Show No Fear - By Marliss Melton Page 0,71

money,” Buitre prompted, impatiently waving Fournier forward.

Drawing Jay into their midst, Fournier extended the briefcase to Buitre, who laid it on the table in front of Marquez. “Go ahead and count it if you must,” Fournier said. “Only where is the body of Mike Howitz?” he inquired.

Buitre shoved a wooden box across the cement floor. “Don’t open it in here,” he warned.

Eyeing the crude coffin, Lucy’s stomach roiled as she envisioned Howitz’s rotting corpse inside. Her hands curled into fists as blind fury exploded through her. The sons of bitches had killed him. And they were getting paid for that?

“Thank you,” Jay was saying, shaking each team member’s hand, one at a time. He reached for Lucy, gripping her extra hard to convey both his grief and gratitude. She dared not meet his gaze. Buitre was watching them closely.

Marquez snapped open the briefcase, lifted the lid, and sifted through the contents. Rebels leaned in on every side, eyeing the money greedily.

Outside the building, the helicopter’s rotors began to spool. With a thud, Marquez closed the case abruptly. He met Fournier’s gaze and stood up. “Take the Americans and go,” he shouted over the noise. His dark, flat gaze betrayed no emotion whatsoever.

Glancing at the other rebels, Lucy read the same secretive look in their eyes. Splinters of suspicion sank deep beneath her skin. Something was happening. If only she could predict what.

But why would the rebels jeopardize the exchange when they’d gotten what they wanted? Was it just to punish her? Wasn’t trying to kill Gus enough of a punishment?

“Remove Mr. Barnes’s chain,” Fournier replied, frustrating Lucy’s instinct to retreat as fast as possible.

A soldier stepped forward with a key, and the deadbolt that kept Jay chained like a dog fell open. It dropped to the dirt floor with a heavy chink.

Fournier nodded. “Bellini, Carlos,” he said, waving them toward the box. “Help me with this.”

As the three men struggled to lift Mike’s coffin, S¸ ukruye held the door. Lucy grabbed Jay’s sleeve to escort him as quickly as possible into the gale force of the helicopter’s rotors.

WITH THE YOUTHS FINALLY OUT OF SIGHT, Gus bolted from his hiding place, crashing downhill toward the rising thunder of the nearby helicopter.

Leaves brushed at his face. The ground felt as slick as mud beneath his flying feet. God forbid he was too late!

If Buitre had already harmed Lucy, what then? Gus would rather snatch his own heart out of his chest than discover that he’d failed her.

He nearly burst through the tree line, exposing himself to view. At the last second, he skidded to a stop, then scrambled up and out of sight. From behind a kapok tree, he peered out at the field, searching for Lucy, unable to see her.

The large grassy field seemed to dance beneath a hot sun. A Red Cross helicopter idling yards away from a building was clearly preparing for liftoff, only Gus could see no one inside it but the pilots. Where was Lucy?

Suddenly, the door to the building popped open. To Gus’s relief, Fournier stepped into view, bearing one end of a box. Carlos squeezed through the door while supporting the box in the middle, then Bellini appeared carrying the other end. Howitz’s body, Gus supposed.

When Lucy and S¸ ukruye appeared, bearing a skeletal figure between them, he released a shuddering breath of relief. The exchange had gone off without a hitch. Poor Jay, he thought with a pang of pity. The man was scarcely recognizable from his picture.

With cautious optimism, Gus watched the UN team move in a slow parade toward the helo. Again the grass in the field seemed to dance. He rubbed his eyes, certain his vision was playing tricks on him.

But then the field came alive, and he realized with dawning horror that an army, hitherto disguised by blankets of straw, had been hiding there all along. Throwing off their camouflage, soldiers leapt to their knees, raised rifles to their shoulders, and opened fire on the building.

Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat! A barrage of semi-automatic gunfire cut through the helicopter’s thunder. Astonished and terrified, the team whirled, stared, then raced toward the helicopter, seeking cover.

Who the hell? Gus wondered, his chest swelling with fear as the red-roofed shelter fell under attack.

From within the building came an answering volley.

The bizarre vision made no sense. Horrified, certain to be shot if he interfered, Gus kept his eyes on Lucy as she and the other team members struggled to lift the box into the helicopter. The engines whined