In the Crossfire of Revenge

By H. Schussman

What started out as a youth group on a short-term mission trip to Colombia has turned into something much different. Caught in the crossfire of a vendetta against one of their chaperones, they run for their lives through a jungle they know little about. Unprepared and terrified they must grow up and function as a team, or die.
When CIA Agent McGee volunteered with his wife to chaperone a church group to Colombia, he never dreamed he’d be battling assassins from an unknown enemy. The minute he crossed the border, unarmed, he had a price on his head. Now he must protect his wife (again) and the missionary team while keeping his real identity secret. As the killers close in, CIA agents come down with a team of Marines. All hell breaks loose. The teens turn to each other as they face bullets flying, poisonous dart frogs, leopards, monkeys, jungle-rot, and murder.
They are in the wrong place at the wrong time—In the Crossfire of Revenge.

• Language: English
• Publisher: H. Schussman
• Release date: Jan 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463427156

H. Schussman

Heidi Schussman Gilbert was born in a small Northern California coastal town to a police officer and a mother who gave up med school to raise a family. She was raised to think on her feet and view adventure as way of life. She starting shooting when she was five years old, and continues to practice her marksmanship. Schussman began working when she was eleven years old, starting her first business when she was thirteen selling flower arrangements at a flea market. Now Schussman's favorite past-time is traveling with her husband of thirty-five years. Travel for H. Schussman is usually a cultural immersion, actually living with families in Spanish speaking countries or in Italy and Portugal. When in the tropics, they SCUBA dive every chance they get. The rest of Schussman's time is divided between gardening, exercise, and of course writing. She carefully researches weaponry and police/military intervention. Schussman believes research is a critical component of writing conspiracy theory. All good conspiracies are based on solid facts… that is what makes them believable. H. Schussman has published five conspiracy novels. COUNTERPART is a complex Russian conspiracy. This is the introduction of the popular characters, Sean and Sport. These two captured the hearts of readers, so EL TIBURON brings them back by request. EL TIBURON is a conspiracy set in Central America, mostly Guatemala. A group of teens on a mission trip to Colombia find themselves in THE CROSSFIRE OF REVENGE. Then Schussman gives us SAVE THE GIRLS as the backstory on the beloved character, Sean McGee, as he rescues girls from human trafficking and prostitution. Her most recent book in this crime series, PIRATESSA, is a black-widow story set amongst the billionaire playboys in the yachting community of Costa Rica. H. Schussman interviewed and wrote the biography for a rocket engineer legend, Clay Boyce—BRINGING APOLLO HOME. His life leading up to being a chief engineer on the Apollo Program and beyond are written in a fast-paced story-telling style. Last year Schussman turned her hand to writing a romantic comedy with a criminal element, of course. THE TATTERED BOOK answers the question; What would happen if the main character in a book fell in love with the reader? She claims this was the most difficult book to write to date, however she is now writing the sequel; THE SECOND TATTERED BOOK. H. Schussman also writes two blogs: A Dashing Bold A...

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IN THE CROSSFIRE OF REVENGE

BY H. SCHUSSMAN

11-20-2018

Published and Written by H. Schussman at Smashwords

First Edition 7/10/2018

Copyright 2018 H. Schussman

ISBN 9780463427156

Discover other titles by this H. Schussman

Counterpart

El Tiburón

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CHAPTER PROLOGUE

Adrik stood silent and still, as mourners filed past him at his brother’s graveside in Moscow. They tossed coins into the grave to pay his brother’s way to heaven. Adrik’s wife and children standing behind him couldn’t see his clenched jaw and bulged temporal vein on his forehead. Brutal looking men in black suits guarded the perimeter.

Eventually the silent crowd disappeared, but still he stood at the graveside with his family behind him. His youngest, a flaxen-haired girl of nine began to fidget. His thirteen year-old son imitated his father’s rigid stance. He was profoundly proud of his father and not a little afraid. His wife stood, slim as a willow, with a black veil covering her exhausted face.

Finally Adrik turned to them. As he walked toward them, his son asked him, Father, aren’t we going to throw coins in the grave?

No, he cannot go to heaven yet, Adrik answered as he paused at his son’s side. He was murdered… it’s an unclean death. He cannot move on until I make it right.

five years later

CHAPTER ONE

It was a typical day in Colombia, beautiful sunshine in the morning, thunder clouds and a downpour by noon. Mosquitoes swarmed in the warm, muggy air. A group of children and teens played in the school yard. Boys played with their new soccer ball with the two American teenagers from a visiting youth group. The girls played four-square with the teenage girls from America. Tom, the youth pastor, looked on, pleased with how well his group was working with the local children. He stood next to the Colombian pastor, towering over Martin by at least twelve inches. Both were happy with the project so far… more than happy, they were at peace. All the hard work and planning was paying off. The rest of the group was with Sean and his wife Sport at the church, making a total of eight teenagers and three adults.

God is good, Tom commented.

Todo el Tiempo, Martin added with a nod—all the time.

Just then a pickup truck with four soldiers in the back pulled up. The two officers in the front seat got out quickly. Martin’s body tensed. Tom could tell something was wrong. Even the local children stopped playing, as the group of soldiers approached.

You! Americano! You are arrest. The passenger, obviously a higher rank, commanded in broken English. He stabbed his finger in the air towards Tom.

Martin stepped forward to ask what was going on. The teens also moved forward to protest. In an instant the soldiers raised their rifles and pointed them at the teenagers. At the same time the officer pulled his pistol out and fired two shots into the air. The local children screamed and scattered. Tom, Martin and the four teens froze in place.

You all under arrest. You come with us now!

Tom could see the fear in the faces of his teens and knew he had to remain calm. It will be okay. This is some kind of mistake, Tom said in a steady voice.

The officer lowered his pistol and pointed it at Tom. This no mistake gringo. You are American Marine officer. You are charged with war crime and them as spies for America. He waved the pistol briefly at the teens.

Tom stared in disbelief. Yes, he’d been a Marine, but that was over twenty years ago. He’d been posted in Colombia when the country had been in a civil war. Part of the reason he’d returned here was to see the country and the people he had come to love so long ago.

Where are others? screamed the officer, stress making his voice crack. The rest of group?

Tom said nothing… thinking.

The officer pointed the gun at one of the girls, Kriszta, and said, Tell me now or she dies!

Okay, okay, I will take you to them. Tom held up both hands, palms out. They aren’t far from here, at a church.

Load them into the back of the truck. The officer commanded in Spanish, as he again waved his pistol over the terrified group. You, in front with me. He returned the barrel to Tom’s head.

They loaded the group into the back of the pick-up truck. It was full, so the soldiers sat straddling the truck-bed sides, rifles in one hand, the other hand on the roll bar. The driver got in the cab, Tom was put in the middle, and the officer sat next to Tom on the passenger’s side. Still holding his pistol on Tom, he ordered the driver to handcuff him.

Tom pointed to the road heading down to the river with his hands cuffed together. That way. His bulk filled the cabin. He had one foot on each side of the transmission hump.

You lie to me and I kill you. You understand?

Yes sir, Tom responded. Tom knew in his heart this would not end well. If something was going to be done, it needed to be done soon, before they made it to the military base.

The officer radioed the base, We have some of them now. We will be back to the base soon.

As the truck wound down the steep road, on the edge of Caucanengo, it slowed for a corner. Now was the time. Tom slammed his foot down on the brake, throwing everyone forward. Tom’s right hand took hold of the pistol, and pushed forward. He leaned back as the gun went off. The gun went off again. Tom grabbed it with his left hand also and twisted clockwise. He could hear the man’s finger break. This time the gun fired into the chest of the officer.

Tom could hear and feel the truck roaring down the hill. He looked over at the driver. One of the first shots had hit him in the head. Tom grabbed the steering wheel, trying to keep the truck on the road and kicked the dead driver’s foot off the gas pedal. He looked back quickly to see that three of the four soldiers had fallen off the truck when he’d hit the brakes. The fourth had lost his rifle, but was still hanging on with one hand. A second later one of the teens, Josh, stood up and with one hand on the roll-bar, he kicked the soldier in the chest as hard as he could.

The soldier flew from the truck, landing hard on the road and rolling off the cliff. Tom opened the driver’s door and pushed out the driver. Sliding over, he got control of the truck just before another turn. A quick glance over at the lead officer told Tom that the officer was dead. He drove a little further, and when there was another steep ravine he stopped the truck.

Is everyone okay? Tom yelled out.

We’re okay, shouted Josh. They were terrified, but uninjured.

Estamos bien, shouted Martin.

Martin get up here now, Tom ordered.

As Martin opened the passenger door, the officer fell out on the ground.

Throw him over the edge! Tom commanded.

Martin grabbed the two extra mags from the officer’s belt and the pistol. Throwing them into the cabin of the truck he said, He won’t be needing these anymore.

Dragging the body over to the edge of the cliff, he pushed it over the side. Getting into the passenger’s side of the truck, Martin ordered, Drive! We need to hide the truck and get to the church.

Tom sat in shock for a moment, wondering how Martin, a pastor, could be so cool after what had just happened. Tom gasped and spun around when he heard the driver’s door opening. It was Brooklyn.

Pastor Tom, are you okay? Her pale faced showed her fear, making her eyes seem enormous.

He nodded mutely. Brooke pulled a paperclip from her little purse. Without answering, he held out his hands to her. You have a paperclip in your purse? he asked in wonder, as she quickly opened the cuffs while trying to ignore the blood and gore on the driver’s door. And you can open handcuffs?

She nodded as a small tight smile crept up the corners of her mouth. My Uncle Joe taught me. He’d taught Brooke how to get out of handcuffs years ago. It had been a game to them, but now she was incredibly thankful. She hoped she wouldn’t have to use her eye-gouges and the knee-to-the-groin moves.

Kyle leaned over the side of the pickup and threw-up. No one made a comment. He whimpered quietly as he slid down low in the bed of the pickup. His mop of black hair swept forward and covered his face from view.

When Brooke jumped back in the truck, Josh rapped the top of the truck with his palm. Let’s go! At eighteen he was the oldest of the group and tended to take over. His heart pounded with excitement and fear as he hung onto the closest roll bar.

Kriszta sat in the opposite corner and held on. Calm and serious as always with her long lanky legs tucked up to her chest. Though she was the youngest at fourteen years old, she had the most experience on the mission field. Kriszta had been born to a mission family in India. Moving to the US when she was eight had been a cultural shock. Though she’d come to America every year to visit her grandparents in Arizona, she had no experience with a local community of children and their abundance of toys and gadgets.

***

A middle aged woman ran into the church waving her cell phone and shouted, They’re coming! The soldiers are on their way here to kidnap the Americans.

Martin’s wife, Camila jumped to her feet. Turning to Sport McGee she commanded, Gather your group, hurry! Bring them back in here. As she ran to the back door, she ordered the children to all go home. Sport waved the teens to one side as the little children who’d been practicing a Bible play scrambled past her in a panic. When Camila yelled it was serious.

Sport ran out the front door headlong into her husband, Sean. He steadied her as she relayed Camila’s message. Sean turned on his heal and ran back to the soccer field a block away. Sport re-entered the dark shade of the church interior. The two girls stood waiting. Sport went straight to them and taking their hands said quietly, We can get through this if we stay calm. Do you understand? You have to be brave, you don’t have a choice.

Sammy swiped away a tear and nodded. Natasha just stared intently at Sport, as though she were somehow drawing strength from her. Camila returned in a swirl of energy.

Help me move this, she ordered Sport, as she began to wrestle the podium to one side. Sport ran to her aid. Once it was moved over, Camila squatted down and lifted a hatch revealing a dark opening. She waved them into it. Sport went first and reached up to guide the two girls down into the man-made cave. Sean burst through the front door with two teenage boys on his heel. He skidded to a stop and swung the closest teen into the gaping cave. The other slid in like it was home base, no questions asked. Sean jumped in and lowered the hatch as a man came in to help Camila move the podium back to its place.

Sudden silence reigned as Camila swept the floor clear of any evidence. She moved in slow rhythmic movements and began humming. Time stood still. Sweat trickled down Sean’s back. Someone bumped against him, another in front of him.

So quietly he almost couldn’t hear her, Sport softly cooed words of comfort. Hold hands, she whispered. Sean felt his hands gripped on each side. Ten minutes, fifteen minutes, slowly time crept past them.

The sound of an approaching vehicle made the smaller hands clench his in fear. Voices shouting. Sean thought he heard Tom’s deep voice bellowing. Yes! That was Pastor Tom’s voice. The front door banged open.

Camila? Martin called. Apparently she’d left the church. Sean didn’t move a muscle. More footsteps, heavier, followed his.

Where are they? Tom’s voice boomed in the little church, as his fear threatened to overtake him. He couldn’t imagine what he’d do without Sean and Sport.

We’re in here. Sean banged on the trap door. Camila’s voice joined Martin’s.

No! We don’t have time and there’s not enough room for all of you. She ran in front of the podium like a protective bear. The police are coming, the military police.

Who told you? Martin asked.

My sister, Viki.

Sweetheart, it’s okay…trust me, that group of police aren’t coming. Martin took both her hands and led her away from the podium. But I’m sure more will come. We have to run. Get the supplies and load the van. Hurry. She nodded and dashed through the door leading to their home at the back of the church.

Tom lifted the podium and set it to the side in one powerful movement. Yanking back the hatch he grabbed the first hand and lifted a teen out like he was a sack of potatoes. Sean jumped out and started pulling the rest out. He pulled Sport up and grabbed her shoulders. Go grab the medic bag. It’s at our house. Run!

Sport ran as fast as she could the three blocks to the home they were staying in. She grabbed her backpack and Sean’s and threw them on the front porch. Josh trotted up to her and shouldering Sean’s bag grabbed the other backpack and took off at a run. Sport swung the heavy medic backpack onto her back and walked as fast as she could.

By the time she got back the small van was full of supplies and three of the teens. Sean lifted the pack off of her back, and set it in the back of the pickup. He ran around to the passenger’s side and urged Sport to climb into the center spot of the cab next to Tom. Sean climbed in after her. Kriszta, Josh and Brooke climbed into the back. Carson and David joined them. Martin’s oldest son jogged up to the van. Martin told him to go back home to his wife and children and start praying for them.

Martin stuck his arm out the window and motioned for Tom to follow. The truck fishtailed as Tom stomped the gas and whipped a u-turn. The teens pressed down low in the truck bed and hung onto the roll bar bases. Ten minutes later they turned off onto a rough dirt road. Muddy water plumed high up on both sides of the truck as Tom plowed through puddles. Sport braced her hands on the dashboard and tried to not think of her daughter at home with grandma. Right now she needed to focus on getting these kids to safety.

Call Gary for help, Sport shouted to Sean over the noise of the ride.

Sean nodded and pulled out his cell phone while they were still in range. The screen was crushed. He tapped out a text, but the screen went blank before he could send it. Sport handed him her phone. He selected Gary’s number. "Hey Gary! We’ve got a major situation here. I need to get eight teenagers out of Colombia now! He listened for a moment. I don’t care how you do it. We are in a small town called Caucanengo, due west out of Medellin, Colombia." Sean gave the spelling for Medellin because of the unusual pronunciation in Colombia of Meh-deh-gene.

He listened for a moment longer and answered. Just do it! Let me know what you decide. A pause. We are under attack by the local military. For some reason they came after Tom, and then they attempted to take the whole team into custody. A firefight followed and we killed the two leaders. We’ve got all the kids with us… eight of them, plus Sport and Pastor Tom. Before he hung up he added. You have this number right, it’s Sport’s? Okay good. He hung up and turning to Sport he mouthed, I love you.

I love you too, she answered, taking a second to stare into his eyes with love and admiration. She turned her attention to the interior. Is that blood? she asked Tom.

Yeah, he grunted without taking his eyes off the road.

After forty-five minutes of bone-jarring travel they passed a shack, and then another. In another ten minutes they were in the heart of an indigenous village.

Martin spoke in a different language to the small crowd of people who’d gathered, as the team spilled out of the truck and the van. They looked with interest and alarm at the towering foreigners. I told them we are bringing trouble to the community, and we’re sorry. They’re getting their leader now, Martin explained to Tom, Sean and Sport.

It didn’t take long before a middle-aged man approached the group. He was taller than the villagers around him but no taller than Sport. He looked intelligent. Addressing them in Spanish, he asked Martin to explain it again. A rapid discussion ensued, ending with Javier shaking his head grimly.

Yes, you have brought trouble to us. He rubbed the back of his neck as he stared at the ground. Lifting his eyes, he slowly surveyed the misfit group. If this hadn’t involved kids he would have told them to leave, but glancing at his own teenage daughter standing nearby, he knew he would help. His friend, Pastor Martin, had seen and done many things during the civil war. Martin met Javier’s eyes with solemn seriousness, knowing Javier knew of his military past because they’d served together.

Javier surveyed the American fugitives.

Pastor Tom looked like a giant from some Hollywood movie as he stood there shifting from foot-to-foot. He was built like a linebacker… heavy and muscular. Sean looked completely calm and in control. His build, while muscular, was much leaner than Tom’s. Javier could tell at a glance that he was an athlete.

He inspected the teens. Tall wiry David bounced on his forefeet, anxious to do something. His dark afro bounced around his shoulders. Josh stood near Sean matching his calm exterior, though Javier could see the fear and excitement in his bright blue eyes. His hair was cut military short, and his shoulders were squared back. Carson looked thrilled, the rapid rise and fall of his chest giving his fear away. A crop of blonde hair was stylishly standing straight up on top. Kyle would be a problem. He was visibly trembling and pale under a curtain of straight jet-black hair. He kept his eyes averted and hung back behind Tom.

Javier’s eyes fixed on Sport. It was obvious he was curious about this tiny dark-skinned beauty with the up-tilted eyes. She was often mistaken for being indigenous to Central America. He’d originally assumed she was one of the teens, but now he could see by the mature intelligence in her face that she was an adult.

Brooke stood next to Sport. She looked like a shy athlete. Her jean capris revealed long tan muscular legs. Wearing running shoes, she looked like she could run for miles. Her short blonde hair swept around her small face. The tall lanky redhead, Kriszta, stood on the other side of Sport. Her expression was completely calm like Sean’s. Javier wondered if they were related. She met his eyes with confidence unusual in one so young. Sammy and Natasha stood with Camila, holding hands. They looked like siblings, both with light blonde hair and fair skin. Sammy was younger and overweight. She looked like she might burst into tears any moment. The slightly slimmer Natasha had an incredibly serious look on her face. Her eyes darted around the village taking in every detail. Javier was certain they were sisters, based on the protective