Part 15 (1/2)

”Yeah.” Cav nodded when the general offered him another shot. ”Absolutely.”

He wrapped his fingers around the gla.s.s and smiled again for the general, who had clearly been given advance notice of his arrival by Maung Aye.

Cav's Burmese was spotty, and given there were about a hundred different dialects in Myanmar, what he did did know wasn't going to help him out very much. The general wasn't much better equipped to speak English, but it didn't matter. Their common language was greed and money. The promise of a know wasn't going to help him out very much. The general wasn't much better equipped to speak English, but it didn't matter. Their common language was greed and money. The promise of a lot lot of money. of money.

He extended the letter Maung Aye had provided, then stood in silence, arms folded over his chest, while the general read it. The amount of money that had exchanged hands between Windle and the commerce minister, plus the promise of under-the-table kickbacks, had bought his pa.s.sage to the Mogok mines. By the time Maung Aye discovered the account on which he'd written a check was bogus, he and Carrie Granger would be well away from here. Or dead.

In the meantime, greed and Windle's reputation-which the commerce minister had no doubt researched even before meeting with him-had given him carte blanche to explore the mines. The letter instructed the general to allow an up-close-and-personal inspection of the operation, because HI was supposedly contemplating infusing it with millions in investment capital.

Love of money. The root of all evil. And the means to save Carrie Granger from rotting in this h.e.l.l on earth.

When the general handed the letter back with a nod, Cav breathed a silent sigh of relief. Another hurdle jumped.

The general turned to his attendant, who promptly presented a serving tray filled with an a.s.sortment of food.

”Hatamin sa pi bi la?” Have you eaten? Have you eaten?

”Mahou' pabu.” No No, Cav said, getting the gist of the offer and knowing enough Burmese to decline. ”But later. First, business,” he added in English and gestured, indicating he wished to leave the tent and tour the operation.

His host nodded and said something to the aide, who quickly produced a hard hat and handed it to Cav.

”Chezube.” Cav added a nod to his thanks. After settling the battered gray hard hat on his head and slipping on his shoes and shades, he followed the general out into the sweltering heat.

Even though he was prepared for what he would see, it was all he could do to keep from knocking the heads of the guards and inciting an insurrection. But the guards and the guns and the dogs numbered too many. Even though the slave laborers outnumbered their captors ten to one, in their poor physical condition they were no match for the Junta.

Young men, old men, women, and children, all emaciated and covered in grime, hauled dirt and rocks in rickety wheelbarrows over steep, narrow paths. Others disappeared into the narrow mine opening carved into the mountain, hauling buckets hanging from poles balanced on their stooped shoulders.

Metal clinked against stone as twenty or so people worked the flumes along the edge of an open pit. Carrie was among them, laboring to lift heavy, screen-bottomed trays out of murky water, then balance them on the edge of the flume in order to roll the stones trapped on the screen with their bare hands and search for the precious bloodred rubies.

Even as she worked, head down, Cav knew she was watching him. He felt the desperation of her gaze on the back of his head like a tractor beam from twenty yards away. He wished he could give her some a.s.surance that he was here to help her, but he couldn't risk blowing his plan sky high. He'd taken enough of a chance mouthing her name just before he'd ducked into the tent.

He played the part of the cold, calculating investor, nodding in approval when the general explained the operation in a surprisingly understandable dialogue made up of Burmese, broken English, hand signals, and a little Indonesian thrown in for good measure. They spent two hours tromping along the edge of the open pits, into the mouth of the cave, and along the a.s.sembly line of workers and the dozen or so cages that acted as their sleeping quarters.

The tour served three purposes. It put the general at ease with Cav's presence in the camp, and it gave Cav an opportunity to do a complete recon. It also left Cav's scent all over the place, which would slow down the dogs if they used them to track them when they blew this place.

At the end of the second hour the sun was starting to set and Cav had seen what he needed to see. One road leading in. Same road leading out. A lot of thick, mountainous jungle in between.

It was time to put phase two into play and hope to h.e.l.l he could keep on his timetable. Everything hinged on timing.

”Thirsty.” He tipped his hand up to his mouth to mimic taking a drink. ”Hungry,” he added, patting his stomach. ”We can finish the tour tomorrow morning.”

The general nodded that he understood and turned back toward his tent.

Cav stopped him with a hand on his arm, then grinned a man-to-man grin, propped his sungla.s.ses on top of his head, and cupped his crotch. His request was unmistakable. He wanted s.e.x.

The general's smile was lascivious. This man was no stranger to depravity.

”Belao'le?” Cav asked. How much? How much?

The general shrugged and swept out a hand that encompa.s.sed the entire workforce, indicating that for the right price Cav could have his pick. A woman. A man. A child.

Cav controlled the urge to shoot the twisted b.a.s.t.a.r.d with his own gun.

”Woman.” He pressed open palms to his chest.

When the general shared a lewd smile and dispatched his aide to select a woman, Cav stopped him again. This was the tricky part.

”Anglo?” he asked.

The general's congenial smile turned to a frown.

Don't want me anywhere near the American woman, do you, you slimy b.a.s.t.a.r.d? Carrie Granger's arrest and sentencing had been a mistake, one the government honchos had found out about too late to fix. Now all they wanted was to hide any evidence that it had ever happened, to avoid an international incident. And, of course, to get some work out of her while they kept her alive, just in case she might be of future use as a diplomatic p.a.w.n. Carrie Granger's arrest and sentencing had been a mistake, one the government honchos had found out about too late to fix. Now all they wanted was to hide any evidence that it had ever happened, to avoid an international incident. And, of course, to get some work out of her while they kept her alive, just in case she might be of future use as a diplomatic p.a.w.n.

”Belao'le?” Cav repeated, pulled his wallet out, and peeled off several bills.

When the general showed wary interest, Cav added to the stack and kept adding until the general's greed took priority over his fear of possible reprisal. After all, his commanding officers weren't here. They didn't need to know.

Cav drew a breath of relief when, with a crisp nod, the general pocketed the bills and nodded to his aide, who trotted toward the woman whose life wouldn't be worth a plug nickel if this op unraveled.

Four.

All of Carrie's senses jumped into overdrive.

Something was happening.

The American-after hearing more snippets of conversation she'd decided he was definitely definitely American-had been touring the labor camp and mine site for the better part of the afternoon. Blood pounding with adrenaline and fear, she'd made two unsuccessful attempts to get his attention, pulling back each time for fear of being caught. And now the general's aide was heading toward her. American-had been touring the labor camp and mine site for the better part of the afternoon. Blood pounding with adrenaline and fear, she'd made two unsuccessful attempts to get his attention, pulling back each time for fear of being caught. And now the general's aide was heading toward her.

Her heart went haywire as she glanced at the American. His gaze was intent on her the entire time, almost like he was warning her. To what? Stay silent? Stay put? To do as she was told? What What was he trying to tell her? Or, in her desperation, was she merely imagining it? was he trying to tell her? Or, in her desperation, was she merely imagining it?

He didn't make any gestures. His lips didn't move. He just stood by the general's side, quietly watching her. When the aide reached her and motioned with the barrel of his rifle that she was to move, she glanced his way again.

He gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod.

Hope spiked to new levels of desperation.

Head down, eyes on the ground, she struggled for balance as the aide shoved her roughly down the path.

Her knees felt like rubber as she stumbled toward them barefoot over bruising rocks and blistering hot dust. Her breath was rapid and shallow. And her heart went absolutely over the top crazy when she stopped in front of him. Not daring to meet his eyes, she prayed every prayer she knew that he was here to help her, and that she wouldn't do anything to screw it up.

The general barked an order to his aide. Her pulse thundered through her ears and she didn't understand a word... until a harsh hand grabbed the neck of her s.h.i.+rt and, with a hard tug, ripped it off her shoulders.

She recoiled in shock, fighting back a scream as she instinctively crossed her arms over her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Someone yelled and she realized it was the aide, barking at her to uncover herself. Eyes wide in a plea for compa.s.sion, she shook her head and backed several steps away. Two guards immediately flanked her. They each grabbed a wrist, then jerked her arms away from her body, forcing her to stand there completely exposed, humiliated, vulnerable, and terrified.

”Adequate,” the American said in a flat voice.