Operation Turtle Ransom

by Kimberli A. Bindschatel

  I turned to go back and ran smack into Chris.

  “I told you to stay hidden.”

  “Where’s Doug?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Doug. Something’s happened to Doug.” Chris’s voice was broken. “I should’ve stayed—”

  The palm leaves behind us rustled. I spun around.

  It was Noah. “They’re gone. They took the kids and José and—” he hesitated “—and Doug. All gone.”

  “What do you mean, gone?”

  “Kidnapped,” he said, his voice without surprise.

  I stepped back. “What? How do you know—wait—you knew this was a possibility?”

  His hands rested on the top of his head. “Shit.”

  Chapter Six

  I faced him. “What’s going on?”

  “We need to get back to the camp,” Noah said, urgency in his voice.

  I shook my head. “You tell me right now. What do you know?”

  “I will. Let’s just get back to the camp.” He took Chris by the arm. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

  “What? No!” Chris yanked his arm from Noah’s grasp. “They’ve got Doug. We have to do something. We have to go after them.” He started in the direction the horses had gone.

  I grabbed his arm.

  Chris spun on me. “We can’t just stand here. We have to do something.” His voice cracked with desperation. He zeroed in on Noah. “Why would they take him? Where’d they go?”

  Noah stepped back. “I don’t know.”

  “What do you know?”

  He lowered his voice, turned to me. “I know there’s a satellite phone and a couple of firearms at the cabin.”

  Whatever was going on, it was serious. And Noah knew more than he was saying.

  I looked at Chris, then in the direction the horses had gone. I had to get control of the situation. “We can’t just go after them. They’re on horses. And we don’t know anything. We have no idea what’s really happened. Noah’s right. We need to get back to the camp and call the police.”

  “But that might be too late,” he said, his voice a pitch higher than normal.

  My heart sank. He was right. If Doug and the others were kidnapped, we might never see them again. But what could I do? I had no weapon. No intel. No idea if that’s what had actually happened. The only source of information I had right now was Noah. I had to trust him. “We’ll figure this out. I swear.”

  Noah glanced over his shoulder. “We’re sitting ducks out here.”

  I wrapped my arms around Chris. “He’s going to be fine. We’ll figure it out. I promise.”

  “But—”

  “C’mon,” I tugged him by the arm. “Trust me.”

  He still hesitated.

  “Listen to me. We won’t do him any good if we go and get ourselves kidnapped, too. He sent you to hide for a reason, right?”

  Finally, he nodded.

  I took his hand and we jogged all the way back to the camp.

  Lucky yipped, yanking to the end of her rope as we approached.

  We went straight into the cabin. Noah grabbed a crowbar from the tool box and started to pry up a floor board.

  “Where’s the phone?” Chris darted about the cabin, looking in every corner. “We have to call the police.”

  “That’s not a good idea,” Noah said as the board popped up.

  I felt a sinking sensation.

  “Oh no. No, no, no,” Chris said. His hands flew up in the air and landed on the top of his head. “You said we were calling the police. We’re calling the police. Right now.”

  Noah pulled a black case from under the floor. Inside were two Glock pistols. He held one out for me to take.

  I crossed my arms. “You’re going to tell me right now, everything you know.”

  “Yes,” he said and shoved the gun at me. “Just take the gun.”

  Fine. I took it from him, dropped the clip to check the ammo, then snapped it back in.

  He clipped the other gun to his belt, turned his attention to Chris, and sighed. “Sit down,” he said, gesturing for Chris and me to sit on the bench.

  Chris stared at him for a long moment, then blew out his breath and sat down on the bench. I remained standing, my arms crossed, holding the damn gun in my hand.

  Noah’s eyes cut from me to Chris, then back. “We can’t call the police.”

  “Why not?” Chris said, back on his feet and standing behind me, hands on his hips. “What are you saying?”

  Noah looked me right in the eyes. “I’m saying we need to tread lightly. Until we know who we can trust.”

  My mind whirred through the day’s events. “So the officer who—”

  Chris pushed me aside. “You’re saying we can’t trust the police?”

  Noah stepped back, holding up his hands. “I’m just saying that we don’t know what these men will do.”

  “I don’t understand,” Chris said. He turned to me, overcome with bewilderment. “What’s going on?”

  “Okay, okay, let’s calm down and get to the bottom of this,” I said. “We don’t want to jump to any conclusions.”

  Chris rammed his fists into his hips and clamped his mouth shut.

  I swung back to Noah. “Tell me everything you know. Right now.”

  He blew out a puff of breath, looked away. “Listen, I know you don’t want to get involved. You’ve got to get back, to your job. I’ll take care of this.”

  “What! Doug, José, Nikki, they all just got kidnapped. Have you lost your mind? Sit your ass down and tell me everything. Right now.”

  He backed up without looking and plopped down on the wooden bench, but he simply stared, silent.

  “Spill!”

  “Okay, okay. A few months ago, there were rumors that marauding poachers were in the area, more dangerous than your typical egg collectors. The cop stopped by one day, poking around, gave a warning.”

  “What do you mean, a warning?”

  “Just that. He told Doug to be careful.”

  “Was it a helpful warning or a threat?”

  He shrugged.

  “You aren’t sure?”

  One side of his mouth curved into a frown. What did that mean?

  “So what’s this cop’s name?”

  “Ramón, I think. Officer Ramón.”

  “And did Officer Ramón have any details about these marauding poachers?”

  “Not really. He—”

  Lucky started barking. I held up my hand. “Stay here,” I said in a whisper and headed for the door, my hand gripping the pistol Noah had just given me.

  I stepped outside, looking both ways. Then took another step. As soon as the pup saw me, she sidled up to my side and went quiet.

  “What’d you see?” I asked the dog. “You hear something? Smell something?”

  She looked up at me with innocent brown eyes.

  I untied her and led her into the cabin. “Keep her inside,” I said to Noah and shut the door after her.

  All I could hear was the surf, rolling toward the shore then releasing with a whoosh. I let my eyes adjust to the dark again before moving to the corner of the cabin. I looked one way, then the other. Nothing.

  I needed to run a perimeter check. Like Dalton had taught me. But my hands were shaking. My back against the wall, I drew in a calming breath. What had I gotten myself into? Doug and the others kidnapped. Kidnapped! The thought of them being held captive made my knees go weak. Especially the girls. Girls their age—I couldn’t go there. We had to find them, and we had to find them fast. The problem was, I had no idea how to do that. I knew enough to know the odds and they weren’t good. This was way too much for me to handle on my own. Where was Dalton when I needed him? For a split second, I thought to call him. But I couldn’t. I shouldn’t be here, with Doug and Noah. I’d already been warned about pushing the limits. I’d lose my job for sure.

  Maybe Chris was right. We should call the police. If Noah suspected the local cop, we’d go higher up the chai
n of command. The proper authorities would handle this. They’d know what to do. The problem was, Noah still knew something he wasn’t telling me. I had to figure out what it was. And why he was withholding. Something about this whole thing didn’t add up.

  Right now, I had to make sure Chris was safe. I pushed away from the wall, went straight for the beach, then circled back, but found no sign of anything, so I went back inside.

  Noah and Chris stopped their pacing when I came in.

  I shook my head. “Nothing.” I marched right up to Noah. “So tell me again why you don’t want to call this Officer Ramón.”

  Noah turned, wouldn’t look me in the eye.

  “Tell me.”

  He winced, wouldn’t face me.

  “What did he say when he came by earlier today?”

  He still wouldn’t answer.

  I took hold of his arm and spun him around. “Noah, dammit, what the hell’s going on?”

  “All right,” he spat. “When he came by he—” he sighed “—he said the poachers might be in the area. Close by. To be careful.”

  “How could you—”

  Chris shoved by me. “And you didn’t tell us? You let everyone go out there, even though you knew?”

  “And miss the arribada? No one would have listened to me anyway.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  I got between them. “Okay, this isn’t helping.”

  Chris pressed on. “Where do we find this Officer Ramón?”

  “Let me handle this. I’m trained for it.” That was a bit of an exaggeration, but I was going with it. “Just—trust me.”

  Chris spun around, paced again, then got back in Noah’s face, ignoring me. “If he warned you about these men, then he must know about them, where to find them.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t.”

  I stared at Noah, trying to decipher that one.

  I needed a different tactic. I turned to Chris. “Start from the beginning. Tell me exactly what happened, what you saw and heard.”

  “Me? He’s the one who obviously knows something.”

  “Just tell me what happened.”

  “Fine. We left you and kept walking,” he said, his eyes darting about as his fingers fidgeted with his belt loops. “About, I don’t know, a half mile down the beach, if that, no, it wasn’t even that far, the turtles were starting to come ashore. It was dark, but we could see José and the others’ flashlights. Then we heard the men coming.”

  “How many? All on horseback?”

  “Yes, on horses. And I don’t know. Maybe four? They came out of the woods, onto the beach. It was just getting really dark. Doug told me to run and he—he told me not to worry, that he’d be okay.” He fought tears. “Then he ran toward them. I—I hid in the bushes. I could barely see. The men were shouting. I would’ve gone too, but Doug said, you know. And I thought maybe they were going to…”

  “Were going to what?”

  “Well, just threaten them, I guess.”

  “You said they were shouting. In Spanish?”

  “Yes. I’m sure of that. But I don’t speak Spanish. You know that.” He shook his head, his face pained with helplessness.

  “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out. Did you hear any names? Any distinct words at all?”

  He shook his head.

  “All right.” I nodded my head, stalling, trying to think.

  “Horses leave hoof prints,” Chris said, his eyes bright with his revelation.

  “Yes,” I nodded some more. “At daybreak, we’ll head down there and see what we can find out.” I doubted we’d find anything, especially prints in the sand, but it was all we had. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that.

  I turned back to Noah, hands on my hips. “Now your turn. How’d you end up here? What’s José’s story? Give me the whole rundown.”

  “Not much to tell. José is a biologist. He’s passionate about the turtles and this program, but not a combative type. I guess about six months ago, rumors started up the coast, then a few incidents just south of here. He got worried and started asking different NGOs for advice. I got wind of it, and since we’d done our job in Costa Rica, I was looking for a new project. Doug and I were on board immediately.”

  “So that’s why you and Doug were the ones talking with the officer? José had asked you specifically to deal with the poacher threat?”

  He nodded.

  “And you didn’t take the officer’s warning seriously?”

  “I was…handling it.”

  “Handling it?”

  “Hey, don’t blame me. How could I know that—” His shoulders slumped and a puff of breath released from his chest. “José has everything set up here, kids coming from around the world to help the turtles.”

  I nodded, understanding now.

  “We couldn’t just abandon little Poppy. She’d never have had the chance to hatch last night, then scurry with those tiny little flippers across the sand, and out to sea, where she belongs.”

  I sighed, dropped my hands from my hips. Chris looked like he’d been dragged through the sand. I glanced out the door at the night sky. “All right, if we head back down the beach, cautiously, we’ll arrive around dawn. Let’s go see what we can find out. Then we’ll decide about the police.”

  With Chris as my shadow, we made our way down the shoreline. I had no idea what we might find. The odds were, nothing. But we had to try.

  Acid roiled in my stomach. Chris must have been out of his mind. I couldn’t bear it. What if we didn’t get them back? What if Doug was gone forever and we’d never know what happened to him? And what about the girls? They could’ve already been on a boat to god-knows-where, sold as sex slaves. Or worse. I shook, anger growing in me as the truth of it settled in. I had to catch these bastards. I had to.

  Right now, there was no time for emotion. I had to focus. Be objective. Find out what I could and make good conclusions.

  José had been right—the arribada was in full swing, thousands of turtles in a simultaneous emergence from the sea. Though at this early morning hour, any turtles still on the beach were headed back to the water. What an amazing miracle of nature. Of course humans would exploit it. The vicious and greedy. All they see is dollar signs, and don’t have the slightest reverence for these beautiful creatures. If it weren’t for the situation, I would have marveled at it. But under the circumstances, the turtles were simply obstacles in our path. We walked a meandering path avoiding them.

  As we arrived at the scene where we were sure the attack had taken place, the sun popped up over the horizon and lit the sky a rosy pink. Empty eggshells lay strewn about. Vultures swooped down from the treetops, going after the easy pickings. A couple stray dogs wandered the beach, digging up nests.

  “Let’s be careful not to walk over the tracks or impact any clues that might still be here,” I said. “We need to take it slow and do this right.”

  “How do you want to proceed?” Noah asked.

  “It’s obvious there were horses here.” I pointed to an area where the tide had gone out and the wet sand was overturned in different patterns than the turtles make. “If we follow this line into the woods, we might see distinct tracks that show direction.”

  “What’s going on down there?” Chris asked, looking further south.

  A wake of vultures milled about in one spot, wings flapping, individuals pecking at each other.

  “I’ll check it out,” Noah said and headed that way.

  “C’mon,” I said to Chris. “Let’s find a clue. Maybe someone dropped something. Or a hoof print will lead us on their trail.”

  We poked around, followed some indentations that looked like hoof prints toward the treeline, but in the dry sand, we really couldn’t tell. It was as though the men rode in, and back out again, on ghost horses.

  Noah circled back.

  “Anything?”

  “Signs of poaching down there. Nothing you want to see.”

  “Anything that can help
us?”

  “They weren’t just taking the eggs. There are quite a few dead turtles down there. The meat carved out and the carcass left. Looks like they used a machete to—”

  “You know what, I don’t want to know.”

  He nodded in understanding. “They didn’t get many, I don’t think. Maybe they saw José and the group coming and fled.”

  Chris squeezed my hand and whispered. “I heard something.”

  “Like what?”

  “Voices.”

  The three of us instantly dropped to a squat and duckwalked into the foliage.

  “From which way?” I whispered.

  Chris pointed inland.

  “Stay here,” I said. I crept forward, trying to get a clear view. Then I heard the voices myself. Male voices. Then again, louder. Then I saw them. It was the two boys. They were lying on the ground, face down, their arms tied behind their backs. I rose from the bushes. “Are you all right?”

  “Oh thank god!” Justin bellowed.

  I scanned the area before moving toward them. As I did, I turned back to Noah. “I need you to keep a lookout.”

  He nodded and turned his back to us, watching into the woods as I approached the boys.

  “They zip-tied our wrists and ankles,” the other boy said, bubbling with anger.

  Justin’s eyes cut to my belt. “You have a gun.”

  “It’s okay. I’m a federal agent.”

  “You are?” His relief immediately turned to confusion. His eyes flitted to Noah and Chris as they came up behind me.

  “I’ll explain later. Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”

  They both tried to answer at once.

  “One at a time.” I pointed at the taller boy. He seemed the more calm of the two. “You…” Damn, what was his name?

  “Tyler,” he offered. “I’ve got a jackknife in my pocket, but we couldn’t get it.” He flipped on his side. “I was a Boy Scout,” he said with disappointment, as though he felt any true Boy Scout should have been able to cut himself free by now.

  I drew the knife from his pocket, flipped it open, and cut their bindings.