What are we delivering, maam?

Me.

Navy Commander Brady Hathaway jolted as one of the floor controllers below abruptly barked, Commander. Come here! Weve got a problem.

He descended from the observation deck to the floor of what they fondly called the Bat Cave-a hundred-twenty-yard-long, fifty-foot-high cavern hollowed out millions of years ago by magma from a now extinct volcano. His shoes rang in quick staccato on the steel steps. None of the two dozen computer and surveillance technicians on duty at the rows of consoles took that sharp tone of voice with him lightly. Plus, when Carter Baigneaux-a longtime Special Forces operator himself-said there was a problem, it was guaranteed to be a bona fide crisis.

As Bradys long strides carried him across the floor, the question foremost in his mind, though, was why Carter had told him to come down onto the floor. Why hadnt he sent whatever image had his Cajun knickers in such a twist to one of the big screens on the far wall for everyone to see? Six JumboTrons lined the far wall, at the moment displaying various satellite tracking maps of the world.

He reached the technicians desk and the array of monitors on it. Whatve you got? he asked tersely.

Carter stabbed a finger at his far left monitor. I was cruising through a routine check of the surveillance cameras in the cave complex and I spotted this upstairs at Pirate Petes.

Brady took one look at the noose dangling damningly in the middle of the cluttered storeroom. Whos on duty up there? he bit out.

Hollister.

Brady swore violently. He took off running, sprinting across the floor, leaving rows of startled technicians in his wake. He raced down a low tunnel hollowed out of volcanic rock and skidded to a stop in front of the large freight elevator that carried people back and forth between the Bat Cave and Pirate Petes Delivery Service up on the surface. The decrepit shipping company and its ramshackle office acted as a front for the H.O.T. Watchs surveillance operation here in the Caribbean. It allowed his guys to move around on missions with a credible cover, and it explained to the locals some of the supplies and personnel that came and went from the island.

Cmon, cmon, he urged the elevator. He knew Hollister was messed up after that last mission, but hed had no idea the guy was actually contemplating offing himself. Brady shoved a distracted hand through his hair. It hadnt been Hollisters fault. Nobodyd seen the ambush. Theyd all been suckered. It had been a miracle that Hollister himself hadnt been killed. The guyd been shot in the back-it had taken months to heal and he still wasnt cleared to go out on operational Special Forces missions.

The elevators double doors started to slide open, and Brady turned sideways, jumping into the space before theyd fully opened.

Thank God.

The noose still hung empty from the beam in the middle of the room. The entire storeroom and all its sloppy contents were, in fact, the elevator down to H.O.T. Watch Ops. He opened the rusted electrical panel and punched the button disguised as a circuit breaker that would return him to the surface and Pirate Petes. As the elevator lurched into silent motion, he climbed up on the chair quickly and untied Hollisters knots. He flung the rope away in distaste.

The storeroom/elevator came to a halt. He heard voices out in the front room. A woman laughed. Ahh. That explained why Hollister hadnt finished off the job, yet. Hed been interrupted by a customer. God bless her.