by Glen Robins
Off Guard
By Glen Robins
This is a work of fiction. As such, all characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel have either been created by the author or fictionalized. Any resemblance to real persons, either live or dead, or real events is purely coincidental. Creative liberties have been taken with the depiction of the roles and operations of certain governmental and law enforcement agencies.
Off Guard
Copyright © 2017 by Glen Robins
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Brady Anderson
Editing by Ayers Edits
www.GlenRobinsBooks.com
ISBN: 978-0-9863517-4-7 (e-book)
ISBN: 978-0-9863517-5-4 (paperback)
First Edition: May 2017
For my family for their long-suffering and support while I toil away at my computer, striving to create something they and many other families will hopefully enjoy.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Thank You
Chapter One
Puerto Lempira, Honduras
June 17, 4:50 a.m., Local Time
Collin trudged up the beach, away from the plane, through the soft, pale sand in the grayish predawn light. Each new step required more effort than the last as his feet sank into little craters of his own making. The effort to lift his knees and drag his weight forward was slowly depleting what little energy he had left. It had been a long, sleepless night, capping off a week full of long and sleepless nights. Things had not gone the way he had planned and he was ready to rest.
Given his lack of sleep over the past three days and the energy he had expended to save his own life and safeguard the security of the country, it was no wonder Collin struggled to traverse the 150 feet up the sloping shore to the tiny hut where he hoped the magical, sleep-inducing orange juice sat chilling in the refrigerator.
Collin’s whole body hurt. Penh’s men had seen to that. His face was bruised from the multiple beatings they had inflicted on him. After repeatedly being punched and kicked, his ribs and midsection ached as well. All the swimming and diving over the past twenty-four hours to save himself and retrieve his laptop from the bottom of the ocean had given his arms, legs, and lungs a fantastic, though exhausting, workout.
Yes, he wanted some food and some sleep, in that order.
His batteries were indeed running low and he needed to rest. Despite his weary body, Collin’s mind was keyed up over recently transpired events. Sleep wouldn’t come, not without help. The murder of one, and possibly a second, person weighed heavily on his soul, even though he realized it was self-defense. He looked ahead at the simple hut, a wedge of pale yellow light spilling through its doorway, and adjusted his course to be sure not to waste a single step. When he reached the half-open bamboo door, he stumbled into the tiny beach house on the Caribbean coast of Honduras, looking for the orange juice, the magical orange juice laced with a powerful sleep aid—he didn’t even know what it was—that had helped him just the day before to enjoy the best sleep he had gotten since his wife and children died in that thunderous wreck on Interstate 80, coming down the mountain from Lake Tahoe, eleven and a half months ago.
Yes, Collin Cook was ready for food and sleep. He was pretty sure he deserved it.
With his laptop onboard the plane, safely enveloped in the rubbery watertight sea bag, Collin felt he had accomplished his mission for the day. He had scuba dived deeper than he had ever dived before to rescue it. He had fought off another pair of Penh’s hired thugs, who had also dived to the wreckage of the Admiral Risty, spearing one of them in the chest. He had had to swim through the plume of that man’s blood to exit the boat, a harrowing experience for anyone.
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 National Security Agency 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 executing a plan 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, though 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 of 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 cyberterrorist 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 outwaited all his would-be captors, that 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 pe
rfect 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, 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. 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 realized for the first time how the lighting inside the hut 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 of 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. 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?” Lukas’s tone conveyed the all-business frame of mind he was in.
“It’s all the way down at the plane,” Collin sighed, 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.”
“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 a furious rhythm in the background. “You being there could compromise the safe house. With only two assets on location, there’s not enough firepower 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 than 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. 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. I’d be happy to pull the trigger.”
“What are you saying there, my friend?”
Lukas paused, sucking in a breath. “You know we were at MIT at the same time. But 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 . . .”
“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. I was questioned extensively and put under a shadow of suspicion, thanks to s
ome bogus information Penh gave the investigators. That’s when I accepted the offer from the NSA, even though I could have made much more money somewhere else. I told them the story, and they helped clear me of all charges and accusations. 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?”
“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 of giving the bogus information?”
“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?”
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?”