As Lost as I Get Read online

  “Weather,” the woman sighed. “Only spies talk about the weather. That lazy boy.”

  “You’re CIA?”

  “Most of the time,” she said. She held up her ID for Ana to see. “Janet Wishnevsky. I’m Will’s boss, and I’m here to try and find out where the hell he is.”

  “You don’t know either?”

  “Well, I know where he was headed, but not where he’s wound up.” She gestured for Ana to sit down, as if it were her office, then leaned on the desk. “Last I heard from him, he was headed up the Inírida to keep an eye on some trouble up there and try to make contact with a team from your clinic, escort them out of harm’s way.”

  “I was on that trip,” Ana said. “I didn’t see him. The others didn’t mention it either. But you’re right about there being trouble up there. And it’s followed us down here too.”

  Wishnevsky unfolded her arms and leaned forward. “Start at the beginning, and tell me everything.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Zoe sat in the tree for what felt like hours, long after the last vehicle sounds died away, unable to will herself to move. Thinking was like pushing through thick, wet wool. What would Lee tell her to do? She should wait until she was sure the men were gone. If they captured her now, his sacrifice would be for nothing.

  If she waited long enough, and then got back to the road, she could get back by herself. If they’d left his—if they’d left his body, and his pack, she’d have the extra food and the tarp and the sleeping bag. The idea of finding him dead on the side of the road was too much, and she half-climbed, half-tumbled out of the tree, where she fell to her knees and was violently sick. She pushed herself to her feet, her knees shaky. She couldn’t leave him there. She’d been prepared to haul him out by travois if he couldn’t walk—could she still do it?

  How long should she wait? From what the men had said, they’d go check out the hotel. They’d find the room, probably. That room. They never should have left it. Zoe closed her eyes as they filled with tears, choking back a sob to try and stay quiet. She leaned against the tree she’d hidden in and let go. Hot tears streamed down her face as she tried to breathe as quietly as she could.

  As the worst of it tapered off and she was down to sniffles, she heard the motor again—coming back from the hotel. She scrambled up the tree again, but they’d find her this time. They’d see where she’d been sick.

  The car didn’t stop. Once it faded, she leaned her head back against the bark and relaxed. Her eyes slowly closed, overwhelmed by grief and a lack of sleep the night before.

  When she woke, it was full dark. For a miracle, it hadn’t rained that afternoon, and she hadn’t fallen out of the tree. How could she have gone to sleep? Her muscles were stiff and complaining, making climbing down awkward and painful. If she could find the road, she could travel at night. Would that be safer? None of it would matter if Arcangel put his men on the roads to watch, but she couldn’t stay here forever. She reseated her pack on her back and started toward the road.

  He wasn’t there.

  She could see footprints in the soft dirt on the side of the road, but there was no sign of Lee, or his pack. Or, she realized, of any blood. No blood. Her legs threatened to spill her to the hard-packed dirt road. The shot was just to scare her. Maybe he was still alive.

  Or maybe they took him somewhere else to kill him, like that man said. She pushed the thought away.

  Although it was fully night, there was starlight overhead, and in a little while, there’d be a moon. The road stretched before her like a pale river, with plenty of light to see by. Zoe started walking.

  ***

  She was stumbling on her feet, drained by what seemed like an endless night. Every noise she heard had her jumping out of her skin. All she could think of was how many predators lived in the jungle—two-legged and otherwise. A crackling branch was a jaguar waiting to pounce. Or a snake about to drop on her from overhead. She walked through a spider web and, in her panic, was certain the owner was about to come bite her and leave her to die.

  None of those things seemed like a danger when Lee was with her. Now everything was dangerous. The idea of passing one more night like that—much less several—before getting home made her want to sink to the ground and give up. She took a deep breath and kept walking.

  It was nearly daylight when Zoe heard the sound of another motor approaching, different from the one before. The road had widened the farther she’d gotten from the Hotel de la Cascada, but it was still dirt, and still too narrow for two vehicles to pass. Get off the road; you should get off the road. It was time for her to stop for the day anyway, find a quiet place to hole up and hide during the daylight hours.

  The motor got louder; it was too late for her to vanish into the underbrush. She pushed on, expecting to see a truck full of Arcangel’s men, deadlier and more implacable than anything she’d feared during the night. What she got instead was a small Jeep driven by a familiar face. She couldn’t remember the young soldier’s name at first, just that he was one of Lee’s, and she’d treated him for a gunshot wound. Standing up on the passenger side, looking over the windshield anxiously, was Ana.

  “There she is!” Ana yelled, and Zoe let herself finally go limp, and gave in to the weakness in her knees, sinking to the road.

  “Oh thank God,” she said. “Thank God.” Timo—that was the soldier’s name—scooped her up while she was still babbling. “You don’t want to kill me, finally someone who doesn’t.”

  In the back of the Jeep was an older white woman Zoe didn’t know. The bench seat beneath her was so comfortable she didn’t care who the woman was.

  “That son of a bitch,” the woman said. “That’s why he was in such a hurry. You’re Zoe Rodriguez, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah,” Zoe said, too tired and confused to say more.

  “You didn’t happen to run into a fool named Will Freeman while you were upriver, did you?”

  Mention of Lee’s alias made her eyes sting, so she closed them. “He saved me again,” she said. “The men took him. I don’t know where he is.” That was all she could get out before the tears started to fall.

  “Come on.” Ana reached back and squeezed Zoe’s hand. “Let’s get you home.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lee woke to a rolling, agonizing ache coming from his knee. The wrap Zoe had put on it was still there, tight against the swelling. His hands were bound behind his back, pulling at the stitches Zoe had given him on his bicep, making the cut throb. His feet were bound too, for all that it mattered; he wasn’t going to be going anywhere with his knee.

  The stone walls and stone floor reminded him of the hostage cell in Oaxaca, only then he hadn’t been wounded, and Zoe was with him. Thank God she wasn’t now.

  He studied his surroundings through half-closed eyes. There were steel rings in the walls that looked to have been recently added—the concrete around them was gleaming white in contrast to the old walls. He wasn’t attached to any of them—yet. An empty wooden wine rack in one corner suggested the room’s original use before it was turned into a jail. Unlike the cell in Mexico, there were no windows, just one door against the blank wall opposite him. The light came from two flickering fluorescent bars overhead. The lack of windows, combined with the pervasive dampness, suggested he was underground, but underground where?

  When Arcangel’s men failed to find Zoe in the jungle, he’d expected them to kill him right there. He’d given himself a few minutes to mourn what might have been, and waited for the bullet.

  It never came. Instead, one of the men fired into the air, perhaps in a last-ditch attempt to scare Zoe out, then something large and heavy connected with Lee’s skull. That was the last thing he remembered, and the cause of the nauseating pain in his head.

  For whatever reason, they’d decided he was more valuable as a living captive than as a dead example. He was glad t
o be alive, but it was an ominous development. They’d emptied his pockets, so they had all of the ID for William Freeman. His cover story was a solid one, but not solid enough for this. The CIA wouldn’t—couldn’t—acknowledge him; he was on his own. If they hadn’t already figured out that Will Freeman was an alias, they probably would when they tried to ransom him.

  But—groups like the AC didn’t often kidnap for ransom. They had other revenue streams. They kidnapped more often for leverage. Of course. They were going to hold him to try and get to Zoe. It wouldn’t be difficult for them to ask around and find the connection between them, even without knowing Lee’s real identity. If they got her, then both of them were dead. Hell, he was probably dead either way, but maybe he could make sure she was safe first.

  He twisted his wrists together. There was plenty of give in the rope. He could get himself untied any time he wanted. The room he was in was mostly bare, nothing he could easily use for a weapon—or a crutch. The current state of his knee was going to hamper any escape plan he could put together. Hamper, but maybe not derail.

  He factored it in.

  If Zoe was smart—and she was—she would demand proof of life before giving Arcangel what he wanted, or agreeing to see him. Their failure to provide it might give her a little extra safety, if he could get out in time.

  He just needed to wait and see. Not enough intel yet. He needed to know where he was, confirm who had him, and how many there were. Waiting was something he was good at. He settled against the damp stone wall behind him and closed his eyes.

  His internal clock told him it had been about two hours when the door to his cell opened. Vargas walked in, flanked by two armed men. He was nearly as tall as Lee, and although not in uniform, he stood and moved like a soldier. If Lee had had any doubts before, they were gone. Vargas had to be Arcangel. The armed men brought in a wooden chair, and Arcangel spun it around and sat on it backward.

  “So. William Freeman,” he said. “You stage a heroic rescue for the girl, and she abandons you in the middle of nowhere?” He shook his head. “No gratitude, these American women, eh?” His English was clear and concise, with only a hint of an accent.

  Lee didn’t say anything, carefully keeping his face blank.

  “What I can’t figure out is what an international business consultant is doing on the llanos rescuing pretty doctors. That’s what has me confused.”

  “IFI deals in cattle futures,” Lee said, trying to clear his dry throat. “I wanted to visit some of the ranches in the area. The girl looked like she was in trouble.”

  “The girl was trespassing, as are you.”

  Lee tried his serious, professional smile. “I’d be happy to stop trespassing any time. It’s a little hard to walk out of here right now though. If you’d help me with that, I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “I don’t think so, Mr. Freeman.” Arcangel’s smile was just as professional. “My men, they think they found a few discrepancies in your story. We want to clear them up.” He stood, and handed off the chair to one of his men. “Just sit tight. We’ll get you some food, maybe some pills for that knee, eh?”

  That’s when Lee knew it was going to get bad. They’d try the friendly approach first, and when that didn’t work, they’d start being less friendly. Still, he smiled. “That’d be great. Thanks.”

  ***

  When Zoe woke up, she couldn’t figure out where she was right away. The setting was familiar, but wrong somehow. After a few blinks, she realized she was in the clinic’s recovery area, in one of the patient beds. She was seeing everything from an unfamiliar angle. It was dark, the only light coming from the hallway, and a small circle of light over a chair near the door. She was sore all over and, she realized, ravenous.

  She went to push away the blankets and spotted the IV line going into her arm. She wanted to take it out, but the IV bag was full enough to suggest it hadn’t been there long, and to be fair, she’d been pretty dehydrated when they’d found her. She wasn’t the one who really needed medical care though. Where was Lee? Was he still alive?

  “Ana? Is there someone there?” Her heart raced for no good reason; logically she knew she wasn’t alone in the clinic. Someone would have to be on duty.

  Susan came through the door, holding a mug. “Oh, damn it. Figures you’d wake up as soon as I stepped out.” She flipped on the overhead lights, set down the mug, and hurried over. “How are you feeling?”

  Zoe squinted against the sudden light. “I’m okay. Starving.”

  “Of course you are. Hang on. We’ve got some stuff.” First, she checked Zoe’s vitals, starting with her pulse. Zoe wanted to push her away and grumble, but knew better. She’d do the exact same thing in Susan’s shoes.

  “I’m fine,” Zoe said. “Why did you bring me here instead of the house, anyway?”

  “Lord Jesus, spare me from ever having a doctor for a patient.” Susan rolled her eyes heavenward. “If you had seen you when they brought you in here, you would have done the same thing. You’re bruised, bug-bitten, dehydrated . . .”

  “Okay, okay, I get it.” Zoe smiled faintly. “Thanks.”

  Susan finished her vitals check. “You’re pretty healthy, seems like.”

  “If I promise to drink a lot of water, will you take the IV out?”

  “If I say no, are you going to take it out anyway?” The stern look Susan gave her made her laugh.

  “You look like my mom, except for being tall, white, and redheaded.”

  “Speaking of, I think Christiane called your family when we hadn’t heard from you.”

  “Oh God.” Zoe sank back against the pillows. “I should call them—”

  “You should.” Susan started prepping to take the IV out. “Although we did let her know you were safe. I think she was ready to fly down here.”

  “She was, I’m sure,” Zoe said grimly. “She might still.” She had felt so safe for most of her time out in the jungle, just because Lee was with her—it never even occurred to her that people might worry. Was she that smitten, that she’d forgotten everything but him? Susan was looking at her, waiting to take out the IV. “She worries,” Zoe explained. “Not without reason, of course.” After Oaxaca, everything was magnified. That something else happened on her first trip out of the country again . . . There were some long, uncomfortable talks in Zoe’s future, starting with that first phone call.

  “You ready?” Susan asked.

  “Yeah, cut me loose.” She held up her arm and let Susan take out the IV.

  In the clinic’s tiny kitchen, Zoe sat and drank from the enormous glass of water Susan gave her while Susan reheated some rice and pork. It smelled divine, and Zoe’s mouth watered. When was the last time she’d eaten? Around midnight the night before, she’d stopped walking long enough to eat an energy bar from one of the remaining MREs Lee had left with her. She hadn’t had the appetite for anything else.

  “While you’re eating I’ll call Maria and Agent Wishnevsky.” Susan checked the temperature of the plate in the microwave then started it again.

  “Agent who?”

  “Wishnevsky.” Susan said it carefully, one syllable at a time. “She said she was your friend’s boss.”

  “My friend? You mean—” Zoe stopped herself shy of saying “Lee.” The old woman in the Jeep, that must have been her.

  “Freeman. Did you know he was actually with the CIA? Turns out Ana knew, and she didn’t bother to tell me anything.” Susan handed her the plate, a fork, and a paper napkin.

  “I knew.” Zoe dove into the food, taking three large bites before remembering her table manners. She wiped her mouth. “She’s his boss? What’s she doing here?”

  “Looking for him. Guess he was on some sort of mission out there.” Susan sat across from her, and Zoe recognized the look on her face: Susan was monitoring her as a patient. “Lucky for you he was, sounds like.”r />
  “Yeah.” Zoe’s appetite threatened to flag, but she forced herself to keep eating. She needed the fuel.

  “Zoe, what’s going on? Ana knows more than she’s saying, and she’s spent an awful lot of time talking to the CIA.”

  Zoe shook her head. She had a pretty good idea what Ana and Agent Wishnevsky were talking about, but if Ana hadn’t told Susan, she wasn’t about to. “They’re probably getting info from her, debriefing, or whatever it’s called. Since she was out there with me. I mean, Will’s mission must have been focused somewhere in the area, or he wouldn’t have found me.” Maybe it wasn’t technically a lie, but it felt like one, and she hated it.

  “Someone tried to shoot us two days ago.”

  “What?” Zoe nearly choked on a mouthful of food.

  “On the street. First they tried to kidnap us, then when we wouldn’t go with them, they tried to shoot us.”

  Zoe’s hands and feet started feeling numb and it got hard to swallow past the tightness in her throat. “Do they know who?” She knew who. Vargas thought Ana knew something, and he was trying to get her out of the way. Just like he did with Lee. Just like he wanted to do with her.

  “Zoe?” Susan grabbed her hand and started chafing it. “Do you feel faint?” She guided Zoe’s head between her knees and Zoe didn’t protest, but leaned over.

  “I’ll be okay.”

  “You turned gray, I mean absolutely gray.” Susan kept holding her hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have thrown that at you.”

  “No, I needed to know.”

  “Come on, you’re going to get back in bed, finish your dinner, and get some more rest.” Susan stood up and gathered Zoe’s plate and glass of water.

  “No, I need to—”

  “Doctor’s orders.”

  “I hate that phrase.” Zoe sighed and let Susan lead the way.

  ***

  “Come home, carajita. It’s too dangerous there.” Hearing her mother call her by her old pet name was enough to make Zoe want to be home.