################################################################
0900 Hours ZULU
Remote airfield west of Belem, Brazil
"Let's get out of here!" Jack Keeter yelled as he and Beth O'Neil climbed back into the cockpit of the C-130, dodging the bullets that were being directed at them by the men who had been waiting for them upon landing.
The engines spooled up and caught, just as one of the Hummers pulled onto the runway ahead of them. "Great," Beth muttered. "What else can go wrong on this mission?" So far, they had been delayed on take off at Home Base by a faulty switch, and then weather had made it difficult to find their landing zone. But they weren't met by the agent they were there to retrieve. Not a live agent, at any rate. The jeep on the side of the runway had held only the dead body of the agent. As soon as they found the body, they were greeted by gunfire and had turned to run back inside. Now, they were trying to get away before the people responsible for killing the agent could kill *them* and take their airplane to use for drug transport - or to use as propaganda to prove that the CIA was involved in this mess, Beth wasn't sure which. Nor was she really worried about either choice at the moment. "What now?" she asked Jack, watching a second Hummer join the first.
"JATO," Keeter decided, setting the plane down the runway. "When I say so, hit the switch."
Beth watched as they came closer and closer to the Hummers, seeing the bursts of gunfire and thanking whoever was watching over them for keeping those bullets from hitting their intended targets. Just as Keeter began to pull back on the yoke, he said, "Now!", and Beth ignited the two jet engines attached to each side of the aircraft to send it soaring into the sky just over the heads of their pursuers.
She took a deep breath and sat back once they were airborne. "What is it about you and Rabb?" she wondered aloud.
Keeter grinned, obviously still on the adrenalin high. "Lucky?" he suggested.
"Incredibly so -" her eyes were caught by one of the gauges. "I just hope your luck holds out," she said. "We're losing oil pressure."
Keeter glanced at the readout as well, and saw the corresponding errors beginning in the engines as the engines began to overheat. "One of those bullets must have taken out an oil line. "Damn! We're going to have to put this baby down somewhere, Beth," he said.
An alarm began to sound, and Beth glanced to the left. "Both engines are on fire, Jack."
"Scratch getting it down," Keeter muttered, shutting down the two engines, grabbing the yoke tightly as the aircraft began to fight. Send out a call to Mama Bird and let them know we're bailing."
"Baby Duck to Mama Bird."
"This is Mama Bird, Baby Bird. What's your status? Did you retrieve the package?"
"Package was no longer operational. We have an emergency . . . Aircraft damaged . . . bail out . . ."
In the air some distance away, Allen Blaisdell frowned as he heard the static-y transmission. "Baby Duck," he said. "Take all appropriate measures. Be careful and good luck."
Keeter watched Beth flip a switch on the panel that would set off a series of explosives once the plane impacted with the ground, leaving only the tiniest pieces of airplane to be found. They grabbed their chutes as they moved down the steps and into the bay, where Keeter opened the door.
The ground was coming up quickly. "You ever jumped?" Keeter asked, making sure he had his transponder and weapon with him.
"Only in training!" she replied.
"I'll stay as close as I can. Just remember that once you're on the ground, remove the chute first thing." Beth nodded. "Let's go!"
They watched from the air as the C-130 crashed into the jungle, erupting into a massive fireball.
################################################################
1400 Hours ZULU
Blacksburg Airport
The yellow biplane flew through the air to the accompaniment of two men's delighted laughter. After doing a couple of easy maneuvers, the pilot called through the intercom, "You okay up there?"
"Fantastic!" came the delighted reply.
"You ready to give it a try?"
"Yes, sir!"
Harm released the stick. "You've got her!"
Harm sat back, alert to any sign that the former Marine Gunnery Sergeant couldn't handle the biplane. Victor made a few moves, getting used to the way the plane responded before performing a nearly perfect snap roll that surprised Harm. Victor was laughing. "Still with me, sir?" he asked.
"Barely!" Harm replied. "Not bad!"
"Why don't we try for perfect?" Victor questioned, and promptly executed another one.
"Uncle!" Harm yelled, laughing as the airplane righted and Victor turned them into a wide arc. "You've been holding out on me, Gunny!"
"Kinda hard to perform that maneuver in a Citation, Harm."
"True," Harm agreed, laughing again.
################################################################
On the ground, Harm taxied the yellow plane to the tarmac in front of what was now "Grace Aviation". As they got out of the plane, he asked, "Where did you learn to do that?" he asked.
"I'm a little afraid to tell you," Victor replied with an embarrassed grin. "You might decide not to let me fly her anymore."
"Don't worry about that. I'm thinking that you're ready to take off and land the thing. Give."
"Ever heard of Flight Sim?" Victor asked, and Harm felt his jaw drop at the mention of the computer flight simulation game.
"Flight Sim. You learned to do *that* on the computer?"
"Yeah. Flying in a Stearman, yet," he added with another grin.
"You two look like you had a good time," a young woman's voice noted as they approached the hangar.
"We did," Harm confirmed. "Victor, this is Matilda Grace. Her dad owns the place but she runs it when he's busy. Mattie, Victor Galindez."
Mattie shook Victor's hand, her grip firm. "What do I owe you for hangar rental?" Harm asked.
"Don't worry about it today," she said. "We'll settle later -" A telephone rang in the hangar, and one of the mechanics called out.
"Hey, Mattie! Phone! It's the bank!"
"Gotta go," Mattie told Harm and Victor. "See you later?" she asked Harm. "We still need to talk about you working for me."
Harm laughed and shook his head. "I would Mattie, but like I told you - I already have a job."
"Are you a pilot, Victor?"
"Still learning," Victor said, and Mattie's expression fell. "Oh. Oh well. If you change your mind, Harm -"
"I know who to call," he promised.
She looked a little uncertain. "You'll be back, though, right?"
"Whenever I can."
"Mattie!" the man called again.
"On my way!" she said, turning and running toward the hangar office.
Victor watched her go into the hangar. "How old is she?"
"Fourteen. I met her last weekend when I was up here to do some work on Sarah. She's a good kid. She asked me to do some crop-dusting for her." When Victor sniggered, Harm lifted an eyebrow. "Hey, I could do it. It's not much different from flying Sarah. Or landing or a tiny speck in the middle of the ocean."
"If you say so." He turned toward the car, but stopped as Harm glanced toward the hangar. "What?"
"I'd feel better if she would let me pay her for the hangar space. Let me talk to her again. I won't be a minute." But he was halfway to the hangar when he recognized the car coming down the road at a rapid pace, stirring up the dust behind it.
"Harm, is that -?"
"Yeah. Andy Watson," Harm confirmed, feeling a cold lump in his stomach. There was only one reason Andy would be out here. Changing course, he joined Victor as Andy brought his car to a stop and got out. "Andy. What's up?"
"Keeter and Beth went down in Brazil early this morning."
"Are they setting up a rescue mission?" Harm asked.
"Not from what I was hearing while I was at Langley this morning," Andy said.
"Company policy, Harm," Victor reminded him. "If an agent gets caught -"
Harm turned toward his Vette. "We'll just see about that."
################################################################
1500 Hours ZULU
AirWing HQ
Allen Blaisdell looked up from the desk when Harm, Victor, and Andy entered his office after a perfunctory knock on the doorframe. "What are you two doing here?" he asked Harm and Victor. "I gave you the weekend off."
"Keeter and Beth," Harm said. "That's why we're here."
Blaisdell frowned. "How did -?" he noticed Andy Watson's grimace. "Never mind. There's nothing you can do, Rabb."
"Like hell there is," Harm said. "We can go after them."
"You know the drill, Rabb. This isn't the military. You go down here, you're on your own. I'm sure O'Neil and Keeter will be picked up before long -"
"You have confirmation that they're alive then?"
"A listening post picked up a transponder signal about fifteen miles from their last reported position," Blaisdell confirmed.
"Which was?"
"Need to know, Rabb."
"I'll be damned if I'm just going to stand here and not do anything, Blaisdell. Jack Keeter's one of my oldest friends. He was flying CIA missions while still in the Navy."
"And he knew the score when he left, Rabb. Explain it, Andy."
"Sorry, Chief," Andy said. "I agree with him. I'm tired of just leaving people behind when we know they can be rescued."
Blaisdell's eyes slid from Andy to Victor. "I guess you agree too, Galindez?"
"Yes, sir. I do. I was a Marine for too many years to just leave people behind."
"Even if it compromises the mission?" another voice asked.
Harm, Victor and Andy turned around to find Deputy Director Kershaw standing in the doorway. "Kershaw," Harm said, nodding sharply. "Their mission is over. If you have any evidence that they're alive, then you have to go."
"Company policy says otherwise, Mr. Rabb," Kershaw noted.
"Maybe it's time to change that policy, sir," Blaisdell suggested, causing both Victor and Andy to stop and stare at the sudden change in attitude.
But Harm never looked away from the older man who hadn't moved from the doorway. "Jack Keeter has worked on and off for the Company for the last ten years, Mr. Kershaw. Both times that he's gone down before, he was rescued because Clayton Webb asked for help."
"Against my wishes," Kershaw said.
"Be that as it may, the precedent was set. Both Keeter and Beth O'Neil are too valuable an asset for the CIA to just leave them out there. It's not easy to find good pilots who are willing to put up with the crap that we have to put up with most days."
"I suppose if I refuse, you'll decide to play cowboy again?" Kershaw asked. "Resign and go after your friends without Company approval or support?"
"You know I will," Harm declared, his tone unwavering.
The two men stood there, eyes locked in a silent battle before Kershaw spoke again. "You made your case, Rabb. I can understand Catherine Gale's respect for your legal skills now. You must have been hell in the courtroom. Give them whatever they need, Blaisdell. Information, personnel, equipment, in-country contacts." His gaze swept over all four men. "You get one chance to get those two out of there, gentlemen. If you fail - or if any of you are captured, then I never heard of you." Without another word, he left the office.
Harm relaxed slightly and turned back to Blaisdell, who gave them a smile as he saw their expressions. "What can I say? I never liked having to leave my people behind even back in Nam. Let's get started."
################################################################
1530 Hours ZULU
Jungles of Brazil
Beth finished tying a makeshift splint around Keeter's broken left leg, looking up at his pale face. "How's that?"
"Lousy," he said.
"Sorry I'm not Florence Nightingale, but it was the best I could do with the supplies at hand."
"No. Not the splint. That's fine. It just hurts like hell," he told her, leaning back against the tree. "We can't hang around here much longer, Beth. Those guys who were after us aren't going to give up that easily."
"You have any ideas?"
"Belem's about fifty miles to the east -"
"Yeah," Beth agreed. "But how are we supposed to get there? Your leg is broken, remember?"
"So find me something to use as a crutch. A sturdy piece of tree limb if we can find one."
"If *we* find one?" Beth questioned, hands on her hips as she stared down at him. "I'll look. Stay there."
"Yes, ma'am," he drawled, wincing as he moved his injured leg. "Think it would be safe to turn on the transponder?" he asked, looking at the box.
"We could - for a few minutes, maybe. But any longer than that -" Beth grunted as she broke a two inch branch with her foot, "and we'll be risking the bad guys using it to home in on us." She tore some more of the parachute silk they'd brought with them to tie a smaller piece of the branch to the top and padding it. "It's a bet that our own people won't be looking for it. Once we bailed, we were on our own."
"Care to bet on that, Beth?" Keeter asked, and grinned when she turned to look at him.
"What do you know that I don't?"
"I know that Harm's not going to just sit around and leave us out here without a hell of a fight."
"Harm might be a damn good lawyer who can charm the birds out of the trees, but even he can't change company policy, Jack."
"How much you want to bet?" he asked, still smiling.
"Jack -"
"Twenty?" he suggested.
"You're on. Of course, if I'm wrong, I won't be able to collect."
"At least you'll have the satisfaction of being able to know I was wrong about something for once."
Beth snorted with laughter. "For once???" She bent down. "Come on, Jack. Let's go see if we can find someone sympathetic that will help us."
With a groan, Keeter used Beth's arm and the makeshift crutch to get to his feet, keeping his weight off of his broken leg. "I hope your Spanish is better than mine. I know just enough to get slapped in a bar."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Beth sighed as they set off with his arm around her shoulders. "Besides, they speak Portuguese, not Spanish."
"Oh, well, now *that* I'm fluent in," Keeter joked.
"Of all the guys I could have gotten stuck with in this situation, I had to get the one who thinks he's a stand up comic," Beth said, shaking her head.
"At least it won't be boring," he replied.
################################################################
"O'Neil and Keeter were on a mission to extract an operative similar to the mission you and she flew into Libya, Rabb," Blaisdell explained. "Apparently something went wrong. In their last transmission, O'Neil said that the package was no longer operational and that the aircraft had been seriously damaged."
"No longer operational means dead, right?" Harm asked.
"Yes," was Blaisdell's short reply.
"Where were they?" Andy asked, glancing at the map that Blaisdell had spread out before them
Drawing a red circle on the map, Blaisdell answered, "The airfield was here - their last position was here. The airplane crashed and exploded on impact - here."
"What were the winds in the area at the time?" Harm wanted to know.
"From West to East at about ten knots, I think."
Harm studied the map, and then pointed to a location. "This is where they would most likely have come down, and if I know Keeter, he'll be heading for the first town of any size that they can reach. If neither of them is injured too badly, anyway."
"You said there was a transponder signal, sir?" Victor asked.
"Yes. And Rabb's right. It was in that area. But since then they haven't heard anything."
"Well, that would only make sense," Harm pointed out. "You can't run the transponder all the time. It makes you an easy target for the people that you're running from."
"Anyone have any ideas on how to do this?"
"Who's our contact down there?" Harm asked, arms across his chest.
"Ramon Benavides. He's an occasional guide into the rainforest."
"Can he be trusted?" Victor asked.
"As far as we know, yes."
"How about this?" Harm suggested. "The three of us go down there as American tourists, wanting to camp in the rainforest. We can fly the Citation down there, retrieve Beth and Keeter and bring them home."
"Sounds like a plan to me," Victor said.
"The three of you?"
"You're not going to leave me out of this, Chief," Andy said. "I can operate the tracking equipment if nothing else. Keep an eye out for their signal."
"Okay. Let's do it. Take the new Citation. The sooner you get down there, the better. I'll contact Benavides and set up your tour of the Amazon rain forest from Belem." He gave Harm a warning glare. "You'd better bring that airplane and all of your team back in one piece, Rabb, or there'll be some serious consequences."
################################################################
2400 Hours Local
Airport
Belem, Brazil
Ramon Benavides was a thin, wiry little man who greeted them at the airport moments after they landed the Cessna Citation 10. "Senores, I am Ramon Benavides. Welcome to Brazil."
Harm extended his hand. "David Harmon," he said, using the cover name that he'd decided on. Since he and Victor had both been involved in previous operations in South America, it had been agreed that the precaution of aliases would be a good idea. Turning to Victor, Harm said, "Tom Vincente and Andy Watson."
Ramon shook each man's hand. "I hope you have your papers in order, Senor Harmon. Customs is this way." He led the way into a small building, where all three men showed their Passports and IDs. Of course, Harm and Victor's were fake, but they were CIA fakes, and easily passed muster.
Ten minutes later, they put their bags into Ramon's beat up old Land Rover and got inside. "I have secured three connecting rooms for you at the Palacio Hotel here in Belem," he informed them. "We can set out early tomorrow morning to find your friends."
"Have you heard any further signals from them?" Andy asked, sitting forward in the back seat.
"Si. Every few hours there is another signal. I have the locations of those contacts on a map. I will show it to you once we are at the hotel."
"At least one of them is still alive," Victor said.
"They're both alive," Harm insisted. "And we'll find them."
"The rainforest is a vast place, Senor," Ramon pointed out. "Difficult to search. One party can easily pass another within a hundred meters and not know anyone else is there. And since Garcia's men will be looking for them as well -"
"Garcia?" Harm questioned.
"Miguel Garcia. He is a local drug lord. Very powerful man and a dangerous one. Your CIA sent someone down here to investigate reports that Garcia had strengthened his ties to terrorists."
"What happened to the operative?"
"I have not seen him for a week. Rumor says that he is dead. That he was killed after calling for extraction by C-130 because he had some evidence that needed transport."
"Why a C-130?" Andy wondered. "That's a lot of evidence."
"He didn't send the message," Harm said. "Or if he did, he was killed right after. Garcia's people needed that plane for whatever they were planning. Where's the airplane now?"
"It was incinerated by the fire when it exploded," Ramon informed him. "There was not enough left to identify it as a C-130. Garcia's men have gone over the area." He pulled up outside of a picturesque hotel that reminded Harm of the one in Ciudad del Este, but he quickly put that thought out of his mind. He had a mission to focus on. Right now, finding Keeter and Beth were the most important things on his mind.
################################################################
"I need to stop and rest for minute," Keeter told Beth, dropping onto a fallen tree. He was pale and Beth was becoming more and more concerned about him. Placing a hand to his forehead, she sighed. "You're running a fever."
"Really? I hadn't noticed," he said. "I'll be fine. We need to turn the transponder on for a minute or two."
Beth flipped the switch, watching as the red indicator light flashed in a regular pattern. "Done." Removing her backpack, she pulled out the canteen that they had filled back at a stream and put some of their water purification tablets in. "Here. I know it tastes terrible, but you need to stay hydrated.
Keeter opened the canteen and took a drink of the brackish water, grimacing. "I don't think I'm going to make it, Beth," he said, his eyes on the darkness around them. "All I'm doing is keeping you back."
"That's nonsense, Jack."
"No. It's not. If it wasn't for me, you'd be in Belem by now. I want you to go on. I'll stay here. I have my weapon for protection -"
"There is no way I'm going anywhere without you, Jack Keeter," Beth declared. The man's words were almost as troubling as his physical injuries. Keeter wasn't the type to give up anymore than Harm was. "Besides, I'm not about to have to face Harm and explain to him that I left you here."
"Thought you didn't believe he'll come after us?" Keeter pointed out.
"You seem pretty sure about it."
"Several years ago, when I was still in the Navy, I did some air work for the Company. A couple of times, I had a problem. Planes went down, I was captured. Both times, Harm came to find me."
"He's a good friend."
"Yeah. And he'll be here this time. Even if he has to come on his own, he'll be here."
"Then you don't want to disappoint him, do you?"
"Guess not." He took a firm grip on his crutch and pulled himself slowly to stand again as Beth shut down the transponder.
"Which direction?" she asked.
Keeter did a quick mental calculation before turning south. "This way."
"I still wish you would tell me what you're doing," Beth said, putting on the backpack again and joining him. Every time they stopped and turned on the transponder, they changed direction of forward movement. She had tried to think back over everything to see a pattern, but as far as she could tell, there *was* no pattern.
"Evasion tactic. If Garcia's people are homing in on the signal, they'll think we'll continue in a straight line. By detouring to another direction, it confuses them. They never know where we'll turn up," Keeter explained.
"But that means Harm won't be able to find us, either," Beth pointed out.
Keeter managed to give her a grin. "We'll see about that."
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0130 Hours ZULU
Palacio Hotel
Belem, Brazil
Harm studied the map that Ramon had spread out on the table of his hotel room as the others did the same. "These are all of the locations?" he asked.
"Si," Ramon nodded as his cell phone rang. "Excuse me, please." He moved away to take the call.
"What do you think?" Andy asked Harm. "The pattern makes no sense. The locations are all over the place, not in a straight line here -"
"They wouldn't be," Victor said. "Garcia's men would expect them to make a straight line to Belem or any town where they could get help. They're trying to confused Garcia, make them wonder where they'll turn up next. And by the time Garcia's people get there, they've moved in another direction."
"That's going to make it almost impossible for *us* to find them isn't it?" Andy asked Harm as Ramon returned.
"That was the listening post. They just received another two minute transmission from the transponder." Using a pen, he marked the location on the map. "They were here a few minutes ago."
"That's about twenty clicks due west of here," Victor noted.
"But if what you two just said is true, they won't head in this direction," Andy said.
"So in which direction did they go?" Ramon asked.
Harm placed his finger on the first reported transponder contact, sliding it along the paper to the second, then to the third, slowly beginning to smile. At the last point, he said, "They went South," he announced. "Which proves Keeter's alive, at least."
"And how do you know this?" Ramon questioned.
"There was a game that Keeter and I used to play. His evasion strategy was - unique. But I managed to figure it out. He'll head south for about a mile or so and then turn back to the east." He studied the map. "We can't wait until tomorrow morning, Ramon. If one of Garcia's men figures this out, they'll get to them first."
"Going into the jungle at night is a dangerous game, Senor," Ramon pointed out.
"They're out there," Harm reminded the man. To Victor and Andy, he said, "Get your gear. Andy, better get the receiver out and turned on so we'll be ready the next time they turn it on."
"On my way."
"I cannot talk you out of this, Senor?" Ramon wanted to know.
"I wouldn't even try if I were you, Ramon," Victor said.
Ramon lifted his shoulders. "Very well. We will leave as soon as you are ready."
TBC