Online Murder Syndicate: The Paranormal Mysteries & Adventures of Special Agent Lou Abrams (The Paranormal Mysteries & Adventure of Special Agent Lou Abrams Book 2)

by Thomas Craig

  She released my hands, and I did my best to keep my energy pulses down as we continued to embrace each other with more kissing and exploring hands. It wasn’t long before our enjoyment became too much built-up passionate tension and we arrived together.

  There was no hurry to the shower as we lay in bed embracing each other for a while. There were also no interruptions from a cold prying nose of a curious Australian Sheppard.

  We both dozed off for a bit. When we woke up, we both took separate showers before meeting up on the couch. Back to business. We both caught up on the recent events of the past week. Arya was amazed by my more detailed account of the recent Sky People event, but deeply concerned about the details of the rage I put into my fist to make it glow with fire, and the fact that the Sky People were still out to get me.

  We were both hoping Lolo could find some helpful information regarding my encounters with Sky People, during her return to the Zuni Pueblo for Alimon’s funeral service. I wished I could go, but I knew it would be a week I could not afford away from the team. We were heading out of the country in 24 hours.

  My mother, who passed away recently, once told me the dead won’t miss you. Which made sense in the context it was said when I called her to apologize for not being able to fly in for her friend's funeral a few years back. The dead will not judge you for missing their send-off, but the living who noticed your absence at funerals sure do. The guilt had been weighing on me.

  The day ended with paying bills, cleaning the apartment, eating, and getting a good night’s rest. Nothing exciting and that was fine by us.

  In the morning we touched base with Lauren who had spent the evening at Jack’s house with her out-of-town tech friend who flew in to help work on a new laptop with her. She said it was necessary for the trip and should be ready end of the day.

  We then checked in with Special Agent In Charge (SAIC) ‘Director’ Cooley, who was adamant that we all take the day off and be ready for flying to Colombia, South America the next morning. The day passed by in a minute and the night went just as fast.

  The next day we found ourselves 100 miles south of Atlanta entering Robins Air Force Base, home of the Air Force Material Command’s Air Logistics Center. This base had management and engineering responsibility for everything from a C-5M Super Galaxy to an F-15 Eagle, missile ordinance, plan parts, and even avionics software.

  We passed by a sign that led with big bold print ANYTIME, ANYWHERE, followed by more of their creed, To fly, fight and win. There was more but we passed it too quickly and I got a late start reading it. I was distracted by the cargo plane in the distance that towered over everything. That must be the C-5M Super Galaxy.

  We passed through a second security gate and parked where the signs instructed. An Air Force Captain in fatigues greeted us and gave us what seemed to be a very quick brief on what was about to happen. I had not even noticed that the Captain had us walking our bags and Andy to nearby transport carts as he prepared us for the 5-hour flight to Bogota Colombia.

  As the transport approached the tail end of the C-5M Super Galaxy, we all started to appreciate just how massive this plane was in person. 6 stories tall and roughly 230 feet long, the massive plane was powered by 4 powerful 10,000-pound GE engines that created a combined 200,000 pounds of thrust, the Captain shared with us. I did not know what all that meant until we started to ascend the rear ramp into the massive cargo hull.

  “Are those helicopters?” I asked as I turned to the Captain. I knew that they were helicopters but was in disbelief that 3 of them were inside the plane.

  “Yes, but not our Air Force Paven Hawks. Those are three no-frills UH-60 Army Blackhawks that were brought in from Hunter Army Airfield. We have room for a few more, but these are all we have on today’s manifest,” the Captain answered, then turned to salute an approaching Major that was here to pilot the C-5M aircraft with him.

  Arya acted like she had taken this all in before. Holliday and Lauren stopped to take in the scene and examine the helicopters. After a moment we walked forward past the Blackhawks and found a staircase that took us up to the passenger level where we found a few dozen Airmen already settled in and talking amongst themselves.

  We took our cue from the airmen and claimed our area. Holliday had his boots off before the last of us sat down. Lauren had Andy sitting between her and the wall and already had equipment taking up two more seats around her.

  We had about 45 minutes of conversation between us before the actual take-off silenced everyone in the upper cabin. The engines whined deafeningly as we all sat back in our seats, looking straight ahead, as the massive engines propelled us down the runway and then up into the sky.

  Once we settled in at our cruising altitude, Arya and I talked more about the Sky People and my glowing hand incident. I guess it had been on her mind.

  “What if your hands hurt someone, or cause the bed and us to go up in flames while sleeping one night?” Arya anxiously asked.

  She had the right to be concerned. I know I was a little alarmed, and they were my hands. As we talked, I wondered what an out of body experience felt like. This had to be close to one of those. It did not feel real talking to Arya about how my hands could burn down the apartment while we slept. Could I?

  I decided I had total control of this thing. After all, I must be awake and concentrating to make it work. Wait, what if I had a nightmare and was concentrating or acting out of fear in it? Could my hands light up? Shit. Maybe I don’t know everything or have 100% control of this power as I thought.

  I cannot live in fear. Well, not more than I already do. I have learned to accept a little unknown around my supernaturalism. Even though it does worry me a bit, I don’t let it or my reoccurring nightmare run my life. I mean I do take precautions, but other than that, I live a normal life. As I thought it, I didn’t even believe myself.

  Shit, just thinking about it all was almost laughable. There was nothing normal about me and I don’t know what I am doing half the time with this power, or curse, or gift.

  Arya could tell that I was internalizing way too much about this and not talking it out with her. She opened her hand palm up and put it on my knee.

  I broke from my thoughts and placed my hand in hers.

  “That’s a start,” Arya said as she gripped my hand and patted it with her other.

  “What is a start?” I asked.

  “You are not afraid to put your hand in mine and I’m not afraid to hold your hand,” Arya grinned as she said it.

  As she smiled at me, I noticed her eye twitch and a slight jolt of her head. She was still smiling at me, but I could tell she was no longer with me. She was somewhere else now, whether she wanted to be or not. I knew she was having a vision, so I sat still and kept our connection.

  She was back with me in about 8 long seconds. A second slight nod of her head followed by a quick inhale through her nostrils removed the blank stare and her eyes had life again.

  “Lou, I had that vision again about you and that horrible looking large man,” Arya explained to me.

  “Really, what can you tell me?” I figured the more I knew the more prepared I could be if the meeting ever became reality.

  Arya described him as having the chest of two men, no neck, slightly larger than normal mouth with awful teeth, and close to seven-feet tall. The next piece of information was startling. Arya believed he had the features of what could be described as Native American. She would not go so far as to say what culture or region because the size of the man distorted some of his features.

  “I don’t like this vision, Lou. It’s not helping our case and each time I have it, I grow increasingly worried for your safety. I have no idea where this takes place,” she expressed.

  “Or if it will even take place. You don’t know if the guy will ever meet me, let alone hurt me,” I tried to reassure her.

  “It was a vision, Lou. It is not a thought or feeling I had. My visions are of things that exist or events that have or will h
appen.”

  “Yeah but…”

  “No Lou, we can’t talk our way out of this. We need to think about how to be prepared for the moment this man meets you,” Arya stated as she pulled me close to her chest and gave me the look that meant ‘take this seriously’.

  We spent the next 20 minutes talking it out and working through a few ways to be prepared. The most reasonable was to always have someone with me. It felt like being assigned a babysitter. Arya called it sensible backup. I’m not sure I felt any better, but Arya seemed in a better headspace after talking.

  Lauren was on the satellite phone talking to her friend Nathan, doing final configurations and coding on her new system and laptop. I was not sure what brand of computer it started as, but she had built it inside a large protective hard case carrier that looked like a briefcase.

  It had two extra external batteries to feed the laptop for 72 hours. Lauren even built in a separate power bank and space for the Satellite phone to stay secure and charged in the hard case structure.

  Cords were running everywhere in her seated area as she was charging batteries and running the equipment at the same time.

  Andy sat next to Lauren. The dog looked like he was caught in a web but seemed content as he was snuggled in Lauren’s jacket. Lauren had been working nonstop for 3 hours and it seemed she was on the phone with Nathan every hour for about 20 minutes working something out.

  Holliday had taken a nap during takeoff that lasted an hour. The next hour he read some material on Colombia and the cities we would likely be traveling into.

  Content with his knowledge of Colombia, he moved over to Lauren’s row of seats and started asking her twenty questions on what she was doing, why so many cords, what’s this one connect to, who is Nathan, is he smarter than her? He was bored and Lauren was fun company, usually.

  “Stop. Please Holliday, just stop.” Lauren half pleaded half laughed as she brushed his curious hand away from the wires.

  “What am I supposed to do for 5 hours? I already slept, read the ready action report, geo and culture files, and attempted to bug you,” Holliday explained.

  “Successfully bugged me, thank you,” Lauren slipped in.

  Holliday began to get up to return to his row defeated, but Lauren grabbed his arm stopping him.

  “Here, Holliday, call your nurse friend, Kathy is it?” Lauren suggested as she smiled and offered her Satellite phone for him to use.

  With raised eyebrows, Holliday made a facial expression that meant “Don’t mind if I do” and accepted the phone. He quickly disappeared for some privacy a few rows away, which was fine by Lauren. There was still a couple of hours of programming to finalize in her new system.

  We landed at El Dorado International Airport in Bogota, Colombia a few hours later. Bogota had the FBI office known as legal attaché, “legat” for short, in the US Embassy where we would coordinate our trips and agenda. There, we would register in person with the legat Special Agent in Charge before heading out to the Colombian coastal cities.

  The massive plane dwarfed everything and drew crowds to the windows across many terminals as it taxied to the far corner of the Airport.

  With no windows for us to know what awaited us, the Captain was kind enough to announce, “Welcome to Bogota Colombia El Dorado International Airport. Local time is 3:30 P.M. and we are going nowhere until our Colombian Military Liaison walks the plane and is comfortable that our cargo matches all approved manifests. Hang tight folks, this will take about an hour.”

  About 30 minutes later we could hear and feel massive hydraulics at work as the tail of the plane opened. The Captain showed up and asked us to grab our gear and follow him down the stairs. The airmen were not addressed, and they stayed behind.

  As we were descending the 3 stories of stairs down to the cargo hold, I noticed the nose of the plane had detached from the cargo hold and had swung up pointing to the sky. There were about 10 workers, some in civilian clothes others in Military fatigues, that quickly completed the ramp system at both ends of the plane. It felt like we were in a big tunnel and they were busy with preparations to offload the Blackhawks.

  “Welcome to Bogota Special Agent Shah,” a woman said as she approached our team exiting the stairs. She was of average height, black hair, slightly tanned face that was half-covered with aviator glasses she proceeded to take off as Arya approached her. They shook hands all profession like and then giggled a little before they hugged.

  “Good to see a friendly face.”

  “Yes, same here. Wow, I can’t believe you are here,” Arya replied before making introductions to the rest of us.

  “This is Special Agent and FBI assistant legal attaché in Colombia, Keri Redford. We have known each other since Quantico,” Arya announced with some surprise in her voice. She turned back to Agent Redford once all handshakes were done. “When did you take this job, Keri?”

  “I’m on my third month in country and still playing catchup. My predecessor left in a hurry for an assignment in London,” she said before remembering she was not alone.

  “Waiting patiently behind me is Teniente Colonel Oscar Quintero with Colombian National Police. The Colonel will check your passports and paperwork and then we will all head over to his station to review a few need-to-know items.”

  “What is the deal with the Blackhawks back there?” Lauren asked as she gave a thumb back over her shoulder toward the three aircraft. Agent Redford finished patting Andy on the head before answering.

  “They are for the Colombian government. The U.S. trained Colombian commandos to use the Blackhawks to hunt the Cali, Ibagué, and Samañora Cartels, as well as active rebel factions.” Agent Redford stated and Colonel Quintero nodded in agreement.

  “What do the Polícia use Teniente Colonel Quintero?” Holliday asked.

  “Sheer force and determination,” Quintero answered with a straight face as he turned and lead the group away from the C5 and toward a Mercedes Mini Cargo van.

  Agent Redford kept the conversation going.

  “The government is constantly trying to juggle the sensitive and fragile cease-fire and cease drug trafficking agreement with the FARC and ELN guerrillas who, if you don’t already know, work with growers and farmers to make the majority of the cocaine. They then sell it dirt cheap to cartels in exchange for guns and money to fund their rebel ways claiming land and disrupting the government.”

  Agent Redford continued. “The Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, the FARC, are good at fighting and making cocaine. The Cartels are efficient at buying and selling cocaine. Sometimes the Cartels are even good at brokering, but they mostly leave that up to others. The supply and demand are rich and brokers make a great living finding buyers for the Cartels.” She paused and looked the group over for a few seconds.

  “You are looking for the brokers, aren’t you? She asked with curiosity.

  Lauren spoke up, “We have reason to believe that the majority of cocaine coming into the East Coast is being supplied by the Ibagué Cartel from Santa Marta.”

  “Yes, I read that in D.C.’s IOD briefing sent ahead of you. About 120 miles East of here over those mountains sits the city of Ibagué on the eastern slopes of the Andean Cordillera Central where it all began,” Agent Redford informed Lauren.

  “I actually knew that. One of us read the Colombia intel on the flight here,” Holliday announced and very proudly. Then looked slightly disappointed that no reward was handed out.

  “The interesting thing about the Ibagué Cartel these days is that they no longer operate from their hometown. The town is widely known for producing music, not Cocaine. The Cartel has gone through a few major shifts in leaders and direction over the past few years keeping all of us on our toes.” Agent Redford informed us.

  “Is Santa Marta their stronghold and headquarters?” I asked.

  “Strangely not,” she answered.

  “I investigated it after receiving your itinerary. We, being the CIA, DEA, Colombian Army, and
Navy have little documentation on that area associated with Ibagué Cartel activities. Cartagena has been on fire these days with drug trafficking and tends to attract everyone’s attention,” Agent Redford added before continuing.

  “I suppose I should answer your question more directly Agent Abrams. We keep close tabs on Miguel ‘Tiki’ Contrera, as he seems to operate on the go these days and no longer stays in one place or city for more than 3 months. He has made many enemies with his recent rise to power and leadership style.”

  The conversation continued during the short 20-minute ride out of the airport and through a nearby part of Bogota where we arrived at the two-story National Police station.

  Chapter 15

  We followed Lt.-Col. Quintero in through the front door of the station where he was saluted by everyone we passed. He quickly dismissed them all with a few rapid-fire half salutes that barely made it to his collar bone. We arrived at his large office in the back next to a stairwell.

  “This is me. Buenas Tardes,” he said as he disappeared into his office and closed the glass door.

  Agent Redford led us upstairs and explained that Quintero would make some calls to see what air transportation could be made available for us this week. It would likely be Army air support.

  We arrived on the next floor and she showed us around a small loft area that had several offices and an open bullpen area for gathering. There was a secretary at the first desk who asked us nicely to sign in. He already had temporary badges on lanyards for us to come and go through the police station as needed. He quickly took our pictures and attached them to the badges.

  “These will be good at any National Police Station in Colombia. They could come in handy, so don’t lose them. These are only good for this week,” he said as he passed them around.

  We thanked him and followed agent Redford into a briefing room where maps festooned with pins and notes cover the walls around us.