“Have the number?” Raz asked. “He won’t answer the bakery phone while he’s working.”
“I can reach him,” Colin said. “Should I call?”
Raz nodded.
“I’m going to the map room to think,” Alex said.
Raz watched her leave the room and Colin waved. Smiling at them, she took the stairs down a level to the room she’d used most of the beginning of the year. Her identical twin, Max was sitting on a couch. She sat down nearly on top of him. He gave her a macchiato. As if to combine their brain power, the twins leaned their identical heads against each other.
“What do you think is going on?” Alex asked.
“Missing soldiers? Or Troy?”
Alex shrugged.
“You’re right,” Max said.
“They feel like the same problem,” Alex said.
Max nodded.
F
CHAPTER FIVE
Sunday morning
October 25 – 5:52 a.m. EDT
Marine Marathon start, Arlington Boulevard, Washington DC
Alex threw open the helicopter door and Matthew jumped out onto Arlington Boulevard. Vince got out and helped Amelia out. Jimmy stepped out. Colin followed right behind him. They wore light blue exercise shirts with a black Vivaldi F on the back and dark Ray-Ban Wayfarer glasses. At her old teammate Jax’s insistence, the Fey Special Forces Team had run the big marathons together. The shirts and glasses had been part of their image.
Alex hadn’t planned on continuing the tradition, but Joseph wanted to honor the memory of their amazing medic, Jax. The shirts, the glasses, and marathon running helped solidify the Fey Team image as ready and capable. This Marine Marathon was their first outing as the Fey Team. She smiled at the group of blue shirted runners. She hugged John.
“Good luck,” With her hands around his face, Alex kissed John. “I’ll see you at the finish.”
“Love you,” John’s finger stroked her cheek. “I have my phone. Keep me in the loop.”
“You too,” Alex kissed him again.
“Sorry,” Troy’s Army JAG lawyer, Captain Tyler said. “We’ve got to go.”
“We’ll set the wrong impression if we’re late,” Troy’s expensive civilian criminal lawyer, Hawkins Mac Alister said.
John nodded. He raised a hand in good luck to Troy and jumped out of the helicopter. The helicopter rose slowly, hovered for a moment, and took off toward Fredericksburg. Alex sat down next to Troy.
“How are you?” Alex asked.
“Okay,” Troy said. “Back to numb, I guess. You’re sure the boys are all right?”
“They’re with Margaret and MJ,” Alex said. “What could happen?”
Trece laughed. Alex and Troy looked over at him.
“When we left, they were just learning how to play Cowboys and Indians,” Trece said. “Jesse Jr. was going to play with them.”
“See,” Alex said. “Cowboys and Indians. You can’t get more normal than that.”
Trece struggled to keep from laughing.
“What?” Troy asked.
“Margaret’s teaching them?” Trece asked. Alex laughed.
“So?” Troy asked.
“The Indians are the good guys and the Cowboys are the bad guys?” Trece laughed.
Everyone laughed.
“Five minutes,” Zack called over the intercom. As if he’d turned off the lights, the mood in the passenger compartment darkened. They fell silent.
“I’ve spent so much of my life missing her,” Troy said. “Why would I kill her?”
“Why does your father say anything?” Alex shook her head.
“You’re going in for questioning,” Hawkins Mac Alister said. “That’s all. No charges have been filed. We’ll answer a few questions and be home for lunch.”
Troy looked at the man. He was smart, articulate and wearing a very expensive suit. He had been the lead persecutor for the District of Columbia. He became a criminal defense lawyer after one of his death-row convictions was overturned due to DNA evidence. He couldn’t live with the uncertainty. He’d made his career on clearing innocent men wrongly accused. Zack began his descent into the street in front of Fredericksburg.
Troy noticed that his Army JAG lawyer, Captain Tyler, was staring at Alex. He didn’t know how Alex was able to get this man, but he was grateful to have him. The JAG lawyer was fit, even a little over muscular, with the look of a scrappy fighter. On their first meeting, he told Troy he’d gone to the same adventure camp Troy had grown up in. Troy knew that no matter what happened, this lawyer would fight for him.
“I just jump out?” Hawkins Mac Alister said.
“Don’t lower your head,” Troy said. “Makes you look like an amateur.”
“My Captain at Airborne training said to pretend you’re a rock star,” Captain Tyler said. “It sounds dumb but you’d be surprised just how far a little pretense gets you.”
Nodding, the criminal lawyer buttoned his coat jacket.
“Call me, and we’ll come to get you,” Alex said. “We won’t be far.”
Troy nodded. Alex opened the helicopter door, and Troy’s Army JAG lawyer hopped out. Troy followed him.
“Like a rock star?” the criminal lawyer glanced at Alex.
“Don’t duck,” Alex said.
With his head up, he got out of the helicopter. Zack waited until they were on the sidewalk before he took off. Alex sat down, strapped in, and put on her headset. Trece did the same.
“He knows were coming?” Zack asked.
“He knows,” Alex said. “We’re going to nap.”
“I’ll wake you when we’re close,” Zack said.
FFF
Sunday morning
October 25 – 6:45 a.m. EDT
Marine Corp Air Station, Havelock, NC
“What’s it say?” Trece asked.
Alex was peering into the Magic 8 Ball. Seeing only the dark cloud, she shook the ball and turned it over. Same thing.
“Nothing,” Alex said.
“Nothing?” Trece asked.
Alex threw the ball to him. He turned it over and saw the same layer of blue particles blocking the die.
“That’s weird,” Trece said. “It’s like those blackish particles in the water are baked onto the plastic.”
“What’s weird?” Zack said over the intercom.
“Nothing.” Alex stuffed the Magic 8 Ball into her backpack.
“Broke your Magic 8 Ball again?” Zack asked.
“Again?” Alex asked.
“Again,” Zack said. “Listen, I don’t like this – too many extra people, too many extra eyes.”
“Did it work the last time we were here?” Alex asked.
“Sure,” Zack said. “But I can get us onto the island.”
“Of course you can get us onto the island,” Alex said. “Hell, you can land on a sliver of a sandbar. This isn’t about you; it’s about arriving undetected. A helicopter on a small island is big news. This is his home. We’d never get within a mile of him.”
Zack landed the helicopter on the tarmac of the Marine Air Station. Rather than their usual crowd of admirers, a line of five men stood at attention outside the helicopter. Trece got out of the helicopter first to check the men’s fingerprints on his handheld computer. Zack and his co-pilot US Air Force Sergeant Clifford Mauer came from the cockpit.
“We’re coming with you,” Zack said.
“Last time I checked,” Cliff said. “We were soldiers too. We’re on the Fey team and…”
“It will be nice to have you,” Alex said.
Beaming, Cliff looked at Zack who winked at Alex.
“Here are some rules,” Alex said. “This man is very skittish. Don’t say anything to him or look at him. If you breathe a word about anything that happens when we exit this helicopter to anyone, even your own mother, you will die in your bed.”
“Is she serious?” Cliff asked Zack.
Zack nodded.
“Yes sir,” Cliff said
.
“Are you armed?” Alex asked. Zack and Cliff displayed their handguns and ammunition. “Body armor?”
Zack and Cliff nodded.
“Jackets?” Alex asked. They put on their camouflage Fey jackets.
“All clear,” Trece said from the tarmac.
Alex put on her dark Ray-Ban Wayfarer sunglasses. Zack and Cliff followed suit. Without saying another word, Alex stepped out of the helicopter. Zack and Cliff followed. She returned the salute from Marine escort. They followed the men to a waiting jeep. They sped across the Marine Air Base to the small watercraft dock. Two Marines jumped out of the jeep and ran down the dock. They whistled to indicate that the dock was secure.
Trece, Alex, Zack and Cliff ran down the dock. Trece stepped into a speed boat to check the two Navy SEALs waiting for them. When Trece nodded, Alex, Zack and Cliff stepped into the speed boat. The speed boat took off into Pamlico Sound. They passed West Bay, rounded the islands at Black Bay and sped into Core Sound. Within fifteen minutes of landing at the Marine Air Base, they were docking at the Cape Pointe Marina on Harkers Island.
“What happens now?” Trece asked.
“We wait,” Alex said. “If he wants to talk to us, he’ll send a couple men. If not, we go home.”
“How long do we…”
Two men ambled down the dock. From a distance, they looked like salty rejects from the local bar. One man walked as if his right knee was locked. The other man walked with a slight bend in his back. His long yellowing gray beard hung down to his belt buckle.
“Sir, they are armed,” a Navy SEAL said.
“Stand down,” Alex said. “Do not approach. They will kill you sooner than you can say hello.”
Recognizing one of the men, Trece stiffened as they got closer. Alex put her hand on his shoulder to steady him.
“Gots permission for three,” the man with the stiff knee said in an almost English accent. “Where’s Abreu?”
“He didn’t make it,” Alex said.
“Too bad,” the man said. “He was going to bring me a sketch of Dura-Europas. Did you hear they found an even older church in Jordan?”
“I didn’t,” Alex said. “But I have the sketch he made for you. May we get out?”
“Only three,” the other man said in the not quite English, not quite Irish accent of High Tide Brogue.
“Captain Ramirez is with me,” Alex said. “Trece? Can you pick another?”
“Is one of these Air Force boys the Jakker?” the man with the bad knee asked.
As if he was in elementary school, Zack raised his hand.
“Nice to meet you,” the man said. “I used to fly a plane or two in my day. This your co-pilot?”
Zack nodded toward Cliff.
“Bring ‘em both,” the other man said. “They’ll keep us entertained while we wait.”
“Sir?” the senior Navy SEAL asked Alex.
“Their rules,” Alex shrugged. Leaning over to get her backpack, she added, “Stay with the boat. If you don’t hear anything or see one of us in an hour, make the call.”
“Yes sir,” the senior Navy SEAL said.
“Come on now,” the bent man with the beard said.
He held out a hand to Alex and helped her onto the dock. For all his bent over act, his grip was firm and steady. He gave her a big smile and patted her back.
“Always nice to see you, Alexandra,” he said. “How’s Max?”
“Feisty as ever,” Alex smiled.
Trece, Zack and Cliff left the speed boat and followed them down the dock.
“Good to hear,” the bearded bent-over man said. With Trece ahead, he walked by her side. “Heard he’s working with Pershing.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Alex said.
The man laughed at what was clearly a joke. She smiled.
“The beard is inspiring,” Alex said.
“I knew you’d like it,” the man flushed a little. “Combed it this morning just for you.”
“Stop flirting,” the man with the locked knee said. “We’ve got to get going. Do you have what he wants?”
Alex nodded.
“Really?” the man with the locked knee said.
Alex nodded. He held out his hand and the bent over man gave him a hundred dollar bill. They approached an old, rusted Ford Bronco.
“New car?” Alex asked.
“My car,” the man with the locked knee said. “Did it myself, thank you.”
Alex smiled.
“In the back,” the bearded bent man said to Zack, Trece and Cliff. “You too Hargreaves.”
Trece and Cliff went to the back, leaving Zack and Alex in the middle seat. There was a piece of bullet resistant Lexan behind the front seat. Trece took a breath to start one of his stories.
“You’d better not,” Alex said. “We don’t really know what’s going to happen.”
He nodded. They drove in silence through the island until they reached the end of Mullins Drive. The Bronco stopped at a locked gate. The man with the locked knee hopped out of the car and made an easy jog to the gate.
“Hey, I thought his knee was bad?” Cliff asked.
“Nothing is how it seems,” Alex said. “Hang on!”
He unlocked the gate and they drove through, leaving the man behind. They continued forward on a rutted sand road. They drove to the right and then abruptly to the left. The bouncing Bronco flew across the sand. They passed over bridged ocean tributaries and splashed through small breaks in the sand bar until they were under the deep trees. They pulled up to another locked gate. A deep-colored young man came around the Bronco. He took pictures of everyone in the back of the Bronco with a smart phone and retreated into a small house by the sand path. They waited another few minutes before he returned. He and the driver spoke for a few minutes in the nearly unintelligible dialect of Gullah. The young man nodded and went to open the gate.
“What’s going on?” Trece whispered.
“He checked our identities through a facial recognition app. He’ll send the request for our visit to the house,” Alex repeated what she read on the young man’s lips. “We’re approved but he will only see me. The driver is going to take you to the kitchen. I’m going to see him.”
“Chicken and pie?” Zack asked.
“She does make the best pie,” Alex said.
“And fried chicken,” Zack licked his lips.
“Who?” Trece shifted uncomfortably.
“There are no names here. They call her “Mammy” like something out of Gone with the Wind,” Alex said. “I’ve heard they are all descendents of the Harkers and their slaves. Their accent is actually a dialect called High Tide Brogue.”
“It sounds almost Irish or English,” Zack said. “Takes a while to get the hang of.”
“And the language the boy was speaking?” Trece asked.
“Gullah,” Alex said. “It’s a language South Carolina slaves developed. Almost no one speaks old Gullah anymore.”
The Bronco made a sharp right into a long groomed driveway. A two-story home appeared ahead.
“We’re approaching the home of a man you might recognize,” Alex said. “He has residences all over the world. This is his true home and his true family. I will tell you that only three other outsiders have been to this home – Ben, Steve Pershing, and the General. Consider yourself lucky and be a little afraid. The fact that he’s allowing us here means something terrible is going on.”
The Bronco pulled to a stop at the house.
“I’ve only been here twice,” Alex said.
“That’s what I don’t get,” Zack said. “Why are you desperate enough to come here?”
“At least eight experienced field teams have disappeared,” Alex said. “There is no trace of what mission they were on, what they were supposed to do, or where they might be. For all intents and purposes, they’ve vanished.”
“Including G.I. Joe,” Trece nodded.
“Sergeant Larry Flagg and Marine Captain Heath Walker,” Alex sa
id. “We need to find out what’s going on.”
A large-cheeked, round-bodied woman came to the front door and waved. The driver of the Bronco let them out of the vehicle. They walked down a brick path past an ancient rose garden and plush green lawn to the house. The smell of the roses caught the warm wind and Alex felt as if she was walking on a carpet of their perfume.
“Here we go,” Alex stepped into the house.
FFFFFF
Sunday morning
October 25 – 7:30 a.m. EDT
Fredericksburg Police Station, Fredericksburg, PA
After waiting for more than an hour, three men came into the small interrogation room. Troy, the Army JAG, and the criminal defense lawyer stood up.
“Please sit,” the Fredericksburg detective said. “As you know, I’m Detective Young. This is Agent Platt of the FBI and Senior Field Agent Snypes of Army CID.”
“Hawkins Mac Alister,” the criminal defense lawyer shook the men’s extended hands.
“Captain Tyler,” the Army JAG lawyer said. “Nice to see you again Senior Agent Snypes.”
“We’ve worked together on a number of cases,” Senior Field Agent Snypes said. “On both sides of the table.”
The more the men smiled and shook each other’s hands, the more nervous Troy became. The detective glanced at him. Troy let out a breath. At least they weren’t all on the same team.
“There are more agencies and agents behind the glass,” Detective Young said. “Captain Olivas, I believe you’ve been read your Miranda rights.”
“That’s correct.” Hawkins Mac Alister took his position as lead attorney.
“I want to say something right off the bat,” Troy said. “I don’t have anything to hide.”
“Why do you have your lawyers here?” Senior Field Agent Snypes asked.
“My CO told me to bring them,” Troy said.
“And you always do what your CO tells you to do?” FBI Agent Platt asked.
“Yes,” Troy said. “Don’t you?”
“If you don’t have anything to hide, Captain,” Detective Young said. “Why can’t we get a bio on you?”
“Oh right,” Troy gave an impish smile. “I can’t talk about my work, either past or present.”
Lean on Me Page 6