Merline Lovelace - Course of Action - The Rescue - Jaguar Night / Amazon Gold

Aly’s brows shot up.

Duarte smiled. “Yes, my dear, I have eyes and ears all over South America.” He made a flourishing gesture with his manicured hand. “I must hide here, in my jungle villa, while being hunted by the police and Brazilian army. I am safe enough here, but I cannot get help for my toes.” He pointed to them. “I need you to help me, Allison. My diabetes is severe. I have gangrene on several of my toes. I need it stopped. That is why you are here.”

* * *

Josh was standing near the open ramp of the C-130 as it flew through the dark night over Brazil. He’d double-checked everything, including the eighty-pound pack hooked to the front of his parachute harness. That ruck contained everything he’d need for this op. It was a lot of weight, but it couldn’t be helped.

He looked through his goggles, which protected his eyes, as he moved the oxygen mask on his face, making sure it was sealed and he was getting a good flow on an inhale. They were at forty thousand feet, circling and adjusting for the winds. The roar of the four-engine turbo prop, the not-so-subtle vibration through the transport, moved through him.

The air was freezing cold, whipping and slapping against Josh’s body. With his gloves on, he checked the helmet strap one more time. He wanted nothing loose before he strolled off the end of the ramp and into the black space.

The jump master, who stood opposite him on the ramp, would give him a voice and hand signal once the C-130 had adjusted to wind changes at various altitudes. Strata of wind could carry him too far from the GPS point where he needed to land. There was a small clearing, very small, not enough for a helicopter insertion, on the same trail Aly Landon had been taken from three days ago. He would work his wedge-shaped chute into it. If he had luck... If not, and the winds were acting up, he could find himself crashing through three layers of canopy, and the chances of breaking an arm or leg or busting up his ribs would become a reality. Not something he wanted to do.

The jump master gave him the signal. He heard the man’s gruff voice in his earphones, as well. A HAHO jump was something he practiced every six months. He’d gone over everything three times. As he walked further out onto the ramp, he literally walked out into space, the wind tearing and catching at him.

Josh dived into blackness. He heard the C-130 rapidly being left behind and above him. Stretching out arms and legs, he stopped the tumble and used the flat plane of his body to glide silently downward. The cold was icy. The wind whistled constantly around his helmet. He brought his right wrist up and looked at the dials on his special altitude watch. Thirty-nine thousand. Another watch gleamed with green numbers that gave him his distance from the GPS point where he needed to land.

He made adjustments, loving the freedom that the HALO gave him. Some Recon Marines hated jumping out of a plane, but not him.

At thirty-eight thousand feet, Josh yanked the cord to his main chute. He’d been plummeting like a rock toward the earth. As the chute deployed above him, he knew the snap of it opening would jerk him hard. He grunted, feeling his entire body being yanked. Then, using the risers to keep on target, he turned the silent chute to the left. Dangling, moving slowly back and forth, he pulled his NVGs down off his helmet and, pushing aside his flight goggles, set the night-vision goggles over his eyes. Instantly, the dark lit up with green and black objects. Josh sailed through the blackness for nearly twenty miles before reaching his objective.

He spotted the opening and manipulated the risers. The ground was coming up fast and he sailed silently over the opening. As he made a ninety-degree turn, he slowed his forward speed, almost, for a second, hanging in the sky.

The earth rushed up at him, long, green strands of grass and a few bushes in the opening. Making his knees soft, Josh hauled hard on the risers at the last second. The wedged chute pulled up, stopping nearly all his forward speed. And just as light as a bee landing on a flower, he hit the damp, slippery grass with his combat boots, landing and then running a few feet to maintain his balance. The heaviness of the ruck pack nearly toppled him, but Josh leaned back, slowing to a walk. And then, he was down.

Swiftly, he got rid of the oxygen mask, turning off the small tank on his harness. Kneeling, he looked around the tree line. Nothing. He had to get rid of the chute. He knew in this part of the Amazon basin, there was a six-inch layer of dead leaves and below that, nothing but sand. It was easy digging with his small shovel and in no time all the gear he didn’t need was permanently buried, never to be found again.

He made his way to the edge of the tree line before crouching and keying his sat phone. He clicked it twice. The CIA in Langley, Virginia, was responsible for keeping tabs on him. Anything he needed, he was to call them first.

Josh gave the two-click signal to the operator back in the States, which would indicate he had landed safely and on target. He quickly put the sat phone in a special pouch on his harness. So far, so good.

It was 0200. The middle of the night. He had a map and compass as well as his GPS equipment. The next order of business was to find the path that would lead him directly to Duarte’s villa. Luckily, a CIA satellite passing overhead had intercepted an encrypted message from the villa. Someone had called to tell another person that the medical doctor had arrived.

As Josh knelt and quickly covered his face with dark green, black and gray camo paint to blend into the jungle environment, he hoped like hell that message had meant Allison Landon was there. It was a risk, but one that his handler at Langley had ordered him to verify first, before tramping through the jungle for days on end, trying to find her.

It took him three hours to reach the villa. Dawn was coming, so Josh chose a tree that would allow him to recon the courtyard. He stashed the ruck pack nearby and slowly climbed the tree, not wanting to attract attention even though night was just beginning to lift. Once in a position with his back against the trunk, legs spread out on two strong limbs forty feet above the ground, he pulled his M-4 rifle off his shoulder harness. Quickly opening up the Night Force scope and turning on the infrared capability, he began to scan inside the villa.

As he spotted a heavily armed guard, he wrote the timing down on a knee pad with a grease pencil. Eventually, there was a second guard, but there were no dogs that he could see. They were the biggest threat of all and he knew many drug lords kept Dobermans, rottweilers or Belgian Malinois for security as well as for their aggressive temperament and teeth.

Drinking water from his CamelBak to keep hydrated, he wiped the sweat off his face with his glove. He’d chosen a perfect hiding place, the leaves thick in front and on all sides of him. Someone would have to stand beneath the tree and look up to spot him. With his camouflage clothing and painted face, Josh blended in like a chameleon.

As he continued to scan and memorize the layout in his head, he couldn’t keep his emotions out of the mix as much as he wanted to. The color photo of Aly Landon hung in his heart, of all things. He’d been divorced for two years and hadn’t even thought of getting into a serious relationship. Not now. He wasn’t willing to risk time or his heart on a woman who couldn’t accept his long deployments and short time at home with her.

Still, it was the radiant look in Aly’s deep blue eyes, the gold in their depths, that lured him. She had the most beautifully shaped mouth he’d ever seen. Already, much to his chagrin, he wondered what it would be like to kiss her, to feel her lips against his.