Show No Fear - By Marliss Melton Page 0,12

Spanish, and the lock buzzed, allowing them to push their way inside. They crossed a pebbled courtyard to be greeted by a stern-faced American wearing a white Guayabera shirt. “John Whiteside, station chief,” he introduced himself shortly. “Come in.”

As they traversed a narrow hallway, Lucy realized Gus wasn’t touching her anymore. She felt suddenly wet and chilled.

They stepped into a tiled living space, stuffed with chairs and buff-looking men in civilian clothing. Lucy counted eight of them as they scrambled to their feet at her and Gus’s entry. “Evening, sir!” chorused several of them, but all had eyes for just Lucy.

She was used to the attention; she would admit she even exploited it. When men made fools of themselves, that just made her own job easier.

Gus drew her front and center. “Guys, this is Lucy Donovan. Some of you helped extract her from a warehouse in Maiquetía, Venezuela, last year.”

He just had to bring that up.

Lucy mustered a smile for the men she recognized, greeting them by name. “Vinny, how are you?” she said, extending a hand at the Al Pacino look-alike, a Special Operations medic. “Harley, right?” she added, turning to the blue-eyed chief who kept his head as shiny and bald as a billiard cue.

“Yes, ma’am,” said Harley, looking impressed.

“And, Haiku?”

“Yes, ma’am,” beamed the Japanese American, his dark eyes sparkling. He was obviously thrilled to be remembered.

“This is Lieutenant Lindstrom, the officer in charge,” Gus added, turning her toward the SEAL who towered over the others and bore a striking resemblance to a former professional football player.

“Call me Luther,” he said. His hand engulfed hers while dark blue eyes took stock of her.

“Did you used to play football?”

“Yes, I did,” he admitted modestly.

And he’d given up all that money to become a Navy SEAL?

“This is Teddy Brewbaker, our explosives expert,” Gus added, pulling her from her starstruck stare to introduce her to the only black man.

“My friends call me Bear,” Teddy boomed, flashing the gap between his front teeth.

Gus introduced her to three more men: Gibbons, their spindly point man, Swanson, rear security, and finally the assistant OIC, Lieutenant Casey. By the time she’d shaken every man’s hand, her knuckles ached.

“Let’s get down to business,” interrupted the station chief with an impatient nod at the OIC’s laptop humming quietly on the coffee table.

There weren’t enough seats for everyone. Five SEALs offered to surrender their chairs to Lucy, who accepted Vinny’s offer since it gave her the clearest view of the laptop. Harley gave up his seat to Gus, who sat beside her.

“All set?” Luther asked, rousing his laptop with a deft touch. “This is where you’re headed.”

The top of Lucy’s head tingled as she beheld a satellite photo of a snow-capped mountain.

“It’s called La Montaña,” the former football player continued. “The FARC have retreated onto this fourteen-thousand-foot monstrosity to recoup their losses. Due to heavy desertion, it’s believed the number of rebels has fallen below ten thousand. The Colombian army has cut off their food and fuel supplies. They’ve burned their coca fields. Some say this is the end of the rebel movement.

“But up here on La Montaña, we don’t know what the rebels are doing. The paths they’ve networked are completely invisible under the triple-canopy jungle. Our spy planes have yet to pinpoint significant populations or intercept communications. It’s like they dropped off the map, only we know they haven’t, because they’re still holding two Americans hostage.”

“Your job,” inserted the station chief while fixing a stern eye on Gus and Lucy, “is to find Barnes and Howitz and discover what the FARC are up to on that goddamn mountain.”

Lucy knew the objective, only she’d had no idea how big and formidable that mountain was. It made her think they’d be looking for a needle in a haystack.

“Any questions?” asked Lieutenant Lindstrom, drawing the briefing to a close an hour later. The legs of his chair creaked as he leaned back in it.

“Do we have an escape-and-evasion plan?” Lucy asked. “One that doesn’t entail you coming to our rescue?” The lieutenant had just touched on all the things that could go wrong. Gus could run out of battery power for the cell phone. The rebels could suspect deceit and turn on them. Lucy didn’t want to rely on SEALs coming to the rescue. She wanted to be able to save her own hide, the way she’d always done.

With a thoughtful look, the giant tapped a key and zoomed in on the mountain’s peak. “Right here,” he said.

Studying the