Man With A Mission

Houston reentered the room, a big smile on his features. “Good news, Morgan. I got Captain Stevenson on the iridium sat phone.” He came over and sat down, holding a piece of paper covered with scribbled handwriting.

Looking at Travers, he said, “You’re in luck. Captain Stevenson has one Peruvian pilot who was born in the Rainbow Valley—Lieutenant Ana Lucia Cortina, twenty-seven years old. Her mother was a Que’ro Indian, her father an art gallery owner from Lima. Ana knows the Rainbow Valley region and the Inka Trail like the back of her hand.”

“Is Captain Stevenson willing to loan Ana to us for this mission to find Jake’s sister?” Morgan asked.

“Yeah…for the price you mentioned. You know, they’re shorthanded as hell down there. Maya only has twelve pilots. They fly three pilots a day, in the two Apaches and an old, antique Cobra. It’s a twenty-four-hour tour. The pilots then go to standby status for another twenty-four hours, and then the third day they get off, to rest. Actually, they’re not resting at all right now because she’s shorthanded in personnel, too, so they’re doing a lot of collateral duty.”

Mike sighed and tapped his finger on the paper. “That means that if Captain Stevenson releases Ana to us, to help Jake and be his guide, than she’s really going to be shorthanded. Her other pilots must take up the slack while Ana is gone.”

“So, the Apache upgrade will compensate her for this?” Morgan demanded.

Houston grinned. “Yes, sir, it will.”

“Fine. That’s not a problem. How about long-term?”

“She’s hurting for money and people, plus that upgrade. She needs updated, more modern Apaches, which you’re going to provide. They’re flying the old A model, the first of their type. They’ve got the new Longbows out, which are incredible, and before you stepped into the picture, she couldn’t afford them, either. What she needs is an IV transfusion of money, the new D model upgrade and people down there to sustain her in her efforts.”

“We’ll look into this further,” Morgan assured him. “I’m very interested in her setup down there and think we can work together. Maybe we can lend her a hand in a lot of different ways. We’ll just have to see….”

Houston nodded. He looked across the table at Travers. “They’re sending a faxed photo of Lieutenant Cortina to us in the next hour, plus some background info on her. Captain Stevenson says you’re to meet Lieutenant Cortina in Agua Caliente, Peru. That’s a little backwater town at the base of Machu Picchu.

“Captain Stevenson uses the local civilian helicopter that flies in and out of there to ferry her people discreetly from their base, hidden deep in the jungle, to and from this civilian town. Agua Caliente is their formal link with civilization and Cusco, which is the major city they work out of when necessary. Captain Stevenson said Lieutenant Cortina will pose as a tourista, which is normally how her people infiltrate from the military to civilian status. You’re to meet her at—” he looked at the name closely “—a French restaurant named India Feliz—Happy Indian—just off the main plaza. At 1100 hours two days from now.” Mike looked up. “You got your passport in order?”

Jake swallowed hard. “Yes, sir, I do…but…a woman? Sir, if this is as dangerous as it sounds, I really don’t want a woman tagging along with me.”

Mike gave Morgan a pointed look.

“Captain Travers,” Morgan growled, “I don’t think you heard a word we just said. Women are as good as, if not better than, any male out there in the world of spy and stealth combat. I’m sure this Lieutenant Cortina is not going to be a noose around your neck. It will probably be the other way around.” He allowed a slight, one-cornered grin to appear on his mouth.

Stunned, Jake stared at the two men. He saw Pilar sitting back, frowning. He knew he’d insulted her. “But—”

“No buts,” Morgan said. “You want your sister back, Captain?”

“Well…yes, sir, I do, but—”

“Dammit, man,” Mike said, irritated, “don’t throw up this macho mano a mano stuff with us. It doesn’t fly. Our women are equal to our men. Period. Captain Stevenson said your best bet is to use Lieutenant Cortina. She knows the valley. She was born there. She speaks five languages fluently. You speak any but English?”

Stung, Jake growled, “I speak Spanish.”

Mike shrugged. “Then you aren’t going to be as bad a liability as I first thought. Just know that Spanish is a second language down in the valley, Captain. Quechua is first, and Lieutenant Cortina speaks it fluently because she is part Quechuan. Got it?”

“Yes, sir, I got it.”

Morgan tapped his fingers briskly on the table and studied Travers from beneath his dark eyebrows. “I hear the words of agreement from you, Captain, but I sure as hell hear something else in your voice that says you want to take over this mission and do what you think is best. Well, that’s not going to happen. Lieutenant Cortina is in charge of this mission. You got that?”

Jake’s mouth fell open. “That’s impossible, sir!”

“Sit down, Captain. There’s more,” Morgan snarled.

Jake sat down rigidly, breathing hard. A woman! And on top of it all, as his commander? Not a chance!

Jabbing his finger at the ranger, Morgan said, “Lieutenant Cortina runs this mission. If she tells you to jump, you ask how high. Got it?”

“I don’t feel, sir, that any woman can successfully undertake such a mission.”

Morgan gave him a frustrated glare. “Then you do not want our help, Captain Travers. Go find your sister on your own.”

Gulping unsteadily, Jake looked at Morgan’s set face, his glacial blue eyes burning holes through him. The man meant what he said and Jake knew it. Morgan Trayhern was not bluffing. Sitting there, Jake chewed over his options. He desperately needed someone who knew the Rainbow Valley region. He needed an interpreter. Smarting beneath their collective glares, Jake looked down at his hands, which were clenched in his lap beneath the table. Grief and worry over Tal warred with his belief that a woman could never do a man’s job, especially a job like this one. What were his options?

If he flew to Peru on his own, he’d have to hire a guide and interpreter. Could the guide be trusted? How could Jake know for sure he’d find someone who wasn’t a drug runner, working for the drug lord of the valley? The only thing Jake had going for him was his knowledge of Spanish. That and his skills as a ranger, which would definitely be an asset in this situation.

Still…Tal’s life was hanging in the balance. Could he let his personal beliefs and male pride keep him from coming to her rescue? She could die because he refused to work with a woman. A shudder ran through him. He compressed his lips and raised his head.

“All right,” Jake rasped unsteadily, “I’ll work with Lieutenant Cortina.”

Morgan’s glare cut through him. “I want to hear you promise me that you’ll be her subordinate in this, Captain Travers. That you’ll accept her leadership, her authority and her status as commander on this mission.”

Swallowing hard, Jake muttered, “I accept Lieutenant Cortina as my commander on this spec ops.”

There was a long, strained silence in the room after he spoke. Jake looked anxiously at Morgan, and then at the thin-lipped, scowling Mike Houston. Both men traded glances. Mike spoke first.

“You realize, Captain Travers, that if you’re just mouthing words on this, we’ll be following your mission down there and will know at once? We refuse to jeopardize Lieutenant Cortina’s life if you decide to get up on your male testosterone motorcycle and try to take over. She’ll be carrying an iridium satellite phone on her person at all times. Captain Stevenson, as we speak, is giving Lieutenant Cortina the mission profile that I had faxed down to her earlier.

“Lieutenant Cortina will know that she’s the commander on this little adventure,” Mike continued. “She’s your best chance to find your sister and get her out alive. You aren’t. You’re a gringo, a foreigner, while Ana Cortina knows Peru by heart. The sooner you let go of your damned male pride and surrender to her knowledge of the terrain, the people and the environment, the sooner your sister will be found, hopefully alive and unharmed. But the more you try to siphon off her authority or command, the more the chances of your sister being found at all, much less alive, deteriorate rapidly. Do you understand that?” Mike’s gaze nailed him directly.

Flexing his fists beneath the table, Jake muttered, “Yes, sir, I got it.”

Morgan sighed. “I don’t know that I feel you’re trustworthy on this matter, Captain Travers. However, for the sake of your sister, who’s the innocent in all of this, I’m going to approve this mission. The moment I hear, or Mike Houston hears, of you sabotaging Lieutenant Cortina in any way, I’ll have your ass pulled out of Peru so fast it will make even your seasoned military head spin. Do we understand one another? And if that happens, then you can consider your sister dead. All the choices and decisions are yours, Captain Travers. Work as a team or else.”

Holding his anger in check, Jake nodded. “I hear you, sir. And I’m grateful for your help. Tal’s the important one here, not me. Not what I believe.”

“Fine,” Morgan said crisply, standing. He buttoned his dark gray coat. “Let’s go out and look at the photo and file that I’m sure have come in by now.”

Jake rose. He felt relief, though he was still angry. More than anything, he bridled silently over the fact that he was going to have a woman as his commanding officer on this mission. Of all the hurdles and trials he knew were before him as he tried to locate Tal, he’d never figured that a woman would also be thrown into this murky, dangerous situation. Dammit.

Chapter Two

A soft knock on Maya Stevenson’s door made her lift her head from the slew of paperwork that littered her desk. Her door was always open, but her people gave a perfunctory knock anyway.

“Come in, Ana.” She gestured to the wooden chair to the left of her desk. “Have a seat.” She noticed that Lieutenant Ana Lucia Cortina was in her black, snug-fitting helicopter uniform, her helmet tucked beneath her left arm. She had been on twenty-four-hour duty and had just flown a mission four hours ago. She looked tired. There were smudges beneath her glorious cinnamon-colored eyes. Her ebony hair, frayed from wearing the helmet, was still in a chignon at the nape of her slender neck.

“Hi…thanks…” Ana gave Maya a slight, weary smile.

“How’d the flight go?” Maya noticed as Ana set the helmet down on the desk that she looked drawn. Maya knew why. The death of her fiancé a year ago was still wearing on Ana. And Maya knew that today was Roberto’s birthday. He would have been twenty-eight years old, if he’d lived. She wished that she could love someone as much as Ana had loved Roberto, but no man had entered her life to make her feel that way. Maya had long ago given up hoping such a man existed for her.

“We got jumped by a Kamov Black Shark helicopter flown by Faro Valentino’s Russian mercenaries near the Bolivian border,” Ana murmured, sitting down in the chair. Lifting her long, slender arms, she pulled her black hair out of the tight knot at the base of her neck, shook her head and allowed the strands to tumble across her proud shoulders. “Nothing new. I took a few bullet holes in the fuselage of my Apache, but otherwise, no casualties. My crew is going to have to check it to make sure no bullets have nicked the cables in that area, but that’s all.”

“Hmm.” Maya frowned, tinkering with the silver pen between her fingers. “Get any rockets off at them?”

One corner of Ana’s full mouth lifted slightly. “Oh, yes. We got close but didn’t bring it down.” She scowled, her fine, thin black brows bunching. “I just wish we had radar capability to pick up their signature, Maya. Whatever kind of paint they’ve got on those Kamovs, we can’t detect them, and they jump us from behind every time. One of these days we’re going to get shot down,” she said, grimacing.

“I know…what we need are those new Boeing D model Apaches that came out last year. I hear through the transom that they still don’t pick up the Black Shark signature, but at least we’d have a better helo than our Russian counterpart in every other way. Right now, we’re hurting. Our budget can’t afford one.”

Ana ran her fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp. “Ugh, that helmet is so heavy. I get a headache every time.” She opened her eyes and smiled at Maya, who was dressed in the same type of black uniform. Her commanding officer’s black hair was a little longer than hers, and she wore it down when she didn’t have to fly. “I’ve given up hope of us ever getting the new D model, Maya. The U.S. Army wants to ignore the fact that we’re down here doing a fine job of stopping drug runners from reaching the Bolivian border. Because we’re a bunch of upstart women army officers.”

“Humph, isn’t that the truth.” Maya set the pen aside and leaned back in her creaky old leather chair. Outside her opened door, women clerks who worked in the headquarters building of their base, hidden deep inside a cave, moved up and down the corridor like worker bees. Keeping her voice down, Maya said to Ana, “I have a project for you, if you want it.”

Perking up, Ana said, “Oh? What? Do I get some R and R over in Agua Caliente? Do I get to stay in Gringo Bill’s Hostel and rest up? I’m dying for one of Patrick’s mocha lattes at India Feliz Restaurant.” She laughed softly, knowing that they were far too shorthanded for Maya to give her a well deserved day off.

Maya picked up a fax, rose and stretched across her desk to hand it to Ana. “No, sorry. I know you deserve some downtime. How’d you like to work with this guy? He’s a former U.S. Army Ranger captain.”

Ana took the flimsy piece of paper. The black-and-white photo of a man, his face square, eyes penetrating, mouth full but unsmiling, stared back at her. For whatever reason, Ana’s heart gave a lurch. Puzzled as to why, she studied the photo, which showed the army officer in his military uniform, ribbons and all. She recognized the parachute wings on the left breast pocket, and the ribbons he’d accrued were impressive. Despite his rock-hard expression, Ana’s intuition told her this was a man with a heart and a conscience. She had nothing to prove that, of course; it was simply something she felt to be true. And in her business as a combat pilot, her intuition was more finely honed than most. She relied on it heavily, and it had never been wrong yet.

Puzzled over why her heart had lurched unexpectedly, Ana remembered that today was Roberto’s birthday. The day that they had set for their wedding. Grief flowed through her momentarily. Well, that would never be, now. Roberto had been killed while aboard his Peruvian Navy cruiser, shot by drug runners. That was a year ago. Rubbing her heart, Ana looked up. She saw Maya studying her intently. Ana knew that look and smiled slightly.

“Okay, boss, what’s up? You’re sitting there looking at me like a jaguar eyeing a good meal.” Ana raised the fax and waved it a little. “He’s not an Apache pilot. He’s a ground pounder.”

Grinning, Maya said, “Yeah, he’s not one of us. He’s in the doggy corps.”

They both laughed. There was infamous rivalry between the U.S. Army aviation corps and the rest of the troops, which handled ground duty.

“I’ve just been told there’s a special assignment and we’ve been tapped for it,” Maya told her. “This man’s sister, Talia Travers, is a hydrologist. She finds water so wells can be dug. Anyway, she was over in Rainbow Valley when she suddenly disappeared. The foundation she works for called Jake Travers, the guy in the photo. When he tried to get the army to give him TDY—temporary duty—so he could come down here and search for his sister, they refused. So he resigned.”

“Wow,” Ana murmured, “that’s a pretty rash and reckless thing to do with your career, but I don’t blame him under the circumstances. Family is more important.”

“Yeah, isn’t it though?” Maya shook her head. “Typical out-of-step army higher-ups made the wrong decision—again. They just lost a good man and an officer. Anyway…Travers went to a spook ops organization known as Perseus. I have a friend who works with them—Mike Houston. He contacted me about this mission. What they need is a guide, Ana, to help Travers locate his sister. You’re the obvious choice. You were born at Ollytatambu at the neck of the Rainbow Valley. No one knows that huge valley like you do. You grew up climbing the mountains and walking the hundred-mile-long Inka Trail that winds through it.” Maya smiled briefly. “So I thought you might like to take this TDY. How about it?”

Frowning, Ana studied the officer’s stony countenance once more. “What do they suspect? Druggies? A kidnapping?”

“Yeah, but no one’s called in a kidnap demand to Travers’s parents or to anyone else. Houston suspects it’s Rojas, a small-time, local drug lord trying to position himself higher up on that ladder by moving into Rainbow Valley and grabbing a rich norteamericana, like Tal Travers. She’s not rich, but he doesn’t know that—yet. Rojas is obviously not so wealthy as to have an iridium sat phone on him. They cost four thousand dollars U.S. And even regular phones aren’t common in Rainbow Valley. My hunch is he’s holding on to her until he can get to Cusco to make the call.”

“Mmm.” Ana looked around the office. “Do you have the latest list of drug runners from my old stomping grounds?”

Grinning a little, Maya handed her a short list of names. “Yeah, here they are.”

Studying them, Ana shrugged. “Could be any one of them. But they mentioned Rojas as a possibility?”

“Yes. You know any of them from your days growing up there?”

Tapping the paper, Ana murmured, “Just one—Rojas. I remember him at school. As I recall, he was a slum kid from the poor side of Lima whose parents dumped him in the Rainbow Valley to get rid of him because he was embarrassing the family by stealing stuff down there. I didn’t know him personally. I had a tutor who came to our villa every day to teach me. I only heard about him. He was a real bully, I guess.”

“Knowing what you know now,” Maya murmured, “do you want the assignment? I anticipate it will take a week or less to locate Tal Travers, one way or another.”

“Gosh, Maya…what will you do without me on the pilot roster? That’s going to leave you shorthanded as heck. Only eleven pilots to fly the missions.”

“I’ll take your flight duty and missions while you’re gone. Don’t worry about it.” How like Ana to be concerned about everyone else first. That was one more thing Maya liked about her close-knit, all-female team who worked at this hidden base fifty miles from Machu Picchu, the huge tourist attraction in Peru.

Rubbing her wrinkled, broad brow, Ana said, “Well…sure, I’d love to do this. A little change of pace. I don’t get home often enough anymore, so I’ll really enjoy getting back to my old haunts.” She felt her tiredness leave at the thought of getting a break from the brutal flying duty.

“Excellent,” Maya said. “Then it’s settled. You’re to meet this dude at Agua Caliente, at our normal meeting place—India Feliz Restaurant. Patrick, the owner and chef there, will set up the meeting on the second floor so that you two have optimum, uninterrupted time to talk and plan this mission.” She looked at her watch. “Captain Travers will be arriving in Agua Caliente in roughly three hours.”

Ana’s brows rose. “Wow! That was fast.” She grinned and stood up. Picking up her helmet, she said, “I guess I’d better pop into tourista clothes and go meet my counterpart.”

“One more thing,” Maya called.

Ana halted at the door and turned. “Yes?”

“You’re in charge of this mission. Even though he’s an ex-captain, you’re the boss. He does what you say. I understand from our resources that Travers isn’t real happy having a woman for a boss. So if he gets out of line, I want to know about it pronto. Got it?”

Tucking the helmet beneath her left arm, her Nomex gloves in her right hand, Ana murmured, “Not a problem. I’ll handle it.” She flipped the gloves to her brow in a mock salute to Maya. “I’ll take the civilian helo in on the mining side and fly into Agua Caliente. Who do you want to have fly me in and out?”

“Have Dallas do it. She’s on collateral duty today,” Maya said. “And good luck. Keep your iridium phone on you at all times. If you need backup and protection, call us. We’ll be on standby for you.”

“Roger, Captain Stevenson. Read you loud and clear.” Ana grinned widely, then turned and moved into the busy hall, toward the exit. With every step, she felt lighter and lighter. Why? It made absolutely no sense. Was it because of the unexpected assignment? It was true they worked like dogs at the base, with no downtime, no rest, no liberty. Ana had been working this arduous flight schedule for three years now.

She pushed open the door and took the metal stairs down to the first floor where another door led out into the massive cave. Then she headed for an aluminum Quonset hut at the rear, where the officers had their quarters. A quick shower, a jump into civvies and she’d be ready to go!

Smiling a little, Ana felt her heart lifting. The fact that it was Roberto’s birthday today, their wedding date, had made her feel sad. It had taken an effort to fly this morning and keep her concentration sharp and focused. Her heart ached with old grief. Yet, for some reason, just seeing Jake Travers’s unsmiling photo had lifted her spirits.

“Silly girl,” she admonished herself as she walked through the shadowy cave. Everywhere she looked, women were working, either on the Apaches or the Cobra helicopter in maintenance, or driving the electric-powered golf carts that moved ceaselessly across the smooth, black lava surface, carrying supplies. The base reminded her of a beehive. Work went on twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Their mission was crucial. And they were on a wartime footing all the time.

Opening the door to the Quonset hut, Ana moved inside and down the narrow hall. Makeshift plywood cubicles had been built, each containing a small bed, a dresser and a lamp. It made for a spare, economical existence. Entering her room, Ana hung her helmet on a hook and closed the door behind her. Suddenly, she was looking forward to this unexpected mission. It would be nice to get some time off from the brutal demands of the dangerous flight missions.

As she shimmied out of her black, Nomex uniform and prepared to take a quick shower, Ana’s thoughts turned to Jake Travers. What was he really like? Did the photo lie or tell the truth? Her heart whispered that he was a caring man with a heart. Maybe. Ana would determine that soon enough. Miraculously, though, as she hurried down the hall to take a shower, an olive-green towel wrapped around her, she was looking forward to meeting this man. After Roberto’s death, Ana had given up all hope. Love like she’d found with him could never be duplicated. She knew that. At twenty-seven, she was old enough and wise enough to know that love—deep, wonderful love—would never happen twice in a person’s life.

Fatigue lapped at Jake as he sat in the restaurant. The square table before him was covered with a white linen cloth and decorated with a spray of purple orchids with red lips, set in a vase at one corner. The chef, a casually dressed man named Patrick, had had the waiter show Jake up the elegantly carved mahogany staircase to the privacy of the second floor.

Jake looked at the watch on his dark, hairy wrist. It was 11:00 a.m. Anytime now he was to meet Lieutenant Ana Lucia Cortina. Anger riffled at the edges of Jake’s tiredness. He didn’t want any damn woman being his commanding officer. Compressing his lips into a thin line, he sipped the fragrant and delicious mocha latte that Patrick had made for him while he waited for his contact.

Out the large windows to his left, he could see the main street of Agua Caliente, which meant “hot water,” and the busy, bustling plaza beyond. The women, who were dressed in colorful skirts that hung to their ankles looked like bright tropical birds to Jake. Their hair was braided and they wore dark brown felt hats. The Peruvian men were more modern looking, although the Que’ro men wore bright red leggings and pointed, heavily beaded white caps with ear flaps. There were plenty of well-fed mongrels skulking around the plaza looking for scraps.