Off Course: A clean action adventure book

by Glen Robins

  His next mission, which he was ready to embark on immediately, would be a day-long siesta.

  Lukas Mueller, Collin’s friend since middle school and a deep cover, high-ranking NSA officer, had reminded him during the long plane ride back from the site of the wreck that if he wanted to live, Collin had to stay at least one step ahead of Penh.

  All of Lukas’s talk of coming up with a plan and executing it flawlessly rattled around Collin’s weary brain. He knew what hung in the balance, or at least he had an idea. Lukas had been light on the details, giving Collin only what information he needed to take the next step. There was more going on in Lukas’s complex and finely-tuned brain than he shared with his simple, civilian friend. But Collin was OK with that. He wanted to live and he wanted to protect his family and country. Those were his two primary motivations for getting this involved in something that he really shouldn’t be involved in.

  Lukas told him lives were at stake, that national security could be breached. Collin’s involvement in this whole mess, those accidental and unfortunate, hadn’t ended yet. There would be no safety for him or anyone associated with him until Penh was put away for good.

  But all that could wait a couple hours, couldn’t it? Collin thought.

  Four days ago when he boarded the Admiral Risty, the idea was to sail away with his newest group of friends, the friends who had twice helped him dodge and elude those who were chasing him, namely, Interpol, the FBI and the nefarious cyber-terrorist Pho Nam Penh. The crew of the Admiral Risty were practically like family now. Captain Sewell, with his calm and shrewd demeanor and his sage counsel, reminded Collin of his dad and had, in many ways, become like another father figure to him. Collin had planned to spend several weeks or maybe even months cruising through the Caribbean with the crew while he figured out what to do next. No one would find him in the Caribbean. It’s an easy place to hide.

  Collin thought he had out-waited all his would-be captors, that all of Penh’s men, and the law enforcement types on Grand Cayman had given up, figuring him to be dead. The FBI had even posted it on their website. He should have been dead, by all measures of reason and logic.

  Hurricane Abigail should have killed him. Everyone knew that. Everyone except Pho Nam Penh and Collin’s faithful parents. And his parents only knew he was alive because of his two best friends in the world, Lukas and Rob.

  It was a miracle he wasn’t dead, which made it apparent in his mind that there was something he was supposed to do. Something important enough for him to survive against all odds.

  Now, after what Penh and his goons had put him through over the past several days, he only wished he was dead. It’d be easier. The only problem was that Collin might be the only person that could stop Penh. Collin was the burr under Penh’s saddle. The itch that couldn’t be scratched. The enigma that haunted Penh and upset his otherwise perfect plans to crash the world’s economy for his own benefit and change the power structure in the Western Hemisphere. And Penh needed him alive to retrieve the $30 Million Collin had hidden and that Penh still thought was his.

  Exhausted and hollow, Collin wanted to eat, take a big swig of the magic orange juice, and not worry about such weighty matters until he awoke.

  The two agents of whatever ilk or agency that were stationed at the hut in Puerto Lempira saluted Collin, as it were, with slight head tilts as he approached them from the plane. Collin sensed new respect. Although they didn’t exactly herald his arrival with fanfare or a ticker tape parade, both the guy with the sniper rifle and the guy with the binoculars treated him differently than they had twenty-four hours ago.

  After Collin entered the hut, the one with the binoculars followed him in and grabbed an armful of dirty dishes that were stacked on the rustic wooden table. “Make yourself at home,” he said as he rounded the table and headed for the makeshift kitchen. The dishes clattered as he lowered them into the sink and turned on the water. “Want anything to eat? I haven’t fixed a real breakfast yet, but if you want some cereal, go ahead.”

  “I’m fine with that,” Collin answered. “Anything, really. I’m starving.” Collin poked through the assortment of boxed cereal on a shelf near the refrigerator. All American cereals, probably brought down by the pilot from an American grocery store on his last supply run. He chose Wheaties with a banana, then searched for a bowl and spoon. Collin noticed for the first time how the lighting inside created an atmosphere reminiscent of Christmas. He hadn’t noticed it before, but the main illumination was a string of small, low-watt bare bulbs hanging on hooks in a serpentine pattern along the slats of the ceiling.

  “Heard your mission was a success,” said the man with the binoculars. Neither of the men at the hut had introduced themselves. Collin doubted they ever would, figuring the less he knew, the better.

  “I guess so,” answered Collin, unsure what to say.

  “I don’t know who you’re with, but we’re all on the same team, trying to protect the Homeland. So you doing your job makes it easier for me to do mine.”

  Collin paused, bowl and cereal in his one hand, a jug of milk in the other. He cocked his head and stared at the other man for a moment. He hadn’t spent much time thinking about the macro significance what he was doing. He never considered his role to be anything beyond just trying to keep himself and those he loved alive. But Collin had volunteered for the risky, deep sea dive to save the laptop because Lukas had explained that there were pieces of code on it that, if discovered by Penh, could allow Penh into the NSA’s computer network. That could create problems untold into perpetuity. Collin felt a swell in his chest as he realized what he had done would help keep his country safe. “I suppose,” he said, then turned toward the table. Pondering his next words, he finally added, “But with me, things are complicated. Always have been, probably always will be.”

  “I hear you,” said the other man. “Seems to be a recurring theme in this line of work.”

  As Collin sat to eat, his phone rang from the pocket of his cargo shorts. It was Lukas. Had to be, since he was the only one who knew this number.

  “You’re at the hut, right?” said Lukas with his efficient, Germanic precision.

  “Yeah, just got here.”

  “Good. I need you to hook up that laptop. The guys will show you the secure port to plug it into.”

  “The laptop? Now? You’re kidding me, right?”

  “No, why?” asked Lukas. Lukas’ tone conveyed the all-business frame of mind he was in.

  “It’s all the way down at the plane,” sighed Collin, doing his best to imitate a teenager. “I don’t know if I have the strength to walk all the way down there and back.”

  Lukas picked up on Collin’s sarcasm, then pushed past it. “Yeah, yeah, you big baby. Get it and plug it into the network so I can see what kind of mischief Penh might’ve done.”

  Collin was already on his way, knowing Lukas was right. The sand seemed even thicker and his legs heavier as he tramped his way to plane. The pilot, who was checking the engine, looked at him curiously. Collin pulled the back door open and cradled the sea bag in his arms like a baby and summoned his strength for the grueling trek back up the sandy slope.

  Binocular man helped Collin hook the laptop up to a server in a small room in the back of the hut. There Collin listened intently while Lukas muttered to himself, then gave Collin instructions, through the phone over the clicking of computer keys. The clicking stopped and Lukas groaned. “Don’t get comfortable, my friend. We’ve got to move,” he said.

  “What are you talking about?” asked Collin, still dreaming of food and slumber.

  “He’s installed a tracker.”

  “So, he knows where I am right now?” A cold knot formed in Collin’s stomach. “I guess a long nap is out of the question.” Stress tended to bring the sarcasm to the surface.

  “Yeah. Afraid so,” Lukas said. The keys were tapping in a furious rhythm in the background. “You being there could compromise the safe house. With only two assets on
location, there’s not enough fire power to protect you if Penh sends in a team to find you.”

  “Can’t you do something to throw them off long enough to get your own team in here or something?” Collin asked, still hopeful of a good nap.

  “If I try to scramble the signal, it will only raise eyebrows and cause them to be more cautious. That could reverse much of our progress.”

  “Figures,” sighed Collin as his head dropped. “He wants everything he can get and he’s obviously dug deep enough into that computer to know there’s something more than a guy like me would ever have on it.”

  “Right,” said Lukas. “And if we make changes to it at this point, he’ll know someone with more experience that you’ve got is tampering with it. Again, my concern is that he’ll be wary and start covering his tracks. Our best hope is to try to catch him off guard if we can.”

  “Look, I’m not trying to run away from him at this point, my friend. This thing won’t end until he gets what he wants or gets thrown in prison.”

  “Or is dead,” added Lukas. “I wouldn’t mind seeing him dead, truth be told.”

  “Right, you sinister bastard,” chuckled Collin. “You don’t mind as long as someone else does the dirty work.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Lukas protested. “I’d be happy to pull the trigger.”

  “What are you saying there, my friend?”

  Lukas paused, sucking in a breath. “There’s history between me and him. Bad blood, you know. I’ve seen what he’s capable of. That’s why I’ve kept him on my radar all these years. At some point, a ruthless juggernaut like him was going to rear his ugly head and I vowed I’d be there to cut it off if I possibly could.”

  “Dude,” Collin said, careful not to use Lukas’s name out loud, as he’d been instructed, “I’m getting the chills right now. You’re sounding pretty scary.”

  “Yeah, I know. But that bastard killed a friend of mine out of revenge . . .” Lukas’s voice trailed off as if the memory had clamped his throat shut. “Then he tried to frame me for it.”

  “Why didn’t he go to jail then?”

  “No one could prove it. It looked like an alcohol-fueled overdose, but we’re talking about a mature, studious MIT grad student with the career-track she’d always wanted buttoned down, not some sorority-rushing freshman. She was not the party type.”

  “Sounds like she was more than a friend.”

  “She was. We had plans . . .” Lukas’s voice trailed off.

  “Then how do you know it was Penh?”

  “I just know. Things like that don’t stay secret forever, but everyone who knew him knew he’d find a way to shut them up for good if they ever confronted him.”

  Collin waited, expecting Lukas to continue. When he didn’t, he prompted his friend. “So, how did it end?”

  “We all graduated two weeks later and went our separate ways. That’s when I accepted the offer from the NSA, even though I could have made much more money somewhere else. With their resources, I knew I could track him and perhaps prevent him from doing what he’s about to do now, carrying out his threat to cripple the West and punish them for their greed and abuse.”

  “So, you knew about his plans since graduate school?” asked Collin.

  “Yeah. I probably had more interaction with him than any other classmate. For some reason, I befriended him and he trusted me. He opened up to me and my friend Theresa. When she threatened to expose him to the authorities, he killed her. Made it look innocuous. But I knew her well, knew she’d never drink like that.”

  “Do you think he knew that you suspected him?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. I played dumb, but also steered clear of him.”

  “And Penh knows you work for the NSA?”

  Lukas snorted. “No. Because it was all very clandestine, the offer I signed and accepted came from what appeared to be a legitimate IT company in Manhattan. That’s what I told everyone and that’s what was posted on the school’s website. Now, disconnect the laptop and get going. When you get to Mexico, I’ll have a security detail set up to guard you and the computer. We’ll run a ruse to lead Penh into our trap. That way you’ll be safe and so will the national security network.”

  Collin slapped the top of his knees. “Sounds like a plan, but can I eat first?” said Collin, as he began to shut down the computer.

  Lukas didn’t respond immediately. Only the sound of the keys tapping at a furious pace could be heard. “If you can get it done before the pilot finishes refueling.”

  Collin stood and walked to the kitchen, where he could see the beach through a large, plate glass window. The sun rose early at the lower latitudes of Honduras, especially so close to the summer equinox. In the purplish rays of the new day, the pilot was wrestling two large red cans, one with a yellow spout sticking out of it, down to where the plane sat anchored on the beach. “Where am I going?”

  “Mexico City. Your itinerary after you get there is a bit sketchy, but we’re quite certain Penh’s plans revolve around Mexico City. It’s coming together in pieces, but all the intel we have points there.”

  “That’s very unusual, don’t you think? Why Mexico City?”

  “This whole thing is unusual, Collin,” sighed Lukas. “We’ve been monitoring various known hackers from around the world for months. Many of them think they are invisible and, therefore, presume they can travel without detection. But, they are known to us and we’ve been watching them with great interest, as you can imagine. And, it appears they are all converging on Mexico City this week. There has also been a fair amount of money moving into the country from some of Penh’s many shell companies to various foundations and interests in Mexico, all have a common denominator.”

  Collin expected him to continue, but he didn’t. “What’s the common denominator?”

  “A certain Mexican senator.”

  Collin snorted and shook his head as he began to wolf down his cereal, shoveling in two or three bites each time Lukas spoke, then chewing furiously before he began to talk again. “If he’s got a tracker on the laptop and he sees me going to Mexico City, won’t that tip him off that we’re on to him?”

  “Not necessarily. Think about it. Mexico City is huge. Easy to hide. A hub of transportation and commerce,” said Lukas. “It’s a logical place for you to catch a flight back home to the States. Plus, we’ve got assets in the area, ready to move on this. They can provide you with security.”

  “Won’t my presence cause problems for the assets there?”

  “Not necessarily. Penh will track you but will be more focused on the rest of his plan. Our other men can remain undercover and do like they always do.”

  “Will I be able to talk to my family and let them know I’m alright?”

  “Maybe. We’ll see.”

  Off Guard Chapter Two

  Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

  June 17, 7:12 p.m. Malaysia Time; 5:12 a.m. Honduras Time

  Pho Nam Penh fumed at the far end of the rickety table in the smoke-filled room. He sat leaning back, legs crossed, cigarette between his fingers. The seven men huddled around computer screens remained silent. The only sounds in the darkened room were the beeps and clicks from an array of computer equipment and the whirring of fans blowing thick, muggy air around in a vain attempt to cool the men and the machines. That and the breathing of Pho Nam Penh as he inhaled and exhaled through his nose, trying to tamp down the rage that filled him.

  Collin Cook was the source of Penh’s frustration and anger. He had once again vanished into the night, eluding Penh’s hired help and the authorities Penh had manipulated into aiding in the hunt. Cook was not among the survivors of the shipwreck found by the Colombian Coast Guard. That was bad news, but it was old news at this point. The really bad news was that the divers Penh had hired and sent to the wreck came back empty-handed and injured. Cook had thrust a fishing spear into the diaphragm of one Penh’s hired divers, cut the oxygen tube of the other, and escaped with the computer. Penh needed tha
t laptop to retrieve the money Cook kept hidden from him. $30 million dollars. Although he had pilfered plenty of cash from other sources, those sources were no longer available due to the heightened security after his recent high-profile heist. Every bank and financial institution had beefed up their systems, moving the “low hanging fruit” out of reach for the time being. The $30 million Cook stole was now needed more than ever to placate the high-priced hackers on the payroll.

  Penh had spent a fortune amassing the team and bribing authorities as he spun a web of deceit and intrigue aimed at bringing the United States to its knees. Funds were now running short. But that was only part of the story, a part no one else would ever know. The real issue now revolved around maintaining his profile as a leader. These men and the others in his organization needed to know beyond a doubt Penh’s supremacy. It was unacceptable to be made a fool by the likes of a common man like Collin Cook. Cook had defied him repeatedly and his men knew it. To regain the respect of those men, Collin Cook had to be made an example. He had to suffer in the most extreme way to pay for the gross indignations he had caused Pho Nam Penh and the potential set-backs to the cause. It was the only way to reestablish the proper order of things.

  One man among the group of expert computer hackers, the same man that stood before him days before and announced that he had a positive I.D. on Cook in the Cayman Islands, stood and cleared his throat and bowed to Penh before he dared speak. Penh acknowledged him with a grunt and a nod of his head.

  “Sir, I am sorry to share this news with you, but our diver, the one injured by the spear, died shortly after he arrived at the hospital.” The man bowed again and took his seat.

  “He died bravely,” Penh muttered. His eyes were fixed straight ahead. He didn’t move for several moments. “He honored the cause with his courage.”

  The man stood again, bowed, and responded. “Yes, sir, he did.”

  Another long pause ensued while Penh stared at the dark curtains on the opposite side of the room. “What about the other one? The one that was shot.”