Just Another Day in Paradise

by Justine Davis

  Finally he drew back into the shelter of the trees and sat down to think. He’d been going about this all wrong, he decided, by just searching randomly. He needed to think. If he had an antiquated radio system that required some kind of base station, where would he put it?

  High ground, obviously. But the hill just above the resort had been deserted. And from there he’d been able to see the top of all the buildings, and there was no sign of anything unusual. He drew his knees up and tried to keep thinking, tried to ignore that little voice in his head that was shouting “Who do you think you are, James Bond?”

  The only other really high ground was the mountain—if you could call the eight-hundred-foot bump a mountain—where the microwave towers were. And while there were doubtless men there to guard those towers, he thought that was too distant for those antiquated radios.

  But where else could it be? Where else would they set up to get a clear signal over the whole resort area?

  A clear signal…

  If you had clear view of the whole resort, you’d have a clear signal, wouldn’t you? And there was one other place that had an unbroken line of sight on the whole resort.

  In an instant he was on his feet and moving. In a few minutes he was peering through the trees to the lookout deck. And there was a man with a large, boxy piece of equipment. He wasn’t certain until the man moved and he saw a pair of earphones over his head.

  “Bada-bing,” he muttered. And he settled in to wait for his moment.

  It was getting perilously close to dawn when it finally came. The operator rose, yawned, stretched and walked off the cantilevered deck. At the bottom of the stairway he made a right turn, and Rider guessed he was heading for the bathroom farther down toward the beach. He searched the ground around him, and a few feet away spotted a softball-sized rock. He grabbed it and then returned to his spot, still watching.

  He edged closer, then closer still, waiting…and then the man disappeared inside the small cabana-type building. Rider ran for the deck.

  The thing was even older than he’d thought, army surplus from somewhere gone astray. There was no time for finesse or hiding his handiwork, and he couldn’t assume they didn’t have a replacement battery pack, so he simply pried the thing open and yanked out what guts he could, and smashed the rest with the rock. For good measure he broke off what looked to be two antennae.

  The noise had brought the still-unzipped operator running back, but Rider was already over the side of the deck—that drop was a lot longer than he’d realized—and into the trees before the man looked beyond his ruined equipment.

  “…don’t think it can be repaired. We’re going to have to use the cell phones we confiscated from the prisoners for communication,” today’s breakfast man said.

  Rider smothered a smile of satisfaction and went on cheerfully eating his toast.

  The men were clustered at the back door this time, where they’d been since Tarak had realized his radio wasn’t working and had come back to try Filipo’s. When it, too, had proven useless, there had been a lively discussion on what they should do next, ended only by the arrival of a messenger sent by their leader with the news that the radio had been destroyed.

  “But cell phones are easily monitored,” Tarak was saying. Rider could only see his back, but by the man’s tone he would be willing to bet he was frowning.

  “Since we have control of all the equipment, we will be the ones monitoring,” the other man pointed out. “The only problem is not having enough. Ares has one, of course, and his aide and the three lieutenants, but they have to use runners to talk to their men.”

  Rider managed not to pat his shirt pocket, holding his own cell. He’d thought about using it when they’d missed it in their first search of him, to notify Redstone Security. But he’d also known they probably had secured the microwave towers immediately. And Ares had wasted no time in letting them know they’d done just that, so while his decision had been right, his phone was indeed useless for calling for help.

  But now they had to use the openly monitorable means of communication themselves, and somebody might be listening in and get suspicious.

  “We’ll have more, of course, when the others start to arrive. You know all those rich pigs will have them. But until then, we must be extra cautious and watchful.”

  They didn’t seem to care that they could be overheard by anyone in the schoolroom. Rider hoped it was because they saw no threat coming from this direction, that they thought it didn’t matter if he or Paige or the kids heard because they couldn’t do anything, anyway.

  Rider finished his toast and was reaching for the small can of orange juice they’d provided when Paige said from behind him, “Nice work.”

  She sat down beside him, nibbling delicately at a piece of bacon. He watched in fascination as she licked a crumb from her fingers. Then he made himself look away.

  “You’ve got them in quite an uproar,” she said.

  “All I did was make their lives a little harder,” Noah said. “I don’t have the skills for an all-out guerilla war.”

  “I’ll bet they don’t think so,” Paige said pointedly. “Not anymore.”

  “You? It was you?”

  Kyle’s voice was too loud to be missed. Neither of them had realized he was within earshot. And his astonishment was so extreme, Rider had the vague thought he should be insulted. But right now he had to cover this—Filipo was looking his way and had probably heard the boy’s exclamation.

  “Yes,” he said, looking at Kyle, and loudly enough for Filipo to hear. “I did write that textbook. You found it boring?”

  To his credit Kyle caught on quickly. “Oh. Sorry, but yeah, it really was.”

  The guard turned his attention back to the other conversation, as Rider had hoped.

  But Kyle clearly had no intention of leaving. He sat down, his gaze never leaving Rider. But this time when he spoke his voice was low enough not to draw attention.

  “You’re the one who…did all that?”

  Rider shrugged.

  “If you’re not a cop you gotta be, like, CIA or something,” Kyle said, sounding utterly convinced of his own theory.

  “Easy,” Rider said. “Don’t be tossing around those initials. Not only am I not nor have I ever been, but I’d as soon nobody planted that idea. It’s hard to get it out of their heads once it’s in.”

  “But you have to be—”

  “You think only people who get paid for it try to stand up to slime like this?”

  “No, but that kind of stuff, that stealth stuff…” His voice trailed off as something occurred to him. “Hey, how’d you get out past—”

  Rider cut him off as the meeting at the back door ended and their two guards returned to their posts. At least Tarak did. Filipo came toward them instead. He looked at Paige, his jaw clenched and near hatred gleaming in his eyes.

  “You do again what you did yesterday, and I will decrease your class by one.” He flicked a calculating glance at Rider. “And I will start with—” he spun around, and aimed right at Hannah “—her!”

  Rider leaped to his feet. The child wailed, terrified. Filipo laughed.

  “You son of a—” Rider spat out, breaking off when he remembered the children.

  Filipo kept laughing as he returned to the door.

  Rider practically ran to Hannah and swept her up into his arms. He carried her back to his seat, the terrified wail ripping at his gut. Paige crouched beside them, awkwardly patting the child’s hand. Kyle just stood there, looking paler than ever, as if he were only now realizing the true lethalness of their captors.

  “It’s okay, baby, I won’t let the nasty men hurt you,” Rider said. He’d always thought adults who talked like children to children were idiots, but it suddenly seemed the only way.

  “The other kids are upset, too,” Paige said as Hannah’s screams changed gradually to slightly quieter sobs. “He scared them all over again. I don’t know how much longer we can keep them calm.�
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  Rider cuddled little Hannah, and rage blossomed in him anew as the girl shuddered in his arms. He had to do something. He couldn’t just stand by and let these bastards destroy these children.

  “What can we do, Noah?” Paige asked. “There must be something.”

  “I don’t know.” He didn’t tell her he was on the verge of taking out the pistol and using it on Filipo, then Tarak if necessary, and damn the consequences. At least they could get the children out.

  Well, some of them, he realized grimly. Shots would bring reinforcements on the run, and that could result in any number of children being hurt or worse. There just wouldn’t be enough time. They had to assume the other troops would hear and respond instantly.

  Too bad there’s not a silencer on the damn gun Kyle snagged, he thought. If this had been a movie, there would have been one. And they would have called it that, a silencer, not a suppresser or muffler, as was technically correct. The kind of thing that drove his dad crazy. But in a movie the hero would have rid the entire island of this plague by now. And here he sat, helpless, useless…

  God, he was rambling now. But the sight and feel of this delicate little girl weeping, her face buried against his shirt as she clung to him, was tearing him apart. And the lowlife who’d done this to her didn’t give a damn, he just sat there, ignoring her as he ignored all the children he’d helped terrify. As if they weren’t even worth watching over, weren’t worth guarding.

  Rider went very still. Hannah was still weeping, but more quietly now. And his mind was racing.

  What can we do, Noah? There must be something.

  Well, maybe there was. Maybe, just maybe, they could take a few levers out of the hands of the terrorists.

  “Paige,” he whispered. She had stepped past him to try and calm the other children as best she could. She turned back toward him, took one look at his face and quickly returned and sat beside him.

  “Who’s the smartest, coolest, local kid here?”

  “Lani,” she answered without hesitation.

  He frowned. “None of the boys?”

  “The oldest local boy is fourteen.”

  “I can do it,” Kyle said.

  “Do what?” Paige asked.

  “Whatever it is,” Kyle answered. “I can hot-wire a car or make a Molotov cocktail or shoot a gun, whatever.”

  Rider saw Paige gaping at her son. Saw the boy shrug and give her an annoyed look. “Hey, you want me to pretend I can’t do all that, or try to help?”

  “Maybe you can help,” Rider said. If Paige wanted to chew out her son, she’d have to do it later. Although later he, too, was going to have a word with Kyle, about the tone he used with his mother all too often.

  “Can you get her over here?” he asked Paige.

  She nodded, lifting her head. “Lani? Could you give us a hand with Hannah, please? That awful man scared her so, and she trusts you.”

  The girl quickly got up and came to them, muttering a few choice words of her own under her breath, words Rider could only guess were aimed at Filipo.

  “Lani,” Rider said when she had knelt down beside the chair, “how scared are you?”

  The girl gave him a startled glance. “I’m afraid,” she admitted. “But I’m even more angry. No one has the right to do this.”

  “You’re right,” Rider said. “Lani, I need you to be very, very honest now. Do you think you can stay more angry than scared? Can you think straight and help watch out for the little ones?”

  She didn’t give him an answer instantly, which Rider knew meant she was taking him seriously. “You’re going to try something?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  She thought another minute. Then slowly but firmly she nodded. “I can help.”

  “It could be dangerous.”

  “It already is.”

  He couldn’t argue with that, so he quickly told them his plan. To his surprise no one, not even Paige, told him he was crazy. In fact, they all seemed more than ready to try.

  “I even know where to hide,” Lani said.

  “Where?” Paige asked.

  “There is a big lava cave, straight east from here. It is a venerated place and kept secret by our people. Because it’s on the cliff side, you can’t get there by car, but it’s easy on foot if you know your way. I’ve done it many times. Even the little ones will be able to do it.”

  Rider grinned at the girl’s quick solution to the one part of his plan he hadn’t been able to figure out.

  “Good girl,” he said, and she smiled. “All right,” he said. “Kyle will help. Listen up.”

  He began to explain. Lani’s eyes widened, and Kyle gave a low whistle. But they were both nodding eagerly by the time he was done.

  “We won’t have much time,” he cautioned.

  “We’ll do it,” Kyle said determinedly.

  “All right. You’ve probably got an hour before Filipo makes his next perimeter check. Can you be ready by then?”

  “We will be,” Lani promised.

  The two were anxious to get started, Rider could feel it radiating from them, but they reined it in without a warning from him and drifted away toward the other children as casually as if nothing of any import had been said.

  Rider felt a tug on his shirt. He looked down to see Hannah, who had been miraculously quiet during the entire plan, staring up at him.

  “We’re going away? From the nasty men?”

  He couldn’t help himself; he hugged her. “You bet you are,” he promised her. “But you have to go back to your chair and be very quiet from now on, so the nasty men don’t hear.”

  Wide-eyed but closemouthed, she nodded. She scrambled out of his lap and ran back to her chair, climbed into it and sat, quietly waiting.

  “They’re tougher than you think they are,” Paige said softly.

  Rider met her gaze. “Yes, they are,” he said, pointedly glancing at Kyle. “They tend to be as tough as they have to be, it seems.”

  Paige glanced at her son herself, then back to Rider. Her forehead creased slightly, as if she didn’t understand what he meant.

  “You protected him when he needed it, but he can take the truth now, Paige. And you deserve it.”

  She lowered her eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe…after this is over.”

  He left it at that, because he had something else to tell her. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He palmed it and passed it to Paige.

  “If anything happens,” he said, “if it falls apart and they start shooting at the kids, hit Recall on that and explain the situation to whoever answers.”

  “Who will answer?”

  “It’ll be Josh Redstone’s private line. He or his assistant, St. John, should pick up.”

  She nodded but looked troubled. She glanced at the phone, then back at him. “But Ares said they controlled all communications.”

  “I know. But if you have to use it, it won’t matter anymore.”

  Chapter 13

  It was all Paige could do not to pace the floor.

  They had been held here for two days, and yet the past hour had seemed longer than the entire time. She could see that Kyle and Lani were tense, as well. Noah was the only one who appeared calm, and Paige wondered if he really was, or if he’d somehow perfected a facade. It would be helpful in his work to be able to present that calm, steady image, as if he were certain it would turn out all right, especially during the turmoil of final preparations for the opening of a new resort.

  She was far from certain this would turn out all right. They’d gone from child to child, explaining to each what was going to happen and how quiet they absolutely had to be. But it was asking a great deal from too-young and already frightened children. She was glad the wait wouldn’t be much longer; Noah had said it would be too risky to wait until dark, too easy for them to be heard in the quiet of night, that it was better now, with all the usual daytime noises for cover.

  Thankfully, the guards were p
aying them little attention. They had other things to think about since Noah’s nighttime raids had begun. But neither were they sticking to the routine they’d established before, of one man leaving his post every half hour to scout around the perimeter of the building. Once, Tarak had gotten up and walked a ways into the trees, but Noah had insisted they had to wait until Filipo, the guard closest to them, took his turn on patrol.

  Paige swore she could hear every tick of the clock, as if the small schoolroom had become some kind of echo chamber. The children grew ever more restless, until finally she resorted to her ace in the hole, the book that had kept them all so enthralled up till now. She could only hope the story could overcome the strain of waiting, knowing.

  She took up her seat once more, called for the children’s attention and began to read, and gradually they—except for Lani and Kyle, who knew the most about what they were going to attempt—settled down to listen.

  After nearly an hour Noah walked past her as if restless, whispering, “Announce a break.” She was puzzled, but did as he said. Noah flicked a glance at Filipo, then back to her. “I think he’s listening. That’s why he’s not moving.”

  The idea of a terrorist held rapt by a children’s book was so incongruous to her she nearly turned to stare at Filipo. He had been very still since she’d begun reading. And he’d been that way yesterday, too. Could it really be? It seemed impossible, but then, so did this entire thing.

  A few minutes later Filipo gave unexpected credence to Noah’s theory. He rose from his seat, stretched, glanced toward them, then called out to Tarak that he was making his patrol. Tarak nodded and promptly went back to his scrutiny of his side of the building. Filipo closed his door and began his own check of the surrounding area.

  “Start reading again,” Noah told Paige softly. “We’ll use it as cover. If Tarak can hear you all the time, maybe he won’t bother to look.”

  She nodded, picked up the book and began reading aloud once more.

  Noah went slowly toward the still-guarded main doors, strolling as if he were doing something no more important than taking an afternoon walk. He’d done this several times already, and only now Paige realized he’d been gauging Tarak’s comfort zone, the point at which the man switched his attention from outside to inside. And this time Noah stopped just short of that point, a distance from the children, but also still ten feet short of the door. Then he looked back and nodded.