Black Rain

“Who are these people?” he asked. “What is this all about?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“They’re mercenaries,” Verhoven explained. “Eastern European, from the sounds of their accents. I’ve heard some Croatian dialect, but mostly German. The leader is older, probably an Ex–Stasi crew chief, who had to flee when the wall came down.”

“Stasi?” McCarter asked.

“Old East German secret police. Like the KGB. Only worse.”

“What the hell are they doing out here?” McCarter demanded. He turned back to Danielle. “What the hell is going on?”

Danielle stared at him, her worst fears now realized, her mind willing him not to ask her anything else. They didn’t need that. “We need to be calm,” she told him. “We’ll find a way to get out of this.”

Whether McCarter believed her or simply sensed that this would be a bad time for a discussion, she didn’t know. But he said nothing more.

She looked around at the group. “Anyone else?”

“Only Devers,” Verhoven replied.

“Where is he?”

“With them.”

Danielle scanned the clearing, suddenly realizing that she hadn’t seen Devers during the attack. “Doing what?”

“Getting paid, would be my guess,” Verhoven said.

So Devers had sold them out. The why was easy, the how more difficult. Devers was a low-level employee from Research Division. He had little access to the technical side of things and couldn’t possibly understand what they were after. In fact, it made little sense at all, until she began to realize that Devers must have been involved with the project from a distance ever since the word go. Gibbs and Moore had consulted with him regarding the Chollokwan and other tribes as soon as they’d decided to come down to Brazil. And he’d had several extensive consultations with Dixon and his team. She doubted that Devers knew what they were after, but it didn’t take much to realize it was important. Just as Hawker had said, the presence of her and Moore working the case on the ground level was enough.

“That greedy son of a bitch,” she said.

Verhoven nodded. “He is. No doubt. And when I get my hands on him, I’ll make him bleed for every penny.”

Danielle sat back, trying to figure out a way to give Verhoven that chance, watching as the man who’d slapped her and two of his men walked toward them.

“My name is Kaufman,” he said. “I’d like to give you my apologies for what happened here this morning. It wasn’t supposed to occur like this. But from here on out, you have my word that you’ll be treated well.”

“You’d be wise to let us go,” Danielle insisted, her cheek still burning from his slap.

“Wise?” he repeated. “No, I don’t think that would be the word. But eventually, you’ll be released unharmed—as long as you cooperate. In the meantime, I need the freedom to operate unhindered. And some help from Ms. Briggs.”

As Kaufman’s soldiers moved to release Susan, McCarter became alarmed. “What do you want with her?”

The soldiers unlocked her cuffs and pulled her to her feet.

“What do you want?” she said, meekly echoing McCarter.

“You have nothing to be afraid of,” Kaufman insisted. “We just want to borrow your expertise for a moment.”

One of the soldiers took Susan by the arm and dragged her off. She looked desperately back toward McCarter, but there was nothing he could do.

Kaufman led Susan to a makeshift table in the form of an overturned crate. He offered her some food, which she refused, and then some water. She hesitated.

“It’s okay,” he insisted, taking a sip of the water himself. “It’s not Pellegrino, but it’s drinkable.”

Susan pulled back at first but then accepted. Her throat was very dry.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said, his tone calm and soothing. “The events of this morning were an aberration, a mistake.” He pointed to the soldiers. “These men reacted somewhat overzealously and I wasn’t here to stop it. But now that I am, I can promise you it won’t happen again.”

She wasn’t sure what to make of this. “They killed people.”

“I know,” Kaufman acknowledged. “That’s what they do. But with the situation secure, they won’t have to make that choice again.”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

“I wish I could tell you,” he said. “But that would make things worse for you.”

She spoke honestly. “I don’t want to help you.”

“I can understand that,” he replied. “But I need your help. If you cooperate with me, I’ll give your friends food and water and a chance to live out the remainder of their lives. If you don’t, then I have no choice but to force you. They’ll go thirsty and hungry until you change your mind.”

She looked down at the table, reeling and dizzy from everything that she’d witnessed and strangely finding comfort in Kaufman’s reassuring voice. She was smart enough to realize that he wanted just that, but she couldn’t stop the feeling. She didn’t want to make him angry, didn’t want to hear any more gunfire or see any more blood.

“Ready to listen?” he asked.

She looked up at him and nodded reluctantly.