CODE ORANGE CANCUN (COVERT KIDS Book 1)

by S. D. BROWN

  "Everything I programmed into you, you're playing back to me. It worked. You do exactly what I tell you. You're the perfect secret weapon. My little human drone."

  I felt sick. He sounded crazy. I wasn't a human drone. I wasn't a weapon. I was a human being. And he was more like a mad scientist in an old horror film than the loving uncle I thought I knew.

  Bile rose in my throat and I pushed it down. Swallowing hard. I must be super tired. Misinterpreting what he'd said.

  Imagining things.

  Uncle Monte was not crazy. He'd saved me from a miserable life stuck in a wheelchair. It was because of him that I could walk.

  A loud groan sounded on the monitor. I turned. Harry was in the room with the heap of rags and had just flipped who was wearing them onto his back. He delivered a swift kick to the man's side. The swollen face was so covered in blood I almost didn't recognize J.T.'s father.

  "Isn't revenge sweet?" Uncle Monte said, smiling. His face flushed with pleasure turning the age spots on his forehead black.

  His sadistic treachery horrified me. "You said his punishment would be civilized. Merciful and painless."

  "It is." He laughed. "I don't feel a thing."

  "The dead cannot cry out for justice," I whispered as another unbidden thought popped into my conscience. "It is a duty of the living to do so for them."

  22: J.T.

  Enter not into the path of the wicked, and go not in the way of evil men.

  Proverbs 4:14

  Isla Contoy

  Mexican Caribbean

  Rena must have gone to the same charm school as her new step-dad Harry. He shoved me hard. I landed on my knees in the sand.

  "Get up, you moron." He shoved his pistol in my face. At the resort he'd seemed like a nice guy.

  Like Rena.

  Now he was acting like a jerk.

  Like Rena.

  A real tough spy guy.

  Like Rena.

  I couldn't believe that I'd trusted her. Thought she was my friend when all along she was just using me. I shouldn't have listened when she dissed Raul. No wonder he left. He was probably insulted that I'd believed the lies she'd spun about him. If I got out of this alive, I'd apologize.

  Harry reached down and dragged me to my feet. "Move. Now. Not next year."

  We'd reached the door to the lighthouse. Two guys with big machine guns guarded it.

  "I've got a special delivery for the penthouse."

  The guards stepped aside for us enter.

  Low soft lights lit the inside. Looking up was kind of like looking at the inside of a vertical chambered nautilus shell. Spiral stairs coiled up the round wall. And every fifty steps, there was a little window. If I didn't have a gun pointed at my back, it might have been a fun climb.

  At least I was fitter than Harry. He'd started to pant after only a few steps.

  "I thought spies were supposed to be buff," I said. "My grandpa is in better shape than you."

  My comment earned me a fist in the center of the back, but I didn't care.

  "Make me fall, and I'll take you with me."

  "Shut up kid. Keep climbing."

  We reached a landing. It looked like an all-in-one studio apartment. It had a low ceiling, a little kitchen area, a small table and a twin bed. A wall on the far side made the room D-shaped. It had two doors. Must be the bathroom and a closet.

  A pull down ladder continued up to what I assumed was the beacon light.

  Harry opened the right door and flipped on the light switch. I'd guessed right. It was the bathroom.

  "Make yourself at home. And keep it down. You have neighbors." He slammed the door and I could hear him lock it from the outside.

  Another door banged. Heard a series of thumps and bumps through the thin wall.

  A man groaned. Then came a cry like the sound of a wounded lion.

  No. Not a lion. A human voice. My dad's.

  Kicking sounds followed by another grunt.

  My hands balled into fists.

  "Think you're tough?" Harry said, his voice cold and ominous. "We have your son." There was a scraping noise. "Why don't you just tell me what you know? Where are you hiding our scientists? There's no point in sacrificing your son for a couple of strangers."

  "Leave him out of this." Dad's voice sounded raspy and weak.

  "Come on, James. Do you really think Harry and Marlena are worth more than your family?" Pause. A cell phone rang. "Okay. You're both stubborn old fools. You have one hour. And then you, your son and your father will all be out of time."

  Harry left.

  I counted to five hundred to make sure he was gone before I rapped on the wall. "Dad? Are you okay?"

  He didn't answer. Was it already too late?

  I rattled the doorknob. It was locked tight. I slammed in to it with my shoulder five times, but it wouldn't budge.

  "Dad?" I yelled this time. "It's me. J.T."

  "What's the code word?" he asked. "Banana?"

  "Boogers," I said.

  "It is you. Thought it was another one of Santana's tricks."

  "We've got to get out of here. Escape," I said. "How bad are you hurt?"

  "I think I have a broken rib or two. And the fingers on my left hand are shattered. I'll be fine."

  I gulped. He didn't sound fine.

  "It's your Grandfather I'm worried about. His ankle is sprained pretty bad."

  "Gramps is here, too?"

  23: Serena

  Fear is the tax that conscience pays to guilt.

  George Sewell

  Isla Contoy

  Mexican Caribbean

  Uncle Monte eyes glittered in the low-lit room. He pulled out his cell and speed dialed.

  On the monitor Harry stopped kicking the man and answered his phone.

  "That's enough. Tell him he has a one-hour deadline. Either he discloses the whereabouts of the missing scientists or else. Then get down here." He flipped off the monitor's sound.

  I knew what "or else" meant and wished I didn't. I'd lured J.T. into a trap, but it wasn't the simple snare I'd expected. For the first time, I realized my loving Uncle Monte was ruthless. And that J.T. and his father may never leave the island alive. When would this nightmare end?

  "Don't look at me like that, Rena. You'd think it was my fault your parents are gone." He pulled a cigarette from a case and tapped it on the table before lighting it. An acrid blue smoke floated on the air. "You should be grateful for my efforts. Without these scientists' knowledge, your power will fail. You'll be paralyzed."

  "I just want the truth," I said. My mind spinning in whirl of doubt. "What's really going on? Why can't I remember the details of my last five missions?"

  "Truth is relative," he said. "But you've earned the right to know the part you've played." He sucked in another drag on his cigarette. The end glowed a luminous orange-red.

  I waited impatiently.

  "You see, it's really quite simple. The end justifies the means."

  "Don't drag this out," I pleaded. "Just tell me. Please?"

  "As you wish." He sighed. "This was your first assignment. And as a prototype, your performance exceeded my expectations."

  "If that's true, why do I think there's been other assignments?"

  "It's part of your programming."

  "My programming? What am I, a robot? Android?"

  "Don't be ridiculous. You're flesh and blood like everyone else. What makes you unique is your internal computer that allowed you to walk after your accident."

  "And you programmed me."

  "Yes. Think about it. Your ability to speak Spanish like you were born to it. And your knowledge of endless trivia about the Yucatan. In addition I simply planted a few additional memories."

  "Why?"

  "To give you confidence."

  If what he was saying was true. . . I shuddered. What was real? What was false? Did I even exist? My hand touched the scar on my temple from the accident.

  I had to know. "Did J.T.'s father kill m
y parents?"

  He put his hands together in a tent just under his nose. "In a manner of speaking. But no, he didn't drive the car that ran them down."

  I bit my lower lip, willing myself not to cry. Not to let Santana know I cared. Wanted him to believe I was still on his side. "I'm sure he's responsible for someone's death and deserves his fate."

  He laughed, like I'd told an amusing joke.

  What had I done? As terrible as I felt inside, I turned on a smile.

  "Don't worry, by your next assignment you will have forgotten the boy and his father."

  "That's a relief," I said, playing the safe card. I would pretend I was still his most valuable cold-hearted undercover operative. "He was starting to bore me."

  A knock sounded on the outer door.

  "Come in." Dharma, Harry and Pretend Mum entered. The four of them huddled in a heated conversation. I surreptitiously jiggled the cord from the monitor's port. Leaving it in place, but not connected. The screen went dark. Hopefully they'd think it was in screen saver mode.

  "I've made up my mind," Uncle Monte said. "Her skills are invaluable. She's on the team." He smiled like a benevolent monarch granting a stay of execution.

  Harry, Mum and Dharma glared at me.

  "Can I ask one last question?" I asked. "If I'm still part of the team, what does, the beacon shines red at midnight, mean?

  He raised an eyebrow and looked at the trio. "I see your security needs to be beefed up. Why don't you tell her, Harry? It's your baby."

  24: J.T.

  A prudent man foreseeth the evil, and hideth himself: but the simple pass on, and are punished.

  Proverbs 22:3

  Isla Contoy

  Mexican Caribbean

  "Dad. Gramps. Hang in there," I shouted. "I'm going to get us out of here."

  "Be careful," Dad said. "Santana is ruthless. He won't care you're a kid. Cross him and he'll punish you."

  "We'll be long gone before that happens." I made myself sound more confident than I felt. "Be ready to go."

  All of a sudden a long booming roar rumbled. Sounded like thunder. Maybe this was the storm the guy at the boat shop had been worried about. Not the downpour that had soaked Rena and I on the boat ride to the island.

  Rena. The thought of her made my stomach clench.

  She was just like Eve in the garden, teaming up with the snake. The only reason she'd ever wanted to spend time with me was to get to my dad. Why was I wasting time thinking about her? I had to focus on getting out of here.

  There had to be something in the bathroom I could use as a tool, but it seemed hopeless. The place had been stripped clean. There wasn't even a toilet seat on the porcelain throne. Or the tank cover. Or toilet paper.

  I looked inside the uncovered tank.

  "I found something." I shouted.

  I plunged my hand into the water, ripped the flushing mechanism out of the back of the toilet. After pulling off the round float, I had an eighteen-inch rod of strong metal. Now all I had to figure out was how to use it to escape.

  It was too big to pick the lock, even if I knew how.

  Although it was strong and sharp on one end, it would take way too long to dig a hole in the door big enough to put my hand through.

  Outside came another thundercloud grumbled. I had no idea how close the storm was to the island. It was loud, but I couldn't see the lightning flashes because there weren’t any windows in the room. Couldn't count the time between the flash and its thunder. Hopefully one wouldn't hit the lighthouse before we escaped.

  I studied the door, looking for its weak spot. Then I grinned. The door hinges were on the inside. Three of them: top, bottom and center. If I could remove the pins that held them together, the door would become a doorway. Once on the outside, I could unlock Dad and Gramps' room.

  Using the sharp end, I tried to slip it under the hinge-pin head and flip it up.

  Didn't work. My makeshift tool slid sideways, gouging a three-inch scratch into the historic layers of paint. Frustrated, I threw the toilet rod across the room. It was hopeless.

  What I really needed was a flattened end like a screwdriver, but I didn't have one. My plan was good. I just needed to figure out a way to make it work. I patted myself down and came up with Rena's little silver sombrero charm she'd given me at the pyramids. That, and one lone thin dime.

  Like that would help.

  Wait. I flashed on watching my stepdad Vernon using one to tighten a screw on a lamp. At the time, I'd thought it was pretty lame. But maybe he wasn't so dumb after all.

  Starting with the top hinge, I worked the dime under the head of the hinge pin.

  Twisted it. The brass colored pinhead moved up a fraction.

  Twisted the opposite direction. It moved higher. I kept at it until the space was big enough to slide the metal rod into. Using both hands, I leaned all of my weight into it and the pin shot up.

  "One hinge down," I called to Dad and Gramps. "Two to go."

  Now that I knew we were going to get out of there, I had some questions I wanted answered.

  "Dad. "I know you're not a public relations officer in advertising. What do you really do for the Madison Hunter Corporation?"

  "I'm a trouble-shooter. When problems arise, we take the appropriate action."

  "Who's we?"

  "My team. Mostly we're involved in cyber security."

  "I knew it. You're a spy."

  He didn't answer.

  I had the second pin almost out. "Have you ever killed someone for the company?" I had to know if what Rena had said about him was true. It was the only way I could halfway forgive her, not that it would matter if I were dead.

  "No. That's not how we operate. Much of what we do is to block Santana and guys like him, from stealing the company's secrets. We don't steal theirs, but I have on occasion needed to hack into the competition's computer data systems to delete the research they've stolen from us." It sounded like he was getting his second wind back with the hope of escape.

  "Who are the scientists Harry asked about?" I slid the second hinge pin free. One left to go. "What do you have to do with their disappearance?"

  "It's complicated. Simply put, both Madison Hunter and Santana Biotech are in a secret race to develop computer technology to help paraplegics and quadriplegics regain their ability to walk."

  "I read about the guy in France hooked up to a computer. He took a whole two steps."

  Dad laughed. "Our research is light years ahead of the French."

  "Tell him," Gramps said, sounding weak as he chimed in. "He's earned the right to know the truth."

  Dad hesitated. "This is top secret. You can't tell any of your friends, J.T. Can I trust you?"

  "Sure."

  "Of course you can," Gramps said. "He's a chip off the old block."

  "We developed a bio-computer the size of a pea," Dad said. "It's inserted between the first and second vertebrae and allows the body to reroute its electrical system. Santana stole the research."

  "What's this got to do with the missing scientists?"

  "Two weeks ago a virus cropped up on our system. It was planted in one of our firewalls. I analyzed the code and realized it was not a virus, but a plea for help. Two of Santana's top research scientists made a huge breakthrough. They discovered a way to download information into a person's brain."

  "That sounds more like science fiction. Is it really possible?"

  "Yes. That's what scared them. Santana plans to insert biochips into every government leader until he eventually has total control of the world."

  "In other words, a big time bad guy," I said.

  "More like a megalomaniac," Gramps said. "Who unfortunately has the technology to pull it off."

  "Not anymore," Dad said. "The scientists told him they wouldn't cooperate and tried to leave. He locked them up. That's when they contacted me."

  I removed the third hinge-pin and had just lifted the door free, when I heard steps running up the stairwell. Franticall
y I fit the door back in place.

  Outside someone panted loud like they'd run all the way from the bottom. They pounded on the door.

  Thunder boomed.

  "Stand back," Rena shouted. "Turn your face away from the door. I'm going to blow it."

  "Wait," I said.

  I don't even think she heard me because I felt and heard the explosion at the same time. The door flew into the room like a wounded albatross. I soared with it and slammed into the toilet, my ears ringing from the blast.

  25: Serena

  Beliefs are what divide people. Doubt unites them.

  Peter Ustinov

  Isla Contoy

  Mexican Caribbean

  I abhor chewing gum, but tonight it was necessary. So I'd made an exception to my unwritten rule not to embrace gauche habits. At least the pungent cinnamon taste offset the sulfurous pong of the explosion. Hopefully if anyone heard, they would assume it was the storm.

  The air smelled like someone had struck ten thousand matches in unison. I hoped J.T. hadn't been injured. I surveyed the little bathroom cell.

  His legs were pinned under the scorched door. The blast had somehow wedged it sideways in the little space. He groaned as he struggled to free himself.

  "You okay?" I hurried forward to help and chomped on the gum harder. I lifted up the door a few inches. "I thought it contained a smaller blast."

  He wriggled free. "What are you doing here?"

  I couldn't blame him for sounding suspicious. After my betrayal, I wouldn't trust me either. Once we got away I'd explain everything and hope he'd forgive me.

  "I guess you could say I discovered Uncle Monte is less than honest and I'm helping you escape. We need to hurry. But first, do you still have my silver charm in your pocket?"

  "Yeah." He pulled out the little sombrero and handed it to me.

  "This is a tracker," I said and dropped it in the toilet along with the Aztec sun beacon charm from my bracelet.