But given that the blip was coming from somewhere over the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, there would be no turning anywhere.
Davidson took the map from Levont, readjusted it so that Lopez could see the coordinates, then put the screen in front of the corporal.
His mouth opened, then closed as Rebecca sobbed quietly in her seat.
"Well," Lopez announced, starting his descent, "guess we are just going to have to steal a bigger airplane."
Bunny sighed and crossed her arms, forcing the pout of all pouts onto her lips. But the guy across from her seemed to care less. Weird. That usually worked on most guys. Perhaps Lt. Daniel Prenner didn't bat for her side. After the repeal of "Don't ask, don't tell," it was kind of hard to know.
"Brenda," the man coaxed.
"It is Bunny," she replied. "And I am telling you that you don't have the clearance to hear my side of the story."
"Corporal Lopez and the rest have gone AWOL after being ordered to stand down," Prenner said as if that was going to surprise her. "You've got to know how much trouble they are in."
Really? After Moscow, Slovenia, and Jordan, she should be worried about Rebecca and the rest? Please. Running around the American countryside avoiding MPs was like eating breakfast-in bed. Which is kind of why she didn't grab that repelling line from the helicopter.
She'd grown to love Rebecca like a sister and Brandt like a brother-in-law, but chasing after the Disciples? That was sheer crazy talk. Whenever the Disciples were involved, you needed to run away-as quickly as you could.
Prenner hit a key on his laptop that started cell phone footage of her and Davidson's kiss. "Clearly, you care for this man."
Bunny shrugged. "He's grown on me."
Which wasn't exactly true. There was something there, but between his aborted court martial, reinstatement, then five missions back-to-back, it had been a little hard for them to explore exactly the extent of that "something."
She closed the laptop. "Just get me my CIA handler."
Which was kind of weird to say. Her life had certainly taken a left turn since last year. During her graduate studies, the closest that she had come to interacting with the Central Intelligence Agency had been watching reruns of Covert Affairs.
Now she had her very own CIA handler.
"As I said," Prenner stated very slowly, "Emily Jannus doesn't exist."
"Of course she doesn't. Ugh." This was going to be a very long night.
Then the door opened as a woman dressed in long black gown, her hair tucked into a sleek bun, strode in.
"This is a closed interrogation," Prenner growled, but the woman put her hand out.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Emily Jannus." The woman smiled, looking like she had just stepped into an elegant cocktail party. "And Bunny. So nice to see you again."
Bunny scooted her chair over to make room for Emily, suddenly feeling underdressed for the occasion. Why did Mrs. Brandt have to go with peach?
"My understanding is that you have a few questions for Ms. Hollingford?" Emily pleasantly asked the lieutenant.
"My commander is not going to stand for this," Prenner warned.
Emily chuckled. "Who do you think held the door open for me?"
An older man in full dress uniform stepped into the room, his chest bristling with medals. "I am afraid my hands are tied. We are to cooperate fully with Ms. Jannus, or whatever her name truly is."
Bunny's CIA handler just bent her head at a cute angle, demurring to the fact Emily wasn't her real name but not giving any further details. Turning her attention from the men, Emily smiled at Bunny.
"Now, why don't you catch me up?"
"Well"-Bunny looked to the officers, not sure how much she could say in front of them-"the wackos kidnapped Brandt."
Emily pulled out a small tablet device and queued up the keyboard. "That much I know."
"Then it got weird," Bunny said, nodding to the army men. "Apparently, the military tried to pull Rebecca and Brandt's team from the pursuit."
"That I hadn't heard," Emily stated as she typed rapidly.
"Of course, they disobeyed those orders."
Emily's eyebrows went up. "Of course." She turned to the general. "Why would you pull a highly decorated Special Ops team from the search for one of their own?"
"The order came from above." Bunny noted that the general would not meet Emily's eyes. "Directly from the DoD."
"See?" Bunny asked. "Weird. It makes no sense unless...The wackos have someone pretty high up."
"What are you insinuating?" Prenner asked.
It was Emily who answered, though. Her breezy manner evaporating. Replacing it with a cool confidence. "I'm sorry, but you don't have high enough clearance for me to even approach that question."
Prenner bristled as Bunny gave him a well-deserved "I told you so" look. The lieutenant looked ready to lash out, but the general intervened, indicating that Prenner should leave. "Regs are regs."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Emily continued. "I meant both of you."
The general's brow creased, but he seemed too much of a professional to sputter in front of the CIA agent. Before they could turn from the room, Prenner's cell phone buzzed. He read the text, then flashed the message to the general.
For a moment, they didn't look like they were going to share.
"Gentlemen?" Emily asked. "Do I need to call my director?"
With a soul-deep sigh, the general's shoulders sagged. "Brandt has been located."
Bunny sat up straight in her chair. This was the best news since...well, ever.
"And?" Emily prompted.
"It looks like he is heading to the Congo."
Emily turned to Bunny, but she shook her head. "I have no idea why the wackos would take him there."
Prenner cleared his throat. "I think I might know." All eyes turned to the lieutenant. "That was the location of Brandt's last mission."
Still, it made no sense. Bunny vaguely knew Brandt and Davidson had been on the African continent, but it had sounded like a routine mission. Nothing that ran afoul of the Disciples.
"I think I've heard enough," Emily said, rising from her chair. "I'll be taking care of Ms. Hollingford."
The men didn't argue, but neither did they part to let them leave.
"Prenner goes with you," the general stated. Emily went to open her mouth, but he continued. "Otherwise, I will call your director. Then he will have to call a meeting at the White House with the Joint Chiefs. I take it you don't want to wait that long?"
A frown crossed over Emily's lips, then curved up into a smile. "Prenner it is."
With that, the men parted, and Emily whisked Bunny out into the hallway, with the lieutenant close behind. Their heels clicking on the tile floor, Bunny asked, "Where are we going?"
Emily grinned. "The Pentagon, of course."
Right. It involved Brandt and Rebecca, so of course it involved the Pentagon.
Duh.
CHAPTER 4.
Outside of Mbandaka, Democratic Republic of the Congo May 27, 5:05 p.m. (CAT, Central African Time) Brandt's head banged against the Jeep's window. Just add that to his collection of bruises. His body wanted to sink back into a drugged haze, but his mind had other plans. The next time the Jeep dipped into a huge hole in the dirt road and bounced out of it, Brandt braced, demanding that his muscles obey.
And they did. Well, at least a little bit. The paralytic must have been wearing off. Obviously, the Disciples were prepared for this fact since they had zip-tied Brandt's hands and feet.
Squinting his eyes open, Brandt took in his surroundings. Actually, he took in the enemy number first and foremost. Besides the driver and the ever-so-pleasant Disciple, there were three other men in the Jeep. All black. Not just black, but with ritualistic face scars. These weren't just any mercenaries. These men had been carrying a weapon since childhood. They had been boy soldiers who had grown up to be highly trained mercenaries.
He'd dealt with this brand of men before. Just last week, as a matter of fact. Taking in the passing scenery, Brandt realized he'd seen that too. Just last week as well. Lush jungle lay ahead as they drove through the misty, low-rolling hills of the Congo.
Why the hell would the Disciples bring him back here? Brandt's last mission didn't have anything to do with the Ten Commandments or even religion. A World Bank envoy had been kidnapped and needed extraction.
Sure, the mission had gotten bloody. Any mission in this impoverished part of the world invariably did. But what did the Disciples care about that?
Apparently a lot.
There were at least three Jeeps in front of them, and as they made a curve around a large hill, it seemed at least three Jeeps behind them. The last carrying the young woman from the plane. The Disciples had come in force.
Again, for what, though?
A zap from his molar brought Brandt back to more practical matters. All of this backcountry driving, chattering his teeth, must have fueled his transmitter. He was pinging his location, for who knew how long.
The Jeep's engine groaned as they began the steep climb up into the dense rain forest, heading toward, Brandt could only guess, the war-torn village where his last mission had culminated.
What the Disciples would do to him there was anyone's guess.
With a drug-besotted mind, Brandt tried to calculate when he'd activated his transmitter and how long it would take for his team to catch up. With a sigh, he slumped back into his seat. Even if his team had left the States the moment he had pinged them, the Disciples were at least six to eight hours ahead. Add in the time it would take to arrange transportation into the mountains, and his team would be ten hours behind.
Ten hours that the Disciples could spend torturing him.
Not even Lopez and his need for speed could make up that difference.
"We are totally going to beat them there," Lopez announced.
Rebecca raised an eyebrow. However, the other men seemed to believe the corporal.
"Don't believe me, chica, but we will," Lopez insisted.
Of course, that made no mathematical sense whatsoever. Even without her laptop, Rebecca knew they were nearly half a day behind Brandt. Granted, Lopez had made up a ton of time over the Atlantic and it had turned out to be way faster to simply land and steal another plane in Lisbon rather than wait for a refuel, but still, that left a minimum of a four-hour gap, which Rebecca couldn't see how they were going to make up.
Then she noticed the men getting parachutes out.
"No," Rebecca hissed, suddenly understanding how Lopez planned to make up the difference.
"Yes," Lopez teased, his eyes wide with anticipation. "We are coming in from the other side of the mountain and dropping directly into the village."
The corporal raised his hand for a high five, which Rebecca did not return. Talli fulfilled the action for her. The sniper actually had a smile on his face. "All's that stands between us and setting up an ambush is a little low-attitude jump. My fav."
"I...I've never...skydived," Rebecca admitted. Normally a paleo-archeologist whose specialty was genetic migration wouldn't feel ashamed about such a thing, but most PhDs weren't hanging out with Special Forces.
"Never?" Davidson asked behind her as he strapped himself into his parachute.
She shook her head.
"Dude," Lopez snorted. "What the hell were you and Brandt doing all this time?"
Rebecca's face reddened. Oh, they were doing lots of stuff, just not anything that could be mentioned in mixed company. Besides, having way too much action in their work lives, they liked their downtime to be...down.
Not up, jumping from planes.
No matter her hesitation, Davidson handed her a parachute. She studied the myriad of straps.
"No worries," he coaxed. "I'll get you hooked up. Then we'll tandem jump."
"Yeah, right," Lopez retorted as he rose from the pilot seat. Talli followed.
"Um," Rebecca stammered. "Who is going to fly the plane?"
The corporal waved his hand at the controls. "The autopilot is set to fly past the mountain and crash in Uganda."
Rebecca didn't even have time to digest that news when Lopez grabbed for her parachute. "No, Ricky. I think I'd rather have Davidson."