Congo Dawn Page 15

  So the Shaggy clone had forgiven Robin no more than had Pieter Krueger. Robin gave a mental sigh. At the rate she was managing to antagonize her teammates, this was going to be one long mission. “I didn’t mean to be nosy. I just wanted to check if the satellite wireless system is up yet. I’d like to Skype stateside tonight if possible.”

  At her apology, annoyance ebbed fractionally from Carl’s sunburned features. “Should be. You’ll need your standard company access code. Just don’t go too far from camp if you want a clear signal. While you’re at it, take a few of those.” Carl nodded toward the pile of printouts. “Mulroney wants us to get those out to the locals. See if anyone’s seen our ghost. Maybe someone up at your doctor pal’s hospital compound will recognize the guy.”

  Robin slid several prints into her knapsack and had her iPad out and powering up by the time she retreated down the trailer steps. As she threaded through tents and unpacked pallets toward the airstrip, she keyed in her Ares Solutions access code. A flexible mesh gating that, when closed, would complete the electrified perimeter, sealing off the team’s FOB from the jungle night and any restless inhabitants, was still rolled open. An East European operative stood guard at the opening. Recognizing Robin, he stepped aside to let her through. Robin walked out onto the airstrip for privacy before punching through the Skype connection. This time her older sister appeared almost immediately on the iPad screen.

  “Robin! I got your earlier voice message that you’d try to video Skype. Kristi and I were at the pediatrician’s. Just walked in the door. Am I glad to catch you! I’ve got some news.” Kelli broke off to wrinkle an exquisite nose. “Girl, what have you been doing with yourself? You look like you’ve been on field maneuvers. I thought this was a translation gig.”

  Robin glanced down. Setting up base had contributed a fresh coating of dirt and perspiration to already-bedraggled clothing. And was that a streak of blood from her medivac patient? “Kelli, I’ve been up for over twenty-four hours. I’m standing in the middle of a hot, muggy Congo rainforest. If I’d known you expected a salon visit before I called you, I’d have made an appointment.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m sure there’s no salons in the jungle—”

  “Auntie Robin!” A delighted squeal interrupted Robin’s sister. Then a four-year-old version of Kelli’s pretty face framed by Robin’s own tousled red-gold curls squeezed into the video-cam image. “I heard you, I knew I did! Now I see you. When are you coming home? I was a good girl for Mommy at the doctor. And guess what—I can read more words now. Cat. Hat. Sat. Rat.”

  The childish features on the screen were too thin and maybe a little paler than normal even for Robin’s niece, but alive with joy and excitement. “Kristi, how’s my favorite princess in all the world? I don’t know when I’ll be home, but soon. I’ll bring you something special. A surprise.” If Bunia had no local souvenirs, there was always the airport gift shop. “And you are always a good girl for Mommy. And so smart. I’m sure I couldn’t read so many words when I was four.”

  Robin forced herself to a full five minutes of untroubled listening before breaking gently into her niece’s excited prattle. “Kristi, sweetheart, I need to talk to your mother a bit. Why don’t you go play in your room for a few minutes, okay?”

  “Okay! Bye, Auntie Robin!”

  As Kristi’s small face disappeared obediently from the iPad, Robin’s older sister reappeared. “Good, because I needed to talk to you alone too. Brian—Dr. Peters, I mean, the pediatric specialist working with Kristi’s case—thinks he can get the procedure scheduled within the month if we can swing the financing. He’s been so wonderful with Kristi! He’s even willing to waive all his own fees, so it will be just the surgeon and hospital stay. If it works—and Brian’s pretty confident it will—Kristi will be completely normal and healthy for the first time in her life. Imagine, no more doctors, hospitals, being cooped up all the time with a sick kid. Not that I don’t love Kristi so much it’s been worth it!”

  When Robin made no immediate response, Kelli leaned forward toward her own computer monitor’s video cam, this time with a frown. Somewhere behind her, out of sight, Robin could hear tuneless childish singing, then a door slamming enthusiastically. “What is it, Robin? Is there a problem with your contract? Is the money not going to be here in time?”

  “It’s not the money.” Robin scrutinized her sister’s face. The flawlessly plucked eyebrows raised high in query. Perfectly applied makeup more appropriate for a dinner party than a doctor’s appointment. The discontented droop of mouth. A childlike ingenuousness of expression that made Kelli seem years younger rather than older than Robin herself.

  Robin steadied herself with a deep breath before seizing the bull by the horns. “Kelli, you won’t believe who I’ve run into out here in the middle of the jungle. Do you remember Michael Stewart, who was such a good friend of Chris and me in Afghanistan?”

  A startled gasp, a look of alarm before blue-green eyes opened to their fullest in wide-eyed innocence, confirming everything Robin had feared. Kelli’s tongue marred the bright-red perfection of her upper lip before she asked with casual interest, “You mean that Navy medic you two were always mentioning in your e-mails? The one whose carelessness you said was responsible for Christopher’s death? How awful for you! I hope it wasn’t too horribly unpleasant.”

  “Actually, it was enlightening,” Robin said. “You see, Michael isn’t the only Stewart I ran into over here. Michael’s got a sister, Miriam. She just described to me a certain voice message left on her phone by a female caller she and Michael assumed to be me. And since there’s only one other person I know whose voice could be mistaken for mine—”

  As Robin drew breath, Kelli’s mouth opened and closed, but this time no words came out. Robin’s tone turned stern. “Why did you do it, Kelli? How could you let Michael think it was me who called? And was it you or Dad who intercepted mail addressed to me?”

  If Robin needed further confirmation, the suddenly crumpled expression on the screen, tears welling up, would have given it. Kelli wailed, “Robin, you don’t understand. I . . . I wasn’t thinking straight back then. I’d just lost Terry in that . . . that awful way! And found out I was pregnant. You were—well, you forget how bad it was for you. Then Dad’s cancer diagnosis. And it wasn’t me who intercepted the letters. I wouldn’t do that. I found them one day in the stuff on Dad’s desk after I’d moved in to help take care of you both those last months.”

  Don’t you mean because you’d lost the roof over your head? But Robin didn’t voice her correction aloud as Kelli went on defensively.

  “When I found the letters, I really did want to tell you. But if Dad swiped them, he had his reasons. And you know how he was. He’d have been furious if I interfered. He was already so angry with me. The great Colonel Christopher Robert Duncan doesn’t have a daughter who can’t hold her man or makes a mess of her marriage. You couldn’t possibly understand. I mean, you’re the perfect Duncan daughter. I’ve got the lecture memorized. ‘Why can’t you be more like Robin? She always has it together. She never quits. She knows what she wants in life.’ Dad was so proud of you, he could never stop talking about it.”

  Robin was stunned. “Are you kidding? Kelli Duncan, I love you. But I swear you’ve got rocks in your head. You’ve always been the favorite one. Feminine, popular, fun to be with. The one who behaves the way a proper Duncan daughter is supposed to act. As Dad never let me forget!”

  “Really? Sounds like Dad played both of us.” Kelli’s expression lightened fractionally. “If that isn’t a typical Duncan divide-and-­conquer strategy! In any case, I had to agree with Dad that this Michael was bad news, whatever sob story his sister had written. You were barely getting back on your own feet. The last thing you needed was to get distracted over a man who’d already hurt you, hurt our family.”

  Kelli paused to chew at her lips, staining her front teeth with the lipstick. “Okay, maybe I was a bit afraid you’d fly right off to see
him. I knew from your e-mails how much you’d liked the guy. And you’re the forgiving type, whatever he’d done. I’m guessing that’s why Dad didn’t want to give you those letters. He knew you too. And we all needed you here. Me. Dad. Kristi.”

  “Maybe. But it should have been my decision, not yours,” Robin said flatly. “And none of this explains why you’d make that phone call pretending to be me.”

  Robin’s sister shook her head vehemently. “I wasn’t pretending to be you. I only called so they wouldn’t keep calling back. I just said I was Christopher’s sister. Told them to leave our family alone. It didn’t even occur to me they’d think I was you. Anything else I said—well, it was nothing more than I’d heard you say about the guy. Just because he now found himself in a hospital didn’t change what he’d done to our family, to you especially. I really did think I was doing the right thing sparing you from having to talk to him.”

  “And I believe you really meant well. Except as it turns out, I was wrong. Michael wasn’t responsible for Chris’s death. As I’d have known five years ago instead of today if I’d ever gotten those letters and phone calls.”

  “Yes, well, I didn’t know that part until—” Kelli broke off again, looking suddenly uncomfortable, guilty, even a little scared. And with reason if Robin’s expression was anything as stormy as her feelings.

  “Then you did know the truth about Michael, about how Chris really died! No more secrets, Kelli. When did you find out? How did you find out?”

  Kelli’s mouth made a moue. “Not until some months after Dad died. However incompetent he thought me, he’d still named his firstborn executor of his estate. Maybe because there was no estate to execute. When I got around to sorting Dad’s private archives, there it was. Not the sanitized write-up passed out to next of kin. But the full mission intel report. Trust Dad to have his inside sources. You’d taken your first overseas contract by then. So much time had gone by. You seemed to have forgotten the guy. And this Michael had clearly moved on. I mean, if the guy was serious about you, he’d hardly let one voice mail discourage him.”

  Her sister had a point. If Michael had really cared as much as Miriam hinted, wouldn’t he have come after Robin once he was able? Whatever temporary hurt and misunderstanding he’d experienced, Michael had only too evidently put any memory of Robin and her brother behind him and gone on with his life. Some of Robin’s anger dissolved as she saw the quiver of her sister’s red-orange mouth, tears brimming over in her blue-green eyes.

  Kelli ran a hand over her eyes, smearing her makeup. “That intel report wasn’t all I found in those archives. Do you know why Terry left the Marines? Left me?”

  Robin shook her head. “No, Dad never said. And you’ve never wanted to talk about it.”

  “I’d found out he was cheating on me. With a female Marine. Or so I was informed by a very reliable source—the female Marine. Terry denied it, of course. But how could I not believe it? I mean, look at me. Who could blame a man’s man like Terry for wanting her, a strong, independent fellow Marine just like you, instead of me, the weaker, stupider, less capable Duncan edition? Okay, I was pregnant and maybe a little hysterical. Maybe we could have worked things out. Terry insisted he wanted to. But I made the mistake of telling Dad. Next thing I know, Terry’s walking out my door and out of the Marines, dishonorable discharge for conduct unbecoming an officer. The female Marine too. Dad’s files just confirmed who was really behind it all.”

  “Mommy, are you sad?”

  At the childish query in the background, Kelli lowered her voice. “Whatever else, Terry was a good Marine. He didn’t deserve that. I have to wonder if Terry would have crashed that motorcycle if—”

  Kelli didn’t finish the thought. “All these years I’ve wanted to tell you. But there seemed no point in stirring up the past. And . . . well, Kristi and I still needed you. I thought I was doing the right thing for all of us. But maybe I was just being selfish. Can you ever forgive me, Robin?”

  Robin felt an unbearable weariness as she eyed her sister’s anxious face in the screen. She’d no reservations that Kelli was telling the truth. Colonel Duncan would certainly have made it his business to obtain a full report on the combat incident resulting in his son’s death. So he must have known about Michael’s own injuries. If Robin truly had mentioned Michael more than she’d realized in e-mails home, then her father had been well aware Robin would want to fly directly to Michael’s bedside. Could Colonel Duncan have possibly believed he was protecting his daughter from further pain? Or had he, like Kelli, feared Michael might pull Robin from where Colonel Duncan felt she belonged, caring for him on his deathbed, providing for Kelli in her pregnancy?

  Of everything you’ve done, Dad, how can I possibly forgive this?

  Still, other than alleviating hurt and misunderstanding, would things have been measurably different if Robin had received those letters? Robin could not have abandoned father or sister. And certainly not Kristi. Michael was committed to his own life path of medical school and a humanitarian career. In any case, there was no way to change the past.

  “Hey, it’s okay, Kelli. It really is. Of course I forgive you. And believe me, I wouldn’t trade you and Kristi for any man on the planet. It’s funny—I always thought Dad loved you best and disapproved of me and Chris. Maybe we were both wrong. Maybe Dad really did mean the good things he said about us to each other, even if he could never say them to either of us direct. But I’ve got to go now. A double kiss and hug to Kristi for me. And set things up with your Dr. Peters. If things go well here, maybe I’ll even make it back in time for the procedure.”

  Disconnecting, Robin turned off her iPad. In the time lapse of her Skype call, the pale green of twilight had darkened to full night. Without the light of her iPad screen, the jungle sounds seemed louder and less friendly. A rustling in the brush could be wind or an unseen enemy. A soft grunting and chittering could be a band of monkeys settling down for the night or some strange predator. A staccato of drums in the distance could be Taraja’s residents making music—or a call to war.

  Only the yellow pool of illumination from the base security lighting offered sanctuary. Robin had taken a step in that direction when a crunch of footsteps on stubble spun her around. That she recognized instantly the outline of body, the tilt of head, even before a tall, lean frame approached within reach of the camp lighting said much.

  “Robin! There you are! I couldn’t believe it when Miriam told me you were here.” Michael Stewart had changed clothes since Robin saw him last and had bathed recently, a floodlight glinting on still-damp hair, a whiff of soap and hospital antiseptic reaching Robin ahead of his swift strides so that she was suddenly conscious of her own disheveled appearance. But that didn’t matter now. Only that she’d been given the opportunity to make things right. To straighten out five years of hurt and misunderstanding. To set back the clock?

  But a more urgent consideration came first. Robin took a quick step forward to meet him. “Michael! I’m so glad to finally catch you. The casualties we brought in. Are they going to be okay?”

  “They’ll all live,” Michael answered tersely, “though the burn victims will need to be airlifted out to a bigger facility for skin grafts and reconstructive surgery once they’re stabilized.”

  Striding past Robin, Michael approached the base camp’s fencing. The East European on guard strode forward. Then, as he identified the extra passenger from their earlier plane ride, he gave Michael a nod and retreated. Michael pivoted to face Robin.

  “So you want to explain all this? I got the piece about an explosion at that new mine north of here. You said you’d hired on for a security op there. But when Miriam told me you were moving an entire army into Taraja, I was sure there had to be some mistake.”

  Now that he’d turned toward her, Robin could clearly see Michael’s expression under the stark illumination of a floodlight, as cold and accusing as his tone.

  “The Robin I knew wouldn’t lie, so I sure hope y
ou’ve got a good explanation how your so-called security op’s become a full-blown invasion. Or why you let me rattle on this afternoon about trying to see you again if you knew you were coming here.”

  So much for apologies! Stiffly, Robin defended, “This is a security operation for the mine. But there doesn’t happen to be an airstrip there. Which is why we’re here. But I can assure you we’ve no intentions of disturbing your community.”

  But Michael interrupted with a sharp hand gesture. “Are you kidding? With a couple thousand of Wamba’s goons flying in? Or did Miriam get her figures wrong? And all the high-tech gear you’ve got here? That’s no security op. That’s a war! And why Taraja? Don’t you think these people here have seen enough guns and soldiers? They haven’t even had a chance to rebuild from the last invasion. What kind of trauma do you think something like this is going to be to them? Whatever resentment you may harbor against me personally, I can’t believe you’d lower yourself to take it out on innocent by­standers like this community. My home. My family.”

  Michael’s tone hardened to what Robin could only read as condemnation. “Of course, a certain Marine lieutenant I once thought I knew would never have hired herself out to this type of gig. In case you’ve forgotten, I grew up in Africa. And if there’s one thing this continent’s long, dirty history of mercenary warfare has taught me, it’s that when people like Trevor Mulroney and the rest of your pals show up, people like me end up with more bodies to sew back together. Or bury.”

  His words might as well have been a physical slap. Stung, Robin struck back. “Hey, maybe you’ve forgotten that the last time there were bodies to bury out here, Ares Solutions was nowhere around. If they had been, maybe things would have turned out differently. As to being responsible for us coming here, do you really think I’d ever deliberately set foot on the same continent as you again? You’re the one who told Pieter Krueger all about the perfect place for a forward operating base. Blame yourself we’re here.”