Operation Turtle Ransom: A suspenseful, wild-ride-of-an-adventure on a tropical beach in Mexico (Poppy McVie Mysteries Book 4)

by Kimberli A. Bindschatel

  “Let’s focus,” Dalton said, taking command. “The kidnappers haven’t named a time and location for the exchange yet. Whether they want the ransom money or it’s to lure Noah, either way, they need to set that up. That means they’ll contact us again.”

  Chris got back up from the chair. “What? You’re saying we sit around and wait?”

  “No, it means we have time to get some things in place. Noah, can you get some money? Enough to stall them. Say, a few thousand dollars?”

  Noah nodded.

  “And I want to talk to this Comandante. First thing in the morning.”

  “The Comandante already told us to pay the money,” Chris said.

  “I’d like to talk to him myself. See what he knows,” Dalton said, gesturing toward the cabin. “And this seems to be where they drop communications. We need to set up twenty-four hour surveillance here.”

  “How do you propose we do that?” I asked.

  “Even if we had video, it wouldn’t do us much good. We need real time surveillance. We need to tail whoever drops off the next note.”

  I nodded in agreement.

  “We’ll surveil in shifts.”

  “So, Noah’s going to get some money and we’re going to take turns hiding in the bushes, waiting?” Chris said. “That’s the plan?”

  I could hear the frustration in his voice. “Chris, I know you—”

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” he said, stomping toward the outhouse.

  Noah frowned. “There’s nothing you can do, Poppy. Let him fret.”

  But I couldn’t. I had to make him feel better. When he came back from the outhouse, he went straight into the cabin and I followed him.

  He took the key from the nail and spun around to head back out.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “Nowhere, just let me through.”

  “You can’t just go off on your own, at night. What are you doing?”

  “What you won’t.” He tried to push past me.

  “What are you saying, Chris?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I’ve always believed in you. Not Agent McVie. You. The person who’d do anything to take down the bad guys. That Poppy. Are you her or aren’t you?”

  I backed up a step. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

  “I want you to save him! I want you and Dalton to do that thing you do and go out there and save him. How come when it’s my Doug you’re all by-the-book, wait-around-see-who-shows-up?”

  “But Chris, we don’t have—”

  “Forget it,” he said. “I’ll take care of it myself.”

  “Now you’re not talking sense. I know this is hard. But the best thing right now is to let the professionals handle it.”

  He stood his ground, his expression unchanging.

  “C’mon, Chris. You’ve gotta trust Dalton. You’re not trained for this. What would you even do?”

  “I was—” He backed up, clamped his lips together.

  Crap. “The moment I turn my back, you’re going to do it, whatever it is, aren’t you?”

  He said nothing, but I could see it in his eyes.

  “All you care about is your job. And Dalton. You do all those things because you want to get ahead, climb the ladder, your career. But when it’s real, my Doug is about to be killed, and you—” His clamped his mouth back shut and his lower lip began to quiver. “And I thought Dalton would help. But it’s the same. You don’t even see—” His lip quivered some more.

  His heart was ripping into pieces and I couldn’t stand it. “See what? What am I missing?”

  “That buncher guy!” The words burst from him. “He’s connected. He knows. He knows who has Doug. I know he does. If only—”

  “That’s where you were headed? To go talk to him?”

  His gaze dropped to the floor.

  “Chris, we can’t—“

  He snapped to attention. “I knew you wouldn’t listen to me. Now get outta my way. I’m going to find him. He’s going to tell me what he knows, even if I have to torture it out of him. Or, or, or, I don’t know, I’ll hold him captive, trade his life for Doug’s. Something!”

  “Okay,” I said, taking hold of him by the shoulders. “Take a breath.”

  The tendons in his neck pulled taut. “If you were really my friend, you wouldn’t stop me,” he said, yanking away from my grasp.

  I exhaled. Damn. “I am your friend. Your best friend. And you’re not going anywhere.”

  He was right. I had been more worried about my job. About what Dalton would do. I’d been thinking only about myself. I’d been too worried about everything but what this was doing to my best friend. I nodded to myself, making the decision.

  “You stay here with Dalton. I’ve got this.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dalton wasn’t going to like it. He wasn’t going to like it one bit. He’d never agree to it.

  This, I had to do alone. And before he could stop me.

  I grabbed one of the patrol backpacks, took the key from Chris’s hand, and headed through the door and straight for the ATV.

  Dalton saw me come out and followed me around the side of the cabin. “What’s going on?”

  Noah was right behind him. “Where are you going?”

  “I’ll be back,” I said as I stepped on the footrest and swung my leg over and sat down, straddling the four-wheeler.

  Dalton stepped in front of the vehicle. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I don’t like it.”

  I turned the key and pushed the start button. “Out of my way.”

  He shook his head.

  I clicked the transmission into reverse and squeezed the throttle. The four-wheeler roared into motion, backing right into a stand of palmettos. The fronds scraped across my arms. I shifted into forward, turned the wheel and gunned it.

  Dalton would be mad as hell. Poor Chris was going to get the fifth degree about our conversation. But I hadn’t said anything about my plan. They’d have to wait until I got back.

  The narrow beam of light projecting from the headlight zigged up and down as the four-wheeler bounced along the trail. The farther I went, the better I felt.

  Chris was right about one thing—Doug was as good as dead. I had to find him or it was over. I couldn’t bear that for Chris. I had to make this right. The man at the shack was our only lead.

  I had to find it. It was south. How far? Seven miles maybe? A car had driven to it last night. How many two-tracks to the beach could there be?

  Once I was back to an actual road, I turned south. If the road split, I’d go right and stay along the beach. It was as good a plan as any.

  It wasn’t long and I found an unmarked two-track. This had to be it. I turned on it and went a few hundred yards before cutting off the path, tucking the four-wheeler in the foliage, and killing the engine. I had to walk from here. If this wasn’t it, I’d try the next one, then the next one.

  One good thing about the night in Mexico, the squawks and peeps of the jungle increase in volume and help to mask the sounds of any movement. I crept along the trail, ready to dart into the weeds at any moment. My red light helped me see without being noticeable from a distance.

  All I had to do was find the shack.

  I’d walked another three hundred yards when I spotted light. I was close. I clicked off my red flashlight, shoved it into my pack, and continued down the path. Almost there. A few more yards and there it was, its yellow light shining like a homing beacon.

  If I found someone here tonight, he was mine.

  As I got closer, I spotted several men standing outside the shack, chatting as though they had all night. I wasn’t close enough to discern actual words, but the mood was evident. Good. Having their guard down was a good thing. As soon as these hueveros left, the buncher was in for a surprise.

  I circled the shack to get a better view. I needed to know if he had a weapon and, if so, what it might be. I had to plan an attack strategy.

  The t
urtle care bag didn’t offer much that I could use as a weapon of my own. I’d have to take him down with my bare hands. Good thing I’d trained in an art of defense that works. The key was being able to sneak up behind him, to get close enough to get my hands on him.

  He wasn’t a small man. Probably five-eight, give or take. He had at least fifty pounds on me, maybe more. For my tactic to work, I needed to drop him lower. No problem. I’d done it before.

  The hueveros were taking their sweet time. Move along already!

  Finally, the two men shuffled off, back toward the beach to collect more eggs. I had my chance.

  I slipped through the bushes, moving closer to the side of the shack. I’d have to cross an open area, but it was dark behind the shack, where the yellow light didn’t quite reach.

  I placed one foot, then another, without a sound.

  Then I heard a chuckle. Damn! I scurried back for the bushes.

  Another huevero arrived, a bag slung over his shoulder. So many eggs. From where I stood now I could see piles of sacks in the shack. Bags and bags loaded with turtle eggs. The same as last night. How are the turtles still alive at all?

  This man didn’t linger. He swapped the eggs for pesos and was gone again. I waited a full minute or more, but heard nothing. It was now or never.

  I moved from the shadows and skipped across the open area to the back of the shack. I shuffled sideways, my back pressed against the wall, moving toward the front.

  The man stood a good fifteen feet from the shack, looking out into the darkness, a cigarette in his hand. What luck.

  I darted from the shack toward him. He didn’t even hear me coming. I went right for the back of his knees. He collapsed like a rag doll. I rammed my forearms down on his shoulders, grabbed under his chin to lift his head back, and took him to the ground. With a good clunk to the head, he was disoriented and dizzy.

  I whipped off my little backpack to get some nylon cord to wrap his wrists. His hand came around and whacked me in the cheek, hard enough to knock me to the ground.

  In an instant, he was on top of me. The brute rolled me on my back, grabbed hold of my wrists, and pinned my arms beside my head.

  “I was trying to be nice,” I said.

  With a sharp jerk, I extended my right arm, taking his balance with it. He fell on top of me, slightly to that side. I pulled my left foot toward my core, raising my knee to add to the momentum. It rolled him up on his side and I kept going, ramming my knee into his groin.

  He let go, moaning like an animal. A quick head butt to his temple and he was out.

  “You’re mine,” I said. “Now you’re going to sing like a little bird.”

  When I arrived back at the turtle camp, Dalton stood in the center of the trail, right in my headlight beam, fists on his hips, shaking his head.

  Yep. He wasn’t happy.

  Too bad.

  I pulled up to the cabin and killed the engine. Chris and Noah looked like a couple of kids who’d been grounded. Dalton must have given them hell.

  With a swing of my leg, I was off the four-wheeler. I grabbed my captive by the shoulders and rolled him off. He hit the sand with a muted thump.

  Noah had that grin again. “You are one impressive woman.”

  Dalton glared at him before turning his attention back to me. “Don’t tell me you just added kidnapping to your list of crimes.”

  “No,” I said. “He came voluntarily.”

  “With bound wrists?”

  “Precaution. In case he changed his mind.”

  Dalton didn’t budge. “And just what is your plan here?” His expression changed. “You’re bleeding.” He reached for my forehead.

  I pulled away. “I’m fine.”

  Chris leaned over the man. “We’re gonna ransom your ass,” he said. “We’re gonna make a trade, that’s what we’re gonna do. Your lousy life for my Doug.”

  “Help me get him up,” I said.

  Noah got on one side, Chris on the other. They lifted him to his feet and brought him into the cabin.

  I got some more nylon cord. “Sit him down on the bench. We’ll tie him to it so he can’t run.”

  “Make a trade? What the hell, Poppy?” Dalton followed us into the cabin. “What exactly do you think you’re going to accomplish?”

  “We’re just going to talk to him.”

  “And there’s some reason you think he’s going to talk to you?”

  “Well if he doesn’t, you’re going to go all Navy SEAL on him. Then he’ll talk.”

  He pulled away, fists back on his hips. “No, I’m not.”

  Noah stepped forward. “Hey, give her a break, man. She just single-handedly brought us the only lead we’ve got.”

  Dalton looked like he might crush Noah with his thumb. He restrained. “You know, it’s guys like you who cause more harm than good. You don’t do the research, you don’t take the time to understand the big picture. You just go in, guns blazing, and it’s guys like me who have to pick up the pieces after you’ve galloped off into the sunset.”

  Noah didn’t flinch. “You talking about Costa Rica? When I took down the bad guy by commandeering his cargo van and catching him red-handed while you were, um, golfing was it?”

  “Impressive. Those are some big words. You commandeered his cargo van. Are you sure you’re old enough to drive?”

  A high-pitched yowl spun us around.

  Chris had a death grip on the man’s testicles. “Tell me where Doug is. Tell me where they’ve got him. Tell me right now!”

  “Whoa, whoa,” said Dalton, rushing toward him. “That’s not a good—let’s all just get a grip.”

  “I’ve got a grip,” Chris said with a wicked grin.

  “Let me handle this, okay?” Dalton said, shaking his head in exasperation. “I’ll handle it.”

  Dalton gently took hold of Chris’s wrist. Chris reluctantly let go and backed away.

  Dalton mumbled something. How nuts we were, no doubt. Then shook his head again and turned to face our captive. After a glance back at me, Dalton shoved his foot onto the edge of the bench between the man’s legs and leaned down, hovering over him. “You speak English?”

  The man didn’t answer.

  Dalton pulled back, made an exaggerated eye roll, and gestured for Chris to return to his tactics.

  “¡Un poco!” the man squeaked. “A little! A little!”

  Chris bellowed, “They always say that, then before you know it, they’re all Chatty Cathy.”

  “Listen to me very carefully,” Dalton said to the man. “I’m a United States Navy SEAL. I’m trained in twenty-seven ways to torture enemy combatants. Within two minutes, I can have you begging me to kill you just to get it over with. But it’s already been a long day, so let’s just skip to the end, shall we? The lady is going to ask you some questions and you’re going to answer them. Got it?”

  The man nodded, his eyes flitting from me to Chris to Dalton.

  “Gooooood,” Dalton said, his voice a soothing baritone. He gave me a forced smile. “He’s all yours.”

  “Chris, you got Doug’s picture?” I pulled up a plastic lawn chair and sat down across from the man. “Our friend has been kidnapped. I’m sure you know about it.” Chris handed me the picture and I held it in front of the man’s face. “His name is Doug. Tell me who has him and where he’s being held.”

  “I do not know,” he said, his face an image of misery.

  “You buy the turtle eggs. Who do you work for?”

  He shook his head. “No. No. I cannot say.”

  “You can’t or you won’t?”

  I shoved my foot between his legs.

  “They will kill me! They will kill my family!”

  “I don’t have much sympathy for you. You’re a criminal.”

  He kept shaking his head. “I no want, but I no have choice. Here, want to feed your family, you work for them.”

  “Who?”

  He clamped his mouth shut.

  “Is Officer R
amón involved?”

  He stared at me with a blank expression.

  “The policeman. Is he part of the cartel?”

  With a matter-of-fact shrug, he said, “Everyone.”

  “Everyone? What do you mean, everyone?”

  “You want to eat, you do they say. You want to live, you do they say. You want to protect your wife and daughters, you do they say.” He was nearly in tears.

  I sat back in the chair. Could it be that rampant? Or had this man been an unlucky target? Or was he lying to me?

  The odds were, he was telling the truth. Mr. Strix had said it. Noah had said it. But that didn’t help me find Doug.

  “Please,” the man said. “If I no get back, I lose my position. I will be punished. I have family.”

  I got up from the chair. “Chris, keep an eye on him, will you?”

  Chris looked too eager, but I had to talk to Dalton and Noah. I gestured for them to follow me outside so we could discuss what to do next without Chris overhearing us.

  “He’s telling the truth,” I said once we got out of earshot.

  They both nodded.

  “So what do we do next? This was pointless.” And I’m an ass, I wanted to add, but, well, it was obvious.

  “Not pointless,” Noah said. “I’d like to talk to him. Maybe I can convert him, from poacher to patrolman. Maybe his friends, too. We have a budget to help fund it. It’s worth a try.”

  “It’s idealistic,” Dalton said. “If the cartel has its hooks in the community like he describes, and the nine year prison sentence for poaching hasn’t been a deterrent compared to their threats, I don’t know why equal pay would bring them over from the dark side.”

  Noah looked Dalton straight in the eye. “Because most people are inherently good. Most people don’t want to be criminals. Like he said, they just want to care for their families, live a good life. It’s not hard to persuade them to do that.”

  Dalton nodded, conceding that point.

  Noah turned back to me. “We’ve got him here. Let’s try.”

  I nodded. “If you want him able to consider it, we should probably get Chris away from him.”

  “No kidding,” Noah said.

  “Shhh,” said Dalton, holding up a hand, signaling for silence. He tapped his ear and pointed toward the trail. To Noah he said, “Get inside. Keep him quiet.”