Certain Jeopardy

by Jeff Struecker

  “That’s why I called you. I don’t suppose you know where they are.”

  Bartley smiled. “I don’t, and as you know, I couldn’t tell you if I did.”

  “Sorry, I’m not at my best right now.”

  “Fill me in.”

  “Lucy Medina’s pregnancy is in serious trouble. I haven’t spoken to the doctors, but I know bad when I see it. She called me for help. When I got to her home, I found her unconscious on the floor. She tells me that the doctors want to perform an emergency abortion to save her life.”

  “It’s that serious?”

  “As near as I can tell. Like I said, I haven’t spoken to the doctors, and since I’m not family, the nurse won’t tell me anything.” She took a deep breath. “She wants her husband. That’s natural. What woman wouldn’t? She needs her husband, but as you know, the team is on a mission.”

  “He’s with your husband and my brother?”

  “Yes. Jose is the team medic. Can you help?”

  “I will do everything I can. Is she still in the ER?”

  Stacy shook her head. “They moved her to a regular room about twenty minutes ago.”

  “Let’s go see her. I also want to talk to the doctor.”

  “Will he be up-front with you?”

  “Clergy don’t have special rights in hospitals, but we chaplains can be pretty persuasive. He’ll tell us what we need to know.”

  Chaplain Bartley took her by the arm and started for the ER doors. It felt good not to be the only one on the scene.

  * * *

  “THAT WAS QUICK,” CARAWAY said. The satellite radio system came alive. “Ops Command must have learned something.”

  Moyer slipped on a headset and listened. His heart sped up then tumbled to a stop. “Understood. Will advise.” He removed the headset.

  “Forgive me for saying so, Boss, but you look like death warmed over. Did they get a hit on the people in the video?”

  “No. They’re still working on that.”

  “Then what.”

  Moyer lifted his cell phone and dialed. “Shaq, I need you at the truck ASAP—and make sure Doc stays put.”

  Moyer hung up, leaned forward in his folding chair and raised his hands to his face.

  “What is it, Boss? What did they say?”

  Moyer tried to find the best way to share the news. He gave up and blurted the message: “Doc’s wife and baby are dying.”

  Caraway’s next three words couldn’t be repeated on television.

  CHAPTER 29

  “CAN WE DRINK THE water, Mamá?” Nina’s small voice sounded all the more pitiful in the small confines of the restroom. Julia almost didn’t hear her over the rattling of the exhaust fan and the slight scraping of metal against the concrete floor. Nothing could be done about the overhead fan, but the latter ceased when Julia stopped scraping the metal lift arm she’d retrieved from the toilet tank.

  “Maybe. Hand me a bottle.” Nina, who like her mother sat on the concrete floor, retrieved one of the many water bottles.

  Julia took it and studied the cap. Its seal looked intact. She squeezed the bottle, but no liquid escaped through holes in the bottle, holes that might have been made by a hypodermic needle. Next, she shook the bottle. The fluid gave no sign of being anything other than pure water. She knew she was being paranoid, but being abducted at gunpoint had that effect on some people. Twisting the lid, she listened for and heard the familiar sound of the safety seal breaking. Still, she sipped the water before handing the bottle to her daughter.

  “Do you want water too?” she asked Nestor.

  Nestor sat on the toilet seat. “No. I’m not thirsty.”

  “I think its safe, sweetheart.”

  “I don’t care. It’s their water.”

  Julia understood. She returned to the slow act of scraping the flat end of the flush lever against the floor, occasionally stopping to run her finger along the edge to test its sharpness. It would do. It wasn’t much of a knife, but it was all she had.

  Please, God, don’t make me use this.

  * * *

  “LET’S WALK,” MOYER SAID. “You okay to be alone, Junior?”

  “I’m fine, Boss. Don’t worry about me.”

  Moyer led Jose from the room and to an emergency stairway at the end of the corridor. Once Shaq had relieved him, Moyer had headed from their observation point to Jose’s hotel. He spent the time forming his words and planning where and how to break the news.

  “This isn’t fancy, but it will give us some privacy.” Moyer opened the door that led to the enclosed stairway.

  “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

  “Have a seat.” Moyer motioned to one of the concrete steps.

  Jose did. “The first thing they teach us in medic school is that it hurts less to rip off a Band-Aid fast than slow.”

  “Got a message from Ops Command. Your wife is in the hospital.”

  Jose blinked several times but said nothing.

  “They say it’s bad, Doc.” Moyer sat down next to his medic. “The baby’s in danger. The doctors feel that continuing the pregnancy might endanger Lucy’s life.”

  “They want to abort the baby.”

  “They didn’t say that in the message, but I think that’s right.”

  Moyer saw Jose’s vision shift to something only he could see. “Did they tell you the medical condition that caused this? Did they give it a name?”

  “No. They did say my wife took her to the hospital and that a chaplain had been by.”

  “There are a number of possible causes for such a prognosis,” Jose said. “None of them good. Perhaps it is—”

  “Jose. Don’t analyze. It won’t do any good.”

  “It’s how I cope, Boss.”

  Moyer understood. Every man had a different way of coping with bad news or overwhelming situations. Jose’s approach was to deny the problem and keep working. “Understood. I want you to pack your things. I’m shipping you out on the next available flight.”

  “What about the mission?”

  “We’ll get by. Ops may send a replacement, but that’ll be their call. All you need to worry about is getting home. Also, I don’t need to tell you that you can’t call her from here. While you try to get a flight, I’ll see if I can’t get someone in Ops Command to get an encrypted phone to your wife.”

  “Thanks, Boss.”

  “Is there anything else I can do?”

  Jose shook his head. Moyer saw the man’s eyes moisten as the seriousness of the situation bored in on him. Moyer put his arm around Jose and extended to him the courtesy of silent support.

  A tear escaped but Jose made no attempt to hide it. There were those who thought brave men didn’t weep. Brave men knew better.

  * * *

  HECTOR STARED OUT THE aircraft window at the ocean below. It would still be several hours before his plane touched down in Caracas—a time span that seemed as wide as the sea below. The stranger next to him sat unperturbed by the situation. He thanked the steward each time he brought a drink or a snack. He read the paper, two news magazines, and a business journal provided by the airline.

  Nothing in his speech, appearance, or behavior betrayed his present occupation: kidnapper.

  CHAPTER 30

  ANTONIO SANTI HAD HEADED home for the day. Although the day’s activities would have tired most men, Santi felt energized. Juggling his duties as foreign minister with business dealings even President Chavez didn’t know about provided him the intellectual thrill he longed for. Younger men might bungee jump, ride a kayak over churning rapids, hunt big game in the jungle, or cheat with other men’s wives. Santi got his adrenaline rush from working behind the scenes. The danger he faced was discovery, pure and simple. Chavez was not a man of scrupulous honesty, but he was a priest compared to his own foreign minister.

  The plans had been in place for five years. Santi had operatives working in various parts of the world, as well as in country, carrying out the details of an ofte
n complicated scheme. Unlikely alliances had been formed. Money from drugs as well as legitimate business interests lubricated his way through many tight passages. Twenty-first-century men were still driven by greed. Greed led to money and money to power. Santi had plenty of each but craved more.

  He slipped into his study. A servant brought a small cup of strong coffee. Santi activated his computer and entered a fifteen-digit alphanumeric password to retrieve his e-mail, several of which had to be run through encryption software.

  One particular message—or more accurately, the sender’s address—caught his attention. The suffix of the digital address was .ir. The message was from someone in Iran.

  * * *

  “NEXT FLIGHT OUT IS in the morning, Boss.” Jose hung up the hotel room phone. “It’s the earliest I can get away. It leaves shortly before lunch.”

  It didn’t seem right to Moyer that Jose had to wait overnight to catch a five-hour flight, but nothing could be done about it. “I had Caraway ask Ops Command for updates. I don’t think there will be any, but if … I mean …”

  “Thanks. Any info will be helpful.”

  Moyer pursed his lips then looked Jose in the eyes. The man remained calm, professional, feigning detachment, but he couldn’t hide the weight on his shoulders. The hours between now and when he arrived home would be the longest of his life. Moyer couldn’t imagine it being any other way.

  “If it’s okay with you, Boss, I’d like to take my shift on the surveillance. It’ll help pass the time.”

  Moyer shook his head and saw Jose’s head dip in disappointment.

  “I have another job for you.”

  * * *

  J.J. TRIED THE BED again but couldn’t rest. He had been up most of the night and needed sleep, but it evaded him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the frightened faces of the two children and their mother. It ate at him that he sat in a nice hotel room while they were held in the bowels of that industrial building.

  He reminded himself that they didn’t know for sure that the three were abductees. For all he knew, the woman was the wife of one of the men in the van. Yet he did know. He knew in his heart they were in trouble. He also knew Moyer was right to hold back. They could rush in and snatch the family; such rescues were part of their training. It would be a small matter to make a forced entry, pop the bad guys, and lead the family to safety. Most likely none of the hostages would be killed. Most likely.

  But then what? Their mission would be blown and leaving the country would become difficult if not impossible.

  J.J. rose from the bed and began to pace the room. That’s the way the world was—full of evil. Bad people harmed good people for impossible-to-understand reasons. Life was tough all over the globe. In church one Sunday the pastor had preached a mind-melting sermon on global responsibility. J.J. learned that thirty thousand people, mostly children, died of starvation every day. Every day! Five thousand peopled perished daily for lack of water or from consuming contaminated water. Thousands of others died from diseases that could be treated by what most Americans kept in their medicine cabinets. The sermon stuck with him.

  A strong sense of justice was one of the reasons J.J. had joined the military, why he had chosen the most grueling, demanding work. Someone had to do something, and this was his way of doing his part. He recited that truth daily, and he believed it. At themoment, however, it failed to satisfy his impatience.

  His cell phone rang. Caraway was on the other end.

  “Sorry to mess up your beauty sleep, but Shaq wants us on premises ASAP.”

  “On my way.”

  Sleep would have to wait.

  * * *

  “IT’S TIME TO GET up close and personal,” Rich said. “Boss wants a closer look. The sun will be down in thirty minutes. You go at 0300 hours.”

  J.J. started to say, “Finally,” but caught himself. Instead, he just nodded.

  “Ops Command gave us the go-ahead. You and Billy—”

  Caraway groaned at the nickname.

  “You and Caraway will make entrance at the northwest corner of the perimeter fence. It’s the darkest corner on the lot. There are no video surveillance cameras that we can detect on that side of the building. There are two just above the front door and the roll-up. You are to gain access to the roof, where Caraway will set up additional surveillance.”

  Caraway called up a still image of the north side of the building. “There is a roof-access ladder centered on the back wall. As you can see, it has a safety rig on it.”

  J.J. knew of the ladder. During his hours of surveillance he had studied every inch of the building the video system allowed. The safety rig Caraway mentioned was little more than a panel of plywood attached to the rungs of the metal ladder. He had seen them on many commercial buildings. The plywood made it difficult for kids to climb, thereby removing the “attractive nuisance” element.

  Caraway zoomed in on the wood panel. It was painted dark green, as was the ladder. Caraway pointed at a round, shiny disk to one side. “The panel is hinged on one side and held in place on the other by a three-dollar cabinet lock.”

  “Gather your gear, gentleman. I want this done fast, I want it done right, and I want it done without incident. Clear?”

  “Clear.” J.J. and Caraway answered in unison.

  CHAPTER 31

  HECTOR CENOBIO’S PLANE TOUCHED down in Caracas and began to taxi to the terminal. The man next to Hector, the man with the pictures of his family, continued to read his magazine. Hector ran through the possible actions he could take to free himself of the situation. He contrived several that might get the man arrested or at least detained for questioning. Hector could scream, “Bomb! This man has a bomb!” Or he could run the moment he entered the terminal until he found a policeman to help him. But that did nothing for his family. Any such action might get them killed—if they hadn’t been killed already.

  He refused to believe they had. He had to have faith that God protected them. A part of his mind, the part that harbored doubts and fears, reminded him that horrible things happened to people of faith every day. Faith was not an exception card that spared the holder of life’s difficulty; it was the glue that held the believer together in difficult times.

  “I don’t have to explain the price of foolish behavior, do I?” The mystery man set down his magazine.

  “No. I understand.”

  “Just stay by my side. We’ll pick up our luggage together. A car is waiting for us. Do you understand?”

  “I already said I understand.”

  “No need to get testy, Dr. Cenobio. I’m just trying to save you from making any costly mistakes.”

  “Let’s be clear.” Hector turned to the man. “Despite your tone and words, I know you are not here to do favors for me.”

  “Please do not test my patience, Dr. Cenobio. You would not like to see me angry.”

  Hector started to tell the man that his threats meant nothing to him but thought better of it. All that mattered was the safety of his family. He would endure the threats. He would jump through hoops if it meant the safety of his wife and children.

  The aircraft came to a stop, and the passengers readied themselves to disembark. Hector gathered his things and his wits. He had no idea what lay ahead, but he determined to meet it head-on.

  * * *

  “THE VAN IS LEAVING,” Rich said. Caraway and J.J. had been going through their personal rituals before the mission.

  For some reason known only to him, Caraway carried a small package of trail mix. He never explained why and when questioned about it always gave a different answer.

  J.J. sat in a quiet corner with his eyes closed. The moment Rich spoke, he opened his eyes. “Leaving? How many people in it?”

  “I saw only one person. Judging by the way he tore out of the lot, he must be late. I’ll bet his superiors don’t like to be kept waiting.”

  “That means there are only two black hats in the building.” J.J. moved to the monitors.


  “Only two we know about. Remember, we don’t know who or what is inside the building.”

  “I know how to find out,” J.J. said.

  “We follow the plan, Colt. You two do your job right and we might have a better idea of what we’re facing.”

  Rich fired up the truck, drove to an area a half mile from the target site, and parked in an alley that ran between the industrial buildings.

  “Do it quick, gentlemen. For all we know the van went to pick up a pizza. He could be back any minute. I don’t want him to see you guys shinnying up the ladder.” He turned to the two soldiers. “Do me proud.”

  J.J. and Caraway slipped from the truck.

  * * *

  MOYER FOLLOWED THE DIRECTIONS on the dashboard GPS navigator.

  “You okay?”

  Jose glanced at Moyer. “Yeah, I’m fine. Glad to be out of the hotel room.”

  “Why is it that every time I ask one of my team members if they’re fine they say, ‘Yeah, sure, you bet, good to go!’ even when I know they’re not?”

  Jose kept his eyes straight ahead. “Before you had your own team, and your commanding officer asked you that question, what did you say?”

  “That’s different.”

  “Is it?”

  Moyer made a wide left turn on a commercial street. “Okay, it’s not different.”

  “We’re not paid to be depressed; we’re paid to do our jobs.”

  Moyer grinned. “Yeah, I know. Maybe I’m just getting old.”

  Jose didn’t say anything.

  “This is where you jump in and tell me I’m still a young man.”

  “Oh.” It was all Jose offered.

  “Everyone’s a comedian.” Moyer let a few moments pass. “We need to take it easy with this guy. He doesn’t know us from Adam, and while he might take you for a local, he’s going to spot me as a foreigner the moment I open my mouth. We can’t be sure he’ll tell us anything. He may not have connected Santi to his son’s death.”