Chapter Two

Donovan leaned back against the inside hull of the Boeing 767 Military Transport.  No matter how many transports he'd flown in, its loud hum never failed to give him a headache.  He tried to will the pain away as he watched Jake stuff the side pockets of his cargo pants with extra clips of ammo.  They were both wearing the standard 100% cotton rip-stop, black commando sweaters, cargo pants and jungle combat boots.  A jungle survival pack was also issued, containing a bowie knife, sheathed at their hips, a small first aide kit, a canteen of water and combat rations.  Hell, he didn't plan to be out in the jungle long enough to feel the need to eat that crap.

"You okay, Frank?" Jake asked, sitting next to him on the bench seat that lined the sidewall of the plane. 

"As I can be," he replied, he replied irritably.

"Have you really given her up for dead?" Jake asked out of the blue. 

Donovan sensed something was on Jake's mind.  "Ye...no...I really don't know.  If Espinosa wants information she's not willing to give, chances are he's beaten her to death by now.  It's been hours since that video was made."

"I won't believe that," Jake stated, emphatically. 

"Is there something you need to tell me?" he asked, frowning.

"When we first saw the video, I didn't recognize her," Jake said, hesitantly.

"What are you saying, Jake?"

"We went through Quantico together.  She's naturally a blonde; the auburn hair threw me.  With the bruises and the dyed hair...I didn't recognize her."  His intense brown eyes conveyed his concern for his friend.  "She's worth saving, Frank."

He sighed and rubbed his temples.  First Alex berated him and now Jake just naturally assumed he wouldn't give it his 100 percent because he thinks it's a suicide mission.  Will they never learn?  "Look, Jake.  I have every intention of bringing her and us back alive.  Just don't loose sight of the fact that we may be too late."

"Call Maria.  Have her help Larissa clean up," Jorge ordered.

"Why?  First you beat and torture the puta, and now you wish to take care of her?" Miguel questioned, annoyed.

"Do not ever speak of her that way again," Jorge threatened through clenched teeth.

"You still love her?  Even after her betrayal?  She's DEA, amigo," Miguel reminded him. 

Jorge put a finger under her chin and tilted it upward and smiled slyly at the DEA agent.   "It was a good performance, querida."

"What are you talking about, Jorge?" she demanded weakly.  Fallon watched the handsome Colombian closely through her good eye.  He was not tall by any means, but what he lacked in height, he more than made up in intelligence and confidence.

"Miguel, do not make me ask again.  Call Maria," he commanded before turning his attention back to Fallon.  "You need not worry about revealing the traitor, for it was he who betrayed you." 

"What do you want, Jorge?"

"In time, all will be clear, Larissa."  He touched her bruised and bleeding cheek before leaving the room.

Fallon stared at the floor, her mind racing, trying to fathom what Jorge might have planned.  If it were true, that it was Roberto that had revealed who she was...was he dead, then?  If he was, why didn't Jorge kill her?  He must know she cost him millions in the last four months.  What did he think he would gain by sending that video to the DEA?

"Dios!," Maria exclaimed as she entered the room.  "Larissa, what is the meaning of this?  Are you badly injured?"  She knelt in front of her, setting a basin of water on the floor next to the chair. 

"I don't think so, Maria," Fallon answered.  She sensed the anguish the young Hispanic woman was feeling.  "Can you untie me, please?"

"No, I can not," she replied shaking her head.  "Miguel forbids it."

"I understand," Fallon acknowledged, sighing heavily.  "Thank you for helping me."

"De nada," she replied with a small smile.

"Agent Donovan, we'll be landing in Bogotá in a five minutes," the pilot's voice announced through the intercom.

"We'll be meeting Colonel Sandoval when we land.  We'll leave directly for Bucaramanga in this baby," Frank said, kicking the tire of the green Hummer. 

"Will we be getting any assistance?" Jake wondered.

"Doubtful.  Agent Dumas was undercover without the permission of the authorities.  No matter what the political stance; they don't much care for our government interference."  He felt the plane making its descent and felt the odd flutter in his stomach he often felt during landings.

"Colonel Sandoval," Donovan greeted aloofly, extending a hand.

"Señor Donovan," he acknowledged.

Donovan's eyes narrowed at the Colonel's obvious disregard for his government status.  "Sir, we understand your reluctance to get involved, however, we will not tolerate any interference in our mission."

"I assure you, Señor, we have no wish to bother with you at all," he stated, matter-of-factly.

Donovan shot the hateful man a stern look and turned his attention to Jake as the Hummer was driven down the cargo ramp.  "Get in...we have over 75 miles to cover before nightfall."

Jake didn't need to be told twice; he hurried to the vehicle and climbed in the passenger side.  "The Colonel didn't try to hide his irritation," he commented once Frank was seated behind the wheel.

"No, he didn't."  Donovan started the Hummer's engine and left the Bogotá airport behind in a cloud of dust.

Fallon struggled against the ropes that bound her arms and legs to the chair, but her energy failed her.  Maria had brought her a glass of water to quench her thirst, with Miguel's permission, after she had tended to her wounds.  Every inch of her body was in pain and was getting worse by the moment.  She was thankful that the swelling around her left eye was starting to subside and she was now able to see through a narrow slit.

She heard voices outside the door and strained to hear them more clearly.  She could hear Miguel speaking with someone, but she couldn't hear his voice plainly.  Miguel mentioned the videotape sent to DEA headquarters and an extraction team was on the way and that Jorge sent instructions to send some men to intercept them.

"Damn," she swore, hating herself for endangering fellow agents.  Why in the hell are they sending a team in?  Any fool in charge would write me off for dead.

"JORGE!" she screamed, demanding attention, which she got when the door flew open and Miguel glared at her.

"Cierre para arriba, puta!" He shouted.

Fallon watched silently as Jorge brought the butt of his gun down on the back of Miguel's head and the thug slumped to the floor.  He kicked Miguel's ribs roughly, turning him onto his back.  "I told you never to speak of her that way.  Now, get up and get that job done."

"Yes, Jorge," Miguel said, struggling to his feet.

"What job?" she asked when Miguel had left.

"You are about to be rescued, cara," he said with a sly smile.  "However, I think that event will be delayed, somewhat."

"What have you done, Jorge?" she demanded.

"It is no concern of yours, my beautiful Larissa," he said, before he kissed her bruised lips.

She wrenched her face away.  "You make me sick, Jorge.  Let those agents go.  Kill me if you must, but let them go."

He laughed wildly.  "But, querida, that was not the arrangement."

"What arrangement are you talking about?"

He just tsk-tsk'd her and left her alone in the empty room to worry over her fate and the fate of the team sent to rescue her.