by J. M. LeDuc
“How are you getting in, Captain?” Seven asked.
Brent pulled out the maps he’d retrieved from the vault and pointed to Fisherman’s Point. “I’m going naval. The tunnel entrance at the end of the point should dump into the pond in Ferric’s backyard. It’s the only thing that wasn’t touched when his home was built about three and a half years ago.”
That timeframe suddenly clicked in his head. It was familiar to Brent and he stopped to think about where he’d heard it before. Then he smiled broadly as he looked back at the blueprints of Ferric’s home. The name “Phoenix Construction” was written in big letters at the bottom of the prints. “Joseph, you are one sly fox,” Brent said aloud.
“What about Joseph?” Seven asked.
“The same construction company that built S.I.A. headquarters built Ferric’s home. I’m now very sure the tunnel will spill into the pond, or maybe even into the basement. When I hit dry land, I’ll signal the three of you to attack the guard gates. That should happen at approximately four a.m. No one moves until you hear from me. I’ll enter via the basement and make my way up the back staircase. I have one stop to make before I hit the third floor, so I expect the three of you to be on the third floor before me. Any questions? No? Good. Let’s pray.”
The four members of the squad took a knee and prayed silently for their families and loved ones and for a safe, successful mission. Each stood up when they finished. They gathered in a circle, held hands, lowered their heads and Brent said, “Dear Abba Father, we pray for a safe conclusion to our mission. Not our will, but Yours be done.”
“Amen,” they all chorused. Then they recited together their pre-mission chant, “Emotion will get you killed.”
As the squad prepared to leave, Seven looked over at Brent and saw the sweat dripping down his face. That’s not a good sign, he thought.
“Captain, could I have a word with you in private?” he asked.
Brent looked up from what he was doing and motioned Seven outside.
“What’s up?” Brent said.
Seven could hear the tension, the lack of certainty in Brent’s voice. It was almost palpable. “We’ve known each other a long time,” Seven said. “I’ve seen you lead this squad through some impossible predicaments, but I’m not sure you’re the same person anymore.”
Brent’s expression grew angry at Seven’s words. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t get me wrong, Captain. I’ll follow wherever you lead us. But you said it yourself. Things have changed. Those two men in there have families and they think you’re indestructible. They’d follow you into hell, if you asked. I just don’t think that’s a good combination.”
“Just say what you need to say, Seven. We don’t have time for this.”
Seven looked down at the ground and spit tobacco juice. “Alright,” he said, looking Brent straight in the eye. “You know damn well that your confrontation with the Butcher changed you. When you got back to Bahrain, you weren’t the same person. I saw indecision and hesitation where it had never been before.”
“Listen Sev…” Brent interrupted.
“No, you listen,” Seven said. “This isn’t just any mission. You have a personal stake in its outcome. That makes you vulnerable when you are at your best and we both know that you’re not at your best, not even close. So you better reach deep inside yourself and think about what’s right. Not just for you, but also what’s right for those two guys and their families, before you decide to lead them into uncharted waters.” Seven tapped his finger on Brent’s chest, right where his tattoo would be. “Those aren’t just words inked into your skin. They are what keep us alive. Just make sure you’re ready for what might happen. For what sacrifices might have to be made if you expect us to come out of this alive.”
The two men stared at each other in silence. “I’ve said what I needed to say. I’m going to leave you to your thoughts and go back inside and finish packing.”
Seven left Brent standing in the dark of the night. Standing there, he could hear his heart pounding and he could feel the sweat pouring off his face. This is no good, God, he thought. Why did you choose me for this position, for this destiny? Why couldn’t you just leave well enough alone? Brent closed his eyes and clenched his fists so hard that his fingers became numb. Looking up toward the heavens, Brent opened his eyes and saw a lone star twinkling against the black sky. A tear formed at the corner of his eye and ran down his cheek.
Brent closed his eyes, relaxed his hands and dropped into a deep squat. He forced his thoughts and emotions out of his head as he felt himself drift back into the deep recesses of his mind. Brent’s heartbeat began to slow and his core temperature began to drop. He envisioned the mission ahead of him. All of the possible scenarios and all of the possible outcomes raced through the darkness. As each one came and went, a deeper tranquility came over him.
Opening his eyes, he stood up and stretched his arms toward heaven. “I put myself in your hands, Lord,” he said out loud. “Not my will, but Yours be done.”
Lowering his arms, Brent felt his persona change. He felt all emotion leave his mind. He again looked up to heaven and thought, I just pray I can stay this way until this mission is complete.
Walking back into the storeroom, Brent faced his squad. Seven saw the steely expression on his face and smiled. “We’re ready when you give the word, Captain,” he said.
Brent grabbed his backpack and slapped Seven on the shoulder. “Let’s move out,” he said.
The time was 1:00 a.m. when they left The Loft to begin the mission. Brent borrowed Benny’s pickup truck and dropped the men off about a quarter of a mile from Banyan Trace, the road leading to the compound.
“Ear pieces in, headsets on,” he said. “From this point on, all communication will come through channel four. I’ll be out of communication for about an hour once I hit the water. I’ll notify you just before I get wet.”
Seven signaled for them to jump from the back of the truck. Brent drove back to The Loft to return Benny’s truck.
CHAPTER 50
Maddie and Chloe were awakened by a loud knock on their door. Maddie looked at the clock. It was 2:05 a.m.
“You have ten minutes to get up and get dressed, then the door will be opened,” the voice on the other side of the door announced. The girls recognized Thomas’ British accent and got out of bed quickly.
Without either one saying a word, they changed into their clothes and were in the process of brushing their teeth when the door opened. Ferric was first to enter, followed by Thomas who pushed Donavan’s wheelchair. Then two other men, each carrying a box, walked in. The girls didn’t recognize either man. They couldn’t help notice the excited look on Ferric’s face. Gurgle, gurgle came from his mouth. Then he said, “I believe this is everything you’ll need, Miss Smith. Please get to work.”
“I’ll need a table to work on.”
Angered by further delay, he wheeled himself directly in front of Maddie. “This better not be a delay tactic, Miss Smith. The fax machine is still loaded.”
“I’m not trying to be difficult. I need a long table to put everything on. A folding banquet table will do fine. I’m sure you have one of those lying around, don’t you?”
Ferric, wanting to make a statement, stared at Maddie and said, “Thomas, send someone to the basement to get the table. If he’s not back in five minutes, put a bullet in his head when he gets back.”
Thomas turned, took one of the boxes and said to Sebastian, the man who had been carrying it, “The clock is ticking, my friend.” The man, short and overweight, didn’t have much chance of completing the challenge. Nevertheless, he turned and ran out the door as fast as he could. Thomas smiled as he put the box down. He addressed Maddie, “I like a challenge, don’t you, Miss Smith?”
“Then maybe you should have sent yourself.”
Thomas ignored her comment. “Your friend there was a bit of a challenge.”
His words and the sadistic, lustful look in his eyes made Chloe weak in the knees. It was as if she was looking right into the eyes of a demon. Within minutes, they heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall and the sound of the table being dragged along the hardwood floor. Sebastian entered the room, drenched in sweat, huffing and puffing so hard he couldn’t speak. In a single fluid motion, Thomas turned to face him and put a bullet between his eyes. Sebastian dropped like a sack of potatoes. Ferric looked at his watch. “I have four minutes and forty-two seconds.”
“My watch must be fast,” Thomas said. They both laughed as Harry, the other henchman in the room, nervously set up the table and loaded the boxes onto it.
“We’ll leave you now to your business. Thomas, take Miss Adler. She goes with us.”
“I’m afraid not,” Maddie said as Thomas grabbed Chloe roughly by the arm. “I said she stays with me.”
“I’ve changed my mind. I want to keep her with me for collateral.”
“Then you might as well kill us both right now because unless she stays, I’m not lifting a finger.” She looked down at Sebastian’s lifeless body, then back up at Ferric. “Then there’ll be three more of us dead.”
Ferric looked as though he had no idea what she was talking about.
“Chloe, myself and you, Mr. Ferric,” Maddie explained. “Judging by your breathing and the pallor of your skin, I suspect that you don’t have much time left.”
Ferric stared at Maddie. She didn’t flinch. “Leave her, Thomas. Tell me, Miss Smith, why is she so important to you?”
“She’s not. I’m just not going to let a pig like your errand boy abuse and torture her for his own amusement.”
“Get to work,” is all he said as he motioned Thomas to push his chair out of the room. They were followed by Harry, dragging the lifeless Sebastian.
The door closed and Chloe collapsed in Maddie’s arms. Fear enveloped her as tears rushed down her cheeks. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“Don’t thank me too much. Ferric’s going to want me to kill you when I’m finished with the formula.”
Her words surprised Chloe until she looked at Maddie. She remembered that Ferric could see and hear everything that was going on in the room. “I guess I’ll have to rely on God for protection, won’t I?”
“I don’t think God lives at this address, Chloe. Now, help me set up.”
Ferric, listening from another room, felt more at ease when he heard Maddie’s words and saw her actions, even though he knew he would have to kill her in the end. After the equipment was set up, Maddie started to work, combining chemicals in the same precautionary manner she’d done in S.I.A.’s lab. She again hung the test tube between the poles, so it couldn’t be knocked over. After the fifth step was completed, she started to yawn and complain about being tired. She needed to take a shower, she said, to help her stay awake. She gave Chloe a look that said she wanted Chloe to go with her. Chloe picked up on it and agreed with Maddie that it would be good for her too. She followed Maddie into the bathroom. While she turned on the shower, Maddie wrote:
I need to text Brent. Make like you’re getting in the shower.
Maddie fiddled with her clothing and retrieved the phone. As she text-messaged, Chloe opened the shower curtain then closed it as if Maddie had gotten in.
Can only stall for about three more hours.
God be with you.
Quickly, Chloe grabbed the eyebrow pencil and wrote a message of her own for Maddie to send:
Chloe said to say she loves you.
As Maddie pointed to the shower curtain, Chloe understood her signal and opened it again. “Here’s a towel, dry off and get dressed while I’m in the shower. I’ll just be a minute. Don’t leave this room until I leave with you.” They waited a minute or two, then opened the curtain one last time and shut off the water. Minutes later, they walked out of the bathroom.
“Hey, how come their hair isn’t wet?” Thomas asked as he watched.
“My mother used to take a shower all the time without getting her hair wet. It’s some sort of girl magic,” James said.
“Shut up, the two of you, and keep an eye on them. I need to go and take my medication.” Donavan rolled himself to his desk, thinking, This will be the last time I need medication.
CHAPTER 51
It was two thirty when Brent reached that portion of the beach where he’d have to make his entrance into the ocean. The surf was rough and there was a strong northerly current due to a tropical wave off Cuba. He’d calculated that he would have to swim out approximately a quarter of a mile, then head north for a hundred yards before swimming back. With the current as strong and fast as it was, Brent figured the trajectory should deposit him on Fisherman’s Point and the entrance to the tunnel.
He’d figured the swim would not take him more than half an hour and that the dive to gain entrance into the tunnel should take less time than that. He brought enough air supply to last a little more than an hour, possibly more, depending on how well he controlled his breathing. Before he started to gear up, he dropped to his knees and prayed for a safe, successful mission and a long, happy life with Chloe.
When he’d finished, he signaled the rest of the squad that he was about to take the plunge and that he would talk to them in about an hour. He put on his wet suit and strapped his gear to the weight belt. Next, he put on his fins, snorkel and mask, took a deep breath and stepped into the Atlantic. The water was cool, but it wouldn’t feel that way for long. Between the adrenaline and energy he was about to expend, he’d warm up fast. The hardest part of the swim would be staying on top of the water, a task made more difficult due to the added pounds from his weight belt. He would need it when he arrived at the point, in order to stay under the ocean’s surface and free the grate from the tunnel entrance.
Brent put his snorkel into his mouth and dove under the first wave. The surf was six to eight feet high, so getting through the break, the first hundred yards or so, was going to be rough. He started sinking pretty fast when he started to swim. He knew he would have to shed some weight from the belt if he was going to make it to Fisherman’s Point on time. He reached down to his waist and unclipped a five-pound weight from the belt and let it drop to the ocean floor. His body still wanted to sink below the surface, but it was controllable now. He couldn’t risk losing more weight, so he would have to fight to stay on the surface the entire way. As he continued to swim, he found he could control the sinking tendency by kicking his fins in an upward trajectory every few kicks.
Just after they got word from Brent, the squad began their trek up Banyan Trace, the road to Ferric’s home. Seven spit out his tobacco and put in a fresh dip. It was his one superstition, he never started a mission without a fresh pinch of tobacco.
He motioned to Jefferson and Fitzpatrick to put on their night vision goggles. “Fitz, you’re going to approach on the seaward side of the street. Jefferson and I’ll stay on the landward side. On my signal, we trot for twenty seconds before stopping and taking cover in the bushes. We’ll repeat the process until we reach our target.”
Seven brought his night vision binoculars up to his face and watched the camera mounted on the telephone pole. It scanned toward them, then scanned in the opposite direction. “On three, Jefferson, we’re going to cross to the other side of the street and head for cover: one and two and three; go.”
Seven led Jefferson across the street and ducked into the thick high hedge that lined the road.
“We’ll have to thank our target for lining the road with these nice bushes,” Jefferson whispered. Seven acted like he hadn’t heard him. Jefferson was always talking, he never shut up. Seven gave the signal, and the three trotted in unison for twenty seconds, then hid in the bushes as the cameras came back around. They continued that way for the next
hour when they reached their target.
“Can everybody read me?” Seven asked.
“Loud and clear,” Fitz answered back.
“Gotcha,” Jefferson answered.
“Check your weapons, put on the suppressors and take off the safeties.”
“Weapons checked,” they both said.
“Jefferson, on my go, you head to your position on the north wall of the compound,” Seven said. After five minutes passed, Seven gave the signal. Jefferson quickly ran across the road and took cover on the north side of the wall.
Once he was in place, Seven radioed, “Sit back, boys, and wait for the captain’s signal.”
Brent continued to swim due east, even though he could feel the current push him north. He stopped, looked north and then at his dive computer/watch that let him know he had swum a quarter of a mile. The point still seemed far off, but he knew as soon as he started swimming north that the current would take him there in no time. He took one last look before he started swimming toward the point.
He covered the hundred yards in just minutes. When he looked up, he could see the point. Brent changed direction again and started swimming straight for shore, knowing he’d be swept north, and hopefully, right onto the point. He kept his head above water as he got closer, keeping track of exactly where he was.
The current was so strong around the point that he couldn’t stop himself from slamming against the coral reef protecting it. The impact caused his wetsuit to snag against the coral. One of his air cylinders tore away from the belt. It sank before he even knew it was gone. Since the ocean floor dropped off like a shelf just beyond the point, he knew it wasn’t retrievable.
Brent climbed the exposed rock around the point until he could sit on the ledge. He checked the rest of his equipment to make certain he hadn’t lost anything else. Three cylinders will still be plenty, he thought. He checked to make sure his light was still attached, then he checked the time. It was three-fifteen, a little later than he would have preferred but still in the window of time he needed. Brent put his mask back on, took the first cylinder off his belt and broke the safety seal. It allowed him to get air on demand each time he sucked on the mouthpiece. He stuck the bite piece into his mouth and climbed down off the ledge, dropping back into the water. He stayed in contact with the point as he lowered himself deeper into the water. At twenty-five feet, he spotted the grate blocking the tunnel opening. Dropping a little lower, he was in contact with the grate. He held onto it with one hand so the current wouldn’t pull him away. With the other, he examined the grate with his light. It was secured to the frame a lot better than he thought it would be. Years of barnacles and coral growth nearly covered the entire surface.