Hostage Zero

“Wait a second,” Jonathan said.

Harvey shook his head. “No.”

No easy way existed to jam fabric into the ballistic pathway of a bullet. Josie howled like a tortured animal as Harvey stuffed first the entry wound and then the exit. The very thought of it churned Jonathan’s stomach.

Josie lay soaked in sweat and heaving for breath when it was all done. He’d nearly bitten through his lower lip. “ Dios mio,” he moaned.

Jonathan stroked his hair. “It’s over now. That should slow the bleeding.”

“Then maybe I can live?”

Harvey shot a glare.

“Maybe,” Jonathan said. “But Josie, you have to tell me what you did. After you do that, we can give you a shot for the pain.”

Josie locked eyes with Jonathan. They shimmered with fear and shame. “A man came to me,” he said. “He knew of our work together in the past. He had pictures of you. All three of you.”

Jonathan’s heart skipped. No one knew they were coming. “Who was this man?”

“I don’t know him.”

“You know his name,” Jonathan said, his heart heavy with disappointment. “I know it, too, but I need you to say it. Please don’t lie to me. Not now.”

Tears tracked from the corners of the little man’s eyes. “I don’t know how he found me,” he said. “He approached me on the street, showed me a picture of my family, and told me that if I saw any of you-he showed me your pictures-I was to call him and tell him.”

“Tell him what?”

“That I saw you, I suppose.”

Boxers had rejoined them. He stood at his full height, allowing his shadow to keep the sun out of Jose’s eyes.

“He threatened my family,” Jose said.

Jonathan understood now. “What did he want?”

The last of the resistance went away. Jonathan saw real remorse. Genuine regret. “He knew that I was raising an attack force. He guessed that it was for you.” He tried a friendly smile. “I’m not the liar I used to be. He wanted me to kill you.”

Jonathan gave a wry chuckle. “With the people I hired to help me?”

Josie closed his eyes against another wave of agony. “It would have pained me,” he said after it passed. “He had pictures of my family. He was going to kill them.”

“What makes you think we won’t?” Boxers asked.

Jonathan didn’t like the question, didn’t like the tone, and didn’t like the implication. But he showed none of it.

Jose smiled. “You are here to rescue a child,” he said. “People who rescue children don’t kill them.”

Bingo, Jonathan thought. In fact, a Silver Star citation posted on the wall at Unit headquarters at Fort Bragg gave testimony to the lengths Boxers would go to protect children.

Jonathan cranked his head to look up at Boxers’ silhouette. “Get on the horn with Mother Hen and have her scan the screens. Make sure we’re still alone.”

Boxers backed off a few feet and keyed his microphone. Jonathan tuned him out. “I need to know everything, Josie. Every detail. Start with his name.”

The little man squinted against the sun. “I knew who he was as soon as I saw him. They call him El Matador. He is very feared by the people here in the mountains, and he is allowed by the policia to do whatever he wants. He kills people, Mr. Jones. His last name is Ponder. First name Michael, I think. No, it’s a different name that sounds like Michael. I don’t know.”

Jonathan didn’t know what to say. This mission had barely begun, yet the battle plan had already been shredded.

“I did it to save my family,” Josie repeated. Another wave of pain rolled through his gut. And he tensed against it. “It was never my plan to betray you, Mr. Jones. You must know that.”

Boxers’ shadow returned. “We’re alone,” he reported.

“Good to know,” Jonathan said. To Josie: “Did you even look for the boy we’re trying to find?”

Jose’s eyes cleared. “ Si. I found him.”

Jonathan shot a look to Boxers, and the Big Guy retreated to one of the ancient Chevy Blazers that Josie had brought for transportation. He returned with a plastic laminated map that was covered with grease-pencil markings. Jonathan unfolded the map and held it so Josie could see it. “Show me.”

Josie took a moment to study it and orient himself. “We are right here,” he said, leaving a bloody dot on the map. He pointed to another spot. “This is where the boy is. You cannot drive to it, and you cannot fly to it. You have to walk.”

“How do you know this is the place?”

“The boy you are looking for has very blond hair, yes?”

“Yes.”

Josie pointed to yet another spot on the map. “Everybody knows that Ponder has a permanent camp here. It’s a-how do you say it? — stage area.”

“Staging area,” Jonathan corrected. “For what?”

“For food and supplies for his factories. They gather the materials there, and then move them out into the mountains to the factories.”

“How many factories are there?”

Jose shrugged. “I don’t know. No one knows. Many. But one of the men who works there is easily bought. He told me that a blond-haired boy was brought to this staging area two days ago. He was-how do you say it? — asleep, but not normal sleep.”

“Unconscious,” Jonathan helped.

“Yes, exactly. When he woke up, they put him in a truck and drove him into the woods.”