“No, but he’s breaking camp and will be there tomorrow morning,” he said curtly. “Where’s Margaret?”
“In her room. I talked to her after you called her the last time. That’s when I was telling her what a silver-tongued devil you are. What did she say when you told her that you’d managed to—”
“I didn’t tell her anything,” Lassiter said sharply. “She’s not answering her phone. I called twice and she never picked up. Go check her room and see where the hell she is. I’ll call Cambry and see if she’s with him and Patrick.” He cut the connection.
Shit. Mandell was halfway across the courtyard in seconds and was running down the hall toward Margaret’s room. It could be nothing. Maybe her phone had no charge. Maybe she was pissed off at Lassiter and had decided—
He knocked on her door.
No answer.
He threw open the door.
Shards of a broken pottery pitcher lay scattered all over the stone floor.
A pillow lying at the bottom of the bed was stripped of its slip.
No sign of Margaret.
He called Lassiter. “Not here. Signs of possible struggle. The pitcher is broken and—”
“Find her. She’s not with Patrick.” He was cursing softly. “I thought you said there was no problem about security. Could it have been someone from the detention camp?”
“No, I swear to you that no one broke into the monastery. The perimeter around it couldn’t be tighter.” He was running out of Margaret’s room and down the hall and across the courtyard. “There’s only one way I can think of that—” He threw open the door of the storage room and turned on the light.
Blood.
Ed Dietrich was lying crumpled on the floor beside the window overlooking the courtyard. His eyes were open and staring straight up at the ceiling.
His throat had been cut.
“Dietrich’s dead,” he told Lassiter as he dropped to his knees beside Dietrich. “That son of a bitch Brukman must have gotten out of his handcuffs, overpowered him from behind, and then grabbed his knife. His throat’s been cut.” He forced himself to look for more to report. It was hard to get his head straight. Dietrich was only twenty-nine. He had fought with him in Afghanistan and Mandell had always liked him. “Brukman took his weapons, phone, money clip, and credit cards.”
“And there’s a good chance he also took Margaret,” Lassiter said grimly. “The only question is what he intends to do with her.” He added, “And what he intends to do, period. Brukman knows it would be a risk letting Nicos know that he helped to free Patrick.” He paused. “Unless he thinks he has an ace in the hole. He might try to bargain Margaret for amnesty from Nicos’s hit men. He must have figured out that she’s a prime target.”
“I’ll get together a search team and go after him.” Mandell added, “I’ll get her back, Lassiter.”
“Easy to say. Brukman knows this rain forest like the back of his hand. If he had even a couple hours head start, he could lose himself and Margaret with no trouble. And he was a mercenary for seven years before he was chosen by Nicos to head the torture squad at the detention camp. He knows all about manacles, and that was probably how he was able to get out of those handcuffs. You’ll have to be careful that he doesn’t pick you off with that rifle he stole from Dietrich.”
“That won’t happen,” Mandell said. “God, I’m sorry, Lassiter. I’ll find her. I won’t let Brukman try to use her.”
“You should never have lost her,” he said harshly. “I told you that she was first priority. And as for Brukman using her, that could be the best scenario. Brukman hates my guts. He might decide to try his skills on Margaret to punish me for ruining his gig with Nicos.”
“Shit.”
“I’m on my way back now. Keep in touch with me. But before you leave the monastery, have Cambry move Patrick and the doctor to that cave I told you about. I don’t want to take any chances on Brukman getting in touch with Nicos or the detention camp and stirring up all hell. And see if Cambry can persuade Father Dominic and the monks to scatter into the forest or those nearby villages.” He hung up.
Lassiter was white-hot angry, and Mandell couldn’t blame him. Dietrich had been a good man and he had trusted him. But in the end, the responsibility had been Mandell’s. He should have known that Brukman was more savvy and skilled than Dietrich and made certain this couldn’t happen. He had blown it, and a good man had died and Margaret Douglas could die, too, if he didn’t make it right.
He looked down at Dietrich and reached out and closed those eyes that were staring up at him. How many times had he done this before over the years?
Too many.
Good-bye, buddy.
I promise I’ll send him to hell for you.
*
“Bad news?” Carlos Estefan’s gaze was fixed on Lassiter’s tense face as he ended the call. “Yes, I can see that it is.”
Lassiter nodded jerkily. “Not good.” Massive understatement. He was trying to keep the fear under control and his mind working. “And for you, it may mean that you’ll have to break camp tonight and get on the move. There’s a good chance that Nicos will be heading here very soon. Lars Brukman, the man I told you about, escaped. That means the entire scenario has changed, and not for the better.” He met Carlos’s eyes. “But the one thing that hasn’t changed is that your brother needs you. Will you still go with me?”
Carlos nodded slowly. “I was never afraid of the battle. We’re used to that. I was afraid of betrayal, that you might turn my people over to the government forces. You’ve convinced me that isn’t going to happen. If there’s a chance of getting my brother out of that camp, then we’ll do it.” He smiled faintly. “And if we can kill a few of the soldiers of the government that paid Nicos to keep him there and kill his wife, María, that will be a joy beyond imagining.” He turned and strode back toward the campfire. “Tell me how to do it and it will be done. We’ll be on our way within an hour. I assume you’re leaving now?”
“I’m on my way.” He was already moving toward the trail that had led him here. “Thank you, Carlos. I’ll contact you when I see what the situation is.”
“That Brukman,” Carlos called after him. “He’s a key person? He can hurt you?”
Patrick at risk again.
Cambry and Mandell’s entire team threatened.
And Margaret.
He could see her before him, her eyes glittering with humor and defiance and that infinite caring that was such a part of her. He could feel the pain twist inside of him at the thought of her. If she were here, she’d try to stop the pain. It was what she did, what she was.
She was not here. She was somewhere out there in that rain forest alone with Brukman. And he had seen what agony Brukman was capable of inflicting. Who was going to stop her pain?
“Oh, yes, Carlos,” he said hoarsely. “He can hurt me.”