Jewel of Solana

by Susan Sheehey

  Marcus blinked. “I’m just a crewman. As the chief engineer, you outrank everyone here.”

  Damn.

  He’d always wanted the title, had tried hard to earn his license. Not to mention impress his father. The latter was impossible.

  The salon was nearly destroyed, with all the windows blown out. Blood had splattered everywhere. A few dead bodies were piled in the corner, one of them Liang Wen—former first officer and arms smuggler.

  “Where’s Jaime?”

  “Dead,” Alfred croaked. “Took a bullet in the neck from one of those bastards. I managed to stab the prick in the leg.”

  Alanna shook her head, and made the sign of the cross.

  “The bridge is in bad shape, too,” Marcus added. “That’s where I found Captain Chen.”

  Flynn scanned the rest of the salon. The dining room was in worse shape. No way would the ship make it to Singapore in this condition. They had to return to Palawan and pray they didn’t run into any bad weather—if the navigation system even worked.

  “We have two choices,” he started with a cough. “Call in a mayday and wait for rescue, or head back to Palawan, and take our chances when we get there.”

  His turned to Alanna. “What’s it to be, Captain?”

  Her eyebrows hit her wild hairline.

  “I relinquish command to the highest-ranking member on board,” he continued. “It’s your call, Princess.”

  Everyone looked at her.

  With a deep sigh, she squared her shoulders. “Make for Palawan.” She motioned her chin at Julius. “We have a valued prisoner they’ll want to question, especially against Lozano.”

  Julius started yelling through the rag in his mouth, no doubt a rancorous slur of curses.

  “It’s too late for you,” Alanna tossed at him. “Even if the authorities don’t have enough to make the charges stick, you’re already compromised. Lozano will have you killed by the end of your first free night.”

  A distant thumping blew in through the shattered windows.

  Flynn, Alanna, and Marcus peered out the side, the flashing light in the sky drawing closer.

  Another helicopter.

  Flynn’s stomach dropped. We can’t take another onslaught.

  “Shit.” Marcus checked his rifle. “We’re seriously low on ammo.”

  Alanna gripped Flynn’s hand.

  There was no way out.

  There was no way to fix the problem. No solution. No hope.

  Alanna’s sad smile cracked his heart.

  “I’m grateful for you. I would never have made it this far without you.” She squeezed his hand.

  The crack deepened to a chasm.

  The wind from the chopper blew her dark hair around her face in a frenzy. But she never took her eyes off him.

  A bright spotlight lit up the room, turning her skin white.

  “I love you,” she yelled over the deafening noise, his gut twisting at her words.

  The chasm fell out, and shattered the remaining pieces of his soul. This is real heartache. At least I finally know the feel of true love.

  He opened his mouth to say it, but a loud squeal silenced him.

  “This is the United States Navy. Drop your weapons. We are coming aboard.”

  Alanna gasped. Her cheeks lifted in a glorious smile, and she turned her face to the blinding spotlight. A tear streamed down her temple, the blistering wind from the chopper speeding up its path.

  “Halleluiah!” Marcus laughed.

  The helicopter’s whomping noise was too much for his senses. Flynn winced through the pain, keeping his gaze on Alanna. Heaven only knew what would happen once they set foot on dry land, but he prayed to stay by her side. He didn’t want to be anywhere else.

  Soldiers brandishing automatic weapons bombarded the room. One wearing a helmet with attached microphone approached Alanna. Flynn pulled her into his side.

  “Princess Alanna?” he shouted over the noise.

  She nodded.

  “We’re from the USS Delphus. Here to escort you to U.S. Naval Command.”

  “Thank you,” she yelled back. Relief washed over her like sunlight in a tempest.

  The soldier led them to the chopper, Alanna never releasing her hand from Flynn’s grip.

  The thumping of the blades sliced through his ears, frazzling every neuron in his brain. He wanted to cower on the helipad, cover his head and holler through the pain, but Alanna’s warm palm lured him forward. They climbed aboard, and she grabbed a headset from the panel to place over his ears. He flinched, but relaxed when the pads drowned out some of the noise. Barely tolerable. She pressed her torso into his side and hugged him, compressing his muscles. He winced from the pain in his sternum, but the pressure of her, her breath on his neck, and the smell of her hair kept him from tipping over the edge.

  With everyone aboard, the helicopter flew east. Toward the moon, the USS Delphus, and bad memories. Maybe with Alanna by his side, the memories of the Navy wouldn’t be so terrible this time.

  “U.S. NAVAL INTELLIGENCE INFORMED us you would be at those coordinates. Likely under attack.” Lieutenant Michaels poured his third coffee from a small pot in the tiny conference room aboard the USS Delphus. Alanna sat in one of the few chairs around the single table, Flynn in a seat beside her with their fingers entwined.

  Lieutenant Michaels sat across from her, his sympathetic smile humanizing him. Rail-thin and his uniform covered in badges, the man’s cheeks were a bit hallowed, with gray highlights at his temples on his otherwise full head of dark hair. He was the first officer to greet them on the ship, and escorted them to this room, with two armed guards standing outside. A military nurse checked their wounds, and then plates of food were brought in. Though they hardly ate.

  Four hours later, it was just the three of them, and Michaels was stalling. “Are you sure you don’t want any coffee?” he asked.

  “She doesn’t drink coffee,” Flynn replied for her. “For the third time.”

  The lieutenant gave him an annoyed glance, but quickly changed to a smile. “Just want to make you both comfortable. I apologize you’ve been confined in here for so long.”

  “Your security protocol is extremely inefficient.” Alanna stretched her neck. “Sitting here for hours without any information, or even a chance to see if our friends are all right is ridiculous. How much longer do we have to wait for this debriefing?”

  “Your friends are fine. They are being interviewed. It should be only a few more moments.”

  “For what?” she asked.

  “For the man with the answers.”

  Flynn’s thumb caressed her knuckles. When they landed on the USS Delphus, she’d expected him to show relief or joy, but he’d paled, as though about to vomit. His color was back to normal, but he hardly moved beside her.

  A forceful knock broke the silence and the door opened. Two uniformed women stepped through, carrying a handful of files and a tablet, followed by a man in a wrinkled suit.

  The women stood on either side of him, expressions stoic. Their hair was pulled into tight buns at their napes. Neither looked at Alanna, only stared at the empty whiteboard behind her. Nametapes revealed Smith and Jones.

  The man who followed them was familiar.

  Dark hair, defined cheekbones, most likely Italian ancestry. The same man she’d seen leaving the palace a year ago after a full day of meetings with her father and brother. A simple black suit, with a gray, buttoned shirt, and black tie.

  “Princess Alanna, my deepest condolences for your loss.” Even his voice sounded generic. American, perhaps, but practiced as though to blend in with a crowd. Insincere.

  “Thank you,” she replied with similar insincerity. “And you are?”

  “Damon Ward,” he responded without hesitating. He closed the door behind him, shrinking the room to half its size. “I’m with Intelligence for the United Nations Security Council.”

  Alanna tightened her grip on Flynn’s hand. Heat flooded her neck
and cheeks. She wanted to stand, meet this man head on while she shouted in his face. The very group who’d refused to intervene with the attack on Solana.

  Stay calm and remain seated.

  He reached his hand out to shake hers. She looked at it, bit her tongue, and reluctantly accepted it. Ward took the seat next to Michaels.

  “This shouldn’t take long. Then you can wash up, change clothes, and get a decent rest.”

  “What I wish, is for you to cut through formalities, and get on with it,” she bit out.

  “I apologize for the wait,” he continued, undeterred by her harsh tone. “Security protocol states you must be separated from everyone else until debriefed with me. The transport to bring me here was late.”

  Alanna glowered at him.

  “I can tell you don’t think highly of the United Nations right now.” Ward unbuttoned his jacket.

  “Very perceptive.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Ward continued as though he hadn’t heard her. “Before security forces could move in, we had to be sure we had all the facts.”

  “Your conflicting intelligence reports kept those forces from intervening.” Alanna let her anger rise. “And because you waited, more of my people were slaughtered, and Lozano’s madmen have taken over my country.”

  Ward didn’t even flinch, merely glanced at Flynn. “If I could speak to Her Highness in private.”

  “Flynn stays with me,” Alanna replied quickly. His hand tensed in hers, and his torso expanded.

  Ward’s expression cooled. “We will be discussing classified information. Sharing it with you is merely a courtesy since it involves your family.”

  “Classified or not,” Alanna seethed, “all information regarding Solana, its people, or my family is my concern. Therefore, I dictate who is present and who is not.”

  Ward rolled his eyes, and held out his hand to one of the women, Jones. Taking the file, he flipped through several pages. “The intelligence community has been following members of Lozano’s organization for some time, including Memo Ocampo, the helicopter pilot who led the attack on the yacht.” He turned the file around and passed it to her.

  She placed her hand on it and stared down Ward. “What’s the status of Solana? Are the terrorists still in control?”

  “In due time,” Ward replied without feeling.

  “Now!” she snapped. “What’s happened on Solana over the last two days?”

  “U.N. Security forces are on the island, in the process of taking it back. That should make you happy for now.”

  “Happy?” Alanna wanted to spit in his face. “Happiness seems to be short in my life recently. As does intelligence, and honesty, in your organization.”

  “Princess, we don’t have time for insults.”

  “No we don’t. Forgive me if I’ve developed a complete lack of confidence in the U.N.’s ability to do anything, except delay Security Council votes to save my people. For all I know, you’re lying.”

  Ward closed the file. “What would give you the impression I’m lying?”

  Alanna took a deep, steadying breath. “A year ago, you were at the palace for a meeting with my father. He was furious. I assume it was about the Lozano cartel, since you’re here now. Which means you knew about this scenario even then. Given the current destruction of my country and my family’s assassination, you failed.” Alanna leaned forward. “Why on earth should I trust you now?”

  An amused look crossed his face, catching her off guard. Perhaps he was flattered she’d recognized him, or given him credit for something more than he was due. “Please.” He motioned to the file under her hand.

  She reluctantly opened it to the first page, a shudder rippling through her at a photo of the gruesome man who’d piloted the chopper.

  Ward continued. “When they observed Memo Ocampo meeting with his brother Tiburón, also known as The Shark, who not so coincidentally is Lozano’s lead enforcer, we assumed they were going after you. Lozano offered a large reward for your capture. He’d only send his most trusted thug after the Peraltas.”

  Alanna flipped the page to a blurry picture taken from a distance. The large man could have been the monster from the yacht.

  Ward reached out his palm again, and Jones handed him another file. “Combined with a mayday call from the Penny Saved, we deduced that’s where the Ocampo brothers had attacked.” He turned to another page.

  “Meanwhile, a Magnus Flynn reported his son running from the Lozano cartel in Manila, and needed immediate assistance. We traced a call to your coordinates in the Sulu Sea. Though the Philippine authorities claim Gabriel Flynn is wanted for the murder of a customs official four days ago, destruction of private property, aiding in the release of a prisoner—”

  “All lies,” Alanna barked. Flynn’s hand tightened around her fingers, but he remained silent.

  “—and obstruction of justice.”

  “All of that was Lozano,” she replied, trying desperately to keep calm. Flynn only shook his head.

  Ward closed the file. “We know. Because we have all the facts now. We’re aware Lozano has many authorities in his pockets from various nations. Although, Mr. Flynn,” he turned. “I would strongly advise avoiding the Philippines until things are straightened out.”

  Flynn snorted.

  “We’re interviewing the remaining Penny Saved crewmembers, and the prisoner you captured.” Ward held out his hand to Jones again, who passed him a third file. He opened it to a specific page. “Julius Grapo,” he read. “Another random henchman of the Lozano cartel.” He closed the file and handed it back. “With their statements, perhaps we can have your name cleared soon. Not to mention, have a better understanding of Lozano’s whereabouts and intentions.”

  “I know Lozano’s whereabouts and intentions,” Alanna seethed through her teeth. “He’s in the middle of Manila’s Yacht Club, on board the Pacific Tempest, anchored in full view of everyone. Or was. His intentions are to recoup his lost revenue by going after my brother, André. Then take Solana as his own to expand his drug empire.”

  “Pacific Tempest, you say?” Ward turned serious. The other woman, Smith, started fingering her tablet.

  “Yes,” Alanna continued. “Where he tried to steal Luna de Azul, my family’s legacy.” She opened her collar to reveal the ammephires draped around her neck. “He tried to slice off my fingers.” Alanna raised her left hand to show him the cuts.

  Lieutenant Michaels drew his eyebrows together and whispered what sounded like beasts. Ward appeared indifferent to her statement. Instead, he focused on the necklace.

  “We know Lozano is no longer in Manila, but thank you for the intel. He’ll be captured soon. Since he’s unaware you’re in our custody, we have the upper hand. We’ll use it against him.”

  “What do you mean?” Flynn interjected, his voice dangerously low.

  Ward didn’t respond, except for a small smile that made Alanna’s neck hair stand on end.

  “He means using me as bait.” The thought formed a bad taste in her mouth.

  “Absolutely not,” Flynn countered.

  Ward cocked his head at her, and his smile widened. “Nothing is needed of you. Just to remain on this boat for a short while longer, without contacting anyone. Until we’ve narrowed in on his exact location.”

  “The last thing I want to do is remain trapped on another boat.” She wanted to return to Solana, find her family, and start life over.

  “You’re hardly trapped. You are a valued guest of honor aboard the USS Delphus.”

  If it helps capture that devil, I can endure. With Flynn at my side.

  “Do you know where my brother is?” Alanna asked.

  Ward blinked, expressionless. “On Solana.”

  What? Hope flared in her heart for the first time. André is alive. And home. How is that possible?

  A thousand questions filled her mind, but she focused on the most important. “Is he okay?”

  “We don’t know yet.” His voice was ee
rily calm.

  Jones shifted behind Ward. Smith stared at Alanna cautiously.

  He’s lying.

  Alanna glared at him. “Mr. Ward, I’ve given you all the information I have regarding Lozano. I will allow you to use me as bait on this boat for another twenty-four hours. But level with me. What’s happened on Solana?”

  Ward’s jaw twitched. Michaels’ fist slammed on the table. “Ward, just tell her. Enough with this.”

  Alanna glanced at the Lieutenant. Sympathy filled his face. This isn’t good. “As possibly the only remaining heir to the Solanian throne, I need to know everything about my country, and my family.”

  Ward crossed his arms on the table. “Your brother and his bodyguard sneaked onto Solana last night, joining with a small contingent of the army. They slipped into the palace to go after Bendetto, thinking if they cut off the snake’s head, the mercenary forces would surrender. U.N. Security forces arrived at the same time, and helped with the siege.”

  With every word out of Ward’s mouth, hope and fear tangled in her chest. Hope that André was alive and finally home, and her people would be saved. Fear he would perish from such a dangerous maneuver, and more people would be killed. Or worse, they would all fail. She leaned forward in her chair.

  “The outcome of the raid is still uncertain.” Ward gave her his first genuine look of concern. “As soon as we know it’s safe, and we’ve determined the cartel boss’ whereabouts, we’ll send you back.”

  “What have you heard?” she persisted. “Even rumors, what?”

  Ward shook his head. “I can’t say.”

  “Come on,” Michaels urged him. “Who is she going to speak to out here?”

  Ward glared at the Lieutenant. “It’s not just confidentiality, but accuracy,” he snapped. “Spreading unverified information could lead to war.”

  “I’m already at war!” Alanna fired back.

  Ward pressed his lips together. “My apologies, Your Highness. I meant—”

  “I know exactly what you meant. War for the United States. Seems a bit far-fetched, since it’s just a small drug cartel, right? Solana is just a small island that doesn’t matter, right? My people don’t matter, is that what you’re saying?”