Covert Network (A Jake Adams International Espionage Thriller Series Book 14)

by Trevor Scott

  Then Carlos went from Jake to Sirena, hugging her as well and whispering something in her ear. Then the Spaniard waved to a young woman who went to the bar to make drinks.

  “I’m assuming you’re still drinking your favorite rum,” Carlos said to Jake. “And Sirena? What would you like?”

  Sirena stood uncomfortably and then said, “I’ll have the same as Jake.”

  The woman in a tight outfit behind the bar nodded and smiled.

  Once they got their drinks, the young bartender took the hint to go away to let them talk. The three of them took seats in plush white leather chairs.

  “Is there a reason you wanted us to stop here in the Caymans?” Jake asked.

  Carlos smiled and pointed at Jake. “That’s why I like you, Jake. You get right to the point.” He sipped his drink and then said, “I’m here for a meeting with business leaders. There is something nefarious going on and we think it will be bigger than the Panama Papers.”

  Jake considered that and shrugged. The Panama Papers had brought down governments and embarrassed a bunch of people from the political and business sectors. Most of what was disclosed, however, was simply business as usual for those in power. Money brought influence and the Spaniard seemed to have plenty of both.

  “How does this impact our current situation in South America?” Jake wanted to know.

  “Good question,” Carlos said. “About two weeks ago a politician in Denmark was found dead in his home in Copenhagen. It was ruled a suicide. And it might have been. But it also might have been much more than that.”

  “Why do you say that?” Jake asked.

  “Because I’m friends with the crown prince. And he tells me the politician was being blackmailed.”

  Jake glanced at Sirena, who seemed like she might have already heard this. Was he being played? Pulled from Iceland to save some defenseless young girls and then discovering he is in for something else? He sat and listened.

  Carlos continued, “Well, let’s just say there are pictures and a video of this politician with a young girl. Very young.”

  Now things might have been lining up for Jake. “Finding a politician in a compromising position with a young girl is like discovering that fish starts smelling after a few days away from refrigeration. What’s your point?”

  Carlos glanced at Sirena, who took this question. “I told you about my friend missing in Argentina. What I did not tell you is that she had not only looked into the two missing college girls from Spain, but had widened her search for other potential missing girls.”

  “You did mention that there were others,” Jake reminded her.

  “Right. But when I brought up to Mister Gomez about my friend missing in Argentina, along with the other girls, he told me about the Danish politician and the girl. It got me thinking. So, the crown prince sent Mister Gomez the photos and video, which I cross referenced with what my friend Maria had found. Turns out the girl in the video was one of the missing girls.”

  “And you think these missing girls are part of a shakedown scheme,” Jake said.

  Both Sirena and Carlos shrugged in unison.

  All right, Jake thought. This was already getting more complex than initially thought. He wondered if he should just leave this hot place and fly back to Iceland. Things had been quite simple for Jake in the past couple of months. Clarity in isolation.

  “What do you have in mind?” Jake finally asked.

  “Others in our group have come to me for help,” Carlos said. “With only generalized concern, of course.”

  “Of course,” Jake mocked. “They know someone with a problem.”

  “These are influential people, Jake,” Carlos said with gravity.

  Jake shook his head and sucked down his rum. “Then maybe they shouldn’t be fucking young girls and boys.”

  “I agree,” Carlos said. “But it’s more complicated than that. I’m not worried about these friends. They can get what they deserve. But the young girls are my concern.”

  Jake needed to pull back on his indignation. Carlos Gomez wasn’t his enemy. As far as Jake knew, this man had done much to help the world. After all, that was why Jake had associated himself with the Spaniard in the first place. He had trusted those who had placed their trust in the man. Those like General Tom Graves and Kurt Jenkins.

  “Then we should be heading to Argentina immediately,” Jake said, getting up from his chair.

  Sirena stood and finished off her drink.

  Carlos stood and said, “The crew does need rest, Jake. My driver should have told you that.”

  “He did. But I thought that was a ruse of some sort.”

  “No,” Carlos said. “It’s the truth.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, handing it to Jake. “Here you go.”

  Jake looked at the paper, which contained the name of a local bank and the name Bradley Whitehurst. “Who is this?”

  “This man will give you access to a safe deposit box at his bank. Here is the key.” Carlos handed Jake a very familiar key.

  The key was familiar because Jake also knew the bank. He had an account there, along with his own safe deposit box at this location. Somehow Carlos Gomez knew this. Disturbing, but not too much. Jake also had accounts in Luxembourg, where Gomez normally sent money to Jake’s account, along with Lichtenstein, Andorra and Belize. It was good to diversify geographically.

  Jake started to leave, but stopped and asked, “Did you come all the way across the Atlantic on this boat?”

  Carlos smiled. “Not exactly. My crew brought it across and I picked it up in Miami.”

  “So, I can find everything I need in this box?” Jake said, holding up the key.

  Carlos nodded. “And your fee will be more than doubled this time.”

  There must have been a lot on the line for Gomez and his buddies, since Jake’s normal fee was more than most Americans made in a year. Jake lifted his chin and wandered off the opulent yacht.

  When he and Sirena got to the pier, Sirena caught up to Jake and whispered, “You have some balls, Jake Adams.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m guessing that not many people talk with Carlos Gomez with such. . .frank clarity.”

  He stopped and stared at Sirena carefully. “I’m not going to change who I am just because that man has more money than God. He knows that about me.”

  “I know,” she said. “And that’s why I think it’s really cool.”

  “As you know, I left government service long ago,” Jake said. “You will learn not to hold those in power with too much reverence.”

  She smiled. “I’m learning from the best, Jake.”

  Together, they walked back to the white SUV waiting for them.

  6

  The driver first took them to their hotel down Seven Mile Beach, waiting for them as Jake and Sirena each checked into a room at the Ritz-Carlton. Jake had to hand it to Carlos Gomez. The man had money and class.

  Jake barely got a chance to check out his room before heading back to the lobby to wait for Sirena. The two of them had been given adjoining rooms with balconies on the sixth floor with a full view of the pool below and the Caribbean beyond that.

  Sirena came to the lobby wearing fresh clothes, her hair still wet.

  “You showered,” Jake said.

  “I needed to after all of my travel,” she said. “You didn’t?”

  “I’ll wait until after the bank.”

  They stepped out in the oppressive heat and right into the cool SUV. The driver took them back down Seven Mile to downtown George Town, parking in front of the bank.

  Jake started to get out and glanced at Sirena, who wasn’t following him. “You coming?”

  “Do you need me?”

  “I would think so. You started this with your friend. We’re partners. Let’s go.”

  She unbuckled and followed Jake inside.

  Jake was always surprised when he went into this bank and others in tax haven or tax neutral a
reas. Many were less impressive than those found in Fargo. But they all had decent vaults and even better electronic security. And it wasn’t like a bank robbery was likely to occur here. Where would the bank robbers escape to? The entire island was a little more than twenty miles long. The authorities could shut down the one landing strip and check all boats leaving the marinas. Most of the time they could simply round up the usual suspects and wait for someone to talk.

  The man’s name Carlos Gomez had put on Jake’s note was easy enough to find—he was the manager. A tall slim man with cigarette stains on his left hand and yellow teeth, met Jake with an attempt at a strong handshake. But Jake guessed that even Sirena had nearly crushed the skeletal figure.

  “We have been expecting you,” the manager said. “Please follow me.”

  They went back to the vault and the walking corpse used his key in conjunction with the one Gomez had given Jake to slide out a medium sized box. Then without fanfare the manager left Jake and Sirena alone.

  Jake glanced at Sirena before opening the box, not knowing what he expected to find. Inside the box was a number of items, but the first thing he noticed was the cash. Flipping through the stacks of U.S. bills, Jake figured there was nearly twenty grand. Normally that would have been under the limit for commercial travel, but Jake and Sirena were flying private. But he knew this wasn’t pay for either of them. This was walking around money. Possibly bribery or persuasion money. In South America, money talked.

  After the money, Jake found a letter from Carlos Gomez, giving them further instructions. Jake wasn’t sure why Gomez didn’t just give him this stuff at the yacht.

  “What’s it say?” Sirena asked.

  Jake handed her the letter and then dug a little more. Now he found a small tablet. When he turned it on, the image of an older man with a younger girl came up. He flipped through a few more shots. Then he found the video file and the two of them watched the video.

  Once the video finished, Sirena said, “Interesting.”

  “How so?”

  “That Danish guy reminds me of the bank manager with about twenty more pounds?”

  “And?”

  “For a tall skinny guy, I would have expected more length.”

  “No. I was talking about the girl.”

  “Oh. Very nice.”

  Jake shook his head. “I meant the heart tattoo on her left breast.”

  “Sorry. I wasn’t checking out the infant’s tits.”

  “That, my friend, was no toddler. She was trained to do those things.”

  “A professional?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe just well-rehearsed.”

  “And the camera angles were intent on hitting all the right spots, from his male parts to her entry points.”

  “Also, his face was highlighted, but her face was barely visible.”

  “That makes sense. They weren’t trying to extort anyone on her end.”

  “And they will also probably recycle this girl.”

  “What else is in the box?”

  Jake found another piece of paper. This one had the name of another man on it, along with a way to find the guy.

  “Who is that?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. It’s a Buenos Aires address.”

  “Crap,” she said. “It says AFI.”

  “Argentine Federal Intelligence Agency,” Jake said.

  “Correct. Agencia Federal de Inteligencia. Now I see why Gomez sent us here. He didn’t want to mention the name of an Argentine AFI officer.”

  “Perhaps that was part of the reason,” Jake said. “But Carlos had another reason.”

  “Such as?”

  “He suspects he’s under observation. Perhaps with a long distance parabolic microphone. Maybe a bug.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because we’ve been followed from the airport to the marina and then to the hotel and here.”

  “The white Jeep?”

  “You caught it.”

  “I suspected. Now, if you agree, it’s got to be true. What do you think is going on?”

  “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”

  Jake pulled another key from his pocket and found his own box, sliding it from its slot in the wall. He opened it and glanced inside.

  “You have a safe deposit box here?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Carlos knew this.”

  First, he removed a small cloth bag with a zipper on top. To most it would look like one of those reusable grocery bags. He put the money in that bag. Then he found a gun and some ammo in his box, which he set aside on the table. Then he transferred the letter, the small tablet, and other items from the Spaniard’s box into his own.

  Sirena picked up the gun and dropped the magazine. “The Smith and Wesson Bodyguard in three-eighty. Unfortunately, only six-round magazine.”

  Jake smiled. “You can make your shots count like usual,” he said. Then he found two more items in his box and slid them across the table toward Sirena. “Two more ten-round extended magazines. With the one in the chamber, that’s twenty-seven rounds.”

  “Is this for me?”

  “Sure is. A late Christmas gift. I have the same set-up in my go bag at the hotel. Sometimes it’s too hot to properly conceal the Glock. At least you have a purse.”

  “You could carry a man purse.”

  “Right. Just neuter me now. Did you remember the data from our contact in Argentina?”

  She ran the information off, from the name to address. She was a pro. Then Jake put both boxes back and picked up the bag of cash.

  “Ready to rock and roll?” he asked.

  “How do you want to deal with the guy in the Jeep?”

  “I’ve got an idea.”

  Thanking the bank manager, Jake and Sirena wandered out of the bank to the waiting SUV. He wasn’t sure he could get used to this heat. Jake had spent some time in the tropics, mostly Costa Rica fishing, and his body had never fully adjusted to that overwhelming humidity.

  Without really looking, he had noticed the Jeep was still parked down the street. Behind the wheel was an average white man in his forties or early fifties.

  “Back to the hotel?” the driver asked, his eyes checking out Sirena more than Jake.

  “No,” Jake said. “Could we take a short drive to the east end?”

  “Sir, everything is a short drive on Grand Cayman.”

  “Good. Then let’s head out that way. Maybe you know a place out there for a good beer.”

  The driver smiled in the mirror. “Yes, sir. I know a place.”

  They weren’t going for a beer. At least not right away, Jake thought. As they drove, he would periodically glance out the window to view the sea, but actually catch a glimpse of the Jeep behind them. The guy was hanging back a quarter of a mile. It wasn’t like he could lose their giant white Cadillac SUV. Especially with only one main road leading east along the coast.

  Jake considered what to do with the man following him. In the past he would have simply lost the Jeep. But this was a tiny island with nowhere to go. And Jake really needed to know why the guy was tailing them. Was his past catching up with him? Or was this all about the billionaire and the meetings they were having here on the Caymans?

  Once they reached an isolated area on the east end of Grand Cayman, Jake had the driver pull into the parking lot for a small seaside restaurant and bar. Jake took out his gun and put it in the bag with the cash. He wasn’t sure about the gun laws in the Caymans, but they were probably not favorable to concealed carry.

  “What do you plan on doing?” Sirena asked.

  “Why don’t you take the driver in for a beer,” he said.

  “Sir, I’m not allowed to drink on duty,” the driver said, obviously overhearing their conversation.

  “Can you have a Coke?” Jake asked.

  “Yes, sir. But the vehicle will get hot.”

  “That’s all right.”

  Sirena got out and the driver did the same, meeting her ar
ound the side and keeping her in front of him—probably so he could continue to check out her nice butt.

  Jake checked out the Jeep, which had parked along the edge of the highway without coming into the parking lot. He had an idea.

  He got out and wandered along the outside of the bar to get a nice view of the sea. Then he angled down the beach before turning back and making his way toward the Jeep at the blind spot. Either the guy wasn’t watching carefully, or he was the worst at his job, when Jake came up along the driver’s side of the Jeep and with a quick motion grabbed the man by his shirt and flung him out of the vehicle and onto the soft sand.

  Before the man could respond, Jake was on top of the guy and had punched him in the face, knocking him back to the sand. His eyes swirled, but he didn’t lose consciousness. Jake had taken something off the punch, not wanting to do too much damage.

  “Why the hell have you been following me all day?” Jake asked through grit teeth.

  The smaller man didn’t answer. Instead, he stammered a bit like a child who was searching for a lie to tell his father.

  “Sir,” came a voice from the direction of the bar. “Sir. Don’t hurt him.”

  Jake turned his attention toward the driver, who had a tall Coke in his hand. Sirena was at his side with two beers.

  “What?” Jake said.

  “Don’t hurt Bob,” the driver pled.

  “You know this guy?”

  “Yes. He’s an inspector with the Royal Cayman Islands Police Service.”

  “Seriously?” Jake asked. “Then why is he following us?”

  Now the man beneath Jake said, “I’m off duty today. Working for Mister Gomez.” He licked some blood from a wound inside his mouth. “Please let me up, sir.”

  Jake got up and helped the man to his feet. “I’m sorry. Carlos didn’t mention you.” He turned to the driver and said, “You knew he was on our tail?”

  “Yes, sir,” the driver said.

  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I assumed Mister Gomez had told you.”

  Sirena moved closer and handed a beer to the man from the Jeep. “Since you’re off duty, have a beer.”

  The Jeep driver, Bob, accepted the beer and sucked down almost half immediately.