Wired Ghost: Vigilante Justice Thriller Series (Paradise Crime Thriller Book 11)

by Toby Neal

  It had been a long time since he’d gone into an unknown hostile situation, in strange terrain, surrounded by this much firepower.

  A tap on his shoulder. He turned his head toward Captain Ohale, seated beside him on the wide bench seat. “We’re almost there.” Ohale’s dark brown eyes gleamed with excitement. Raveaux had a feeling the man didn’t get out from behind his desk very often, and relished this adventure.

  Raveaux and Ohale were the only two from the Hilo station—Ohale’s staff was tied up with emergency response efforts, and the burly station chief had been the only one able to come on the rescue raid—because that’s what it was, a combination of rescue and raid.

  Six National Guardsmen sat in back, strapped and ready, loaded with tear gas canisters and plenty of ammo to take down any resistance from the meth factory—and prepared to bring everyone in, out of danger of the lava flow.

  Hopefully the gang surrendered without a fight, if they were at all aware of how desperate their situation was. Though they could likely survive the immediate crisis on the kipuka, thanks to its elevation above the flow, poisonous gases emitted by the volcano could still kill them, and food and water would become a problem if they were isolated there for long.

  Raveaux checked his phone, hoping for a text from Sophie.

  He needed to stop doing that.

  Sophie would have reached out to someone other than him if she’d been able to. He was just a colleague who’d worked a case with her, when he got honest with himself. But now that he was within range of her signal, he couldn’t seem to keep from checking the damn phone every five minutes. “Give it up,” he muttered to himself. “She’s with her boyfriend now.”

  “What?” Ohale yelled over the bouncing roar of their transport.

  “Nothing.” Raveaux shook his head.

  They reached an open area where a large, open-doored chopper painted in camouflage colors waited for them. Raveaux jumped out of the transport vehicle along with the other men. They trotted in an orderly line over to the chopper and got in. Raveaux and Ohale were last, taking seats that had been left unoccupied next to the pilot.

  They rose once everyone was strapped in, the heavy bird weaving from side to side in a gust of foul-smelling wind. The open doors at the sides of the helicopter allowed unlimited visibility as they lifted up into and above the belt of ashy smoke layering the ground and spun ponderously to head in the direction of their destination.

  Safe in the cradle of his five-point harness, Raveaux leaned out as far as he could to scan the ground. The range of visibility was limited by the vog, but the pilot was following Sophie and Jake’s last known coordinates. Something was bound to pop up soon.

  “There!” Raveaux pointed, his voice tinny in the comm built into the helmet. “I see their vehicle. White SUV, six o’clock.”

  The pilot circled a crude parking area where Sophie and Jake had parked the Security Solutions vehicle, along with a few rusted-out hulks of dead cars.

  “There’s a path over the lava.” Ohale pointed. “That must lead to the suspects’ encampment.” He told the pilot to follow the trail.

  Raveaux lifted a pair of binoculars to his eyes, trying to ignore the thudding of his heart amplified by the vest and helmet as he scanned the rough black surface of the lava plain for any sign of Sophie or Jake.

  There were none—and suddenly, the faint path across the rough black stone was obliterated by a lava river.

  Nothing could have prepared Raveaux for the awesome sight of that natural phenomenon.

  The lava glowed in an unearthly way, like the hottest heart of a fire, streaked by black crusts of hardening stone carried along on its surface. Though the river wasn’t moving particularly fast, there was an inexorable quality to it—nothing could stop this particular flow, or block its path for long. The lava engulfed and consumed everything in front of it, emitting little bursts of fire and smoke as it did so.

  The hairs rose on Raveaux’s arms, as his scarred skin shuddered with the remembered sensation of extreme heat. The car exploding. His wife and daughter, burning. Reaching into the flames toward Lucie, his arms engulfed in fire . . .

  Raveaux shut his eyes as the chopper lifted higher to clear a flaming tree surrounded by the lava below.

  That was then. This is now. He opened his eyes again. Shake it off, Pierre!

  The transport chopper reached the elevated, heavily wooded edge of the kipuka. Raveaux and Ohale scanned the edge of the forest, where the faint trail disappeared into trees.

  “How are we going to set down with all this tree cover?” Raveaux asked through the comm.

  “We aren’t. You’ll be rappelling in,” the pilot replied. Raveaux could hear the National Guardsmen in the back already preparing their ropes and belts. “You’re not trained for this, so I’ll be using a winch to lower you and Ohale,” the pilot clarified.

  “We’ll hold back and wait for the Guardsmen to secure the area,” Ohale chimed in.

  “Copy that,” Raveaux replied, relieved. He’d served two years in France’s armed forces right out of high school, but those rappelling lessons were long ago.

  The chopper passed several times over the mile-long area of the kipuka, identifying where the camouflage-painted roof of the corrugated tin meth lab was located in the center of the “island” of trees: a large building surrounded by smaller ones like a hen and her chicks.

  “Nobody visible.” Ohale scanned the ground with his binoculars. “Maybe they got out before the lava cut the area off.”

  “We think Sophie and Jake didn’t make it out,” Raveaux said, “And that’s who I’m here for.”

  Ohale nodded grimly, not verbalizing the possibility Raveaux was most concerned about—they hadn’t made it out because the meth cookers had done away with them. Then the criminal gang had decamped, abandoning their jungle lair and leaving it for the lava to claim.

  Raveaux and Ohale observed as the pilot, consulting with the National Guard lieutenant in charge, a stocky mixed-Hawaiian man named Wong, chose an area away from the immediate buildings into which to lower the team.

  The chopper held steady, rocking only slightly in gusts of wind off the lava plain, as two different ropes deployed off the sides and the Guardsmen rappelled down.

  Listening through the comms to the soldiers checking the area to make sure it was clear, verifying that they weren’t going to be ambushed, was reassuring. Ohale, going down first, donned a harness. The pilot worked a winch at his dashboard that lowered the big station chief down through the trees.

  Soon the harness was trundling back up. Raveaux moved into the empty open area at the back of the chopper. He glanced around the utilitarian space, the walls lined with jump seats whose straps hung empty. An emergency gurney and body basket stowed with first aid supplies was netted securely into the tail area.

  “Hopefully we won’t need that,” he murmured, but he had a bad feeling about what had happened to Sophie and Jake.

  That bad feeling fueled his sense of urgency as he leaned out and captured the harness as it swung to the top of the cable beneath the chopper. He pulled it up and examined the straps. Captain Ohale’s bulk was greater than Raveaux’s whipcord-lean build, so he had to adjust all of the buckles and belts—but soon, wearing a pair of leather gloves that had been stowed in the harness, he was swinging out into space.

  Raveaux was grateful he didn’t have a problem with heights as he gazed around at the rapidly-approaching, swaying tops of the native ohia and koa trees that came toward him as he was lowered toward the ground. The cable he was attached to bounced and swayed as the helicopter dealt with the breeze off the plain.

  The ohia trees were in bloom, decorated by poufs of fragile blossoms made up of delicate filaments, bright red among silvery leaves. A red-orange native bird, an ʻiʻiwi, to judge from its long, curved beak, hopped from flower to flower on a tree beside him in search of nectar, unfazed by the loud noise of the chopper above, and Raveaux’s nearness.

 
Raveaux dropped into the canopy, and even with the urgency of their mission, he enjoyed the way the branches of a nearby koa tree rose up in graceful candelabra-like shapes, the rough bark of the trunk and branches embellished with lacy, pale green lichens. If only he could have this experience without the adrenaline of their mission, and the loud noise of the chopper. He’d listened to the singing of the native birds, and their song was sweet and thrilling in its own way. The Hawaii native forest was not like any he’d ever seen in Europe or anywhere else in the world.

  He landed waist-deep in a swath of ferns, and worked quickly with the help of one of the Guardsmen to get out of the harness.

  The bundle of straps, with the leather gloves poking out, spun up out of sight. Raveaux followed the soldier, crunching through the ferns and into the cover of the trees.

  Chapter Twelve

  Connor

  In the topmost room of the Yām Khûmkạn’s temple compound, where the satellite Internet signal was most unimpeded, Connor sat down at his bank of computers. Once the Master had given him access, Connor had re-created the lab in this remote Thai location to match the one at his former Oahu apartment down to the last detail.

  He’d supervised the morning drills. He’d made sure Pi had exited the building, and was making his humble way down the jungle road that led away from the compound and into exile. Connor had the day to himself—free to manipulate criminals into killing, maiming, and turning each other in.

  So satisfying.

  He cracked his knuckles and booted up his rigs. Filled with anticipation, he fired up the Ghost software and checked his caches—there were cases brewing around the world that called for his unique brand of cyber justice.

  Connor pulled together threads, researched and planted messages, but interesting as it was, he couldn’t settle in, get fully “wired in” to his tasks.

  His mind kept circling back to Sophie.

  They checked in with each other monthly via their secret chat room. As far as he knew, she was doing well, living in his old apartment, running his former business, Security Solutions, and working active cases when her daughter Momi was with her father on Kaua`i.

  But he felt unaccountably restless about her, in need of contact. Maybe it was the stress of dealing with Pi, but he wanted to hear her voice. Giving in to the pull, Connor rang her cell.

  It went immediately to voice mail.

  She must have her phone off. She always answered for him.

  There could be a million reasons for it, but his skin crawled with apprehension—something was wrong.

  After a short internal debate, Connor opened the surveillance app he had installed on his phone that tracked a microchip Sophie had allowed him to implant under her skin. The chip was satellite-enabled. Within moments, he was able to zero in on her location.

  What he saw galvanized him.

  Cursing, he reached for his private phone kept plugged in behind the computers, and entered a pre-programmed number he’d never called before.

  Kendall Bix had been the director of operations at Security Solutions for years. The unflappable man had proven his trustworthiness through numerous changes in staff and turnover in leadership. In return for allowing him to chip her, Sophie had insisted to Connor that it was necessary to apprise Bix of Connor’s status in case of an emergency. Though his company founder identity had been declared legally dead, Sheldon Hamilton was actually living abroad, off the grid. She’d set up a way for them to communicate, should they need to.

  Bix answered on the second ring, sounding cautious. “To what do I owe this unexpected honor, Mr. Hamilton?”

  “Is Sophie on the Big Island?” Connor had no time for pleasantries. He was half a world away from the woman he loved, and if her location was verified, she was in danger.

  “She is.” Bix paused, then blew out a breath. “She’s working a case with Jake Dunn. A simple snatch and grab of a minor in a remote location. They failed to check in, and I’ve already deployed an operative to check on their last known coordinates.”

  “Jake’s working the case with her?” He frowned. “Have you been monitoring the geological situation over there?” As he looked at the topographical terrain shown him by the satellite imaging, Connor’s belly clenched. Belching ashy emissions from the crater, a fast-moving river of lava was headed for the area where Sophie’s GPS appeared. “There is heavy volcanic activity happening in the area where Sophie and Jake are currently located.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Not relevant right now. I’m leaving immediately, but it’ll take me a day or so to get to the Big Island. Liaise me with a rescue chopper and the operative that’s looking for them.”

  “I’m not sure what your role is with this company any longer, Mr. Hamilton.” Bix’s tone was dry. “But I’m pretty sure you’re not giving orders anymore.”

  “I don’t give a shit what you think. Get me what I need, and we can discuss chain of command later.” Connor ended the call, already rising from his chair. He opened the door and bellowed into the hallway. “Nine! Get me the helicopter, now!”

  The helicopter lifted and sped away from the compound. Watching the ancient stone temple recede and be swallowed by the surrounding jungle, Connor suppressed worry and doubt.

  Pi had been removed. Connor had confirmation that the man had been ejected outside of the walls and the compound was closed to him; but there was no way for Connor to be sure how much influence he still retained among the men. Nine had kept his ear to the ground, but had only been able to confirm that Pi had been working to raise resistance against Connor’s leadership for months. It was a vulnerable time to leave the compound.

  But Connor had to rescue Sophie. He was the only one who could track her location accurately.

  Perhaps, while in flight, he could make contact with the Master. Nine had located the Master on his own private island in the Philippines. He had taken his lover, Sophie’s mother, Pim Wat, there to be nursed back to health after he had extracted her from the United States interrogation unit at Guantánamo.

  The Master carried a private cell phone, though Connor had never called it. Connor pinged the number on his own satellite-enabled phone as the helicopter headed toward Chiang Mai, where Connor planned to catch a private jet to Hawaii.

  “Number One. Why have you disturbed my retreat?” As always, the Master’s voice was an instrument that could reach into his very bones and create a connection.

  “I’m sorry, Master—it’s an emergency. I have had to remove Pi and expel him from the compound. I worry that he has supporters among the men, and now I have to leave the compound to rescue Sophie from volcanic activity on the Big Island. I thought I should contact you, to let you know that the stronghold is vulnerable, and I am not physically present.”

  A short silence. He could see the Master’s severely handsome face in his mind’s eye: the sculptured mouth tightened, the elegant lines of his dark brows lowered in disapproval. “Who have you left in charge?”

  “My second, Nine, is traveling with me, so I left the three elders who have proved themselves both loyal and capable in charge.” Connor gave him their designations.

  “You were right to contact me. These are good men, but your absence leaves a void for Pi’s poison to work. I told you there would be consequences for sparing his life. I will have to return.”

  Connor frowned. Soon he would see Sophie, if all went well, and she would want to know news of her pit viper of a mother. “And what of Pim Wat?”

  “Pim Wat will come with me to the compound. It was time for us to return, anyway.”

  “She is well, then?” Pim Wat had been in a self-induced catatonic state following injuries sustained in her capture by the CIA. Connor had hoped she’d die in Guantánamo; the woman was that evil. But the Master had intervened, breaking her out of the prison, proving he could have done so easily at any time.

  “Pim Wat is as well as she will become. Contact me when you plan to return. Don’t worry
about the men; I will return and monitor the situation.” The Master ended the call.

  As always, when the Master’s voice ceased, Connor was left wanting more. He shut his eyes for a moment, meditating on the powerful attraction the man emitted, how he used that to control and influence everyone around him.

  The use of voice tones to elicit obedience was something he would study carefully from this day forward. Connor still had so much to learn.

  He leaned back against the padded seat, relaxing into his harness as the chopper flew toward their destination. The relief brought by surrendering the tremendous responsibility of the compound’s leadership was so great that he immediately fell asleep.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sophie

  The last part of the wall climb alongside the underground pond was particularly grueling. The ledge ran out, and they had to use both hands to maneuver their way along the rough wall, taking turns holding the torch in their mouths, or passing it back and forth.

  Finally, they reached the other side. Sophie took the sputtering light from Jake after she made her way off the wall onto solid ground. Once she was out of the way, he leaped off the side of the cliff onto the rocky bank and let out a yodeling yell, pounding his chest. “Tarzan, baby. I’m the ape man.”

  Sophie grinned. “I don’t get it.”

  “Me Tarzan, you Jane. Classic stories by Edgar Rice Burroughs.” He groaned, rubbing his pectoral area. “Dammit, I forgot about my ribs there for a moment. You can look up my literary reference when we get out of here. Meanwhile, I see that bathing pond we were discussing earlier. It’s right over there.” He pointed.

  Sophie turned to look. Jake grabbed the torch out of her hand, and lit his, just as the one she was holding went out. “Whew. Not in a hurry to experience complete darkness again any time soon.”