Which meant either this place wasn’t his permanent hideout…or her instincts about what was happening here were severely skewed.
That wouldn’t surprise her, of course. She’d been completely off base about her knowledge of men before.
Bitterness twisted through her as she went into the alcove and picked up the threadbare towel near the basin to wash. Her movements were mechanical as memories encroached, reminding of her other times when she’d let herself be totally and utterly misled.
No.
Those thoughts—that time—had no place here. What she needed to do was focus on keeping herself and the others safe. And on finding a way out of this situation.
Feeling clean and refreshed—albeit in her old, grubby clothes because she couldn’t stand the thought of wearing the clothes Mwana had laid out for her—she left the hut and went in search of Father Tom and the other two.
She found them in the last hut, with soldiers posted outside their door. The relief on the couple’s faces echoed her own, although their trepidation returned soon after.
“Do you know where they are taking us?” Hendrik asked.
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
Father Tom, looking a lot less pale than he had a few hours ago, answered. “We heard the soldiers talking—luckily they spoke French so I got the gist of it. They’re moving us to another location at sundown. As soon as the boss returns from wherever he’s gone. He disappeared into the jungle an hour ago.”
So she’d been right. This wasn’t Mwana’s permanent bolt-hole. The new information struck a fresh chord of fear in her heart.
She was still praying she was wrong, that they wouldn’t be moved, when Charles Mwana returned and summoned them. He clutched a satellite phone and used it several times before they left the small camp. During his last call, his eyes strayed to her enough times to make alarm skate over her.
That he possessed such advanced technology didn’t surprise her. But had the leader discovered who she really was? The rebels had her passport, along with everyone else’s, but although she’d never gotten round to changing her name, it would only take a couple of calls to learn her true identity.
If he found out who she was, her ransom value would increase a thousand-fold. Provided he intended to keep her for her ransom.
Mwana led the group through dense underbrush for over an hour. Sharp leaves and thorny branches whipped at her face and tore at her clothes, while terrifying questions ricocheted through her mind.
She jerked to a stop as the thick foliage ended abruptly, and a steep cliff rose before them. Terror froze her blood, until his sharp bark jolted her into movement.
Try as she might not to imagine why he’d brought her here, she couldn’t prevent horrific scenarios from invading her thoughts.
She jumped again when he rapped the butt of his gun against the cliff face. But the sound was hollow, and on closer examination, she realized a large block of wood, colored to blend in with the rock, had been wedged into a hole, with the natural camouflage of foliage cleverly maneuvered to hide the opening.
There was an exchange of words as Captain Mwana spoke to whomever was behind the wall. Then the heavy wood was lifted away.
She could see nothing but a dark cavern as the soldier stood back to let them enter. Renewed dread paralyzed her legs.
“Enter, please,” Mwana said from beside her. The sound propelled her forward, the fear of being struck momentarily swamping the fear of whatever lay ahead of her.
Muttering a silent prayer, she took one step. And another. Until she was just inside the cave door.
As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she looked around. The cavern was a camp of sorts. Thin blankets were strewn about on the ground, and on a small camp stove, a pot of what smelled like the locally grown tea was brewing. Here and there, rust-coated kerosene lan
terns burned but provided little illumination. She saw the rebels she’d noticed leaving earlier moving around within.
Relief eased down her spine. So she wasn’t about to be shot and left in the cave to rot. A hand at the small of her back shoved her toward the far end of cave. Here blankets had been laid side-by-side, but set apart from the area where the rebels were camped.
Her heart plummeted.
Far from being rescued or set free, as Father Tom had wistfully foreseen, it seemed they were bedding down for the long haul. Because surely if the rebels had gone to the trouble of providing shelter for them, then they didn’t plan on setting them free anytime soon.
She stared at the bedding…counted the places…
And rounded on Mwana. “Why are there only three beds?” It wasn’t a simple matter of insufficient bedding, because a stack of blankets stood next to the opposite cave wall.
“Because you, Miss Jones, will sleep elsewhere. Somewhere more comfortable.”