JET - Escape: (Volume 9) Read Free Page A

guessed,” Jet said as they walked the quiet streets.
    “That’s good, right? It means the likelihood of finding transportation and an Internet café is better.”
    “Speaking of which, looks like there’s one on the corner,” she said.
    Matt nodded. “Right. You call Carl. We don’t want to risk me being seen. I’m afraid with this cast, I kind of stand out,” he said, holding up his broken hand.
    “That and your skin color, white boy. Stay here with Hannah. I shouldn’t be long. You sure he’ll answer his phone?”
    “I haven’t talked to him in a couple of years, but he should. I mean, where else is a seventy-year-old going to be at this hour in Cuba?”
    Jet handed Hannah to him and stroked her brow with obvious concern. The little girl’s eyes fluttered open and she appraised her mother sleepily. Jet offered a smile. “I’ll be right back, honey. You go back to sleep.”
    Hannah coughed and closed her eyes. Matt held her head against his shoulder protectively. “You’re on. Let’s hope they’re open.”
    “They are. They’ve already set out a couple of tables on the sidewalk.”
    Jet made her way to the café and pushed open the door. A thick man with a mop of unruly gray hair looked up from the counter, surprise painted across his hangdog face. He quickly recovered when she ordered a cup of black coffee and asked about the computers.
    “I need to call a friend on Skype. Do you have it here?” she asked in fluent Spanish.
    “Of course. There’s a headset hanging on the side of the case. You can call and I’ll bring your coffee to you, if you like.”
    “Ah. That would be perfect.”
    “Take the station nearest the wall. It’s the newest.”
    Jet strolled past four makeshift computer stations, whose flimsy partitions offered slim privacy, and sat at the end unit. To her eye it looked prehistoric, but after a few mouse clicks she was connected, and the line was ringing in her ear. A few moments later, when a gruff male voice answered, the sound was as clear as though he was standing next to her.
    “ Si ?” the voice growled.
    “Carl?”
    “Who’s this?” the voice demanded suspiciously.
    “A friend of yours told me to call. Victor,” Jet said, using the code name Matt had said he’d recognize.
    “Who?”
    Jet’s heart sank. Either he didn’t remember the sequence, or this wasn’t Carl.
    “Victor.”
    He hesitated. “I can take a message.”
    Bingo – that was the correct response. She was speaking to Carl. “Victor really wants to ask about a fishing charter today.”
    “He does, does he? Then why doesn’t he call me himself?”
    “He’s indisposed. But he told me that if I mentioned Bangkok and a card game, you’d be able to help.”
    Carl didn’t say anything for several long seconds. “What kind of trouble are you in?”
    “We’re in Colombia. Need to get somewhere safe, where we won’t be asked for a lot of paperwork.”
    “Colombia? What part?”
    She could hear computer keys tapping in the background as she described their location and situation, and when he spoke again his voice had lost any trace of irritation.
    “Looks like you’re about fifteen hours’ drive time from the Ecuadorian border, and maybe twelve to Venezuela. Think you can make it to Venezuela?”
    “We’ll do whatever we need to do.”
    “How many?”
    “Three. Our friend, myself, and a little girl, almost three.”
    “Victor’s gone nuclear family on me?”
    “A long story.”
    “Okay, I’m not sure I want to know. Here’s what you need to do to get to Venezuela. Looks like the closest crossing point is a town called Cúcuta. Northeast of you. Probably take all day to travel there, depending on what you’re driving. Call me once you’re on the ground. In the meantime, I’ll see what I can do. You going to need passports, the whole works?”
    “Yes.”
    “Won’t be cheap.”
    “Nothing in life is.”
    “How hot is the water you’re in?”
    “Hot enough that we need your