Troubleshooters 04 Out of Control

by Suzanne Brockmann

  And then, god damn, she’d kissed him. She’d freaking kissed him. It was a no hesitation, high power, heavy tongue action, full body slam kind of kiss. The kind that screamed, “I want you, I need you.”

  Ken stumbled over his own feet, somehow managing to thwack himself in the face with a low hanging branch. God, he was a freaking moron.

  Yes, she wanted and needed him—to keep her safe.

  After he successfully did that, then and only then should he start considering any of her other potential wants and needs. And potential was the big word here. So what if she’d kissed him. It might’ve been simply from intense relief.

  If a helo carrying Sam Starrett and Johnny Nilsson were to suddenly appear overhead and lower a rope to pull them aboard to safety, he’d certainly give them each a big wet kiss.

  “Are you okay?” Savannah asked.

  “Yeah, I was just . . . thinking about how glad I’m going to be when this is over,” he told her.

  “Me, too.” Her words were heartfelt and Ken knew that she probably couldn’t wait to get out of here.

  Don’t leave me.

  Chances are she wouldn’t sing quite the same song once he got her safely back to Jakarta.

  Another misstep, and another branch hit him in the face. And he made himself focus by thinking about Otto Zdanowicz finding Savannah and shooting her in the head.

  “I’m going to carry you now,” he told her, “so we can move even faster. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. Any response from you is unnecessary and unwelcome.”

  She didn’t say a word as he picked her up. Her life was now literally in his hands. His focus was clear and his footing sure as he moved swiftly through the dim jungle.

  It took ten minutes to find where Ken had hidden the attaché case.

  Really, the only reason Jones found it so quickly was because he’d seen exactly where Ken had gone into the jungle, and because he was a lucky son of a bitch.

  Digging it up took about two minutes, popping the lock—thirty seconds.

  And then there it was.

  Holy mother of God.

  “See?” Molly said. “Money. Savannah wasn’t lying.”

  No, she most certainly wasn’t. The inside of the case was slightly smaller than he’d imagined, still there had to be well over two hundred thousand dollars here.

  Molly closed the case and began reburying it.

  “You know, there’s a finders-keepers rule in the jungle,” Jones pointed out.

  “You said you wanted to dig it up to make sure Ken hadn’t hidden something here that was going to bring the demons of hell down upon you.”

  Yeah, those had been pretty much his exact words. Still . . . “Do you know what I could do with that much money?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not yours.”

  Except she was just reburying it. Right where it had been. Right where he could easily come and unbury it after she went back to the village.

  What did she think? That he would just sit here and ignore the small fortune hidden here on his land?

  Well, sure, it wasn’t really his land. He was just a squatter, but still . . .

  “If they don’t come back for it in, say, a month,” Molly told him, “then you can keep it. But you know they’re going to come back for it. People don’t just forget about that much cash.” She wiped off her hands and stood up. “Walk me back?”

  Jones stood, too, glancing around, memorizing the place that the case was buried. “Sure. I’m not going to go into the village, though. And I better skip tea. That blasting is going to bring Otto Zdanowicz back here, and it’s better if people don’t see us together.”

  She didn’t say anything, but he knew she was disappointed. And even though he’d given her more of an explanation than he’d ever given any woman as to why he couldn’t see her, he kept going.

  “See, I have an agreement with the Zdanowicz brothers—I don’t fuck with them, they won’t fuck with me. By selling those supplies to Ken, I was officially fucking with them, Molly. This is not a good thing. You need to return to the village and tell everyone that I refused to help Ken and Savannah, and that they pushed on. Then when Otto shows up and starts throwing his weight around again, you can let it slip that you sent them up to me. He’ll come here, and I’ll tell him I’m pretty sure they headed down the mountain toward the port.”

  “But they didn’t.”

  Jones held up both hands. “I don’t know where they went, and I don’t want to know. But I do know they didn’t take the mule trail. That’s a definite.”

  “So you’re planning to double-fuck Otto Zdanowicz,” Molly observed. “First by helping Ken and Savannah, and then by pointing Otto in the wrong direction.”

  She was looking at him like he was some kind of a hero, and he shrugged. “It’s not that big a deal. I fuck with everyone, every chance I get.”

  She nodded, but he could tell just from looking that she knew he was lying. She kissed him. Sweetly. Tenderly.

  He thought about that money buried back behind his Quonset hut. That money would buy him damn near everything he’d ever wanted.

  Except the one thing he couldn’t have.

  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Sixteen

  “The word on the street is that there’s an unusual amount of interest in Parwati Island,” Max Bhagat said, drawing a red circle around the island in question on the big map that lay on the FBI conference table. “Talk is of a large amount of money up for grabs—which makes us think if the money survived the helo crash, then Karmody and your granddaughter probably also survived. We sent a SEAL team out there—dressed as tourists in one of those commercial rent-a-choppers—to see what they could find.”

  “And . . . ?” Rose said.

  “They’ll be contacting us via radio, ma’am. They should be checking in any minute, at which point I’ll be notified. I’ll put the call on the speaker phone.”

  “Thank you.” The frustration was nearly overwhelming. Rose had to resign herself to the knowledge that no matter what happened, Jakarta was as far as she was going to go.

  Both Savannah and Alex might be running around on Parwati Island, but it would be up to the teams of professionals to find them. Her job now was to sit and wait. And waiting had never been her strong suit.

  Her other son, Karl, and his wife, Priscilla, had finally been contacted. They were on their way and would probably arrive by tonight. Just in case waiting for news all by herself wasn’t fun enough.

  “In the meantime, I thought you’d be interested in knowing that one of the recent pharmacy break-ins—one in which insulin was stolen—occurred right here,” Max tapped the map, “at the hospital in Port Parwati.”

  “All on the same island,” Rose said. “That seems a little coincidental.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Max replied. “Port Parwati’s like one of those mining towns in the Wild West. Like Tombstone, Arizona. Trouble and troublemakers tend to gravitate there. If I were going to knock over a drug dispensary in this part of Indonesia, I’d head for Parwati.”

  “It hasn’t been confirmed,” Alyssa Locke leaned forward to say, “but a man named Jayakatong was seen in the vicinity of the Port Parwati hospital on the night of the break-in. According to our sources, he’s Armindo Badaruddin’s right-hand man.”

  Badaruddin. Rose recognized that name from the short list of suspects in Alex’s kidnapping.

  “Badaruddin’s primary camp is here.” Max made another X, this one on a different island to the north of Parwati, but definitely well within range by boat or helicopter.

  From what she remembered, Badaruddin was politically motivated rather than financially driven. This was not good news.

  George cleared his throat. “If they stole insulin, their intention must be to keep Alex alive.”

  God bless George. He could read her like a book.

  The telephone rang, and true to his word, after a brief con
versation, Max turned on the speaker phone.

  “This may not be absolutely clear—Lieutenant Starrett’s coming to us via radio. We’ll have to do the best we can.” He raised his voice. “Go ahead, Lieutenant.”

  “As I said, sir, we found what we believe is the downed helo here on Parwati Island.” The Lieutenant had a Texas drawl. “I’m standing right next to it now, and it definitely burned, but it doesn’t appear to have crashed. It looks like it landed first in a clearing alongside a small river. We’ve got some shell casings in the area, too, that imply there was some sort of firefight. Over.”

  Rose spoke up. “Are there any tracks, Lieutenant? Any sign that anyone left the area?”

  “Ma’am, this part of the island gets torrential rainfall two, three times a day,” Starrett said. “Any tracks were probably completely erased within a few hours. But that’s a good thing. Because we’re definitely not the first people to have found this helo. Come back.”

  “If you were Chief Karmody,” Alyssa asked, “and you were with Savannah von Hopf, where would you go from there? Go ahead.”

  Starrett didn’t hesitate. “Downstream, ma’am. And we’d like permission to try just that. Come back.”

  “Karmody’s two days ahead of you, Lieutenant,” Bhagat said. “If he’s even there at all. Over.”

  “Oh, he’s here, sir,” Starrett said absolutely. “As we were approaching the island, there was a series of explosions in the mountains—three different sets of ’em. Some of the locals were clearing a road, but I swear, they must’ve had WildCard’s help in cutting the lengths of the fuses, because they went off in a pattern. Shave and a haircut. Three patterns just like that—bump badah dump bump. Three in a row. It’s WildCard Karmody, telling us he’s here. We tried to talk to the locals working on the road, but there were language barriers. And, well, frankly, WildCard’s somewhat unique. If he was dealing with these guys, they’re not going to tell anyone. They’re either scared to death of him or the new presidents of his fan club. One or the other. Excuse me, Commander Paoletti, are you in the room? Can you back me here, sir? Over.”

  Lt. Comdr. Tom Paoletti had been silent up to this point. But now he shifted in his seat. “I’d have to agree with Starrett. That sounds like the handiwork of our missing man. Come back in, Lieutenant,” he ordered, “but be ready to pick up your gear and head right out again. Over.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” Starrett said. “Over and out.”

  “I’d like to send out two different teams,” Paoletti suggested in his calm, easygoing manner. Rose liked both him and his executive officer, Lt. Jazz Jacquette, immensely. “One to Parwati and one to Badaruddin’s island.” He turned to her. “They’ll be dropped via boat—they’ll swim in. There’s no chance they’ll be seen—they’ll be no danger to either your granddaughter or your son.”

  She smiled at him. “I appreciate that.”

  Max Bhagat nodded. “Do it.” He looked at her. “Anything you’d like to add, Mrs. von Hopf? And don’t ask me to send you to Parwati, because that’s not going to happen.”

  “Believe me, Mr. Bhagat, there’s a rule I learned a long time ago—before you were born, I feel inclined to point out. And that rule is to recognize not just your strengths, but also your limitations. Sometimes you’ve got to sit back and let the specialists make use of their expensive education and training. Therefore, I shall be at the hotel, awaiting any news.”

  As she stood, the entire table got to their feet, as if she were the queen.

  George and her two other FBI handlers moved with her toward the door. But she turned back.

  “Oh. If this WildCard Karmody is as good as everyone says, wouldn’t it be a smart idea to set up some kind of intercept team, some kind of official safety net in Port Parwati? On the assumption that he and Savannah may well find us before we find them? Of course, you wouldn’t want to waste valuable agents on such a tiresome—”

  “Nice try,” Max said. “But you’re staying in Jakarta.”

  “If you had let me finish, you would have only heard me suggest that I not tie up three of your staff. I assure you, Mr. Bhagat, one FBI handler is sufficient. I give you my solemn promise to remain at the hotel until directed otherwise. I’d far prefer having these bright young people on hand to assist my granddaughter.”

  It was amazing. George, Alyssa, and Jules—bless their hearts—didn’t move an inch. They didn’t allow their expressions to change, and yet she knew, she knew just how eager they were to go out into the field. She’d been young once, too.

  George, however, cleared his throat. “I’d like to volunteer to stay in Jakarta with Mrs. von Hopf,” the young man said.

  Rose looked at him.

  “I want to,” he lied. He was a remarkably good liar.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Max looked at Alyssa and Jules, looked at Rose, then looked at George and nodded. “Okay,” he said. “But you’ll need to watch her like a hawk. She’s fast, so keep the doors locked. And be ready to tackle her to the ground if she runs.”

  Rose smiled as she led George toward the door. “Very funny, dear. Be careful,” she added to Alyssa and Jules.

  “She thinks I’m kidding,” she heard Max say as she walked away. He raised his voice to call after her. “That was your solemn promise you gave me. Somebody grab a pen and write that down.”

  “So what you’re saying is that Rose figured out how to win the lose-lose scenario,” Ken said.

  Savannah nodded, even though she knew he couldn’t see her in the darkness. “Yeah, she conjured up a third option. Turning Hank over to the FBI meant that he’d be tried and probably executed as a spy. But letting him go back to Germany meant that the Nazis might gain access to all kinds of secret information. So you’re right, with only those two choices it was a total lose-lose scenario for her.”

  “But she stepped outside of the box.” He laughed softly. “Building a private jail in a house in New Jersey—that’s pretty fricking brilliant. Hank doesn’t die, and at the same time he doesn’t get a chance to divulge any more secrets.” He laughed again, clearly tickled by her grandmother’s ingenuity. “Most people don’t think that way, you know. They see obvious choice A or obvious choice B, and they wring their hands a lot and end up picking the one that sucks the least.”

  “You step outside the box a lot,” Savannah said. “Don’t you?”

  “Yeah. I’m usually pretty good at it—at least when it comes to certain things. I’m a little embarrassed about what happened today, though. You know, when the missionaries hid us?”

  She turned toward his voice, wishing she could see his face. “Why are you embarrassed? You were great.”

  “Yeah, right. I was scared to death—too scared to think straight.” He was silent for a moment. “I’m usually better than that, Van. But I got caught up in . . .” He stopped again. “I don’t know. I usually don’t panic, but today I just couldn’t see any options besides run or fight. I was trapped in that particular nasty little box. You know, what happened today is a classic example of why they don’t let women on SEAL teams.”

  “Why?” Savannah didn’t understand. “You mean, because I didn’t know which way to run to get to the cover of the jungle? That’s not fair—I haven’t exactly had the kind of training a woman would get if she were to—”

  “No,” he said. “No, it’s . . .” He exhaled loudly. “Can we not talk about this, please? I shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place.”

  “Sorry.” Maybe he would prefer to talk about her most embarrassing moment of the day. He’d been a little tense in a scary situation. But later, she’d flipped out. Not only did she burst into tears, but she’d kissed him. After which he’d merely set her aside and methodically gone about making sure she was safe.

  She’d hoped he’d bring up the subject as they’d settled in for the night. He’d built another of these blinds around them, but he never said a word about it. So, hey, about that kiss . . . ? No, instead it was as if it
had never happened.

  “You didn’t finish telling me about your grandmother,” Ken said now, from the pitch darkness. He was only a few feet away from her, but he might as well have been on the moon. “So she locks Hank in her basement, and he tells her no, she’s got it wrong—he’s working for the Allies. Of course, she’s not going to believe him. Who would? Then what?”

  “She took his notebook—this list of names he always carried with him—and went to the FBI. He told her who to go and talk to. She did, and oops, turns out he was telling her the truth. He was an Austrian patriot—he hated the Nazis and he’d been working against them since 1936. He was a double agent, only he spent most of his time in Berlin. He was actually an officer in the SS—he worked his way that deeply into the Nazi organization.”