Brodie actually did, but he was not above tormenting a difficult prisoner, especially Kyle Mercer. He said to Taylor, “The only thing I care about now is that the boss has our backs.”
She nodded, but said, “Desperate men do desperate things.”
They waited in silence, sitting at the edge of the airstrip with the jungle at their backs. The only sound was the sat phone, whose beeping was getting on Brodie’s nerves. He said to Taylor, “If the phone dies, we go out to the middle of the airstrip, and if we see the Otter, we wave like hell.”
Taylor replied, “I’ll wave my bra and T-shirt. He’ll be on the ground in record time.”
Brodie smiled. She was feeling better.
They listened for the sound of an aircraft, but the only things in the air making any noise were the birds.
The sat phone rang, and Brodie answered.
A voice said, “Lucky Duck, this is Otter One.”
Brodie replied, “Lucky Duck here.”
“All right, sir, I am about two minutes from your location. I will be coming in from the south and my rollout will take me to the north end of the landing strip where I will turn and meet you. Confirm that and confirm number of passengers.”
Brodie looked at Mercer, who seemed resigned to his fate, or who was going to make a break at the last second. Or put his head in the propeller. Desperate men do desperate things.
“Sir?”
“Roger north end. Three passengers.” Brodie asked, “Who’s onboard?”
“A security detail.”
He glanced at Taylor. “Water?”
“Yes, sir. Some snacks.”
“Good. You want any vines?”
“Sir?”
“See you shortly.”
“Two minutes.”
In fact, Brodie could now hear the drone of the Otter’s single engine, and within a minute they spotted the aircraft coming in low over the tree line.
“Okay,” said Brodie, “let’s go meet him.” He tucked the Desert Eagle in his back waistband and headed toward the north end of the short landing strip. Taylor followed. Mercer did not.
Brodie doubled back and, without a word of reasoning or warning, delivered a powerful blow to Mercer’s solar plexus and got the prisoner over his shoulder as Mercer doubled over.
Brodie carried Mercer toward the end of the airstrip, a few hundred yards away. He glanced back at the Otter, which was flying slowly in a steep vertical descent.
The Otter cleared the trees and seemed to drop onto the airstrip, bouncing and kicking up dirt and dust.
Brodie put on a burst of speed and caught up with Taylor just as the Otter rolled past them and continued on until it stopped just short of the trees at the end of the strip.
The pilot turned the Otter around and the prop idled down. Brodie, still moving fast with his two-hundred-pound tuna across his back, looked into the cockpit and saw the pilot’s arm coming out from the side window. Halt.
Brodie dumped Mercer on the ground and said, “If you move an inch, I stomp your balls.”
The Otter taxied slowly toward them.
Taylor, breathing hard, looked at Mercer on the ground. She said to him, “You’re going home, soldier.”
He shook his head.
She said to Brodie, “Is your gun where you need it?”
He tapped the small of his back. “Always.”
Taylor shoved her Glock in her waistband and covered it with her T-shirt.
They looked at the Otter, which had come to a halt opposite where they were standing, about thirty feet away. The left-side passenger door opened and a man jumped down onto the airstrip. The man walked toward them, and Brodie could see he was wearing aviator glasses, a black polo shirt, khakis, and boots. It was Brendan Worley, wearing a holstered pistol. He waved to them, but they didn’t return the greeting.
Worley stopped about ten feet away and looked at Mercer on the ground with his hands tied. “I’m surprised he came along peacefully.”
Brodie replied, “I told him I had the name of a good lawyer.”
Worley smiled.
Brodie said, “I thought you weren’t taking this trip.”
“You convinced me to come.”
“Good. Now let’s go.”
Worley didn’t reply, but walked to Mercer and crouched. “You don’t look the same, Captain.”
Mercer replied, of course, “Fuck you.”
Worley looked at Brodie and Taylor. “Are you sure this is the famous and dangerous Captain Kyle Mercer?”
Brodie replied, “We can do the taunting onboard, Colonel. Let’s get out of here.”
Worley, apparently in no hurry, turned back to Mercer. “You know, when I saw your ragged ass on TV, I felt bad for you. No one deserves what happened to you, especially a soldier who has given so much of himself for his country. But then…” Worley