Banner had to clamp his teeth together to stop himself from raining insults on Margate. “I don’t agree at all. I intend to do my best to bring all three of these people back to the States alive.”
“You are free to try, Banner, but we won’t pay Darkview’s expenses from this moment forward, and if you are captured, expect us to deny that you even exist.”
“I’m a contracted security force, Margate. When was the last time you guys acknowledged our existence under any circumstances?” Banner shut off the phone before he felt compelled to tell Margate what he really thought of him.
50
EMMA MOVED TOWARD THE WAITING TRUCKS. THREE OF THE four soldiers milled around near the first truck, leaving the one truck closest to the trees shrouded in shadows. She couldn’t see the fourth soldier.
She checked on Rodrigo. He stood in the village center, as if waiting. I wonder where Mathilde is, Emma thought. Just then Mathilde stepped into the village. It was as if Emma’s thoughts had conjured her.
Emma crept closer to the truck. She heard a footfall behind her. She spun around to see the fourth soldier pointing a rifle at her chest. It was the boy she’d helped escape from the truck at the airstrip almost a lifetime ago. His eyes widened as he recognized her. They stood that way, facing each other, for what felt like an eternity. Emma saw a bead of sweat run down the boy’s face. It dripped into the bandanna he wore around his neck. His lips were parted and he breathed rapidly in and out, as if he’d just completed a run. Emma felt as if she could see his thoughts racing through his head.
Rodrigo’s voice as he spoke to Mathilde echoed through the clearing.
The boy started. He jerked his head toward the truck in the trees. In two short strides he was at its side. He waved at her impatiently. Emma jogged over. Put her foot on the bumper. The boy reached out and supported her arm to help her swing her leg into the truck bed. It was a strangely chivalrous gesture under the circumstances, but it told Emma more about the boy’s character than any words could have. She insinuated herself between the boxes of rifles, moving them gently aside. They were stacked three high. When she was able to lie down, she lowered herself onto her back. She stared up at the sky. The boy hovered over her, worry in his dark eyes. He moved the boxes on top closer together, until a shadow fell over Emma. She could see the boy’s face through the remaining shaft of light shining between the boxes. The boy caught her eye. He gave a curt nod. She felt the truck bounce as he jumped off.
The tangy smell of metal was all around. The flatbed’s steel bottom felt cold against the backs of her arms. She would have given anything at that moment to be able to see what Rodrigo and the others were doing, but she dared not lift her head. Her hands were down by her legs, palms flat against them, straight. She touched the cargo pocket of her pants. Felt the lumpy stones of the rosary. She slid her fingers in the pocket. Wrapped them around the rosary, tight. She thought of Gladys. She pressed the stones into her palm, took a deep breath, and waited.
After what seemed like forever, but must have only been minutes, she heard a man walking next to the truck. His feet crunched on the stone ground. She felt the truck cant to one side as someone stepped onto the wheel well. A shadow fell across her face. She looked up and locked eyes with Rodrigo.
“So, lady, there you are.”
He shoved the boxes aside, grabbed her arm, and hauled her upright. He yelled to Mathilde as he dragged Emma across the back of the truck to one of the huts. He dumped her on the ground. Mathilde sauntered up and kicked dirt at Emma. The bits of earth landed in Emma’s eyes.
Rodrigo gave an order. One soldier stepped forward, uncoiling a rope in his hand as he did. In seconds he had Emma’s hands and feet tied. Rodrigo motioned the soldiers away. They all nodded and shuffled to their vehicles. The young boy soldier moved the slowest. He cast Emma a look full of sadness and apology as he walked by. The soldiers climbed into their vehicles and drove out of the village. Only a few of Rodrigo’s guerrillas remained. They hovered forty feet away, on the edge of the jungle. Rodrigo motioned Mathilde into the hut.
Emma wasn’t alone for long. Mathilde reappeared. She strolled to Emma.
“Rodrigo called the Americans. They come. We will be paid a lot of money for you, but why they think you are worth it, I don’t know.” She yanked Emma’s backpack off her back.
“You won’t need this anymore,” she said. She tore into Emma’s backpack and rummaged through the contents, throwing the various items in the dirt. Emma watched her empty the small side pocket. She pulled out the remaining tube of Engine Red. Swiveled it open.
“Nice color,” she said.
“It’s mine. Don’t use it.”
Mathilde analyzed the lipstick. “It’s new. I shall try it.”
“No,” Emma said.
Mathilde raised an eyebrow. “You don’t tell me what to do.” She went back into the hut. After a few moments, she returned. In her hand was a small round mirror. She smirked at Emma and brought the Engine Red to her lips. Emma lurched to her feet. The ropes around her ankles hobbled her, and she fell to her knees.
“Don’t! It’s poison. It will kill you.” Emma infused the warning with all the intensity she could.
Mathilde flipped her hair. “I will look beautiful while I watch you die.”
“I’m telling you, it’s poison. Do not touch it.” Emma pleaded with her.
Mathilde ignored her. She prepared to apply the lipstick.
“Mathilde, don’t!” Emma was frantic. “You’ll kill us all.”
“Liar,” Mathilde said. “I saw Maria in the forest. She wears it. You gave it to her.” She leaned forward. “We will deal with her later.” Her gaze returned to the mirror, and she rubbed the stick across her lips, leaned back to look at her image. The color complemented her olive skin and dark hair. She threw Emma a superior look.
Within seconds, she started to sway. The blood left her face in a rush, rendering her skin pasty white. She started to cough. She clawed at her neck and made gagging sounds. Panic rose in her eyes. She staggered to the hut’s door, holding her throat, just as Rodrigo stepped out. She dropped to the ground, writhing. Rodrigo asked her a question in Spanish, but all she did was show him the lipstick still clutched in her hand before she pointed to Emma.
Rodrigo rounded on Emma. “What have you done?”
Emma wanted to cry. She shook her head. “I told her not to touch the lipstick. It’s poison.”
Mathilde began foaming at the mouth. Rodrigo stepped back in revulsion. He stormed over to Emma, his machete drawn. He grabbed her by the hair. Placed the machete at her throat.
“Poison. Is it true?”
Emma nodded. “It’s true. It’s a weapons-grade nervous system disrupter.”
“Who made it?”
Emma sighed. “I did.”
“Will she live?” Rodrigo jutted his chin at Mathilde’s prone body.
Emma sighed again. “No.”
“Is there a cure?”
“I can make a liquid that will halt the poison. An antidote. But it would be for us. She is lost.”
“What do you mean, for us?”
“The molecules release into the air, like a miasma. It works as a nervous system disrupter and paralytic.”
Rodrigo pressed the machete closer. “I don’t understand these English words!”
“Think of rabies—you know the word rabies?”
Rodrigo nodded.
“The lipstick kills on contact, but it also kills through secondhand exposure. When the stick is rubbed on warm skin the molecules release into the air like a cloud, affecting anyone in a ten-foot radius. For those of us subject to secondhand contact, death is delayed. We have twelve hours.”
Rodrigo started breathing faster. “Make the cure.”