Deception Island

by Brynn Kelly

  “You can email me a photo,” he said, “in the dress.”

  She smiled, and handed back the water. “A photo. Sure. I’ll do that.” The phone in his pocket vibrated. A text from Flynn. He was at least two hours away. Merde. Gabriel could be on another continent by then.

  They continued in silence. The air was marginally cooler on the track than in the greenhouse of the jungle, but his skin dripped, and sweat trickled into his eyes. Behind him, Holly panted rhythmically as she ran—a now-familiar sound he didn’t want to think too carefully about. As they came to a corner, she tugged at his T-shirt. He stopped.

  “I recognize this place, from being on the truck,” she whispered. “The hut where they were holding the women is about a half mile from here.”

  He switched on the walkie-talkie at minimal volume and listened for chatter. Some logistical talk about moving out, but nothing to suggest any suspicions. He switched it off.

  They resumed at a quick walk, following the tree line. As they neared the hut, voices filtered up the track. They came to a stop near a clearing, ducking behind undergrowth. The stench of chlorine bleach blasted him. Two soldiers stood outside a dirty concrete hut, smoking and talking, no weapons in view. The older one looked familiar. Scratches and thuds came from inside. A small truck waited out front, parked parallel to the hut.

  “Can you hear what they’re saying?” she whispered.

  He placed a finger on her lips. He could have removed it—should have removed it—but he let it linger a bit. For several minutes they watched and listened. A man stepped out of the hut, shouting. The soldiers lazily stubbed out their cigarettes and disappeared into the back of the truck. They returned carrying dive tanks, which they heaved inside.

  Rafe leaned toward her ear. “They’re in a hurry. The guy who was inside is worried they’ll hold up the boat. Another boat has already left. Gabriel’s taking the helicopter—with Theo, I imagine. I haven’t heard it, so it must be still here.”

  “They’re cleaning up and clearing out. Making it look like a storeroom.”

  “How far away is Gabriel’s compound?”

  “Maybe another half mile, possibly less.”

  So he couldn’t risk opening fire. “Stay here.”

  “What are you...?”

  He held up a finger. “And I mean it.”

  He sprinted to the near side of the truck and sheltered behind it. He chanced a glance into the back. Diving and surfing equipment. They’d be unloading it awhile. Voices approached. He flattened against the side. Two guys came and went. A minute later, more footfalls closed in—a man on his own. The truck shifted as he stepped into the back. Rafe slipped his M16 from his shoulder and crept to the corner of the vehicle, giving the guy a chance to load his arms with tanks. As the guy backed out onto the dirt, Rafe stepped out and spoke a quiet, casual greeting.

  The guy swung around, frowning. Rafe rammed the rifle butt into his forehead. He crumpled, out cold. Rafe caught the tanks and stashed them back in the truck. Boots thunked on the veranda of the hut. He dragged the guy out of sight, behind the truck, and raised his weapon, steadying his breath.

  “Remiel?” one of the soldiers called. “Where did he go?”

  “To have a wank. Lazy pig.”

  The pair loaded up with more tanks. Once they were back in the hut, Rafe threw the man over his shoulder and ran into the trees. He gagged him with his own shirt, and tied his arms and feet. This was Remiel? Little trace of the boy Rafe remembered. A year or two younger than Rafe, he’d killed his own sister during his Lost Boys induction. Rafe looped him to a tree trunk with a series of cable ties. He caught movement in the jungle—Holly, creeping his way. He lowered the M16.

  “I told you to stay put,” he hissed. “I might have shot you.”

  “I’m not good at following directions. What are we doing with the other two?”

  “You are doing nothing.”

  She crossed her arms. “You don’t have a lot of respect for me, do you?”

  “I have too much respect for you—that’s why I want you safe. This kind of thing—it’s what I do for a living. Just sit back and enjoy the show, princess.” He took her elbow and spun her around. “From a safe distance. Pretend it’s one of the movies you like so much.” He gently pushed her lower back.

  She slung a backward glance at him, then retreated, shaking her head. Mon Dieu. He was used to people following his orders.

  He planted his spine behind a large tree and bided his time until one of the men stood alone by the truck. Muffling his voice in his palm, he called out.

  “Remiel?” the soldier replied.

  “Come,” said Rafe, quietly. “I’ve found something.”

  “Where are you?”

  Rafe reached a hand out and flicked it, hoping the militia still used the same signals.

  Apparently, they did. The man approached, and Rafe dispensed with him as cleanly as the last. Gripping his weapon, he ran back to the side of the truck. As the third soldier rounded the back, he leaped in his path, barrel aimed.

  “Arms in the air, turn slowly.”

  The guy blinked, evidently as surprised to hear a stranger speak his language as he was to come face-to-face with a gun barrel.

  “Do it, or I shoot.”

  He complied. Rafe yanked his wrists together and clicked on a tie. His forearm was branded with a G. The new generation.

  “Stop. Lay down your weapon,” said a deep voice behind him.

  Putain. Where had a fourth guy come from? In front of him, yet another soldier stepped into view, from around the other corner of the truck. He wore a green beret and gripped an M16 like he knew how to use it. Surrounded. The cable-tied guy slunk to the side. How had Rafe missed two men approaching? A recruit’s error.

  “Gabriel sends orders,” Rafe said, hoping confusion would buy him time. With one in front of him and one behind, neither could fire yet—the downside of flanking an opponent. “Hurry it up.”

  “Who are you?” said the beret guy.

  “Reinforcements.”

  “He is Raphael. Shoot him,” said the guy behind Rafe, his footfalls indicating he was moving aside. Giving his friend a clean shot.

  By the time Rafe lifted his weapon, he’d be dead.

  Chapter 27

  The soldier in the beret aimed at Rafe’s chest.

  Rafe froze. “I think Gabriel would prefer to do that himself, don’t you?”

  The man frowned. A rock shot out of nowhere, smashing into his skull. As he dropped to his knees, Holly flew out from behind the truck in an airborne blur. Her shoe connected with the soldier’s head. Lights out. The guy would be in for one hell of a headache.

  Behind Rafe, the other gunman swore. Rafe spun and unleashed a liver shot to his gut, doubling down with an uppercut before he could lift his rifle. Rafe shoved him to the ground and yanked his hands together, behind his back.

  “Rafe! One of them is getting away.” It was the soldier whose hands he’d tied. “I’ll go after him.”

  “Wait!” Rafe clicked on cable ties, at wrist and ankle. The guy could crawl, but not far.

  Rafe took off after Holly, reaching her just as she launched herself at the soldier’s legs. The guy smacked nose-first onto packed dirt. Rafe body-slammed his back.

  By the time he and Holly had tidied up—locking the bound soldiers in the hut—they’d taken out five men. If more had left on a boat they might be down to half a dozen remaining with Gabriel. Better odds, but they’d be the elite.

  “Didn’t I say you needed me?” Holly bent double, hands on her knees. He handed her water, adrenaline still rolling through his veins.

  He more than needed her. He fucking loved her.

  He shrugged. “I could have handled it.”

  She sucked down
the water. A helicopter’s blades thudded through the air. He drew her in under the canopy, holding her tight, sensing his heart rate calm at the contact.

  “Crap,” she said. “Maybe Gabriel’s leaving—or is our backup arriving?”

  “Too soon.” The helicopter passed low overhead. He closed his eyes with relief. “It’s coming in to land.”

  “I haven’t heard it return since they took away Amina’s body.”

  “They probably dropped her further out, in a trench. The ocean around here will be shallow coral reefs, and they wouldn’t risk her body washing up near their operations.”

  Heat pooled between their bodies. He pulled her tight for a second, then let go. “We don’t have much time. Someone will come looking for these guys.”

  Holly stabbed the truck’s tires and those of two parked quad bikes, then led Rafe down a narrow path. His pulse quickened. Theo was close, he could feel it. After a few minutes she signaled and moved into the trees, pointing ahead. He crouched beside her. They’d come to a compound, a gathering of huts around a patch of sand and sea grass. Deserted.

  “Could they have gone already?” she whispered.

  He shook his head, pointing to the helicopter blades still spinning to a halt. “Someone was here a minute ago.” His neck bristled. “I don’t like this.” He jerked his head, indicating they should retreat.

  “Raphael!”

  Tensing, Rafe swung his rifle barrel toward the familiar voice. Gabriel appeared in the doorway of the largest of the huts—a man, in place of the boy Rafe remembered. Two soldiers with M16s ambled out either side of him, taking up sentry positions. Plants rustled behind Rafe. He swiveled. Two more soldiers eased to their feet, weapons aimed. A trap.

  “You think I did not know you were here?” Gabriel said, in English. “You underestimate me.”

  “Where is my son?”

  “Inside, with several guns pointed at his head. I suggest you stand very slowly, and lower your weapon to the ground. My men are under instructions to shoot Theo if you pose a threat. Your choice.”

  Son of a bitch. Rafe eased the strap over his head and laid down the M16, as Gabriel ordered three men to check the airstrip. Damn, Rafe should have hidden Holly—he’d got her captured, again, and now that Gabriel suspected the women weren’t secure, time was ticking on them.

  “Just so we are clear, Raphael,” Gabriel said, “it is not just death that may come to your son. My men are under instructions to brand him before they kill him, so the devil will know he is one of us. This is not what I wish to do, but if it is what you choose...”

  Putain. Rafe backed away from the weapon, empty palms upturned, nodding at Holly to follow suit. She was seething so hot she might explode. Filling his lungs, he strode into the compound and stood his ground. Holly stopped a step behind him.

  “Let me see him,” Rafe said.

  On Gabriel’s command, a soldier patted down Rafe, relieving him of the magazine, the phone, the Makarov and the walkie-talkie. At least they didn’t bother searching Holly—making the same mistake Rafe did that first night. With her slight build, it was obvious she carried no gun. They’d find out soon enough about the damage she could do with a knife. He should have given her the phone.

  “Patience, my good friend,” said Gabriel. “We have a lot to catch up on, first.”

  “Theo!” Rafe’s shout echoed through the compound.

  “Papa!” The small voice trembled. “Papaaaa!”

  Relief gripped Rafe’s body, followed by a kick of fury. “Everything is fine, my son,” he shouted, in French. “Papa is here to take you home.” He switched to English, and dropped his volume. “Let him go. He is an innocent. He is not like we were.”

  “You forget, we were innocent once, Raphael. Perhaps not as innocent as your little rabbit in there, but anyone can be broken and turned into a good soldier.”

  “And anyone can turn back.”

  “Can they?” Gabriel sauntered down the steps, hands linked behind his back, the pose too stiff to appear casual. He was taller and leaner than Rafe remembered. Neither of them had properly reached manhood when they parted. “Is that what you told our American friend?” He switched focus to Holly. “I do not know what kind of man Raphael has convinced you he is, but I am afraid he seems to have led you astray. He is one of us, and always will be.”

  “He could never be the scum that you are.”

  “Holly, no.” She was in trouble deep enough.

  Gabriel laughed. “Ah, Holly.” He rolled the name slowly around his mouth. Rafe glowered. “I like this name. Like Christmas. So you are on Raphael’s side, yes? Passionately, it seems. And you are confident. Because of the message you helped your friend get out? I am afraid it was all for nothing, my dear. You thought you were helping her, but you killed her. Your friend’s message has been interpreted in official circles as an elaborate hoax by a woman who had become obsessed with a lost cause, a desperate move to procure funding for a struggling charity. By now the media will be reporting that she is being held in an asylum, poor misguided woman. My most sincere thanks for helping me to eliminate her before she could cause real trouble.”

  Holly launched forward. The guards raised their rifles. Rafe caged her behind him with his arms. Gabriel wouldn’t want Rafe dead, not yet, not until he’d taunted him a little longer, but there was nothing stopping him killing Holly, even just to spite Rafe.

  “Then why are you running away?” She gestured at the chopper.

  “No more than a precaution. We never stay long in one place. Adaptation is the key to survival in business. We are Les Pirates Fantômes—that is what your French navy calls us, is it not, Raphael? ‘The phantom pirates,’ and today we disappear.” He smiled, his teeth so unnaturally white they looked blue. He was close enough for Rafe to throttle him. “I am grateful to them for this excellent name, and for leading me to you and your charming son, after all this time. Now perhaps, Raphael, you will tell me why you betrayed me all those long years ago.”

  “The aid workers who found me...they told me you were dead.”

  “And you believed it? Why?”

  “I thought it was the truth.”

  “You did not. What truth ever existed for us? You let yourself believe it because you wanted to. You let yourself believe it so you could be released from our bond, so you no longer had to think about me, so you could start a new life.”

  “I wouldn’t have gone if I...” Rafe shook his head. “I thought you were dead.”

  “You did not!” Gabriel’s face darkened, and contorted. “You did just what we promised each other we would never do. You left me behind. You, who were all that I had. You knew what they would do to me, to punish me for letting you go, and still you left.”

  “No, Gabriel.” The words came out in a heavy whisper. So they’d tortured him.

  “Rafe?” Holly whispered, planting a palm on his back. “Are you okay?”

  He arched, and stepped forward, away from her touch. He couldn’t crumble now, and her gentle tone threatened to break him in two. Theo needed him to remain strong. She needed him to be strong. He had to let Gabriel’s words brush over him, even if this was what he’d feared all these years—that he’d left Gabriel behind, alive. He shook his head. What had he known? What had he believed?

  Gabriel might be the devil incarnate now, but back then he was only a year or so older than Rafe. Old and wise, Rafe had thought at the time. It was only as the years began to pass, after his escape, that he’d realized how young Gabriel had really been. Fifteen, at most? The nightmare Rafe had woken from that night had continued for his only friend.

  “She cares for you, Raphael.” Gabriel had regained control of his voice. He circled Rafe and approached Holly. “Why is this?”

  Rafe swiveled. “Stay away from her.”

  “Do not
tell me you feel the same. Did she seduce you, so you would protect her? She is clever, this one.”

  Gabriel reached for Holly’s neck. Rafe stepped within striking distance, aware of the guards raising their weapons. Gabriel’s fingers grazed the amulet resting between Holly’s breasts. Without taking her eyes off Gabriel, Holly raised a palm to Rafe, signaling him to keep his cool. Her other hand hovered over the knife in her pocket. If she made any sudden moves, he’d have to get to her before the guards opened fire.

  “My dear, either you are a powerful seductress, or my friend Raphael has become feeble. The boy I knew would never let a woman’s charms weaken him, no matter how beautiful she was.” He linked his hands behind his back. “Remember that woman in Hadad, Raphael? The one who offered herself to you to save her child?”

  “Gabriel...” Feeling Holly’s gaze on him, Rafe tightened his jaw, trying to block out the face of the woman he remembered as clearly as if his brain had photographed her.

  “You want to know what happened to her, don’t you, my dear? Shall I tell you?”

  “No,” said Rafe. It was not a story to share with Holly. Or anyone. He’d told every haunting detail to the psychologists. Then he’d buried it all. Or thought he had.

  “He refused her, then slit the little girl’s thr—”

  “Gabriel!”

  “Do not worry, my friend, Holly will not be telling anyone your secrets, where she is going.” Gabriel narrowed his gaze, and pivoted to face Rafe. “Or is it that you care what this woman thinks of you? That is even more curious. What did these people do to you, Raphael, the ones you ran to? Did they brainwash you into believing you could live like normal people? We both know that could never happen, with everything we carry in our heads.” He tapped his forehead with a long, slender finger.