O-Dark-Hundred

by Holly Copella

  “I doubt it,” Beck replied while removing his cell phone, “but we’ll take a look around for you.” He held the phone to his ear. “Monroe, call the guys. Tell them to get here right away. You and Bogart need to search the grounds for trespassers.” He disconnected the call and looked at Rosa. “You said Sal and Pinto left this morning? Where did they go?”

  “On a cruise ship to Costa Rico, but they were getting off in Columbia to go to a wedding on some island.”

  Beck’s eyes widened. He looked at Jackie. “Cruise? Didn’t Zack say Will booked a cruise?”

  Jackie stared back at him with the same concern. “That can’t be a coincidence.”

  He looked back at Rosa. “Everything will be okay, Rosa,” Beck informed her. “The guys will search the mansion and the grounds. Did you call Sal?”

  “I tried, but he’s not answering,” she replied while wringing her fingers together. “I left a message, but he didn’t call back. He may still be in the air.”

  “I don’t know what you’re thinking,” Jackie announced, “but tread lightly, Beck. We don’t know anything yet.”

  “I know,” he muttered then looked at her. “Find Monroe. We’re going to need to do a little undercover work on that cruise ship, and I need him to do his magic.”

  Jackie nodded and hurried from the house.

  Beck looked back at Rosa, who seemed to be settling down now that she knew the guys were there. “I need to use Sal’s computer then speak to the security guards and have a look at the security footage.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  †

  Within the windowless security office, Beck stood over the security guard’s shoulder and watched the security camera playback on one of many screens. The footage revealed nothing of particular interest and certainly nothing to indicate anyone had been casing the place.

  “Shortly after Sal left, the cameras went haywire,” the guard announced while keeping his attention on the monitors. The images on every monitor turned to static as if on cue. “The system’s been a little glitchy this past week but nothing like this. After the interruption, we walked the grounds but found nothing out of the ordinary. The doors seemed secure. Thirty minutes later, Rosa’s screaming about a break-in.”

  “Whoever did this knew what they were doing,” Beck informed him. “How many guards on the grounds?”

  “Just the two of us.”

  “Two?”

  “After that incident with Sal’s trusted men, he decided to rely more on automation and less on human intervention,” the guard informed him then gave a knowing look.

  “I can’t say I blame him,” Beck muttered, recalling the recent events.

  The security office door opened with added vigor as Monroe entered in a slight rush. Beck straightened and eagerly awaited his response.

  “Othello will have everything waiting for us at the private airfield in Florida,” Monroe announced although he seemed unusually uncomfortable. “Are you sure you want to do this? We don’t know that any of this has anything to do with Pinto’s stalker. If she finds out you’re following her, she may never forgive you.”

  “Only if I’m wrong,” Beck replied. “If either Pinto or Sal is in trouble, we need to intervene.”

  “Maybe we should call Ross--”

  “No,” Beck practically cried out then ran his fingers through his hair, held his breath, and attempted to relax. “We’re not bothering Ross on his romantic vacation with Lee. We can handle this.”

  “If there’s even anything to handle,” Monroe remarked slightly under his breath.

  “I’ll take full responsibility.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The cruise ship, Andrea Maria, sailed along the calm, peaceful waters of the Caribbean Sea on her voyage that Monday morning from the United States to Costa Rica. Although small in comparison to other luxury cruise ships, the power yacht was a well-appointed, ten-ton ship with six decks and every amenity offered by ships twice her size. Her capacity was a mere two hundred passengers with a crew of approximately one hundred and twenty-five. She wasn’t a newer vessel, but she had her charm.

  Jackie entered her luxury cabin with her rolling bag behind her. She looked around and nodded her approval. The studio-style cabin had its own balcony, a king-sized bed, small wet bar, and open living area. She couldn’t help but wonder who was paying for all the little extras on this trip. She filled her bag with some of her personal items from home usually kept in her emergency flight bag, but most of the items she purchased yesterday in a mad rush to prepare for their unexpected voyage. Even the rolling bag was new, considering her flight bag didn’t fit the part. She removed her cell phone while stepping out onto the balcony and called Holden. He answered almost immediately.

  “Hey, I’m just settling into my room now,” she announced. “Someone sprang for the platinum package.”

  “It’s nice, huh?” Holden remarked. “Are you sure I shouldn’t have come along?”

  “Honestly, Beck’s off his rocker,” Jackie replied. “We have an asshole stalker and a random house break-in. I don’t even know why I’m here.”

  “A buffer to keep Pinto from killing Beck when she finds out he’s stalking her,” Holden teased. “So what’s the plan?”

  “I don’t have a clue,” she replied with a sigh. “Frick and Frack are working out our cover stories now.”

  “Remind me,” Holden announced. “Which ones are Frick and Frack?”

  “Beck and Monroe.”

  “Ah, yes, the masterminds,” Holden teased with sarcasm in his tone.

  There was a knock on her room door, alerting her. “Oh, gotta go.”

  By the time she turned and entered the room, the door opened to reveal Monroe with his bag. She eyed his bag then gave him a slightly puzzled look.

  “Should I ask?”

  “It’s our cover,” Monroe announced. “We’re Mr. and Mrs. Arlington.”

  Horror crossed her face. “You made us married?”

  He released his bag, glared at her, and leaned against the wall. “No, Beck made us married.”

  “So he wants to save his relationship by killing mine?” she demanded.

  “Relax,” Monroe muttered and flopped onto the sofa. “I already know where I’ll be sleeping.”

  “Let’s just get on with the assignment,” Jackie announced with a groan. “Where are the others?”

  “Gil and Zack are employees, which will give them access to ‘off-limit’ areas,” he announced. “Kirk’s above us on the Pacific Deck, Bogart is below us on the Caribbean Deck, and Beck is on the upper Riviera Deck.”

  “And Pinto and Sal?”

  “They’re also on the Riviera Deck in some lavish suite,” Monroe replied.

  “And how do we avoid Sal and Pinto?”

  Monroe smiled and flashed a laminated card. “They made an itinerary with the cruise director,” he announced while grinning. “We’ll know where they’re going to be just about every hour.”

  Jackie eyed him with skepticism. “That’s awfully convenient, don’t you think?”

  “You’d think, but it turns out a few dozen wedding guests are booked on this cruise,” Monroe remarked. “Apparently, Sal’s friend is richer than rich. They have special events for the wedding guests, and they were able to pick which events they wanted to attend while onboard. Fortunately, Sal is quite the social butterfly. His dance card is pretty full.”

  “So where are they now?”

  He glanced at the itinerary. “They’re at a cocktail party in a private room on the Riviera Deck. That puts them in Beck’s court, so he’ll keep an eye on things from there.”

  “I’d like to get my bearings straight,” Jackie announced. “I’d like to explore the ship.”

  “I’ll join you,” he announced and sprang up from the sofa while grinning, “Mrs. Arlington.”

  She groaned softly and headed for the door. “Holden’s going to kill both you and Beck.”

  †

  On
the outskirts of Denver, Colorado, in the early morning hour, Holden returned his cell phone to his inner jacket pocket and received a look from another neatly dressed man leaning against the nearby building. Holden eyed the cable and internet van parked alongside the curb a few feet away then seemed to realize the man by the building was still staring at him. He groaned softly and looked at the man.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Parker,” Holden remarked. “You don’t need to say it.”

  “I’m not saying anything,” Parker announced while grinning. “None of my business that your super-hot, spy wife is conquering the world while you’re on the streets of Denver chasing after the dregs of society.”

  “First off,” Holden announced, “she’s not a spy.” He then frowned. “And she’s not conquering the world; she’s passing love notes on the playground to Beck’s girlfriend. This is one time she absolutely doesn’t need my protection.”

  “Let’s see,” Parker announced while grinning. “She can kick the entire department’s collective ass without breaking a sweat.” He held back his laugh. “I think it’s safe to say the only protection she needs from you is the kind that keeps your swimmers away from her fertile feminine parts.”

  “That’s so romantic, Parker,” Holden announced while raising his brows. “Honestly, you should write greeting cards.” He then indicated the van. “Can we get this show on the road?”

  “Yeah, anything you say,” Parker replied with a chuckle.

  They approached the van, looked around, and then climbed inside. Holden and Parker entered the back of the van where six men in FBI swat gear sat and waited.

  “So how reliable is this tip?” Holden asked the lead man in combat gear.

  “Well, his phone number is registered to an apartment across the street, and we’re pretty sure he’s a guy,” the man replied. “Other than that, he’s your typical anonymous caller.”

  “Cute,” Holden muttered. “Everyone’s a comedian today.”

  “There was a lot of activity coming and going throughout the night,” the man in charge continued. “Our eyes in the building across from the warehouse reported two known arms dealers went into the building early this morning, and they’re still there.”

  “If it’s good enough for the judge,” Holden announced, “that’s good enough for me.”

  Holden and Parker slipped into their official vests and helped themselves to automatic rifles.

  “We’re looking at no more than six heavily armed men,” the man continued. “Apart from our arms dealers, the identities of the others are unknown.”

  “We’ll ID them after we arrest them,” Holden announced with a sigh. “Let’s knock on the front door. Tell the second team to move in through the rear.”

  All eight filed swiftly from the van and headed for the warehouse across the street. The first two men carried a battering ram. The man in charge gave the signal, and they plowed the door inward with one strike. The eight men filed into the warehouse. Two man teams hurried through the corridor checking vacant areas within the office before heading into the abandoned warehouse. They entered the large holding area and met with their two men, who had entered from the back. Dozens of crates filled the warehouse, which was supposed to be empty.

  “Boys, I think we’ve hit the jackpot,” Holden announced. “Two man teams. Proceed with caution.”

  They swept through the warehouse, carefully passing stacks of crates while keeping an eye out for the six perpetrators. Several men dressed in black suddenly dropped on cables from the ceiling while firing at the FBI swat team. Despite their protective vests, two men went down from headshots. Holden fired back at the men dropping to the floor behind crates surrounding them.

  “It’s a trap,” Holden announced through his ear transmitter. “Fall back!”

  Although there were only six men, they came at the ten-man swat team from behind, trapping them in the center of the warehouse. They exchanged automatic weapon fire in catastrophic shootout. Holden fired back while watching his men drop one-by-one. Two shots struck him dead center in the chest, dropping him despite his bulletproof vest. Another shot found his leg. Holden pulled himself along the floor and behind a crate. He sat against the crate and fired back, but most of his team was already down. Parker stood from behind the safety of his crate and unloaded several rounds into a man nearly on top of Holden from behind. Holden took another shot to his vest and one to his shoulder beyond the vest. The force of the shot threw him against the crate, where he struck his head.

  The room was spinning as shots were echoing from every corner of the building. Holden attempted to raise his weapon but could do little more than watch Parker take several shots to his body and ultimately one to his head. Holden saw the masked man across the warehouse standing near his fallen friend. He raised his weapon at Holden and squeezed the trigger. A shot rang out.

  Chapter Twelve

  The elegant lounge on the Caribbean Deck was cozy and intimate with a piano, small bar, pool table, and a few sofas and chairs. A bored young bartender, Grant Peters, prepared a couple of drinks. Grant was a classically handsome man in his late twenties, who seemed more interested in his hair than his job. Jackie and Monroe entered the lounge and looked around. Since it was early afternoon, the lounge was practically dead. They approached the bar and immediately received Grant’s full attention. He smiled charmingly and gazed over Jackie a moment longer than he should have.

  “What can I get you?” Grant announced cheerfully.

  Monroe gave him a disapproving stare after seeing the way he looked at Jackie, his pretend wife. “I’ll have a glass of bourbon and a seven and seven for my wife.”

  Grant seemed to take the hint and prepared their drinks. Despite the new knowledge, he still checked out Jackie. Monroe nudged her and headed across the lounge to one of the cozy sitting areas. Both sat with their backs to the wall and watched the doorway, as if on a stakeout.

  “Is Beck crazy?” Jackie finally asked. “Are we doing this for nothing?”

  “Beck’s crazy in love,” Monroe muttered then sighed. “I’ve been there once.”

  “I swear,” she remarked firmly while glaring at him with limited patience. “If you finish that sentence with ‘but she was my commander’s daughter’, I’ll throw you overboard.”

  Monroe frowned and looked away. “Someone’s sensitive today.” As he looked toward the lounge doorway, something caught his attention and he suddenly laughed, although attempting to contain it. “Oh, this should be fun.”

  Jackie looked in the direction he stared. Zack stood in the doorway wearing his neatly pressed white uniform with shoulder embalms indicating he was a porter. The look on his face was somewhere between psychotic and deranged. He saw them and headed across the lounge.

  “Someone is going to die,” Zack snarled while subconsciously tugging on his uniform. “I feel like a sissy teenage Navy boy minus the raging hormones.”

  Monroe held back his laugh. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you in clothes with so many pressed creases.”

  “And you’ll be the first to go down,” Zack growled through gritted teeth.

  “I think you look very handsome,” Jackie announced although she had a tough time not laughing.

  He glared at her. “You’re next, princess.” Zack snatched Monroe’s glass and drank the entire contents, surprising him. He set the glass down with added vigor. “Who the hell starches brief underwear? I’ll be scratching my ass all night.”

  They watched Zack turn and walk away. Monroe groaned softly and shook his head. “Well, we’re all going to die in our sleep tonight.”

  †

  Gil patrolled the Pacific Deck in his crisp, white security officer uniform and neatly polished badge upon his chest. Darth proudly walked alongside him wearing his official security vest. Gil looked at home and even smiled at passing couples.

  “Gil,” came Beck’s commanding voice through his ear transmitter.

  Gil secretly touched hi
s hidden ear transmitter. “Yeah, Beck,” he announced softly so no one would hear his conversation seemingly with himself while passing. “How’s stalking your girlfriend going?”

  “Very funny,” Beck snapped, clearly agitated. “Pinto and Sal left the private party. I’m going to keep an eye on them. Might be a good time for you to check out the other wedding guests traveling onboard.”

  “As you wish, Beck,” Gil replied while casually looking around. “I’d just like to remind you that this isn’t going to end well if you’re wrong about her stalker.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Beck snarled. “I’ve gotten enough lecturing from mother hen.”

  “You should listen to mother hen more often,” Gil casually announced then smiled and nodded to a passing couple. His serious look immediately returned. “She knows a thing or two about relationships.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Beck snarled through Gil’s ear transmitter. “The same way you listen to her in regards to your on-again-off-again relationship with the future ex-Mrs. Rafferty. Incidentally, how’s that working out for you?”

  “Someone’s a little snarky today,” Gil muttered. “You weren’t nearly as snarky before you became a stalker.”

  “Beck out.”

  †

  The private party in the lounge on the Riviera Deck was elegant and decorated with all the glitz and glamor of a Hollywood party. Gil and Darth entered the room and remained practically invisible along the back walls. Although Darth received a few snotty looks for entering their fancy, high-society party, others were eager to comment on the handsome dog. Some of the attractive younger women were quick to comment on the handsome security guard as well. There was no denying Gil rocked his excessively pressed uniform. He wore it well, particularly around the buttocks region, and the women noticed. Two fairly large men dressed in expensive suits approached Gil. It wasn’t difficult to make the men as personal bodyguards to one of the guests. They weren’t Sal’s men since Gil had met what was left of Sal’s personal guards on a past mission. If recall was correct, he’d beaten a few of Sal’s remaining personal guards. Whether they would have a sense of humor about it remained to be seen.