Act of Terror

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Jericho clenched every muscle in his body. The veins on the side of his neck swelled as he strained with his left arm to hold on to Ronnie where she dangled five thousand feet above the hungry rocks below. He lay on his stomach, the crook of his right elbow clutching a nubbin of stone where they’d landed on the ledge roughly the size of a kitchen counter an instant before the Hellfire strike. The camel herder had fallen to his death and the two bandits left topside had been reduced to fine bits of ash.

The missile’s impact had rendered Quinn partially deaf. He could hear snippets of Ronnie’s frantic shouting, but her voice sounded like it was coming from the inside of a metal can. He couldn’t see over the edge, but her hands clutched his forearm and he knew he had a good grip on some piece of her clothing. He could just make out the dust-covered crown of her head over the ledge.

Bracing with his legs against a thin fissure in the rock, he rolled backward, gaining inch by slow inch until he was able to haul her up like a fleshy, wriggling fish. She collapsed, wheezing on top of him, and he realized his handhold had been at the small of her back, on the bunched waistband of her wool long johns.

She looked down at his face as she rearranged her bunched clothing. “In some parts of Cuba, a wedgie like that would mean you’d have to marry me.” Bits of gravel covered her lips. “Good thing I wore my big-girl panties…”

“Yeah, good thing.” Jericho was already working out a plan to get them up the sheer ten-foot face and back to the smoldering crater where their camp had been. He explained about the Breitling while he studied the rock.

“All this time you had an exploding watch and you didn’t tell me?” She shook her head from side to side, her ebony hair a tangled nest of dirt and ash. “I am riding through China with James Bond.”

“The watch just sent up a signal. The explosion was courtesy of the U.S. Air Force. And, technically-” Quinn grunted, trying to pull himself up with a shallow handhold, then slipping back down to hug it so he didn’t fall backward into the dizzy drop behind him. “We’re in Afghanistan… and now I won’t even know what time it is.”

“How far do you think-to the Kyrgyz camp?”

“If they haven’t started their trek back out of the high pastures

… maybe six miles according to Gabrielle’s map.”

Garcia faced the rock, raising her arms above her head. She arched her back and stuck out her butt.

“Come on,” she said. “Give me a boost.” Even under their desperate circumstances, the stance took Quinn’s breath away.

“As inviting as that looks”-he grinned-“you’ll need to push me up first. That way I can pull you up.”

“Okay…” Garcia shot a worried look over her shoulder toward the sheer drop. “But you know how I feel about heights. Don’t leave me down here long.”