Covert Network (A Jake Adams International Espionage Thriller Series Book 14)

by Trevor Scott

This time Jake got in the front passenger seat and Sirena took a seat behind him.

  Within seconds, the Argentine intel officer had the car cranked over and rolling down the residential street. She took the first right and eventually turned back toward the downtown of Buenos Aires.

  “All right,” Jake said. “Who was the guy following us in the Ford?”

  Antonia’s eyes shifted toward Jake and then back to the road ahead. “He’s an American with the CIA.”

  Ok, Jake thought. That was unexpected.

  Sirena leaned forward and asked, “Tell me about those two men you shamed on the sidewalk.”

  “They started it,” Jake said.

  “Right,” Sirena said, “and you finished it. What the hell is going on?”

  Jake didn’t want to mention this, but he had no choice. They had a right to know. “Ah, the two guys back there were with Buenos Aires police.”

  Antonia turned to Jake quickly. “Were they Metropolitan Policia or Argentine Federal Policia?”

  “Neither. His credentials said Provincial. He was an inspector.”

  “Okay,” Antonia said. “That’s a little better. The Federal Policia has a reputation of corruption. Metropolitan is better. Provincial is a little more everyday cop in Buenos Aires. Perhaps it was just a chance encounter.”

  Jake shook his head. “I don’t think so. They seemed to recognize me. And they didn’t hesitate. They just attacked. Who else in your organization knows I’m here?”

  “No one that I know of,” Antonia said. “Our agency was contacted by the Spaniards. We could not officially get involved. But my boss knew we must help. That’s why he chose me to work the case. Off the books, of course.”

  None of this was adding up for Jake. But he had a feeling, based on what Sirena had told him since leaving Iceland, that things in this part of the world worked a little differently.

  “All right,” Jake said. “Let’s go to the last place Sirena’s friend was known to have visited.”

  Sirena leaned forward again and said, “She was taken from there. I’m sure of it.”

  “So were the two girls from Spain,” Antonia said. She turned left onto a more major road and hit the gas.

  10

  Peru

  Time seemed to be standing still for Maria as she woke again from her slumber. On the trip from Buenos Aires to wherever she was now, they had first starved her of food and water. Then, when their thirst was nearly unbearable, they had given each of them a bottle of water. But also in that water was a drug that had incapacitated them, sending them into a chemically-induced stupor. She would occasionally wake and try to hear the men speak, but nothing seemed to make sense. She could not even understand their words. Because of this loss of time, she had also lost all understanding of distance driven and her current location. She had failed with her training. How could she live with herself now? It was her job to find the two young college girls. Instead, she had been captured herself and hauled off to this squalor.

  She glanced about her cell. Yes, it was a room of some sort with a straw bed on the floor and a single light overhead. No window. The door was locked from the outside. Although not officially a prison, she was not free. Now she glanced at her own condition. She wore a T-shirt, but not one of hers, along with shorts that were too baggy. Her shoes and socks were gone. Someone had taken her clothes and dressed her in these. She didn’t even have her bra and panties. Did they also rape her? She didn’t feel any pain there, so probably not. Maybe they were waiting for that.

  The worst part was the unknowing and the creatures that moved in the darkness—bugs and vermin.

  The sound of a key in the door startled her, and she sat up on her pad, scooting back into the far corner of the room.

  When the door opened, she saw two new men enter the room. These were not the men who had taken her. They looked more European. Both were at least six feet tall, with short-cropped hair. Muscular.

  They didn’t say a word. They simply hoisted her to her feet and held her off the ground as they hauled her out of the room. She tried to struggle, but they were too strong.

  The men brought her to a larger room—cold, dark and smelling like a butcher shop. Then they tied her hands together and attached her to an overhead hook that was on the end of a cable coming from a winch of some sort. This was a place where someone processed animal carcasses, she realized.

  Now one of the men found a device and started to raise the cable, which lifted her arms higher above her head until she was on her tiptoes trying to relieve the pressure from her shoulders. A few more centimeters and her shoulders would surely snap, she thought.

  “What do you want?” Maria asked in Spanish.

  The men said nothing. No reaction whatsoever. They simply left her like that, hanging like a piece of meat, and closed the door behind them.

  Within a half hour her toes were starting to get tired and her arms felt like they would rip from her shoulders. The pain was starting to overwhelm her, so she thought of a bright side. If she ever got out of here, she might have gained about an inch in height. Silver lining.

  Just when she thought she would no longer be able to handle the pain, her feet twitching and almost collapsing, the door opened and a man came in alone. He was taller than the other two, but had a similar barber—his blond hair was cropped flat on top. It was perfect; not a hair out of place.

  “What is going on here?” the man said in English, but with a strange accent. He found the cable control button and lowered her so her feet were flat, relieving the pressure on her shoulders. “There. Are you all right now?”

  Maria switched to English. “Yes, thank you. Why am I here?”

  The tall man nodded his head with approval. “I like that. Right to the point. Well, you are here because we feel you need a second chance.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “Simple. You were lost and now you are found. We found you.” He paced around her, his eyes studying every inch on her body.

  “I was not lost,” she assured the man.

  “Oh, but you were. What kind of woman goes to a bar and accepts drinks from perfect strangers?”

  She considered saying why she had gone to the bar, but she didn’t want this man to know her real identity. After all, the only identification she had on her was from her false legend. An identity, that if checked, would live up to scrutiny. But it would also be flagged by her agency and bring down hell on these people. She would use that to her advantage.

  “I am a simple woman. I was not in that bar to find a man. I have a problem with alcohol. That is all. I was at the casino down the road and decided to stop at the bar for one more drink.”

  “But you accepted the drinks offered to you,” the man said. “That is like a contract to us.”

  She tried to understand the accent. It had many levels. Part of his inflection seemed Argentine, but others seemed almost British or Germanic. His English was not American. She knew that much.

  “I am sorry,” she said. “I did not mean to offend.”

  He smiled and showed his perfect teeth. Whitened. “You are a bit older than we first thought. We prefer younger women.”

  Now she was starting to understand. They planned to use her in the sex trade. Which probably meant they would not try to torture her, leaving ugly marks on her body. A pristine woman was worth much more to buyers or those who would want to use her body. She would have to use this knowledge to her advantage.

  “What do you want with me?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Compliance. Total submission.” He reached into his pocket and removed an object. With a flick on a button, a blade came out of the end. “First, I must see what we have to work with.”

  The blond man made a couple of swift slashes with his knife, cutting her clothes from her body. Without a bra and panties, she was totally exposed to this man.

  He nodded his head and said, “Not bad. Breasts are quite nice. A little small, though.” He swished h
is knife around her groin area and added, “We’ll need to cut the rest of this off. Landing strips are nice, but bare is much better for our customers.” Then he hit the switch again and the blade returned to the handle. He slipped the knife into his pants pocket again and started to leave.

  “Wait,” she said. “What will happen to me?”

  The man turned slowly from the door. “You will become what you were destined to be. A better version of you.” Then he simply wandered out, whistling a tune of some sort.

  She hung there like that for a few minutes until the two other men came in with folded clothes in their hands and a pair of slippers. The men lifted her from the overhead hook and handed the clothes to her. They still did not say a word. But she quickly got into the clothes, which resembled green hospital scrubs. The slippers were actually some kind of slip on shoe.

  Once she was dressed, the men escorted her back to her cell and locked her inside. She sat on her bed pad and wrapped her arms around her trunk. Her training had prepared her for this. They had set up almost this exact scenario. But then, deep down, she knew it was only training. This was real. This was her new reality.

  11

  Buenos Aires, Argentina

  By the time they got to the bar in a newer waterfront gentrified area of the city called Puerto Madero, Jake was feeling like he could use a stiff drink. His knuckles had a couple of scraps on them from striking a few solid areas on the bodies of the plain-clothes cops. But his real concern was the fact that those police officers had not even asked him a question. They came at him like they were targeting him directly.

  Antonia left Sirena in the car with her Spanish friend’s computer and the jump drive to see if she could open them. Antonia had said she had tried to open the laptop, with no luck, but had decided not to turn it over to her technicians. Jake guessed she didn’t trust everyone in her agency.

  Then Jake and Antonia went into the bar as a couple, taking a seat on the far end of the bar with a view of the front door and the rest of the bar. The place was about half full with mostly younger people hanging out at tall tables. On the outer edge sat either older couples or single older men. If they were to pump techno music into the joint, Jake guessed it would resemble a number of places he had hated in Europe. With the overhead music subdued and from the 80s, Jake felt more at home. He ordered a bottle of beer for each of them, and watched the bartender pick them from the cooler and open the tops in front of him. He never ordered a mixed drink at a place like this. They were too easy to lace, and since Sirena’s friend probably had her drink altered in this place, it made sense to stick to a known quantity.

  Jake took a sip from his beer but kept his eyes scanning the room for anything out of the ordinary.

  “What do you think?” Antonia asked, and then sipped on her beer.

  “Not my kind of place,” he said.

  “I agree. I usually stay home most nights.”

  “You don’t have a boyfriend?”

  She shook her head. “With this job? Not likely. How long have you and Sirena been together?”

  “What makes you think we’re together? I thought I told you we were just old friends and colleagues?”

  “Maybe so, but I see the way she looks at you.”

  “I don’t think so,” Jake said, his eyes catching something unusual with the staff.

  “It took a lot of power for her to not run down the sidewalk and help you with those men.”

  “That’s what partners do,” he said. He put his hand on her back and she winced in pain. “Sorry. I forgot about the tattoo. You going to let me see it sometime?”

  “I would have to take my shirt off,” she said. “And I can’t wear a bra until the tattoo heals.”

  “I didn’t mean here and now,” he said. “No bra?” He let his eyes slip down to her shirt, which was covered by a light leather jacket.

  “Easy cowboy.”

  “I thought you had gauchos here?”

  “Gauchos would look at my eyes, not my tits.”

  “Maybe they’re not into girls,” he said. “I’ll first look at your eyes, but then I’ll assess the entire package. A woman must feel desired. Not in a creepy way, of course.”

  “Of course not.” As she sipped on her beer, her eyes did to him what he had already done to her.

  “Have you noticed that bartender?” Jake asked.

  “Which one?”

  “The man. He keeps glancing across the room at the man in the booth by himself.”

  She lifted her beer and spun around on the barstool like a kid visiting her father’s office and using his desk chair as a playground apparatus. Antonia did this three times, pretending to be playful and perhaps drunk. Then she stopped and finished her beer.

  Jake said, “Well?”

  “I might be a little dizzy. Looks like some rich asshole. Why?”

  He found his cell phone and texted Sirena for help. Then he ordered two more beers and waited for her to enter. The bartender opened the beers and set them in front of them before hurrying off for a new order.

  “What’s the plan?” Antonia asked.

  Jake moved in close and kissed her on the lips. Then he nibbled along her jaw until he got to her left ear, which he bit down onto playfully. He whispered what they needed to do. As he started to back away, Antonia pulled him closer and kissed him passionately on the lips, slipping her tongue into his mouth. Then she leaned back and let out a heavy breath of air, followed by a beer chaser.

  Just as Antonia pulled away from Jake, he saw Sirena enter the bar from across the room. And she saw the two of them kiss as well, he could tell.

  Sirena found a spot on the other end of the bar, squeezing between two Argentine men. The bartender was attracted to her immediately, so Sirena ordered a beer.

  Jake kept his eyes on both the bartender and the man across the room sitting alone. Maybe the older guy in the booth was just looking to hook up. Maybe he was there for another reason.

  “What do you think?” Antonia asked Jake with a whisper.

  “I think we need to let Sirena work her magic,” he said. Then his eyes focused on a problem coming through the front door. “Crap.”

  “What?” Antonia asked.

  “The two cops from earlier just arrived.” Jake found his phone and texted Sirena. He watched her pick up her phone and then glance at the room behind her through the mirror behind the bar.

  Sirena texted him, asking if she should abort.

  ‘No,’ Jake texted. ‘They couldn’t recognize the two of you.’

  Antonia saw what Jake had just typed on his phone, and she said, “Why don’t you go and let us handle this.”

  That made sense, but he hated to leave the two of them alone in this meat market. Then he saw his opening. The male bartender took off his bar apron and picked up a package of cigarettes and a lighter.

  “I’m going to have a talk with the bartender out back. Watch Sirena’s back.”

  Antonia nodded and twisted for a better view once Jake started to head out.

  Jake got out to the back of the bar at the precise moment that the bartender lit his cigarette. The back area was actually nicer than the front, which butted up against the main road. Out back was a canal that ran the length of this development, giving every property water access and a potentially nice terrace to view passing boats and walkers.

  The bartender lifted his chin at Jake, who moved in for a conversation. “I would ask you for one of those,” Jake said. “But I quit years ago. I just came out for the fresh air. But I wouldn’t mind if you blew a little smoke my way.”

  The bartender laughed. “I no longer try to quit. I just embrace my destiny.”

  “A shorter life?”

  “My grandfather is eighty-six and has smoked every day of his adult life. A pack a day. He is as healthy as a bull.”

  “Maybe I should take up the habit again,” Jake said. He hesitated to assess the man. If he had drugged the young Spanish girls and Sirena’s friend, he w
ouldn’t just admit to it. So, Jake had two choices. He could ask nice, or he could beat it out of the man.

  “I will not suck your dick,” the bartender said.

  “Good to know,” Jake said. “I like women to do that for me.”

  “That’s right. You came in with that local woman. Is she your girlfriend?”

  “Just a friend.” Jake pulled out his phone and found the photo of the two Spanish girls who were missing. He didn’t want to show him the photo of the Spanish intel officer. At least not yet. He turned the phone to the bartender and said, “Have you seen these girls?”

  The bartender shook his head. “You are a cop? I already told you people that I didn’t see them.”

  “I’m not a cop,” Jake assured him. “Which means I don’t have to follow their rules.”

  Taking in a heavy draw from his cigarette, the man’s eyes shifted slightly as he blew smoke at Jake. The man was lying, Jake thought.

  “You are not from Argentina,” the bartender said. “Our policia are not prone to follow the rules either.”

  Good point. Jake unzipped his jacket to expose his gun. “Maybe that’s true. But they’re more likely to give you a beating. I might just put a bullet between your eyes if you don’t start telling me the truth.”

  Now the man was nervous.

  “Tell me why you drugged the girls,” Jake demanded.

  The bartender smirked and shook his head. “You might kill me, but they will torture me and then kill me.”

  That’s what Jake was afraid of. But he had gotten the affirmative answer he sought. Without saying so, this man had dropped something into the drink of those young girls, and probably that of the Spanish intel officer as well. But he decided not to bring up that woman. At least not now.

  “Just tell me who told you to drug them,” Jake said.

  The bartender sucked in the last of the cigarette before stamping it out on the cobblestone terrace. Then he slowly let out the smoke like it was the last cigarette he would ever enjoy.

  Suddenly, Jake felt a buzz in his hand from his phone. He saw the text from Sirena saying the cops were heading his way. He turned and slid his phone back into his pocket just as the back door opened and the two cops strolled out. This time they pulled out their guns and aimed them right at Jake.