Read Online Force of Fire (The Kane Legacy) by Rosa Turner Boschen - Free Book Online
Authors: Rosa Turner Boschen
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ambitions of living in
Washington.
At that point, Scott wasn’t
sure where he’d wind up. Spain was good enough for him. So good, he’d told her,
that he’d decided to finish up his senior year credits there rather than going
back home.
She’d given him a warming smile
that made him want to reach across the table and touch her, but he’d resisted.
'Quite a temptation,' she’d
said, her eyes an improbable invitation.
Scott tipped up his tumbler and
drained the last bit of coffee from his glass. And now she
was gone, desaparacida . Almost as if he had willed it. But he hadn’t willed it.
Never in their most abysmal moments would he have wished for that. Scott felt a
shiver of half-truths shimmy down his spine as he dug into the pocket of his
faded jeans for some change. It was a coin toss really. Whether or not he’d
done the right thing. No, honorable was the word. The Dentons were all so intent on doing the honorable thing. He knew what his father would
say. But, according to his Dad, he didn’t own one goddamned shred of decency
anyhow. So what the hell was the difference?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ana could hear the low buzz of
propellers and feel the tug of gravity in her stomach. They were taking off.
She fought to remember what day
it was. Tuesday? No, Thursday. It was an impossible game. Still, she was
grateful for the challenge. Kept her busy, her mind occupied. And when her mind
was occupied, it was easier to fight the pull of the drugs. Besides, lucidity
was her only asset.
She could never escape. There
were too many of them. At least they wouldn’t kill her. They’d had plenty of
opportunity for that. But something kept them stalling.
They thought she had something. Some kind of key information involving her father. Perhaps her ignorance was her salvation. If she’d given them what they’d wanted
in the jungle, surely they would have slain her there. But why keep her alive
if she claimed to know nothing?
Two reasons, she figured: one,
because they thought she was lying and planned to eventually torture it out of
her; or two, because she was a hostage and somehow valuable as an exchange. But to whom? To her mother, who probably knew no more than
she did? No, it was ludicrous.
The engines roared and the
plane leveled off at a steady altitude. She realized she was seated upright in
an airline chair, her wrists and ankles bound, her shoulders strapped to the
seat with reinforced tape. Their ascent had been a short one. Too short, she
realized, for the average airliner. She’d been flying all her life, long enough
to know what was typical. There was only one probable explanation.
Her project concerned the
delivery of pharmaceuticals to field hospitals in Costa Negra .
There were certain controlled substances involved, valuable medicines when
prescribed through legitimate channels but a bureaucratic nightmare when taken
into the wrong hands. She and her team members had been warned to defend
against system abuse, particularly with Costa Negran drug runners working so closely with the Colombians. She’d been given a
background paper to read, some thing unclassified about smuggling tactics prepared
by the DEA for State. Smugglers generally flew at low altitudes to avoid radar
detection. 'Nap-of-the-earth flying,' it was called, '...flying low, hugging
the features of the terrain.'
She had no way of knowing for
certain how high up they were, but the craft did feel small. It seemed to pivot
and vault in the air and didn’t have the steady drag of a jet.
Ana got this funny feeling. She
remembered the fury in El Dedo’s voice as he held the
raw edge of his blade to her throat: '...a lot of money at stake here. Comprende ? Mucho dinero !'
This wasn’t just any
kidnapping.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It took Mark a full two hours
to decode and read the messages Jarvis sent from Washington. The tie between El Dedo and Carnova looked
promising, if one could use such a word to describe their liaison. As
Washington.
At that point, Scott wasn’t
sure where he’d wind up. Spain was good enough for him. So good, he’d told her,
that he’d decided to finish up his senior year credits there rather than going
back home.
She’d given him a warming smile
that made him want to reach across the table and touch her, but he’d resisted.
'Quite a temptation,' she’d
said, her eyes an improbable invitation.
Scott tipped up his tumbler and
drained the last bit of coffee from his glass. And now she
was gone, desaparacida . Almost as if he had willed it. But he hadn’t willed it.
Never in their most abysmal moments would he have wished for that. Scott felt a
shiver of half-truths shimmy down his spine as he dug into the pocket of his
faded jeans for some change. It was a coin toss really. Whether or not he’d
done the right thing. No, honorable was the word. The Dentons were all so intent on doing the honorable thing. He knew what his father would
say. But, according to his Dad, he didn’t own one goddamned shred of decency
anyhow. So what the hell was the difference?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ana could hear the low buzz of
propellers and feel the tug of gravity in her stomach. They were taking off.
She fought to remember what day
it was. Tuesday? No, Thursday. It was an impossible game. Still, she was
grateful for the challenge. Kept her busy, her mind occupied. And when her mind
was occupied, it was easier to fight the pull of the drugs. Besides, lucidity
was her only asset.
She could never escape. There
were too many of them. At least they wouldn’t kill her. They’d had plenty of
opportunity for that. But something kept them stalling.
They thought she had something. Some kind of key information involving her father. Perhaps her ignorance was her salvation. If she’d given them what they’d wanted
in the jungle, surely they would have slain her there. But why keep her alive
if she claimed to know nothing?
Two reasons, she figured: one,
because they thought she was lying and planned to eventually torture it out of
her; or two, because she was a hostage and somehow valuable as an exchange. But to whom? To her mother, who probably knew no more than
she did? No, it was ludicrous.
The engines roared and the
plane leveled off at a steady altitude. She realized she was seated upright in
an airline chair, her wrists and ankles bound, her shoulders strapped to the
seat with reinforced tape. Their ascent had been a short one. Too short, she
realized, for the average airliner. She’d been flying all her life, long enough
to know what was typical. There was only one probable explanation.
Her project concerned the
delivery of pharmaceuticals to field hospitals in Costa Negra .
There were certain controlled substances involved, valuable medicines when
prescribed through legitimate channels but a bureaucratic nightmare when taken
into the wrong hands. She and her team members had been warned to defend
against system abuse, particularly with Costa Negran drug runners working so closely with the Colombians. She’d been given a
background paper to read, some thing unclassified about smuggling tactics prepared
by the DEA for State. Smugglers generally flew at low altitudes to avoid radar
detection. 'Nap-of-the-earth flying,' it was called, '...flying low, hugging
the features of the terrain.'
She had no way of knowing for
certain how high up they were, but the craft did feel small. It seemed to pivot
and vault in the air and didn’t have the steady drag of a jet.
Ana got this funny feeling. She
remembered the fury in El Dedo’s voice as he held the
raw edge of his blade to her throat: '...a lot of money at stake here. Comprende ? Mucho dinero !'
This wasn’t just any
kidnapping.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It took Mark a full two hours
to decode and read the messages Jarvis sent from Washington. The tie between El Dedo and Carnova looked
promising, if one could use such a word to describe their liaison. As
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