Satan

by Jianne Carlo

  “For Malik Mansoor, Avenger of Allah!” Yaman raised the shovel above his head and back-smacked Satan with the metal blade of the trowel.

  Angel choked back a scream when Satan went flying sideways, and landed on his side in the box at the bottom of the hole.

  “Guess what McGuillycuddy. You and your Angel are going to be buried alive. That’s right. You two are going to slowly smother to death.”

  “Why’re you doing this, Yaman? Why?” Angel regretted her blurted question the second the words erupted from her mouth.

  He walked slowly toward her.

  Angel’s legs shook.

  “Stupid bitch. Because I can,” Yaman snarled. He kicked her in the stomach. She toppled backward, and crashed into the box on top of Satan.

  “Roll over onto your back when I give the order,” Satan murmured.

  He sounded so composed.

  She risked a quick glance up and cringed. Two men carrying a slab of wood approached the top of the hole. They swung, once, twice, she lifted her bound hands to cover her cheek and ear, and shrank into the side of the box. The lid landed with an explosive crack and they were immersed in a terrifying pitch-blackness.

  Thud, thud.

  “They’re burying us alive.” Angel sucked oxygen into her lungs, but it felt as if her entire chest was on fire, and she couldn’t get enough air to breathe.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It was Carnival Monday in Trinidad and Tobago. The three newest members of the Hades Squad, Jinn, Volac, and Nikar, were on their way to what the locals called “Down The Islands,” a series of five islands off the north-west tip of Trinidad.

  They had landed the night before, met up with Rutger Harlowe and his team, rented a car, and followed Satan’s GPS trail. When the track broke into three separate routes, Rutger and his team had taken two trajectories while Jinn, Volac, and Nikar had traced this one.

  They’d been stymied for a few minutes when confronted with a deserted establishment called Power Boats, which was packed to the gills with power and sail boats. Not a single person occupied the property, which was comprised of a few office buildings, a seaside restaurant called Sail’s Inn, and two piers with several fuel dispensers.

  Forced to improvise, they “borrowed” a type of fishing boat the locals called a pirogue, which was loaded with fuel and powered by twin Mercury outboard engines. To avoid detection, they weaved in and out of the moored boats and kept the speed to a crawl until the fishing trawler was a half a mile away from land.

  Nikar, who piloted the pirogue, gunned the engines to full speed once they cleared sight of the Sail’s Inn standout red roof. He checked their progress on the tablet jammed into the console, which displayed a nautical map of the area, glanced at the low mountains whizzing by, and estimated their position. Choppy waves whipped by erratic gusts slapped the boat’s hull.

  Ahead lay a wide expanse of ocean colored silver by the early morning sun. In the distance he spotted their target island, Monos. Shit. Nikar hadn’t expected such a steep-sided and heavily forested landscape. Numerous houses of different sizes, some small mansions, others mere huts, dotted the base of the island. A full two-thirds of the hillsides was nothing but jungle.

  “We’re down to one GPS left functioning.” Volac pointed to a blinking light in the middle of the tablet’s screen

  According to Rutger Harlowe, Satan wore five GPSs altogether.

  A shirt button, his jeans button, a medical penicillin bracelet, one implanted in his left heel, and one in his armpit. Satan was a hairy bastard, so Nikar figured they hadn’t found that one. Not that the position of the GPS mattered, they just needed the blasted bug to keep functioning until he, Volac, and Jinn located Satan.

  “How far are we from the GPS?” Nikar inched the joystick forward.

  “Three miles. Sea’s getting rougher. This must be the Bocas Del Dragon, Rutger warned us about. And that must be the Chaguaramus peninsula where the old U.S. naval base used to be.” Volac pointed to the land mass the boat was clearing.

  “The Dragon’s Mouth with the fifteen to twenty foot waves. Hope this boat handles well on open waters.” Jinn steadied himself by planting his booted feet wide and gripping the stainless steel grab rails.

  The pirogue pounded the water. Ocean spray kicked at them from all sides, driven by the blasting wind and backlash when the boat hammered across the white-capped waves. The roar of the engines prevented further conversation.

  As the boat neared the island, Nikar decreased their speed. “I’m going to hug the coastline. Satan’s GPS still pinging?”

  “Affirmative. The coastline’s rugged and rocky. Wish we had a depth sounder.” Volac mopped his face with a bandana.

  “Have one.” Jinn dug in his tactical pack and fished out a Hawkeye H22FX hand held depth sounder, which also acted as a flashlight. He activated the device and waited for the response. “We’re good. No worries. Bottom’s over two hundred feet and counting.”

  Jinn’s cell dinged. He pulled the phone out of his pocket. “Lucifer just texted me. Yaman Moses owns several homes here including one on Monos Island.”

  “Bingo. Location?” Volac hovered a finger over the tablet.

  Another ping.

  “Balmoral Bay.” Jinn snorted. “Asshole calls his island home Dolphin Paradise.”

  “Gotcha. Nautical maps shows Balmoral Bay is horseshoe shaped. Sizeable. We’re going to be sitting ducks entering the bay. Narrow opening too. Wish we had reception. I could Google earth the whole thing.” Volac waved a finger over the touchscreen. “Not a fucking bar. We’re dead as far the tablet goes.”

  “I count two small bays before we hit Balmoral. Do we anchor and hike the hill to survey the situation?” Jinn asked.

  “That’s dense forest, bro, and time is of the essence. I’m up for a full frontal assault. Go in big and brazen. Three tourists out fishing.” Volac folded his arms and swept his glance between the two retired SEALs.

  Nikar scanned the passing scenery on his right. An elaborate plantation-style house, which hugged a sharp bend in the coastline came into view. He pointed at the building. “See any movement in that house on the point?”

  Jinn trained the binoculars hanging around his neck on the home and studied the windows. He checked the grounds and the short, squat deck. “No boats moored. No sign of life. ”

  “Shit. The GPS is bouncing around in a small area. Look at this, Nikar, Jinn.” Volac pointed at the tablet.

  “I’ve seen this before. They’re using Satan as a punching bag. Fucking bastards have him in a small cell. See how the GPS slams a centimeter right, and then slips a tad.” Jinn traced the tiny dot on the screen.

  Nikar stifled a slew of curses. He studied the house and kept the pirogue at idle. “Half of the house is on this side, the other half faces Balmoral Bay. And the pier’s hidden from the bay. We can reconnoiter from here and then decide what to do. ”

  Volac grabbed ahold of the boat’s rail, and pulled himself in front of the console. “I’ll handle the moorings.”

  He maneuvered his way to the pointed bow, propped one foot on a step, gathered a thick jute rope, and got into a jump position.

  Nikar negotiated the boat between two narrow jetties about twelve feet apart. He inched closer to the pier nearest to the island.

  The pirogue bounced into the wooden structure.

  Volac vaulted onto the landing. He strode to a silver horn embedded into the jetty, stooped, and tied a cleat hitch.

  Jinn hopped off the stern of the ship and attached the rope to another cleat near the end of the pier.

  Nikar switched off the engines, gathered his gear and the tablet, walked to the stern, and sprang onto the wooden landing. Volac and Jinn retrieved their gear and joined Nikar.

  “Jinn, you scout the back of the house that faces the hill. Volac, you take the downstairs. I’m going to climb to that balcony.” Nikar pointed to the wrap-around terrace above them. “Try to not break anything, but if you have to—d
o it. We need to get inside. See that dish? Bet we could rig at least limited Wi-Fi access.”

  “Done.” Volac strode toward the building.

  Jinn retrieved a K-bar from a sheath attached to his belt. “Later, bro.”

  Nikar waited until both men disappeared from view before strapping on his tactical pack and heading to a wooden pillar. The climb proved easier than anticipated because of the slight toe-holds carved into the pine. The wide balcony had solid railings that fronted three sides of the home. He stooped, kept his head well below the top of the barrier, and crawled to the other side. Shadows coated the far end of the porch, he inserted himself into the darkened niche and inched his way to half-standing.

  There were six houses on the bay, but the one in the middle demanded attention. It was opulent, enormous, and painted a rich coral color. He studied each building and the piers attached to them. Boats were moored at three of the piers. Four vessels, all jazzy power boats, were anchored around the middle house, yet he saw not a single person.

  Nikar froze when the sound of stealthy footsteps reached his ears. A door three feet down from him opened.

  “House is clear. I opened a door on the other side for you.” Volac’s deep baritone couldn’t be misplaced even at murmur level.

  “Gotcha. Be there in a few.” Nikar duck-walked around the house and stood when he was hidden from view.

  Volac had opened the last door.

  “Jinn’s working on the Wi-Fi. I’ve partially pinpointed the GPS’s location. Walk with me to the front bedroom.” Volac led the way around an open square corridor framed by carved wooden railings interrupted in the center by a flight of stairs.

  “The French doors are tinted. We can see out but no one can see in.” Volac halted in front of a glassed door. He pointed at the top of the hill above the coral mansion. “Near as I can make out, he’s somewhere in the center of that hill. All motion has stopped. The signal’s also faded.”

  “Faded? The batteries in those implants are fed by movement.” Nikar stared at the mountain. “We need to get there pronto.”

  Volac’s cell dinged. He dug the phone out of a pocket and read the text aloud. “It’s from Lucifer. He says that Satan and/or Angel may be buried alive.”

  “What the fuck?” Nikar swung around to stare at Volac.

  The dulled growl of powerful engines rented the quiet tranquility of the bay. Nikar honed in on the source. Three of the power boats moored at the house in the middle were getting ready to depart.

  Booted feet hitting wooden steps didn’t distract him from training his binoculars on the house. About a dozen men, some wearing caps, three with hoodies pulled down over their faces exited the building.

  Jinn inserted himself between Volac and Nikar. He, too, had his binoculars pointed on the mansion. “I sent pics to Lucifer who confirms the house in the middle as Dolphin Paradise. How many men do you count?”

  “Fifteen. Shit. I can’t get a full shot of the ones with the hoodies. And who wears a hoodie in this heat? We’re ten degrees off the equator for chrissake. Two in boat one plus black hoodie tango, three in boat two including gray hoodie tango, and two including the brown hoodie tango in the cabin cruiser.” Volac marched to the doors facing the entrance of the bay.

  Nikar kept his focus on the cabin cruiser. There was something oddly familiar about the gait of the brown-hooded man who’d boarded that particular boat. Since his binoculars were recording everything he aimed at, Nikar knew he’d be replaying this recording obsessively until his memory was jogged.

  The SEALs kept their focus on the three boats, following them until they disappeared from view.

  “Got clear shots of all save for the hoodies,” Jinn declared.

  “Me too.” Volac added.

  “Five left behind. Satan’s still alive. No need to guard the dead,” Nikar avowed.

  “What now?” Jinn asked.

  “We hike the mountain and find him. Get geared up. We leave in five.” Nikar had his tactical pack on the bed and was already suiting up.

  Five minutes later, Nikar, Volac, and Jinn tackled the rocky mountain at the back of the house. The trees were packed tightly together and they had to hack at vines and branches to clear a narrow path.

  Nikar led the way. He’d brought one of his favorite macho weapons, a razor-sharp fat machete with serrated edges. They went around the ridge of the mountain sticking to the side hidden from the bay’s view.

  Every hundred feet, Jinn checked the GPS’s location.

  The signal continued to fade and a sense of urgency gripped Nikar. He motioned a halt when they were directly on top of Dolphin House.

  Jinn and Volac gathered around him. “I’m taking a dead run down to scout the situation. You two follow the GPS. Keep me posted on your progress.”

  The other two men nodded.

  Nikar cut a furious path down the mountain, but halted when he encountered a squared out clearing. A mound of recently dug dirt was in the middle of the space.

  Shit. Shit. They were too fucking late. Nikar activated his ear bud. “To me. A hundred feet directly below the two of you. Anybody bring a shovel?”

  “Affirmative.” The answer came from Jinn.

  Nikar thanked the gods for Jinn’s habit of over-loading on gadgets.

  “Get here fast.” Nikar dumped his tactical pack, kneeled, and began digging furiously with his gloved hands. Three minutes later, all three men were kicking back dirt with a frenetic fever. No one said a word.

  Jinn’s spade smacked, shoved, and whipped heap after heap of dirt. They were half immersed by the hole when the blade of Jinn’s trowel smacked something solid.

  Nikar stuck his hand down under the moist soil. He traced a solid slab of rough wood, found an edge, and lifted. The hunk of wood was not nailed down. His pulse accelerated. “The lid’s loose.”

  Jinn went to the foot of the hole, Nikar took the middle, and Volac the end.

  “On three. One, two, three.” They heaved the slab. Loose clumps of clay-like mud went everywhere. “Jinn, the depth sounder, the light.”

  “One ahead of you.” Jinn stuffed the end of the device into his mouth, pressed the switch, and used both hands to lift the lid higher.

  Nikar managed to get his shoulder under the slab, and he rammed it upward. “Jesus. Volac—check them. Jinn and I got this.”

  Volac dropped onto one knee, worked off his glove, and set two fingers to the center of Satan’s throat. “He’s breathing.”

  The slab of wood Nikar and Jinn held grew weightier by the second.

  Volac reached over and tested Angel’s pulse. “Her too.”

  “We’ll carry them back to the house. Volac, get your body sling out, and hop out of the hole. Lower one end. We’ll get her out first.” Nikar caught a glimpse of the burns on Angel’s breasts. A coil of fury formed in his gut. He forced himself to focus on the present. “On my count, we heave this wood to the side. One. Two. Three.”

  Nikar threw his body mass into the enormous thrust. The hunk of pine crashed into the dirt on the other side of the coffin. He dusted his hands on his pants.

  The weighted end of Volac’s body sling hit Nikar’s shoulder. He grabbed the material and wound it under Angel Dare’s back. He bent a knee and lifted her butt onto his thigh. The slab slipped a tad, he steadied himself, checked to ensure she was secured by the width of the fabric, and called, “Lift.”

  Volac slowly hauled her up. The sling vanished from his view for a few minutes, then lowered again. Nikar had to stretch to grip the dangling end. Because of Satan’s heavier weight, it took longer to repeat the process for him.

  Nikar and Jinn climbed out of the hole to discover Volac had dressed Angel in his shirt, and he’d pulled a pair of loose sweatpants on Satan.

  “Either of them stir?”

  “Satan mumbled something. Didn’t catch the language. She whimpered when I dressed her. We’re going to go after the tangoes who did this, right?” Volac punched a fist into his palm. “Fu
cking coward. To torture a woman. Lowest of the fucking low-lifes.”

  “Satan will want to be part of that, so it’ll have to wait. I’ll take her back. You two deal with Satan. Let’s move.” Nikar went down on one knee, carefully gathered Angel into his arms, stood, and began retracing their path back to the house.

  It took them over thirty minutes, but they finally reached the empty home, carried Satan and Angel to the bedroom on the East side of the building, and settled them on the bed.

  “Volac—you’re the med one of us. Do what you can for them. I’ll call Rutger and arrange for a MEDEVAC.” Nikar lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on Satan. He’d never seen Satan immobile, and the sight disturbed him.

  How long had the two of them been buried alive? Would the lack of oxygen result in brain damage? He shook his head. There wasn’t anything else he could do for them, but sure as shit, he and Jinn could go back and take out the fuckwads.

  Volac shot Nikar a knowing glance. “You’re going back?”

  “You bet. That grave’s calling out for occupancy.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “I stay with Angel.” Satan tried to sit up, but a sharp bolt of pain made him double over. He caught at his ribs and cursed up a blue streak.

  “You heard him. Put them both in one room.”

  Satan glanced up to find Volac glowering at a white-coated and stethoscoped woman who glared right back at him, but she said, “Put her in here.”

  A second later, a nurse maneuvered a stretcher bearing a blanket-wrapped Angel into place next to Satan’s bed.

  “You good, Satan?” Volac bent down to Satan and lowered his voice to ask the question.

  “How long have I been out?” The last thing Satan remembered was Angel, bruised and battered, trying to dirty-talk him out of his hysterical claustrophobia.

  She was so extraordinarily brave, his Angel.

  And he had been such a fucking coward. He fell apart when they slammed the lid down on their coffin. The steady thudding of the dirt being packed on top of them broke him. If it weren’t for Angel’s fervent kisses and her constant declaration of love, he wouldn’t have been able to get into that mental calm space.