by Luke Murphy
Hughes pushed a button on a remote, pulling up a NASA satellite that scanned the island in an ultra-high-resolution photo.
“This is Jacques Cousteau Island, located off the Cerralvo Canal coast near La Paz.”
“Mexico?” Jimmy had a questioning look.
The colonel nodded. “The island is eighteen miles long with a land area of about fifty square miles. The island peak comes to twenty-one hundred feet and the ridge line runs north-south. There are many steep bluffs on the eastern sides and many sandy beaches and points on the west side.”
“What do the colors indicate?” Dale asked.
The colonel pointed with a laser. “Dark red indicates Baxter’s most likely means of entrance onto the island, the main access route. Lighter red is his second most likely option and orange indicates a very small possibility of his entrance.”
“Why Mexico?”
“A couple of reasons. One, Sanders would have flown over the island on his way out of the country, so it’s a possibility that his plane could have gone down there. We had to make it look as legitimate as possible. Baxter isn’t stupid, and he can spot a phony story.”
“What’s the other reason?”
“The island is remote, secluded, the perfect size and set up for a trap. We’ve been there many times, scoped it, surveyed it, photographed it and have set up the necessary preliminary steps. We’ve had experts walk through every possible scenario and it’s ninety-eight point three percent foolproof.”
“What about that other one-point-seven percent?”
The colonel ignored Dale’s question and motioned to the lab tech, who punched a series of keys. The screen zoomed in on the island.
“We’ll have a helicopter fast-rope insertion, dropping the men into place and await Baxter. Two of the men will be our over-watch team from the hills, overlooking the beach where we suspect Baxter will enter. The other five members of our team will be the kill-team, located half a mile inland, waiting for the over-watch team to alert them of Baxter’s arrival. Once Baxter is located and the kill-team has been notified, they’ll make their way down to the beach from their position in the hills. Once Baxter is killed, the team will contact the base and make their way back to the open-beach access to the water and wait for pickup.”
“Why not have everyone already in place when Baxter lands on the island, instead of having both a watch-team and a kill-team?” Dale asked. “A lot can happen between Baxter’s arrival and the team being alerted.”
The colonel shook his head. “Derek Baxter is the reason. He’d smell it a mile away. If he even senses anything out of the ordinary, he’d be gone. He’s that good. Let’s just hope he’s lost a step.”
Chapter 10
Calvin escorted Rachel into his favorite diner for their regular Friday night outing.
“Hey, Cal, hey, Rach,” Ed, the restaurant owner and good friend, greeted Calvin with his usual smile.
The sparsely filled dining area seemed to grow quieter as they sat down at a booth to themselves, in the corner, where Calvin could look outside the large front window.
A bulky waitress, wearing a skin-tight uniform and a permanent frown, approached their table.
“Oh look, Ken and Barbie out for a night on the town. You’re not going to sit here and complain about Toby Jenkins, how he was your backup at USC and now makes millions in the NFL, are you?”
Calvin smiled. “As long as you don’t complain to me about Julia Roberts stealing your part in Pretty Woman.”
“Nice to see you again, Doris,” Rachel said. “It’s our two-year anniversary today.”
The waitress snorted. “Wow, and Mr. High Roller brought you out here for our five-course meal. What a catch.” Doris still didn’t smile as she looked at Calvin. “I suppose you want the special, Tiger?”
“Sounds good, Pussy Cat.”
The waitress turned and screamed the order into the kitchen.
“I like her,” Rachel said. “She’s sweet.”
Calvin chuckled. “Rachel, I think you’re probably the only person in the world who could find any kind of ‘sweetness’ in Doris.”
Doris returned with utensils, napkins, a pitcher of water and partially cleaned glasses.
When she left, Calvin looked into Rachel’s eyes.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” His palms were sweating and his heart beat like a jackhammer. “Well, there is something.”
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Rachel looked worried. She took Calvin by the hand.
He cleared his throat and pulled his hand away from hers. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pant legs and got down on his knee.
He looked at Rachel, who was now wide-eyed. He could see her swallow hard. Calvin pulled a tiny box out of his pocket.
Rachel put her hand to her mouth and held her breath. “Oh, my God, Calvin.”
As he removed the box lid, the front window to the restaurant blew apart. Calvin dove headfirst at Rachel, tackling her backwards, covering her body as shards of broken glass covered him. Customers screamed. Some huddled under booth tables for cover while others ran to the back door in complete panic.
Calvin rolled over and noticed that Rachel wasn’t moving. He looked into her eyes, motionless, and her chest heaved, as if she couldn’t catch her breath. He sat up on his knees as the front of her white blouse bloomed in red. Her eyes rolled back in her head.
Calvin huddled over her.
“Rachel! Rachel, hang on!” He looked around the now empty restaurant. He checked her pulse but couldn’t find it. “Somebody call 911!”
He swiped Rachel’s wet, matted hair out of her eyes and off her forehead. He gently rocked her back and forth.
When he looked back up, he recognized a familiar figure seated in a wheelchair outside the diner on the sidewalk, staring into the restaurant through the blown-out window frame.
“Hello, Calvin.”
Derek Baxter.
Calvin felt a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes to find a pretty lady in uniform looking over him.
“We’re preparing to land, sir.” The stewardess smiled, claimed the empty glass and damp napkin off his tray, and continued down the aisle.
Calvin blinked a few times, and looked out the window at the clouds. He rotated the kinks out of his neck, put up his tray and straightened his seat.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We have begun our descent to Eduardo Gomes International Airport in beautiful Manaus, Brazil.”
Calvin looked around and thought he saw a woman staring at him, but when he turned she looked away.
The former football star wiped the sweat from his damp forehead. He’d always suffered from night terrors, since he was a kid. They changed constantly, but they were ever present.
His mother had told him that they’d started when his father abandoned the family when Calvin was young. Then, at thirteen, he’d lost his mother to pancreatic cancer, sending Calvin into his own real nightmare, in and out of foster homes. The last four years, Calvin had been reliving his career-ending knee injury on the green grassy field of Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum. Now, the nightmare was Derek Baxter.
And Rachel. Calvin’s weakness now. He knew that.
He’d found her while they both worked the Vegas streets, a shy, in-over-her-head runaway trying to survive. Falling into the life of a prostitute, she would do whatever it took to stay alive and live to fight one more day. In that sense, they had more in common than they knew. Both ran away from something, and both sought something more. Calvin had sensed that they could help each other.
He’d instantly taken a liking to her, and not just because of her good looks. They talked, frequently, even though Calvin hated what he did for a living, he knew that Rachel’s line of work was a lot more dangerous. The average lifespan of a Vegas hooker was short. So, he looked out for her.
They became inseparable. They relied on and supported each other. Rachel was the first woman he’d truly loved si
nce his mother and, together, they had survived and always would. He certainly never dreamed he’d be smitten and swept off his feet by a prostitute, but like so many things in Calvin’s short life, it just fell into place, unpredictably. They shared secrets that they’d take to the grave.
“It is currently ninety degrees Fahrenheit, mostly cloudy, fifty percent chance of precipitation, fifty-five percent humidity with a six mile-per-hour wind. We have been cleared for landing and should have you at your gate shortly. Please raise your seat to its upright position, fasten your seatbelt and turn off all electronic devices. Your flight attendant will be by to pick up any garbage. We’d like to take this time to thank you for choosing to fly with us today,” the pilot said over the intercom.
As the plane’s nose dipped down, all Calvin could see was swamps, jungle and a row of riverboats.
“That’s the Amazon River.”
Calvin turned to see a woman, about mid-forties, looking over his shoulder and pointing out the window. She had high breasts and was well dressed in a white pant suit and brimmed-hat. Her large dark sunglasses covered most of her face.
“Do you mind?” she said, holding up her iPhone. “I’d like to get a picture from up here and the stewardess is on her way back, so I have to do it right away.”
“Sure, be my guest.”
Calvin sat back in his seat as the woman snapped a picture with her phone.
“Is this your first time in Brazil?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Business or pleasure?”
Calvin smiled. “A little of both.” This was true. Catching Sanders and bringing him home would be a world of pleasure.
The woman returned the smile. “You know, if you’re interested, I can get you a great deal on a rainforest tour. My husband is a guide. We do both boat and plane tours. My husband is from here, born and raised. I’ve been here for the last twenty years. Beautiful area.”
The woman’s voice was accentless and she didn’t look South American.
“Thanks, I might just take you up on that.”
The woman juggled her phone to shake his hand. “I’m Chantal Hickey.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a card. “My contact information is right here.” She handed the card to Calvin.
“Thanks. I’m Calvin Watters.”
“Where are you from, Mr. Watters?”
“Las Vegas.”
“Ah, Sin City.”
Calvin smiled. “That’s right.”
She grinned and winked. “I think you’ll find our city just as sinful.”
Then the stewardess appeared. “Ma’am, you’ll have to sit down and buckle up.”
Calvin gripped the seat arms as the plane descended.
♣
It took Calvin almost two hours to pass customs and retrieve his luggage. Security was tight. Airport staff didn’t appreciate or trust outsiders.
He’d never seen so many tourists in one destination, and he lived in Vegas. Large banners strung across the walls indicating that the city had hosted the FIFA World Cup games in 2014.
The moment he stepped through the rotating doors, the humidity hit him like a steam room. He felt as if he moved in slow motion.
A row of cabs waited outside the airport. When Calvin stepped to the edge of the curb, a cab immediately pulled up in front of him. A female driver. Her athletic ponytail hung outside a ball cap that was pulled down low to almost hide her dark features.
“Do you speak English?”
The cab driver nodded.
“How far is it to the zoo?”
“Twenty minutes without traffic.” She had a Portuguese accent, but it wasn’t as thick as Calvin expected.
“Your English is pretty good.”
She smiled. “Thank you. Yours, too.”
He checked his watch. Calvin was starving and tired, but his number one priority was to get the equipment Mike had sent. He’d been told to get there before the zoo closed at 4:30.
He was about to duck into the cab when he saw the woman from the plane, outside the terminal, speaking with a short, balding man who looked to be Brazilian. She pointed towards Calvin. Her husband removed his sunglasses to look in Calvin’s direction. Calvin waved and the couple waved back.
“Friends of yours?” the cab driver asked.
“I met her on the plane. She seems like a nice lady.”
“She sure does,” the cabbie replied.
He got in and the cab sped off. Calvin watched for directions, in case he’d ever need to get by on his own. They turned onto Avenida Santos Dumont and then merged onto the 174 Freeway.
“First time in Brazil?” the driver asked, looking in the rear-view mirror.
She had light-brown skin and an upturned nose, with beautiful, Mediterranean eyes. He could see her smiling at him.
He smiled back. “Is it that obvious?”
“Tourists like the zoo. Locals not so much.”
“Why’s that?”
“Run by the Brazilian Army. Not many fans around here. You married?”
He held up his bare ring finger.
“Kids?”
He shook his head.
“Then why go to the zoo?”
He couldn’t tell her the real reason: that a bag full of weapons was being delivered there for him, so he had to think fast. “It’s one of the top ten tourist sites in the city.”
She nodded, seeming to accept this answer. He released his breath—thank God for google.
“You seem like an honest man. Mind if I give you some advice?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
“Don’t trust anyone in this city.”
She didn’t say anything the rest of the way, only drummed her hands on the steering wheel in a steady rhythm. Calvin lay his head back on the seat and closed his eyes.
Fifteen minutes later, the cab stopped in front of the turn-style entrance to the zoo.
“Thanks,” Calvin said, paying the fare with his Brazilian money. “Keep the change.”
“Obrigado. By the way, I’m working at Porão do Alemão tonight.”
“The what?”
She smiled. “Rock around the Clock. It’s a local bar. You should come by for a drink.”
Calvin nodded. “Thanks, I might do that.”
He got out of the car and watched the driver pull away before turning to look at the zoo. A large statue of a tiger stared at him and a sign welcomed tourists.
Calvin walked to the entrance where three men in military gear stood behind a booth. They eyed him suspiciously. Apparently a large, Black American, with no kids, showing up at a zoo garnered attention.
After paying the admission fee, he grabbed a brochure from the front and followed the map. His contact would be cleaning out the jaguar cage.
The zoo itself looked as if it had been built in the seventies. Its main attraction was the large number of species available for tourists to observe, approximately three hundred. But the state of neglect in both the caring and feeding of the animals, as well as their cages and areas of recreation, was a little off-putting. Still, major renovations were underway.
Calvin took in the sights, sounds and smells as he followed the directions on the map. There was an impressive collection of wildlife: black and spotted jaguars, cougars and smaller cats, toucans, harpy eagles, macaws, and a variety of species of monkeys.
Wild sounds, screams and animal whines followed Calvin as the faint odor of feces, and the animals’ natural scents, clung to the air.
A constant flow of military personnel moved through the zoo, and Calvin did his best to avoid any kind of confrontation or bring attention to himself.
He was slick with sweat from humidity by the time he reached the black jaguar’s enclosure, a twelve-foot square, concrete-floored cage. He saw a bald man in dirty, stained overalls and worn-out work boots scrubbing down the soiled cement while two men in full combat gear disappeared behind the building and into a field.
Calvin approached the bars. “Henr
ique?” he whispered.
The man looked up. “Watters?”
Calvin nodded.
The man perceptibly tilted his head, indicating for Calvin to meet him in back, behind the cage.
Calvin looked around and was about to move when the sudden crack of a rifle startled him. He ducked slightly and looked around but saw nothing. When the gunfire broke out again, and no one else in the zoo took interest, Calvin quickly headed around the enclosure, where a small concrete-block building stood. He followed Henrique inside.
“It okay,” the Brazilian said in broken English. “Won’t be bothered here.”
Henrique, partially bald, had weather-beaten skin and hairy ears. His face was taut.
“Did you hear that?”
The Brazilian nodded but the gunfire didn’t seem to bother or surprise him.
“How do you guys handle this heat?” Calvin asked, rubbing the sweat from his brow.
“Humidity like this all year. You didn’t pick great time to come.”
“Why’s that?”
“Most rain in March.”
Calvin nodded. “What’s that field out behind this building used for?”
The man grinned, a crooked smile that showed missing teeth. “Zoo run by military. Part of army’s jungle-warfare training center. Most animals captured by soldiers on patrol.”
The man disappeared to a back room and Calvin wondered why Mike would have the stuff sent to a zoo managed by the Brazilian military. The zookeeper returned shortly with three black duffel bags that looked jammed tight.
“Make sure it’s all there.”
Calvin opened the bags and rummaged through. Everything was in order: first bag contained clothes, second bag electronics, and third bag weapons.
Calvin nodded. “It’s all here.”
“Good. You can’t walk out with this. Anyone finds you, we both dead before reach front gate. Wait here.”
The man disappeared to another connecting room and Calvin could hear a metal locker being opened, then closed a few seconds later.
Henrique returned with a clean set of overalls and a hat. “Here, put on.”