Show No Fear - By Marliss Melton Page 0,38
her with him.
“And you,” the deputy growled at Gus, “will have time in the shed to reflect on your stupidity. Now walk.”
Gus marched obediently forward. With Buitre’s gun gouging his right shoulder blade, he managed to look over his left shoulder and catch Lucy’s eye, sending her a subtle wink.
Her expression did not alter one iota, save for a faint thinning of her lips. But he knew by her sudden silence that she’d gotten the message.
He was going to sacrifice his body for the cause.
Fucking hornets had stingers the size of hypodermic needles.
With a shout of agony, Gus slapped the insects stabbing at the back of his neck and focused his efforts on keeping the intermittent signal. As long as he stood below the hole in the tin roof, straddling a puddle of fetid water, the signal was strong enough.
Holding down number seven, he speed-dialed the JIC, keeping his fingers crossed.
The familiar voice of the platoon medic, Vinny DeInnocentis, came from what seemed a great distance. “This is Fred,” he said in his strong Philadelphia accent. “Who’s this?”
“This is Ethel,” corroborated Gus. The pass phrase had been Vinny’s idea. “Did you get the images I uploaded last night?” he inquired, getting straight to the point, afraid he’d lose his signal.
“Roger, sir,” said Vinny, abruptly professional. “We’ve been lookin’ at ’em all day.”
“I think the place names are encrypted, and I think I know how,” Gus advised, keeping an ear pricked for any sounds outside of the shed, hoping nobody was eaves-dropping. “The GPS on this sat phone puts me at three degrees, five minutes, and 31.9 seconds latitude, right? Convert those numbers to letters and you get C for the first letter, E for the second. See a camp that starts with those letters? It’s Cecaot-Jicobo.”
“Gus, this is Luther,” rumbled the lieutenant, either taking over the call or putting him on speaker phone. “We copy you loud and clear and will play with the rest of the numbers and see if we can’t break the code. I’m thinking the O in Cecaot is a decimal.”
“Agreed,” said Gus.
“So we may have positions on four camps. Any word yet on where the hostages are located?”
“Not yet,” Gus confirmed. “We’re awaiting proof of life for Howitz. Barnes appears to be living, but there’s a question about Howitz’s health. I’m trying to get the rebels to let us speak to them via shortwave radio.”
“Excellent call. We’ll alert the Predator.”
“Ow! Shit!” Gus smashed a hornet against the side of his head. “Little bastard.” He brushed it off and felt for the stinger, lodged somewhere in his hair.
“You all right, Gus?” Luther sounded bemused. “Where are you?”
“In a torture chamber, but I’ll live. Listen, I need to keep this brief. You have the names. Try and break the code.”
“Will do, Gus. How’s the missus?”
The simple reference to Lucy sent a pleasant shiver up Gus’s spine, beating back his sharp discomfort. “Still alive and kicking,” he retorted shortly. Which was how he intended her to stay.
“Roger that,” said the OIC. “Call when you can. If we break the code, we’ll leave you a message.”
“Thank you, sir. Over and out.”
With the call complete, Gus put the phone back in his boot, then hunted for a place to stand where he wouldn’t draw so much attention from the hornets. Moving to the far corner, he ran into a giant spiderweb and stepped back, nearly stepping on a rat that scurried under his heel. Jerking the collar of his jacket up to protect his neck and eyeing the vampire bats dangling unperturbed under the eaves, he waited for however long it would take to be released.
“LUNA, WAIT,” FOURNIER COMMANDED, grabbing the back of Lucy’s jacket as she made to push off the bungalow platform.
A shout had just come from the jungle, preceding Marquez and the Argentine, who’d finally made an appearance, hours later than expected. Lucy had been sitting on the narrow deck, sweating under a muggy sun, tormented by flesh-seeking flies. She wanted to be the first to speak to Marquez on Gus’s behalf.
Gus was her partner. She couldn’t tell how he was faring in the shed, but that didn’t prevent her from imagining the very worst. Helpless to protect him, she simmered with agitation, swearing to herself that she would deck him when they found themselves alone. He had to be calling the JIC. He could’ve cleared that with her first, before putting his life on the line. Teamwork, my ass. He didn’t know the meaning of the