by Trevor Scott
Jake shrugged. “It seems wrong. Like pissing on a man’s grave.” He pulled his gun from his back and set it onto an end table.
“Always ready,” Kurt said.
“A lot of enemies,” Jake reminded his old friend.
“Most of those are dead.”
“Most.”
Hildur asked if they’d like a drink, and all agreed. Jake went to the kitchen to help her.
“She’s very pretty,” Hildur said to Jake.
“We’re just friends,” he said.
She stopped and stared at Jake. “You mean like us?”
“No. I mean we’ve never slept together.”
Frowning, Hildur picked up two Icelandic Viking lagers and started to walk to the living room. She stopped for a second and said, “Seriously? I would do her.”
Jake watched as she walked away with the two beers, his mind now on the thought of Hildur and Sirena together. He shook his head and grabbed the other two beers before going to the living room. Jake handed a beer to Kurt and then took a long drink of his own.
They sat in the living room and nobody said a word for a while. Sirena and Kurt were busy observing the spectacle of the Aurora Borealis through the large picture window.
“I’m guessing that never gets old,” Kurt said.
“It’s a pretty view,” Hildur agreed.
Jake glanced at Sirena, who seemed somewhat subdued. She was normally much more engaging. “Are you thinking of retiring?” Jake asked Sirena.
She took a drink from her beer and said, “I retired last month.”
That brought a slight smile to Jake’s face. He said, “So, only Hildur officially works for a living.”
“Hey,” Kurt said.
Raising his hand, Jake said, “Sorry. I’m in the same boat.”
Kurt shifted his glance from Jake to Sirena.
Taking the hint, Sirena said, “They recruited me to work for our Spanish friend.”
“Too bad I’m officially retired,” Jake said. “We could have worked together.”
Now Sirena cast her gaze upon Hildur.
“You can speak freely in front of her,” Jake said. “She runs the Icelandic Police.”
Sirena shook her head. “What does that consist of? Picking up sheep fuckers and reindeer poachers?”
“Woah,” Jake said. “They do have the occasional murder and potential terrorist threat.”
Sirena said, “I’m guessing the murder rate has quadrupled since Jake arrived.”
“The only thing Jake is killing is brain cells,” Hildur said. “He never leaves the cabin.”
Nobody said a word now, but Jake knew that his old friends were scrutinizing him carefully. What did they see in Jake’s tired eyes? Was it pity? He sure as hell hoped not.
“Listen,” Jake said, “can we get down to the crux of your visit? I’m glad to see you two, of course. But you didn’t track me down in the middle of Iceland to drink a weak lager with me.”
Kurt shifted his gaze toward Sirena and lifted his chin slightly.
“There’s something strange going down in South America,” Sirena said.
Jake laughed. “That’s like saying there are criminals in prison.”
“But this is personal,” Sirena said. “A friend of mine from Spain might be in trouble.”
Waiting for the full story, Jake simply waved his hand for Sirena to continue.
Sirena did just that. “She’s an officer with their National Intelligence Center. She went to Buenos Aires recently to investigate the mysterious disappearance of two college girls visiting Argentina over the holiday break.”
“Okay,” Jake said. “You worked with this officer when assigned to Spain?”
“Yes. She’s only thirty. But very good. Quite dedicated.”
“And she’s gone missing,” Jake said.
This shook Sirena slightly. “How did you know?”
“Because if she was drinking rum and coke and eating ceviche you wouldn’t be here.”
“True,” Sirena said. “Two days ago I was texting with her and she suddenly left me a final text. The word ‘ayuda.’ Well, she didn’t even get out the last a. Something happened to her. I think she was getting too close to those who took the two college girls, and they took her as well.”
“My Spanish is a bit rusty,” Jake said.
“It means help,” Sirena said. “And that’s what I intend to do. But I need your help as well.”
Jake shook his head. “Why me?”
“Because you have this uncanny ability to see through the complex and make sense of it.”
Platitudes rarely worked with Jake. He knew he could probably just spend the rest of his days on earth in quiet reflection in Iceland or some other isolated locale. Sure, an unknown force had killed Alexandra and nearly killed his six-month-old daughter. Even Jake was lucky to escape with only minor injuries. And he had gone in hiding not because he was afraid of what those people would do to him, but more what he would do to them once he caught up with Alexandra’s killers. No, it had been better to simply play dead for a while to regroup and heal his soul. Then, about a month ago, he had gotten word through back channels that his Calabrese Malavita captain friend, Sergio Russo, had completed the task of tracking down Alexandra’s killers. Jake couldn’t complain that another had done his dirty work for him. Russo had a stake in that play as well. Jake had sent Russo a simple thank you. The capo had come through for him, but Jake had no intention of reciprocating. As far as Jake was concerned, the matter was done. Mission accomplished.
Glancing at Sirena without really seeing her, he was shaken from his reverie when she shoved her phone toward him and said, “Are you with us, Jake? I said that this is my friend, Maria Vega.” She flipped to another photo with two pretty young women smiling and embracing each other. “These are the two Spanish girls missing.”
“Has Carlos Gomez sanctioned this mission because the three women are Spanish nationals?” Jake asked.
“No,” Sirena said, staring at the photos herself. “He authorized this because I asked him to do so. As you know, we’ve helped his family in the past. And what if one of those girls was your daughter?”
Sirena knew Jake too well. But Jake had only recently told Hildur about his daughter, leaving out the most important part—where she currently resided and who was caring for her.
“There’s something you aren’t telling me, Sirena,” Jake said. There was always a catch to these simple missing person cases. Those in the past had turned into something entirely out of the norm.
Sirena flipped her long dark hair over her strong shoulders and smiled. “You see. This is why I need you, Jake.”
Jake filled in the blanks. “These aren’t the only girls missing.”
She shook her head. “No. Young girls and young men are disappearing from all over the southern regions of South America, from Uruguay to Argentina and across the Andes to Chile and Peru.”
“How many?” Jake asked.
Sirena shrugged and let out a breath of air. “We’re not sure. Since it crosses borders, there has been no correlation or coordination.”
Jake looked at his old friend Kurt Jenkins now. “Is the Agency doing anything?”
“As you know,” Kurt said, “kidnapping falls under the FBI. And as far as we know, no Americans have been taken.”
Jake wasn’t sure how he could help. Sure he had found a number of people in the past as a private security consultant. In fact, he had made enough money doing so to retire years ago. He didn’t need the money. But just maybe he needed a purpose.
“All right,” Jake said. “But eventually you guys need to let me retire.”
Kurt laughed. “That only comes for you in the end.” Then Jake’s old friend cringed, probably thinking of Alexandra’s recent death.
Sirena and Kurt said their farewells and went out to the helo to wait for Jake to follow.
For Jake, he was only a couple of seconds away from leaving at any given time, with hi
s go bag already packed.
Hildur followed Jake into the only bedroom in the cabin, which had a small bathroom off one side. “Are you sure you want to do this, Jake?”
He zipped up his go bag and turned to her. “Not really. I would rather hang out here, drink rum and watch the pretty sky. But I’m not sure I’m wired that way. Maybe I need more excitement to feel alive.”
Jake found his small beard trimmer and went to the bathroom. The Viking look would have to go, he thought. With quick strokes across his face, the long hairs fell to the sink. Then he pulled the hairs from the sink and flushed them down the toilet.
Hildur touched his fresh stubble, a look of concern in the small lines formed by each of her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Jake gave her a big hug. “This has nothing to do with you. It’s my problem.”
She nodded. “You have been like a caged animal.”
“I know.” He kissed her on the forehead and then gave her a longer kiss on the lips.
He slung on his leather jacket and then picked up his go bag.
She followed him to the front door and stopped him before he left. “Jake. You know you’re welcome here any time you need a break from life. No questions asked and no strings attached.”
“Thanks, Hildur.”
He lifted his chin and turned, walking out toward the chopper, which was already warming up, the rotors turning and blowing up snow. Despite what Hildur said, Jake had a feeling he would not see her again. Or, if he did, it would be under different circumstances. This time had passed. And he knew that he could never build a relationship with her. He was toxic.
Jake barely got aboard the chopper when Sirena lifted off. As they turned toward Reykjavik, the spectacle of lights swirled all around them as if they were in a massive lava lamp.
He thought back briefly at the last time he had flown with Sirena in their mission from the Canary Islands to the Atlas Mountains of Morocco. Then he turned his head toward the east and considered the massive Gullfoss Falls a short distance away, and what had happened there during his time in the CIA. Eventually all missions would end one way or another—with either completion or death.
4
Mendoza, Argentina
The panel van hit a rut in the road, shaking Maria from her sleep. She had been in and out of consciousness for at least two days. They had drugged her, she knew, but she wasn’t sure what they had used. At times she knew what was happening around her, and at other times her world felt like a dream.
After her experience at the bar in the Puerto Madero area of Buenos Aires, where someone had obviously drugged her, she first woke up on a boat of some kind. But the waves were not great, so it probably had not been the open sea. If she had to guess, she would say that they had headed north up the Uruguay River, which was the border between Argentina and Uruguay. But as far as she could tell that journey by boat had not been too long before they put her in what seemed like an abandoned stone building. Based on the smells, this place had been used as a barn. She could hear chickens and cattle. How long had she been there? No way of knowing.
When she was woken from one of her drug-induced sleeps, she was now accompanied by two other girls. Young girls. Scared children.
That’s when they put her in the van with these other girls and started the long journey. They were given only energy bars and water and were forced to urinate in a bucket, hoping that the bumps in the road would not knock them over into their own urine.
And then the van stopped somewhere and Maria took this opportunity to try to escape. But she quickly found out this was impossible. Someone had fortified the van securely. It was almost like one of those security vans used to pick up money from banks. Besides, even if she could get out, her ankle was shackled and attached to a lug welded to the floor of the van.
But without the two men in the front yelling at them to not talk or they would be killed, Maria was able to get as much information about the girls as possible. Both were from Uruguay, taken days ago from the streets of Montevideo. They were actually eighteen—friends from their youth who had escaped from their small farming community to the north for the big city. But they had not found jobs and were living on the streets.
“Have they hurt you?” Maria asked them.
Both shook their heads in the negative. But Maria could see a bruised lip on one girl and a black eye on the other.
“What will they do with us?” one of the girls asked her.
Maria had no answer. In her work with Spanish Intelligence, she had been briefed about an increase in human trafficking in South America. Worldwide actually. But, since this was not really a problem with her agency, she had not spent much time thinking about it. Deep down inside, she knew that their fate was not good. She would fight. But she would have to pick the right time to do so. Otherwise they would just cut their losses and kill her, throwing her away like trash.
“We must stick together,” Maria said. “We will get out of this. But we must wait for the right time.”
A tear streaked the face of the girl with the bruised lip. Maria took the girl in her arms and tried to comfort her. Eventually both girls held onto Maria like a mother with her two daughters. She wished she could tell them about herself, but that wasn’t possible. She needed to maintain her cover story.
Now she had just one goal. She would not try to escape. Instead, she would see where they took her and bring down the whole operation.
5
George Town, Grand Cayman, Cayman Islands
Jake Adams had come accustomed to flying in the Spanish Billionaires private Gulfstream jet. He wasn’t sure he could ever return to flying commercial in coach. If nothing else, he would afford at least business class.
They had dropped off Kurt Jenkins in the D.C. area before continuing on to the Cayman Islands, where they were on final approach now.
He glanced out the side window at the various blues and greens of the Caribbean, seeing such a major contrast to the dark north Atlantic surrounding Iceland.
“What are you thinking?” Sirena asked from the seat across from Jake.
The two of them had talked some on the flight, but had also found time to stretch out and sleep for much of the ride.
“It looks hot,” Jake said.
“Have you been here before?”
“A couple of times.”
“Bags of cash to deposit?”
She was kidding, but that was exactly why he had come to the Caymans. He just laughed off that notion.
“With the way I travel, I have to keep my options open,” Jake said. “Did Carlos Gomez say why he wanted to meet with us before going to South America?”
“No,” she said. “He just made sure we knew we had to come here before flying south.”
That was both the benefit and the curse of working for someone else. Use of a private jet came with strings attached. And the last time he had agreed to work with Sirena, both of them had almost been killed in Morocco and the Canary Islands. He didn’t expect to run into dozens of suicidal terrorists hell-bent on reaching paradise this time, but Jake also knew that shit happened when it came to the destiny of covert actions. Yet, Jake also knew that Carlos Gomez was one of the most generous men he had ever met. When Alexandra had been killed, Carlos allowed Jake to take the jet anywhere in the world for as long as he needed it. The billionaire had also set up a college trust fund for his daughter Emma.
They landed and a white stretch SUV Cadillac was waiting to take them to the waterfront. Gomez traveled mostly via a monstrous yacht, but that was kept in the Mediterranean. Jake had no idea what he was doing in the Caymans.
Grand Cayman was a horseshoe shaped island with some of the most expensive real estate in the world. Technically it was still a British Overseas Territory, but practically it was a series of banks surrounded by sand and sea. Like a hot, humid Monte Carlo. There were more companies and hedge funds in the Caymans than people. Jake never could find the beauty in the place. Perhaps that was b
ecause of the way his T-shirts stuck to his skin. The best part of the Caribbean was the free-flowing rum. But if they offered any rum with spice in it, he would rather have one of their watery beers.
Jake had already stripped off his leather jacket and settled on an oversized T-shirt to cover his weapon.
The driver, a large black man dressed in a white suit that appeared to be two sizes too small, stopped in the parking lot of the most exclusive marina in George Town and pointed toward the entrance gate.
“Which one?” Jake asked.
“Mister Gomez said you would know,” the driver said. He sounded Jamaican. “You can leave your bags in here. I’ll be waiting to take you to your hotel.”
“I’m not sure we’re staying the night,” Jake said.
“I was told the flight crew needs rest.”
“All right,” Jake said. “Don’t let anyone steal my dirty underwear.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jake and Sirena got out into the afternoon sun and the oppressive heat and humidity nearly suffocated him.
Getting through the marina gate, Jake immediately recognized the massive yacht owned by Carlos Gomez. He had been aboard that vessel a number of times in the Mediterranean. Strange that Gomez had repositioned the craft all the way across the Atlantic, though.
When the two of them got to the yacht gangway, Jake expected to have a problem with the billionaire’s security, but that didn’t happen this time. The two men obviously recognized Jake and waved him aboard.
Carlos Gomez was waiting for them on the aft lounge under the cover and in the shade. He was wearing white shorts and a colorful tropical shirt with flowers. As usual, he wore deck shoes without socks. The man was fit like an older tennis player. His perfect black hair was speckled with just the right amount of silver.
Carlos Gomez got up and met Jake, giving him a strong hug. This was the first time the two of them had met since Jake had lost Alexandra.
“I am so sorry for your loss, Jake,” Carlos said softly, but gripping both of Jake’s arms firmly.