Placing the bottle on the table, Lefleur uncrossed his legs, planting both feet on the floor. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, he placed his hands on his knees with an audible slap and looked straight at Childress.
"Oh, I suppose, eventually, we will kill them. In fact, Senior Delapos and I were discussing that when you, ah, decided to join us. The only question seems to be how we can do so while achieving the greatest shock value from the act. Since neither of us is as well schooled in the fine arts of terror as Senior Alaman, we decided to send a message to him and ask for his advice in this rather delicate matter."
"Lefleur, you're nuts."
Lefleur laughed. "Yes, that may be true. But at least, mon ami, I am armed."
"Get out of here," Delapos snarled. "Get back to your duties and don't ever try this again. Do you understand?"
Turning his attention back to Delapos, Childress saw that his boss and former friend hadn't budged an inch or changed expression. He still stood ready, knife in hand, to strike. Without a word, and keeping his eyes on Delapos, Childress reached behind him and felt for the doorknob. When he opened the door, the Irishman he had shoved was in the hall and waiting for him. The Irishman, however, moved away and allowed Childress to back out of the room when he saw Delapos, standing there with a look of hatred in his eyes and his commando knife in hand. Whatever had transpired didn't concern him and he had no desire to become involved in a dispute between his boss and one of his lieutenants. The pay was too good.
When Childress was gone and Delapos relaxed, Lefleur stood up. "It seems that our American friend is not happy with our decision."
"He has lost his edge. He cannot be trusted."
Trying hard to conceal his gloating, Lefleur sighed. "Perhaps, amigo, our American friend has lost his taste for American blood."
Replacing his knife, Delapos grunted. "Perhaps. Whatever the reason, he cannot be trusted."
Allowing Delapos's comment to hang in the air for a moment, Lefleur began to smile. "Well, it is getting late. I must be going. I have not finished my reconnaissance and there is little time. Perhaps, by the time I get back, you will have a response from Senior Alaman. Either way, please do me the favor of saving the Americans for me?"
Taking deep breaths to calm himself as he thought about Childress's insult and challenge to his authority, Delapos considered Lefleur's request.
"Yes, I will do that, — under one condition."
"Why, yes, of course. Whatever you say, mon ami."
"Before you dispose of the congressman and his party, you get rid of Childress. He cannot be trusted anymore."
"Ah, I see," Lefleur mocked. "A little pleasure before business. How nice."
The heat in the small metal-covered shed where Jan had been thrown the night before was stifling even though the rays of sunlight pouring through the gaps in the walls told her it was still early in the morning. As she lay there, bound and gagged on the dirt floor, looking around, Jan began to regret that she had not gone for Joe Bob's gun. At least, she thought, had she done so, her problems would be over. It would have been quick, clean, and final. This, she thought, as she looked about the shed that was no bigger than a closet, was hell.
Since their arrival at this base camp, as the Frenchman had called it, no one had come by, no one had spoken to her, no one had bothered to untie her. She had not been given anything to eat, nothing to drink, and she had been unable to relieve herself. They had simply opened the door of the shed, thrown her in, and closed the door, leaving her in the dirt to sweat and lie in her own filth. She doubted that the door of the shed was even locked. Not that it mattered. She was gagged, and bound like a calf at a rodeo, hands and feet together. Though there were cracks and gaps around the door and here and there in the walls through which light entered the small room, they were not big enough to allow a breeze in. The only things that did come into the shed through those cracks were bugs and flies, which were having a field day as they crawled all over her, and dust that settled on her body and turned to a thin layer of mud as it mixed with her sweat. As much as all that bothered her, she knew that it wouldn't be long before she was past caring. Already she could feel herself alternating between periods of faintness and nausea from lack of water. Eventually, she would either go mad or die. At that moment, she didn't care which came first.
When the door of the shed flew open, the bright light hit her face and blinded her, causing her to roll over and away from it. With her back to the door, she felt someone grab the gag and pull it away from her head, stretching the corners of her dry mouth further. For a second, there was the sensation of cold metal next to her ear, then the ripping of cloth as the gag was cut. When the gag finally fell away from her mouth, Jan let out a series of coughs.
She was still hacking away, trying to catch her breath and clear her dry throat, when the man who had cut her gag reached over her, grabbed her hands and feet, and cut the rope that had bound them together. When the knife cut through the ropes, Jan found she had no control over her arms and legs. Instead, they sprang apart like a rag doll's. For the longest time, all she could manage to do was lie spreadeagled on the floor, staring at the ceiling as she let the muscle spasms and pain in her arms, wrists, legs, and ankles subside. She was oblivious to whoever had freed her. She was even oblivious, for the first time, to the bugs, insects, and flies that were still scurrying across her body. The only thing that mattered was that she was no longer bound and gagged. Thoughts of escape were the farthest thing from her mind. All she wanted at that moment was for the pain to stop and a drink of water.
After a minute or so, a hand reached around the back of her neck and lifted. Before she knew what was happening, the stranger put a cup to her lips and began to pour water into her mouth. Although Jan wanted to drink the water, her first reaction was to cough and spit it back out. When she did so, the stranger paused for a second, allowing her to catch her breath again, before pouring more water. This time, she was able to swallow it. When the stranger went to pull the cup away again, she panicked, trying to reach up and grab the cup so she could keep drinking.
Her arms, however, would not respond. Instead, all she managed to do was shake and wiggle, causing the stranger to spill water down her face and neck.
"Whoa, lady, take it easy. Relax. There's more."
The voice was that of an American. The Army! Delta Force! They were here to save her! Jan opened her eyes. Still blinded by the bright light.coming through the doorway, she couldn't see the face or clothes.
What she could see was the outline of the man's head. His hair, she realized, was too long for an American soldier. No, she hadn't been saved. It wasn't Scott and the 7th Cavalry. But he had water. And for now, that was all that mattered.
After waiting a minute, the stranger pulled Jan up into a sitting position and offered her the cup of water. Finally able to control her wobbly arms, she took it and gulped it down. Only after she had finished it and sat there in silence, savoring her freedom and the taste of the water, did she begin to look around and wonder who her savior was, and, more importantly, what was going to happen next.
Anticipating her questions, Childress decided to tell her what he thought was safe before she began with a thousand questions. "There's not much I can tell you. In fact, the less you know, the better off you are. First, your friends are, for the moment, all right. Someone is taking care of them as we speak. Second, I can't tell you who we are, where we are, or what we are doing. Like I said, it's to your advantage that you don't know. Finally, I have no idea what's going to happen to you. Until my boss hears from his boss, I can't tell you what is going to happen."