help getting to wherever.”
“All right. You have my number. Call when you can. How are you fixed for cash?”
“We can come up with whatever you need.”
“That could run in the quarter mil range. Figure, buck apiece for adults, half for the kid.”
“I understand.”
“Sounds like you do. I’ll get to work and see what can be done on a rush basis.” Carl paused. “I’m assuming this is a rush job?”
“Good guess.”
“I’m intuitive that way. And who should I look forward to speaking with when you call back?”
“Me.”
“Right. And what’s your name?”
“Victoria.”
She could hear a trace of a smile in his voice. “Of course. Okay, Victoria. Safe travels.”
The line went dead just as the proprietor arrived with a steaming cup of fresh brew. Jet thanked him, took several sips, and then pulled up a map of Colombia onscreen and studied the roads leading to Cúcuta. It looked like there weren’t too many options – either head north toward Medellín or east toward Bogotá. Either way, they’d have to get over the Andes Mountains to reach the border, which no doubt accounted for the long drive-time estimates she was seeing online.
She finished her coffee and ordered a cup to go for Matt, bought a bottle of orange juice, and paid. Matt and Hannah were waiting at the end of the block, which was still deserted. She approached and swapped Hannah for the coffee. The little girl didn’t wake up, and Jet let her daughter sleep. The stress of the night escape and being in an open wooden skiff on the river had taken its toll, and if her daughter could catch a few winks before things got crazy again, so much the better.
“I reached him,” Jet said, and gave a quiet report of Carl’s instructions. When she was done, Matt frowned.
“So all we have to do is cross the country without being caught, with the cartel and the authorities actively searching for us.”
“That about covers it.”
He drained his cup and straightened. “Then we better start looking for something to beg, borrow, or steal.”
“I…” Jet froze as a police cruiser rounded the corner at the end of the block and pulled to the curb. “We’ve got company,” she warned, her hand moving automatically to the pistol at the small of her back – a memento from the monastery shootout.
“Easy. Could be routine,” Matt said, gathering Hannah up and handing her to Jet. “Let’s just go on our way.”
“Which is?” Jet whispered as two uniformed officers got out of the car.
Matt looked up the street. “When in doubt, go to church.”
Chapter 3
Matt led them away from the policemen with calm, measured steps, the cast enveloping his hand hidden by his windbreaker, which he’d draped over the plaster. Jet could feel the eyes of the officers scanning her as she followed him down the cobblestone street with Hannah in her arms, the little girl’s head on her shoulder.
Another police vehicle, this one a pickup truck, swung onto the street ahead of them, and Jet stiffened. They were boxed in. If she hadn’t been carrying Hannah, she’d have felt more confident, but as it was, if there was shooting, her daughter would be at risk – which meant that gunfire was off the table.
“Easy,” Matt cautioned from ahead. “Nice and easy. Just a family out for an early morning walk, that’s all,” he said as the vehicle neared.
Jet fought the urge to draw down on the truck as it rolled to the curb just ahead of them. She kept her expression blank as she passed the front fender, unable to make out anything through the filthy windshield, but stiffened when the driver’s door swung wide as she drew alongside. Her hand crept to the pistol nestled in her waistband.
“ Buenos días ,” a scratchy male voice said from within the truck cab.
“ Buenos días ,” Jet replied softly, hoping that she didn’t look too rough from her night of monastery assaults and river escapes.
A plump man with sergeant’s stripes on his
“All right. You have my number. Call when you can. How are you fixed for cash?”
“We can come up with whatever you need.”
“That could run in the quarter mil range. Figure, buck apiece for adults, half for the kid.”
“I understand.”
“Sounds like you do. I’ll get to work and see what can be done on a rush basis.” Carl paused. “I’m assuming this is a rush job?”
“Good guess.”
“I’m intuitive that way. And who should I look forward to speaking with when you call back?”
“Me.”
“Right. And what’s your name?”
“Victoria.”
She could hear a trace of a smile in his voice. “Of course. Okay, Victoria. Safe travels.”
The line went dead just as the proprietor arrived with a steaming cup of fresh brew. Jet thanked him, took several sips, and then pulled up a map of Colombia onscreen and studied the roads leading to Cúcuta. It looked like there weren’t too many options – either head north toward Medellín or east toward Bogotá. Either way, they’d have to get over the Andes Mountains to reach the border, which no doubt accounted for the long drive-time estimates she was seeing online.
She finished her coffee and ordered a cup to go for Matt, bought a bottle of orange juice, and paid. Matt and Hannah were waiting at the end of the block, which was still deserted. She approached and swapped Hannah for the coffee. The little girl didn’t wake up, and Jet let her daughter sleep. The stress of the night escape and being in an open wooden skiff on the river had taken its toll, and if her daughter could catch a few winks before things got crazy again, so much the better.
“I reached him,” Jet said, and gave a quiet report of Carl’s instructions. When she was done, Matt frowned.
“So all we have to do is cross the country without being caught, with the cartel and the authorities actively searching for us.”
“That about covers it.”
He drained his cup and straightened. “Then we better start looking for something to beg, borrow, or steal.”
“I…” Jet froze as a police cruiser rounded the corner at the end of the block and pulled to the curb. “We’ve got company,” she warned, her hand moving automatically to the pistol at the small of her back – a memento from the monastery shootout.
“Easy. Could be routine,” Matt said, gathering Hannah up and handing her to Jet. “Let’s just go on our way.”
“Which is?” Jet whispered as two uniformed officers got out of the car.
Matt looked up the street. “When in doubt, go to church.”
Chapter 3
Matt led them away from the policemen with calm, measured steps, the cast enveloping his hand hidden by his windbreaker, which he’d draped over the plaster. Jet could feel the eyes of the officers scanning her as she followed him down the cobblestone street with Hannah in her arms, the little girl’s head on her shoulder.
Another police vehicle, this one a pickup truck, swung onto the street ahead of them, and Jet stiffened. They were boxed in. If she hadn’t been carrying Hannah, she’d have felt more confident, but as it was, if there was shooting, her daughter would be at risk – which meant that gunfire was off the table.
“Easy,” Matt cautioned from ahead. “Nice and easy. Just a family out for an early morning walk, that’s all,” he said as the vehicle neared.
Jet fought the urge to draw down on the truck as it rolled to the curb just ahead of them. She kept her expression blank as she passed the front fender, unable to make out anything through the filthy windshield, but stiffened when the driver’s door swung wide as she drew alongside. Her hand crept to the pistol nestled in her waistband.
“ Buenos días ,” a scratchy male voice said from within the truck cab.
“ Buenos días ,” Jet replied softly, hoping that she didn’t look too rough from her night of monastery assaults and river escapes.
A plump man with sergeant’s stripes on his
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