by Toby Neal
“Perhaps it will satisfy you to explore the island. To evaluate all of its weaknesses and strengths.” Nam held out a hand. Resting on it was a set of keys.
Sophie took the keys, pausing to look around the immaculate office, a mirror double to the one she had worked in with Connor before on Oahu. Three computer monitors were set up in a bay. The second set, ones she’d used before, invited her to explore them. Across the room, Connor’s Bowflex machine and a steeply inclined treadmill, along with a pull-up bar, indicated what he did to refresh his mind between activities.
Sophie was in no shape for that kind of workout yet—in fact, all of the upset and running around had necessitated another change of pads. So frustrating.
She stomped past Nam and went back to her apartment. She dropped her duffel and backpack beside the bed and noticed, for the first time, a small black box weighing down a sealed envelope on Jake’s nightstand. “Stench of an unwashed goat!”
She was not in the mood to read any further notes, apologies, or declarations of love.
She just wanted her baby back.
Sophie changed her soaked pads, and then hurried through the house and across the gleaming teak floors to head back outside.
The barnlike metal garage where Connor kept his vehicles and sports equipment was locked with a huge padlock, but the ATV was parked beside the shed, pointed down the road that led up the hill to the estate. Sophie marched over to the all-terrain vehicle, swung her leg over, inserted the key, put it in gear, and roared down the long, curving driveway.
Chapter Eleven
Day Eleven
Sophie went down every graveled road on the fourteen-mile island, looking for a way off of it.
She found the little farm compound where Nam and his family, seemingly the only other occupants of Phi Ni, lived. Nam’s wife, a kind-faced older woman, came to the door, wringing her hands in distress as Sophie roared up to the dwelling.
Sophie raised her hand in a wave, smiling to reassure the woman, and hurried on.
She eventually arrived at the familiar airstrip with its large metal hangar, mechanical maintenance area, and fueling station, and strip of asphalt ending at a beach.
The plane and chopper were both gone. “Damn those men to an eternity of hungry mosquitoes!”
Sophie turned the ATV down a bumpy, badly maintained side road leading away from the airstrip, following the sandy dirt track through acres of overgrown palms planted in rows—some sort of coconut plantation from the past. Beyond that, a jungle of trees entangled with vines gave way to a small, deep bay where the road dead-ended. A dock built of heavy wooden pilings topped by a large boathouse projected out into crystalline water.
Sophie’s heart speeded up. At last, a way off the island!
Sophie drove the ATV out onto the dock and dismounted to investigate. The heavy metal boathouse was locked, the hasp of the door corroded with rust but the lock on it huge and shiny-new.
“There’s more than one way to skin a cat.” Terrible saying, but it had captured her imagination. Already overheated in the tropical heat, with not a soul to see her for miles, Sophie stripped down to her underwear and dove into the water off of the end of the pier.
The water, clear as glass, felt like a bracing slap to Sophie’s face, dispelling the fog of obsessive anger that had driven her. Her aches and pain were forgotten as she swam, weightless and powerful, underwater. She came up and blew out a breath. Her hair, grown long and wild during pregnancy, dripped water into her eyes. Sophie made a mental note to cut it when she returned to the house.
The sting of the salt water on her ravaged tissues was a strange kind of balm, and the buoyancy of floating felt amazing. Sophie reached the end of the boathouse and circled around to the opening that faced outward toward the ocean.
The exterior door was down there, too, but the tide must have been low because there was a foot or two of clearance between where the door ended and the restless surface of the water began. Sophie ducked beneath the segmented gate and swam inside the big shelter.
The boathouse’s shadow glowed around her, lit by sunlight bouncing off the sand fifteen feet or so below. Sophie navigated around a sleek speedboat tied to the interior dock, and scanned for a ladder. Sure enough, one led down into the water, and she grasped the metal rungs.
Her body was already trembling with the exertion of the ATV journey from the house on the top of the hill to this point. Her arms trembled as she hoisted her body up out of the water and climbed the ladder. She had done yoga daily until the birth, but had neglected heavier workouts in lieu of relaxation and stretching as her pregnancy progressed.
She had imagined reclaiming her fitness level with the baby beside her, sleeping. A stab of grief and longing filled her, remembering the brightly patterned sling she had planned to use to keep the baby close while she did weights or walking.
“We will get her back,” Sophie said aloud. Her voice bounced and echoed in the vast space, punctuated by the slapping of the water against the boat and the pier. “Or die trying.”
Not an empty statement. She had no intention of giving up on finding her daughter—ever.
Sophie padded along the wooden pier to the speedboat and jumped aboard a twenty-seven-foot Chris-Craft Corsair. Low-slung, heavy and luxurious, with a powerful inboard engine, a forward berth, and shiny wood and brass fittings, everything about the launch was beautiful. Sophie ran her hands over the glossy burled steering wheel. Just like Connor to have a boat that would look right at home on the Riviera parked in his boathouse in the middle of nowhere.
This was how she was going to leave Phi Ni and get to the mainland to find her daughter.
Sophie shook with cold and exertion even in the tropical heat as she explored the boat. She made her way below deck and found a white, waffle-weave robe to don in the berth. She searched everywhere but couldn’t find a key, on the boat or around the dock, and the Chris-Craft’s sealed navigation area was theft-resistant.
Connor and Jake shouldn’t have left her marooned here on Phi Ni. They could have given her surveillance, light duty, something appropriate to do on the mission.
But as Sophie walked back down the interior dock, looking for an exit that didn’t involve swimming back out of the boathouse, she was ready to reconsider the situation.
She was stuck on Phi Ni for the moment. Even if she could find keys to the Chris-Craft and get it out of the boathouse, her physical state was unacceptable. Just riding an ATV and swimming a few hundred yards should not have exhausted her this much. She wasn’t ready for a jungle combat situation, painful as it was to admit it.
She’d just had a baby. Growing a child and giving birth to it was a huge physical feat that took a toll, whether she was willing to admit it or not.
Sophie found a small side exit door with an interior lock, and opened it. She blinked in the overly bright sunlight, bedazzled for a moment—then her eyes focused on a man standing beside a pickup truck, parked at the end of the dock. Her heart pounded until she recognized Nam, standing backlit, waiting with his typical quiet dignity.
Sophie locked the boathouse door. She picked up her clothing and headed for the houseman, glad she’d covered herself with the boat’s handy robe.
“Would you like a ride back to the house?” Nam asked.
“I would.” Sophie pointed to the ATV. “What about that?”
Nam walked to the rear of the truck, lowered the tailgate, and pulled out a couple of steel runners. A few moments later, the ATV was stowed in back and they were driving up the mountain.
“A late lunch is waiting for you. Very nutritious, to build up your strength,” Nam said. “The fresh vegetables that you like.” He had remembered her tastes, from her other visit.
Sophie touched his arm. “Thank you. I’m sorry I was so rude.”
He inclined his head. “You miss your baby. I understand.”
“I have to get in shape as quickly as possible.”
“Of course you do. Mr. H
amilton told me that would be your priority.”
“I will need . . .”
“We have everything that you will need,” Nam said.
Sophie settled back against the seat and closed her eyes to rest. Workouts would begin that afternoon.
Chapter Twelve
Day Seventeen
Jake leaned in close to view the waterproof tablet monitor, his shoulder brushing Hamilton’s. Rhinehart was on the move, a camera fixed to his goggles showing them jungle lit green by night vision as the operative worked his way toward the edge of the Yām Khûmkạn’s grounds. Using thermal imaging, they’d been able to identify the sentry points around the compound and Rhinehart had already successfully avoided several. His mission, this time, was simple: plant a camera as close to the main temple as possible.
They needed confirmation that the baby was inside, and where exactly she was located.
Jake tightened a fist. This had to work. Because so far, nothing else about the mission had gone well.
They’d taken the chopper as far inland as they dared, before landing at a strategic location to be joined by a Security Solutions team of operatives. Five well-trained men with military and law enforcement backgrounds and an arsenal of weapons had rendezvoused with them at the checkpoint, and they’d secured choppers for their return.
Thom Tang had procured their guide, a native man of few words, and those he did speak were in Thai. Hampered by mud, mosquitoes, snakes, and vegetation, they’d worked their way, traveling parallel to a narrow supply road, to within a couple of miles of the compound.
Hamilton had deployed his satellite monitoring, and they’d kept an eye on the stronghold for any unusual activity. So far, there had been nothing to see from above but the daily drilling of the ninjas, first in neat rows, and then in sparring pairs.
“They’re not ninjas,” Hamilton had said when Jake first called the black-clad martial arts practitioners that. “Just recruits getting brainwashed.”
“Don’t know what else you’d call them,” Rhinehart chimed in. “Those recruits are pretty impressive. Fortunately, we’ve got firepower like Ol’ Betsy here.” He’d patted his assault rifle fondly.
“We need to do everything we can to avoid a confrontation,” Jake growled. “Our baby is in there, a hostage.”
And that was the crux of the matter. They were up against a large group—estimates gleaned from the satellite imagery ranged from one to three hundred. These were trained martial artists with armed guards at every compass point of an ancient stone temple complex—and they had no real idea of where Momi might be stashed inside that heavily guarded maze.
Once they had a visual on the baby, though, they could work on an extraction plan.
Jake swatted a mosquito. When would his body, riddled with welted bites, begin to get used to the little bloodsuckers? Just one of a million discomforts in the current situation. None of it mattered. The mission objective, their baby, was what mattered.
Sophie was probably so pissed at him and Hamilton. Jake pictured Sophie prowling the island looking for escape, enraged and terrified for her child, wanting to kick his ass first and Hamilton’s second. Hopefully that stage hadn’t lasted too long and she’d moved on to healing and recovering her strength. She’d forgive him when he returned with Momi in his arms . . .
“Steady now,” Hamilton whispered, drawing Jake’s attention back to the grainy green feed lighting up the tablet. “Steady.”
Rhinehart crept around a stone parapet and entered the outer courtyard of the stronghold. He planted a surveillance node on the wall, positioned to take in one of the slit-like doorways. He then sidled inside.
The unlit passageway was so narrow that Rhinehart’s sturdy shoulders brushed either side of it. All they heard was the man’s rasping breaths, his whispered commentary. “This place is a maze. Don’t know how much deeper I can get in here without . . .”
A figure loomed out of the dark and they heard a query in Thai. “Where are you going?”
“To shit,” Rhinehart growled back in that same language. A loose cowl over his head concealed his face. “Want to watch?”
The guard grunted and waved him on.
Rhinehart reached an open room lined with beds. Rows of sleeping ninjas on cots filled the space, the sheer number of them making the hair rise on Jake’s neck. The operative walked quickly and quietly through the room, headed for an opening on the other side, moving like a man who knew where he was going and why.
Much of getting through other people undetected was moving with confidence, as if you belonged there.
Rhinehart padded down a hallway lit by a flickering torch, eventually reaching a large hall. Tables and benches down the middle of the room showed the room’s purpose. “Planting final camera. Target will likely come through at some point,” Rhinehart whispered.
“Affirmative,” Jake said. “Now get out of there.”
Rhinehart jumped up to attach the tiny camera to the lip of the door, and then made his way back through the sleeping quarters. Several close encounters later, the Security Solutions man was on the move, back through the jungle.
Jake frowned. “Seems too easy.” He glanced at Hamilton.
The CEO’s brows were drawn together and his glasses had slid down his nose. Hamilton took them off with an impatient gesture. “Seems too easy to me, too.”
“We’ll just have to wait and see, boss.”
Hamilton gave a brief nod. “Call me Connor. It’s what I go by with my friends.”
Friends. In the week that they’d been sharing a tent, meals, and uncomfortable jungle trekking, Jake had found himself respecting Hamilton. The man was cool under pressure, a strategic thinker, and uncomplaining in the physically challenging circumstances of the jungle setting.
“We need to monitor these cameras twenty-four hours a day, Connor. I’ll take the first shift. You should get some rest.”
Connor gave a brief nod and went to his pallet, sliding into his light sleeping bag.
Jake arranged the different views into a grid and watched the grainy feed. This was going to get old fast.
As Rhinehart reached the camp, Jake emerged from the tent he shared with Connor to meet him.
“Got it done.” Rhinehart tore off the NV goggles and concealing hood, clearly eager to be rid of the hot and uncomfortable gear.
“Good job, man.” Jake clapped him on the back, suppressing his concerns about the ease of the op.
So far, they hadn’t seen or detected high tech surveillance equipment in or around the stronghold; a likely reason being the damp conditions that would quickly ruin most electronics. Yes, it felt too easy—but likely the Yām Khûmkạn were getting complacent in their isolation. Would they really have detected Rhinehart and allowed him to roam their base as he had? And then allow their fortress to be bugged?
The answer was simple: they wouldn’t. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Jake.
“Get some rest, Rhinehart. We’ll meet tomorrow to review a plan for when we have confirmation that the target is on the grounds,” Jake said.
The other man nodded and headed for his tent. Jake watched him go thoughtfully, and switched off the small LED perimeter light providing minimal illumination to the campsite. Sentries at their perimeter provided an extra layer of protection.
The target. Jake couldn’t afford to feel all the love and worry that churned within him: the utter lack of anything soft or nurturing in the motives of the black-hearted woman who’d stolen her own grandchild, worry about the environmental threats to a tiny newborn in that dank-looking stone fortress, the many unknown germs. Calling Momi “the target” helped him shut all that out and just think of the objective.
There had to be more to the interior of the stronghold than what they’d seen so far. He couldn’t imagine a pampered woman like Pim Wat tolerating the primitive conditions of the barracks, practice courtyards, and spartan dining area they’d been able to get a look at.
There must be some
where softer and more civilized, and someone other than Pim Wat to hold his daughter close and keep the baby warm, fed, and nurtured, physically and emotionally. Hopefully, that person was the mysterious nanny, Armita, that Sophie had referred to. Sophie clearly felt betrayed by the woman’s involvement in the baby’s disappearance, but trusted her to take care of Momi better than her mother would.
Jake watched the grainy surveillance video of the interior of the fortress until his eyes were burning. His muscles cramped as he continued to do isometric exercises to keep his body busy and awake.
A hand grasped his shoulder, startling him. “Time for shut-eye, Jake.”
“Thanks.” Jake handed over the tablet. “Something is bound to show up soon.”
“We won’t stop looking until it does.” Connor’s dark hair was mussed and his glasses were back in place. Even wearing jungle camo, the guy managed to look like he was modeling for a clothing catalog.
Warmed by his friend’s words, Jake went to his bed and fell into a depthless sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
Day Twenty-Two
Connor rolled his shoulders back and tightened his abs, raising his feet off the ground as he pushed up with his arms, lifting his feet out in front of him, parallel to the ground. Ahead of him, he watched the surveillance feed of the interior of the Yām Khûmkạn stronghold on the tablet.
Jake had shown him some of the isometric workout exercises he was so fond of, and doing some of them while watching the live stream helped control his frustration—but barely. The mind-numbing surveillance could be so much better done by hooking it into Security Solutions’ AI nanny cam software, but there was no way to train the system without developing a typical baseline. He’d begun gathering that information in case they were here long enough to enable that system—a terrible thought. They were running out of food and supplies.
