by David Spell
This was going to require every bit of Alfie’s famous charm. That damned trial had turned so many people against him. The hypocrisy wasn’t lost on the producer. Some of his loudest critics had no idea that their exploits on Alfie’s island were safely stored on a hard drive, just waiting for the proper time to expose them.
Of course, he had been acquitted of all charges. There was no way they were going to convict Alfonso Nicholson of sex-trafficking. He was too rich, too powerful, and knew too many secrets about other rich and powerful people.
When it was all said and done, he had spent over two million dollars on attorneys, bribes, and payoffs. His team had worked tirelessly on his behalf, slipping money to the right people, discrediting witnesses, and in one case, arranging an ‘accident’ for one of the primary FBI agents. He was a ‘white hat’ who refused money to change his report and lose some evidence. Sadly, his wife had found him lying at the bottom of their living room stairs with a broken neck, a spilled tumbler of bourbon beside him. Clearly, he had been drinking and slipped coming down.
In some cases, Nicholson had resorted to blackmail. His vast files of depraved video footage were his ace-in-the-hole. It didn’t hurt that the previous Attorney General had visited the Caribbean getaway on two occasions, unknowingly starring in his own porn film with a fifteen-year old girl. Alfie had hated to threaten the AG with blackmail, but he also didn’t want to spend the rest of his life in a federal prison. The producer knew he was going to have to watch his back after making such a powerful enemy.
In the end, not surprisingly, the government’s case had come unraveled and Alfie was found not guilty. The stigma remained, however, and most of the hypocritical Hollywood elite were keeping their distance. If he could win over Mark Nolan at lunch today, that would go a long way towards removing his pariah status. Nolan was one of the most successful directors in the world and Nicholson was going to offer him a contract that would make his head spin. After word got out, they would all be lining up to work for Alfie at Golden Age Productions.
The two divers waited patiently twenty feet below the surface. They hoped they were in the right position. They had placed several GPS beacons on the ocean floor fifteen feet below them. Their DPVs were attached to one of the beacons, to be retrieved after they had completed their mission. From previous scouting dives and the earlier drone footage, this seemed to be the area where Nicholson always surfed. It was right across from his house and wasn’t normally as crowded as some of the other beaches around Malibu.
After being informed that their target was heading their way, the two former SEALs swam up to where they were just ten feet below the line-up area where surfers would try and pick up a wave. Thankfully, there did not appear to be anyone else surfing nearby. Five minutes later, the divers could hear the paddling above and saw the long, white board cutting through the water, directly towards them. Jay motioned to Chris and the two men burst towards the surface just as the surf board passed over their position.
Nicholson propelled himself along the face of the Pacific. He loved being on the water at sunrise. It was almost daylight and he was about to catch the first wave of the day. Alfie suddenly remembered that he was supposed to have called Erin when he woke up. She had flown into Honduras the night before to meet with that fat policeman to make sure all the arrangements were in place to get the fresh girls out of the country. Colonel Ramon Bonilla knew that he would not be paid until every detail was finalized.
Erin hated going to Honduras, but he had sent two of his best bodyguards, Gino and Vinnie, with her. Nicholson knew that when movie star Erin Knight showed up to finalize the deal and pay the poor families of his new employees, all doubts would vanish. Knight would flash her famous smile, say all the right things, and hand over an envelope of US dollars. The parents would be convinced that this was the best move for their young daughters.
The story was that they would be interning and learning valuable skills related to the hospitality field as they worked on Alfie’s island, and earning a good salary, as well. They would definitely be learning all kinds of skills, the producer chuckled to himself. At the end of two years, the girls would be sent home with another envelope full of cash and the threat never to talk about what really happened on the island.
Nicholson paddled, turning his board around, lining it up with the distant shore, ready to ride a swell all the way to the beach. He sat up, straddling the board, scanning the sea around him. The surf did not look so good today. No problem. He would eventually get one big enough to carry him in. He would call Erin to check on her, surf a little more, and then get his day started.
Suddenly, something struck the underside of his board and Alfie felt hands grab his left leg. He was flipped into the ocean before he could cry out. Strong arms quickly wrapped around his body, pinning his own arms to his side, and pulling him under the waves. Someone else grabbed his legs as he felt himself being pulled deeper and deeper beneath the surface.
Terror filled him as Alfie instinctively struggled, trying to pull free, but his captors were too strong. Who are these guys and why are they doing this to me? His lungs began burning almost immediately because he hadn’t been able to take a deep breath before being snatched under water.
Nicholson twisted and attempted to kick his legs free to no avail. Without a mask he couldn’t even see his attackers. They were just blurry figures intent on killing him. These bastards had tipped him over and were dragging him ever deeper, the light from the surface fading into darkness. The more he resisted, the greater his urge to take a breath. His head was pounding and his eyes felt like they were going to burst out of his skull.
After fifty-five seconds, Alfie couldn’t fight it anymore and released the air in his lungs, immediately sucking in sea water to take its place. His body jerked as he unsuccessfully attempted to cough it out and the movie producer and sex-trafficker lost consciousness, his body going limp in his attacker’s hands.
Walker and Norris held onto Nicholson for another three minutes to make sure that he was really dead. They then swam down to where their diver propulsion vehicles were, dragging Alfie with them. They recovered the GPS beacons and activated their DPVs, heading back towards the boat. They carried the corpse with them for five hundred yards before releasing it, thirty feet beneath the surface. The idea was that if the authorities did recover the body, they would think that Nicholson somehow had fallen off of his surf board, drowned, and was pulled out to sea by the undertow.
The two divers then rose to a depth of five feet where Walker hit transmit on his communicator.
“Fish One to Bravo One, mission accomplished. We’re on our way back.”
“Bravo One clear,” Fleming answered, relief in his voice.
Fifteen minutes later, the divers had been recovered and the boat was being motored back towards Marina del Rey, fifteen miles away.
Los Angeles International Airport, Wednesday, 1310 hours
Inside a closed hangar, Chuck disconnected from his phone call with Beth. She sounded relieved that he was coming home. Baby Ray had finally gone to sleep and Elizabeth had gotten a good nap which left her in much better spirits. She was even more excited when her husband told her that he would be off for the next week and a half after checking in at CIA HQ.
Now, the big man waited at the bottom of the steps of the small, black corporate jet owned by the CIA. The eight men and one woman of his team wearily carried their bags and gear up the stairs. The last three weeks had been intense, with almost around the clock surveillance and preparation.
McCain had a word for each one, thanking them for their role in the successful operation. The two former SEALs brought up the rear and Chuck shook both of their hands.
“Great job, guys. I don’t think that could’ve gone any better.”
Jay nodded somberly. “The world is definitely a better place without him in it. Any word from Kevin?”
“No, but I texted him that we had taken care of business and were on our wa
y home. If things went according to plan, they should be leaving Honduras soon.”
Kevin Clark was the other Assistant Director of Operations for the CIA. He was responsible for clandestine international missions. Walker and Norton both reported to Clark but had been loaned to McCain because of their underwater skills. Kevin was currently in Central America tying up his part of this mission.
Chuck followed the warriors up the stairs and into the plane, seating himself across the aisle from Scotty, who was already strapped in and asleep, his seat reclined. A loud snore escaped the bearded man’s lips. McCain yawned as exhaustion hit him. He planned on following Smith’s example very soon.
The ground crew opened the hangar doors and the Lear jet was pulled out onto the tarmac. The pilot fired up the engines and soon they were taxiing into position. Chuck looked around and almost every one of his teammates were already asleep. A sudden burst of acceleration pushed him back in his seat as the aircraft picked up speed. Within seconds they were airborne.
McCain reflected on their mission and sighed. It always surprised him that he didn’t feel guilt or remorse for being a part of killing someone. This was the third operation like this that they had undertaken in the last year. The first two had been fugitive FBI agents who had given information to the Iranians before and during the zombie virus crisis.
The Federal Bureau of Investigation had been infiltrated by a number of moles who had managed to get into key positions. When this had come to light, the President made it known that he had lost faith in the organization. The Attorney General, the Director of the FBI, and several assistant directors had been fired and, in an unprecedented move, the CIA was given the responsibility of coordinating the fight against both the terrorists who deployed the virus and the zombies themselves. Now, after almost two years of being in a timeout, the FBI seemed to be back on track.
The rogue agents whom McCain’s team had taken out had fled just as they were about to be exposed. One of them had been located in Chicago and had committed “suicide” by shooting himself in the head. The other one was hiding in Miami and had died of an “accidental” heroin overdose. Sure, they could have been arrested and sent to prison for the rest of their lives. They had been responsible for the deaths of thousands of Americans, however, and McCain’s boss, Sandra Dunning, decided that they did not deserve a trial. That was fine with Chuck and they were eliminated.
Alfie Nicholson was a different kind of case, though. He wasn’t a terrorist, but he was responsible for the abuse of over a hundred girls. While it couldn’t be proven, everyone knew that he had used bribes, blackmail, and extortion to avoid a conviction in his recent trial. And no sane person believed that the key FBI agent had fallen down the stairs and broken his neck.
Did Nicholson deserve to die? In McCain’s mind, most definitely. At the same time, there was something about this that did not seem quite right. The mission had come from Sandra but, for the first time, Chuck had gotten the feeling that she was holding information back from him and Kevin. It was probably nothing and she was the boss. Dunning did not have to tell them everything. She likely had a good reason if she was withholding intelligence from her two assistant directors. I guess it doesn’t matter now, McCain thought. Alfie was dead and if everything went according to plan with Kevin and his team, so was Erin Knight.
CHAPTER TWO
THE HILTON PRINCESS Hotel, San Pedro Sula, Honduras, Wednesday, 1015 hours local time
Erin Knight tried for the fifth time to call Alfie Nicholson. For the fifth time, the call went to his voicemail. She angrily tossed her phone onto the king size bed. He knows I have separation anxiety, she thought angrily. He also knows I hate coming to these nasty Central American countries and staying in these crappy four-star hotels.
The tall redhead threw herself onto the bed and slowly took in a deep breath, counted to five, and then exhaled slowly, just as her therapist had taught her. Erin owed Alfie everything and she tried not to get angry with him. He had probably just gone surfing and forgotten. No problem, she told herself. He would see that she had called and call her back soon.
That pig of a police officer would be at the hotel in forty-five minutes to take them to pick up the girls. She had met with him the night before in the hotel bar to iron out the last minute details. He had shown her their passports, along with the notarized letters of permission from their parents allowing them to leave the country in Knight’s care.
Colonel Bonilla’s eyes had pretty much stayed locked on her boobs for their entire conversation. Gino and Vinnie sat at the adjoining table so she wasn’t worried about the colonel trying anything with her. The two bodyguards often gawked at her chest, as well, but they knew their place and would keep her safe.
The movie star had flipped open the passports, gazing on the three fresh, young faces. A thirteen-year old and two fourteen-year olds. They were adorable and so innocent looking. The actress had maintained a neutral expression, but inside, she was delighted. Sometimes she and Alfie joked that she liked young girls as much as he did.
Whenever Colonel Bonilla arrived at the hotel, Erin and her two escorts would follow the police officer to a small village about an hour away. After meeting the girls and their families, slipping the parents an envelope of US dollars, they would immediately head for the airport. Bonilla would accompany them, get all of their passports stamped, and make sure they got aboard Nicholson’s private jet with no complications.
The corrupt cop’s payment would then be wired to his special account in the Cayman Islands. The colonel had been in Alfie’s employment for several years and Knight imagined he was a rich man after providing so many girls to work on Nicholson’s island. It amazed Erin that the movie producer had somehow located dirty police officers and government officials throughout Central America who were more than willing to help him find young women to exploit.
Erin grabbed at her phone and looked at the screen. Nothing. She sent Nicholson a text asking him to call her and went through her breathing exercise a few more times to calm herself down. Come on, Alfie, don’t do this to me, she thought, trying to will her boyfriend to contact her.
After growing up in the suburbs of Philadelphia, Erin was determined to become a movie star to escape her terrible home life. She had saved her money from babysitting and other odd jobs, and when she turned eighteen, bought a one-way bus ticket to Los Angeles, determined to make a name for herself there. Both her mother and her step-father were alcoholics and she’d had enough of their abuse. Joe, her step-dad, loved to feel her up whenever her mother wasn’t looking and her mom loved to slap her around, telling her that she would never amount to anything.
Erin didn’t bother informing her parents that she was leaving. She just packed a single suitcase full of clothes and left while they were at work. When she got to LA, she had managed to find a job as a waitress at Denny’s on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood.
Of course, after her first film appearance, her mother had sent her a message on Facebook asking her to call home. Knight had blocked her, having no desire to talk to the woman and listen to her pleas for money. Erin was finally making it on her own without any help from her family and she did not feel that she owed them anything.
It was a miracle that she had ever made it as an actress. Her miracle’s name was Alfie Nicholson. Every waiter and waitress in Los Angeles was an aspiring actor, actress, or screen writer. Rather than hiring an agent and going on audition after audition, Erin had gone to all the major studios, asking if they had any intern positions available. The only place that had offered her a job was at Alfie’s Golden Age Studios. They actually gave her an entry-level, paying position.
Knight found out later that the reason she was hired was because Golden Age was experiencing a rough spot in the road. Rumors had started to circulate about Nicholson’s connections with the Mafia and a number of low-level and even a few mid-level employees had quit. Even the name of his studio was a veiled reference to the days before the governmen
t had gotten involved in attacking organized crime.
Erin started working at Golden Age several years before Alfie was arrested, but he had been sued by a former employee for sexual harassment just before she got there. None of that mattered to the young woman. She was working for a Hollywood studio and was one step closer towards her dream of becoming a movie star.
Her job was an assistant to the Production Assistant. It was a menial job that did not pay much more than she had been making at Denny’s, but Erin gratefully worked long hours, doing whatever they asked of her. After six months, she was on the set of Golden Age’s newest film, a gangster drama set in the thirties. She was actually helping make a movie, she thought, following the Production Assistant around, waiting to be told what to do.
There was a stir during a break on the set and Knight heard someone say that Alfie was going to come watch part of the filming. Erin had never seen the man before but couldn’t take her eyes off of him as entered the studio. She was captivated by his good looks, his charisma, and his smile. He had an energy that seemed to fill the room. At some point, he glanced across the set and made eye contact with her. The young woman quickly looked down, embarrassed that he had caught her staring at him.
When she had looked back up, Alfie had flashed his famous grin and nodded at her. A week later, she was told to report to Nicholson’s office where he asked if she would be interested in working directly for him as one of his personal assistants. Erin managed to stammer a surprised, “Yes,” and began the next day with a large bump up in her salary.
A few weeks after starting her new position, Nicholson took her with him to New York for business. They had become lovers during that trip and Alfie began to give Erin more and more responsibility in managing his day-to-day activities.
