Ghost Flight

94

Jaeger turned and dry-retched. He found himself shaking and hurting in a way he’d never experienced before, not even during the worst of the torture he’d endured at Black Beach. He dropped off the chair, his body folding in on itself, but even as he lay on the floor, he couldn’t drag his eyes away from that earth-shattering image.

Visions kept crashing through his head, ones so tormented and dark he felt as if his skull were about to explode. It was a long time that he lay there beside the desk, curled into a ball. Tears rolled silently down his cheeks, but they barely registered.

He lost track of time.

He felt spent. Totally void.

The noise that finally brought him back to his senses was that of the door to the bedroom opening.

Somehow he’d made it back into his chair, and was slumped before the desk and the screen.

He turned.

Irina Narov was standing behind him. She had a small towel wrapped around her midriff, the top of which was fastened just above her breasts. She must have been for a shower after her run, and beneath the towel Jaeger didn’t doubt that she was naked.

He didn’t care.

‘Once, when trapped in the jungle treetops, I explained the reasons why two people may get intimate,’ Narov remarked, in that odd, flat, matter-of-fact way of hers. ‘Such close proximity can be necessary for three reasons,’ she repeated. ‘One: practical necessity. Two: to share body warmth. Three: sex.’ She smiled. ‘Right now, I should like it to happen for reason number three.’

Jaeger didn’t reply. He wasn’t particularly surprised. He’d realised by now that Narov had a near-total lack of ability to read other people’s emotions. Even facial expressions and body language seemed strangely lost on her.

Jaeger moved the iPad to where she could see the image on the screen.

Narov’s hand went to her mouth in shock. ‘Oh, sweet Jesus—’

‘The date on the newspaper,’ Jaeger cut in, his voice sounding as if it were coming from the end of a very long and very dark tunnel. ‘It’s five days old.’

‘Oh my God,’ Narov gasped. ‘They’re alive.’

Their eyes locked across the space between them.

‘I will get dressed,’ Narov continued, without the vaguest hint of any awkwardness or embarrassment. ‘There is work to be done.’

She turned towards the door, but paused, flicking a troubled glance back at Jaeger. ‘I confess – I did not just go for a run. I also had a rendezvous to make… I met with someone who believes he knows where Leticia Santos is being held.’

‘You did what?’ Jaeger asked, trying to shake the confusion out of his head. ‘Where? And with who, for Christ’s sake? And why didn’t you warn—’

‘You would not have wanted to meet with them,’ Narov cut in. ‘Not if you knew who they are.’

‘Bloody try me!’ Jaeger snarled. He jabbed a finger at the image on the screen. ‘A lead to Leticia – that could take me back to them!’

‘I know. I know that now,’ Narov protested. ‘But an hour ago – I had no idea they were alive.’

Jaeger rose to his feet. There was real menace in his stance now. ‘So tell me – who the hell was at your secret meeting, and what did they tell you?’

Narov took a step back. She was clearly on her guard, but for once she was bereft of her knife. ‘One of the nearest landfalls to Bermuda is Cuba. Cuba is still Russian territory, as far as the Kremlin is concerned. I met with one of my contacts—’

‘You met with a bloody SVR agent? You shared news of what we’re doing with them?’

Narov shook her head. ‘A Russian mafiosa. A drug-runner, or rather one of the drug-running kingpins. They have their network spread right across the Caribbean. They know everything and everybody. They have to, to be able to run their cocaine through these islands.’ She glared at Jaeger resentfully. ‘But if you wish to find a devil, sometimes you have to do a deal with the devil himself.’

‘So – what did he tell you?’ Jaeger rasped.

‘Two weeks ago, a group of Eastern Europeans turned up in Cuba. They started throwing money around and partying like crazy. Nothing so unusual. But two things came to the notice of my contact. One, they were mercenaries. Two, they had a woman they were holding captive.’ Defiance blazed in Narov’s eyes. ‘That woman – she is Brazilian. And her last name – it is Santos.’

Jaeger’s eyes searched Narov’s features for a long moment. Oddly, as part of her complex psychological make-up, she seemed incapable of telling a lie. She could play a part to perfection, but with someone she trusted the truth would invariably out.

‘Okay,’ he growled, ‘screw how you found them.’ His gaze went back to the image on his iPad screen. ‘First we find Leticia, and then…’

A look had come into Jaeger’s eyes – one of ice-cold, steely calm. He had his team, he had a lead – and more importantly, he had the world and his family to save.

He turned back to Narov. ‘Pack your bags. We’re going on a journey.’

‘We are,’ Narov confirmed. ‘You: Will Jaeger. And me. It’s time we went hunting.’