Blake (Lighthouse Security Investigations Book 5)

by Maryann Jordan

  Glancing at the sun, she ascertained they were traveling northwest. That would have them leaving Cayenne, but she had no idea of their destination—or what was lying in wait for her at the end of the journey.

  Staring at a map of French Guiana, Blake, François, and Superintendent Moreau listened as Josh reported on what he was finding.

  “So far, it looks like she still has her phone in her bag, and hopefully, it’s on her person,” Josh said. “Location services are turned on. Right now, she is traveling west. She’s no longer on the water, but on the N1. Taking the information given to you plus what we’re finding from our end, there’s a very good chance that the kidnappers are working for one of the wealthiest drug transporters in the country. I’m still researching the tattoo.”

  Superintendent Monroe nodded, his mouth tight. “Latin American drug gangs exploit the poor in our country, particularly the migrants who are here but cannot find work. Unfortunately, my country suffers from poverty and high youth unemployment, providing a steady supply of people willing to move drugs.”

  “And the jewelry robbery?” Blake asked.

  The Superintendent and François shared a look, but Blake was not willing to be left out of the discussion. “I need everything you’ve got. Do not fucking hold out on me.”

  “There are some wealthy French Guiana citizens who have established compounds deep in the Amazon rainforests. They live like kings and have a network of people who work for them. The more money they have, the more drugs they can buy to pass on to amass even greater wealth,” François said. “The tattoo you identified, a snake forming the letter ‘B’, is the mark for René Boutillier. Little is known about him other than he is wealthy, lives in Maripasoula on the Lawa River, and so far, has been untouchable.”

  Blake, his jaw growing tighter with each passing moment, growled, “If he’s the one who has Sara, consider him touched.”

  Mace cut through the tension. “Okay, with that, Josh is looking at ways they could get to Mariposoula. It would have been helpful to know this information a few hours ago.”

  The Superintendent bristled but said nothing.

  Josh continued. “They could travel on water, going onto the Lawa River, but they are now on land, so unless they have water transportation further south, that would take a long time. What about the roads?”

  “The roads along the coastline in our country are in good condition, but the farther you get into the Amazon, they are not as well kept. Air travel is better,” François added, staring at the map.

  Looking up sharply, Blake asked, “Can we get there by air?”

  Nodding, the Superintendent replied, “Yes, but the problem will be getting there and not being identified.” He looked at François. “What about going part of the way by air and then traveling by land?”

  Blake’s gaze followed François’ finger as he pointed on the map.

  “If we try to fly into the tiny airport of Maripasoula, there is no way René Boutillier will not know we are there. He has eyes everywhere in that area. If we fly to Grand Santi, we should be able to get off unnoticed, and then travel on by land.”

  “Land or boat?” Josh cut in.

  “It’s fifty miles between the two towns, and as rough as the road is, it will be faster by land,” François said. “We can have transportation and clothing that lets us blend into the area and can move unheeded. Coming back, we’ll come by boat.”

  “Why?”

  “Once she’s rescued and with us, Boutillier will be looking for her. They’ll have the roads and airports watched.”

  “Blake, your call,” Mace declared.

  “Given the information we have right now, that’s the best plan.” He spoke without hesitation, holding Superintendent Moreau’s gaze. “When we get there, my mission is to get Sara Lancaster out in any way that I see fit. That’s what’s going to happen, whether you agree or not. I’m just giving you the courtesy of letting you know ahead of time.”

  He saw a muscle twitch in the Superintendent’s cheek but received a curt nod in reply. Blake glanced toward François and offered a raised eyebrow in silent question.

  “Agreed,” François said. “I’ll make the arrangements now.”

  Blake turned his attention back to the phone. “I’ll get outfitted with everything I can, but I’m going in without our usual armaments and equipment.”

  François’ lips quirked upward. “We’ll be prepared.”

  “Blake, let us know as soon as you’re ready to leave,” Mace said. “Superintendent Moreau? We thank you for your assistance.”

  “I wish we had the opportunity to meet under better circumstances, Mr. Hanover,” the Superintendent said. “I give you my personal assurance that we will do all we can to assist getting Ms. Lancaster safely back.”

  Not wanting to waste another moment, Blake followed François out of the Superintendent’s office, and they walked briskly down the hall. Going downstairs to the basement, they entered a room labeled Équipement et Armes. Stepping inside, he felt a sigh of relief slip from his lungs at the sight of the weapons and radios. “Is everything available to us?”

  François followed Blake’s gaze and nodded while advising, “We want to be careful in case we get stopped by someone.”

  Blake’s hard voice cut through the air. “I won’t be caught. I go in, get Sara, and get out. Period.”

  François turned and looked at him, his gaze penetrating. “There’s more to you than just a civilian working for a security company.”

  Not about to get into his background with a man he did not know, he offered a chin lift. “I’m trained. That’s all you need to know.”

  By the time they took the equipment and weapons needed and walked back to the Superintendent’s office, Blake was relieved to find that their transportation to the airport at Cayenne had been arranged. Giving Josh his radio information, he and François walked out of the police headquarters and climbed into a nondescript SUV parked on the side of the street.

  François settled behind the wheel and pulled out onto the main road. The city streets were crowded, but Blake barely registered the sights. They passed concrete buildings, many with storefronts on the bottom and apartments above. The town was large by French Guiana standards, but it did not take them long to move out of the traffic and onto the road toward the airport. Trees and thick jungle began to fill the sides of the road, taking the place of the buildings. The airport was ten miles from the edge of town, and Blake wondered about the road conditions in the rest of the country if the potholes on this main road were anything to go by.

  François pulled up to a gate outside the airport and flashed his badge. Two men in beige military uniforms with automatic rifles slung over their shoulders waved them through the gate.

  “Superintendent Moreau arranged for us to fly to Grand Santi. I’ll warn you...it’s a no-frills flight. I’m your tour guide, taking an American into the Amazon. The pilot is used to this kind of arrangement, so we’ll have no trouble from him. This will make it easy for you to not have to worry about only speaking English.”

  Brow lifted, he asked, “Do you get a lot of tourists traveling to the Amazon here?”

  “Actually, yes, we do. Besides those who want to see the remains of the prison on Devil’s Island, there is also the Kourou Space Center. Biologists and ecologists come here because of the leatherback sea turtles that lay their eggs on our beaches. And since we are an overseas Department of France, we’re the only stretch of the Amazon that’s in the Euro zone.”

  They drove past the terminal and over to a small plane parked to the side. Continuing, François added, “Many people want to experience the Amazon rainforests, so tourists are plentiful.”

  Blake looked at the rumpled appearance of the man leaning against the airplane and wondered if that was their pilot.

  François chuckled. “I can hear your unspoken question as loud as if you had shouted it. Yes, that’s our pilot. I assure you, he’s good.”

  Hating
that he had given away his doubt, Blake said nothing. They alighted from the parked SUV and François made the introductions.

  “This is Emil, our pilot.” He then spoke in French to Emil, and Blake watched as Emil placed their bags into the plane. To go with their cover, François had provided them both with duffel bags, presumably filled with clothes and cameras. Taking a look around, he climbed aboard the small plane and buckled into one of the seats in the back.

  As the plane lifted from the ground, he settled his mind firmly on his mission and once again prayed that Sara was still alive and unharmed.

  6

  Sara was glad they were staying on a main highway. Determined to keep her wits about her, she watched as they passed by several towns, recognizing the names on the signs. Tonate. Kourou. So far, the kidnappers had not deviated from their continued travels.

  After another hour, they pulled off the main road toward Sinnamary, and she wondered if that was where they were going to get out. A sign for an airport appeared, and her heart sank as they made the turn to follow the sign. An airport? Oh, my God, we could be going anywhere!

  The terminal was a small building, but just as she feared, the Jeep drove past. The entire airport was tiny, but she hoped that once inside, she might be able to get some help. She watched as the driver continued to a small plane at the end of the runway. Damn...I can’t get to anybody to help.

  The dirty plane with patches of rust on it appeared to be as unsafe as the old Jeep, and the thought slammed into her that her demise might come when they plunged from the sky.

  Just as when she was getting out of the boat, the others climbed out first with the leader still behind her, nudging her with the butt of his gun. She stepped over the edge of the Jeep and stood on the concrete runway, uncertainty filling her. With cleared flat land all around to the edge of the jungle, she had no place to hide nor any place to run.

  The pilot looked at them and began to shout in French. “Yann, you did not say you had someone else with you. This is a four-seater. I can’t take anybody else.”

  The leader shrugged. “She was our insurance. We needed her to make sure we could get away.”

  “Well, I’ve got no room for her, so she has to stay,” the pilot retorted.

  Panic descended, and she feared they were going to kill her since they had no room in the plane. It was increasingly harder to try to keep her face blank, the muscles quivering again. Her arms clutched her middle, and she lowered her gaze to the ground, willing her breathing to steady.

  “I think Monsieur Boutillier will consider her a gift,” Yann continued. “She can sit on the floor.”

  She lifted her eyes just enough to watch the pilot rub his chin in thought. It had been hours since she had eaten breakfast but was now glad, uncertain that any food in her stomach would have stayed there with the fear churning through her.

  Finally nodding, the pilot turned away, grumbling to himself. “It’s no matter to me. I get paid one way or the other.”

  The first two thieves climbed onto the wing of the plane, ducking their heads as they moved inside, one settling in the co-pilot seat and the other in a backseat, tucking the bag of stolen jewels underneath his seat. The leader, who she now knew was Yann, jerked his head in the direction of the plane. “Go.”

  She stood, rooted to the ground, her feet unmoving while she stared numbly toward the aircraft. Fatigue and fear combined to shut her mind down. Yann grabbed her upper arm roughly and shoved her forward. He half lifted her up onto the wing of the plane, the pain of his grip now cutting through the mental fog, and she gasped. Crawling on her hands and knees toward the door, she climbed through, then waited.

  Yann climbed in after her, then ordered, “Sit,” as he placed a hand on her shoulder and pushed.

  Her knees buckled, and she plopped unceremoniously onto the hard metal floor of the plane. He stepped over her and sat in the remaining empty seat, buckling in. It dawned on her that she had no restraints, and if the plane had any problems at all she would easily be injured if she was tossed around. She emitted a slight snort at the thought that bumps and bruises inside a plane were the least of her worries.

  The pilot flipped switches and pulled on levers, but the engine did not engage when he turned the key. He began the sequence over again as sweat dripped off his face, and it was in Sara’s nature to say a prayer, only this time she had no idea what to pray for.

  The engine finally started, and the pilot belted out a laugh that sounded more like relief as they rolled to the end of the short runway. Revving the engine, they gained speed, and she was suddenly very glad that she was sitting on the floor and could not see out the windows. The idea that they might not clear the trees in the distance caused her to shake more than the rattle of the plane.

  Closing her eyes tightly, she sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, her feet spread apart for stability and her arms wrapped around the bottom of the seats on either side of her. Pressing her head down, her forehead rested on her knees.

  The nose of the plane lifted, and her body rocked backward. Her hands clutching the metal seats were the only thing that kept her from tumbling onto her back. Unlike a huge jet that would ascend to a great altitude, their plane quickly leveled, and she assumed they were not high over the treetops.

  Chancing a glance upward, she observed one of the men sitting next to her with his head leaned back and his eyes closed as though he did not have a care in the world. On the other side, Yann had moved his gun, no longer needing it to control her. His eyes were also closed, but she was uncertain that he was asleep.

  Shifting slightly, searching for a more comfortable position, she sucked in a deep breath as quietly as she could before letting it out slowly. Her purse was still hanging about her neck, and it shifted it out of her way, then jolted as a thought hit her. They haven’t taken it...they haven’t discovered my phone! She had no idea if anyone was looking for her but knew her phone’s location device was still turned on. Maybe—just maybe—someone would think to search. The idea that it might be Blake moved through her mind, and she closed her eyes, the image of him smiling at her over the breakfast table giving her a small measure of peace.

  Unlike the other passengers, there was no rest for Sara. She felt every bump and lurch of turbulence. Her stomach plummeted more times than she could count. Afraid to pull her cell phone out, not wanting to remind them that she still had it, she watched them carefully. When no one but the pilot had moved for a long time, she slipped her hand into her purse, praying that they were asleep. Her fingers discovered her phone and she pulled it ever so slowly to the top of her bag. The last text she had sent was to her translator roommate. Not taking the time to search for another contact, she typed ‘help’ and hit send before her captors awoke.

  Shaking, she tried to still her mind. A tear rolled down her cheek and fell unheeded onto her shirt. Closing her eyes, she thought of her mother and how devastated she would be when she learned about the kidnapping. Her mind turned to Blake, and she wondered once again if he was thinking of her.

  Before sliding her phone back into her purse, she glanced at the time. She had now been officially kidnapped for six hours. Dragged across a beach, thrown into a boat, taken for a drive, and now in a plane. She almost laughed, wondering if a train ride was in her near future, thinking that was about the only mode of transportation she had not been forced into during the last few hours.

  Her bottom was numb, and her legs were sore. She moved them slightly, trying to stay aware of the two men beside her. Both were now snoring, and her movements did not seem to disturb them. She rocked from side to side, but that did little to relieve the pain in her ass.

  With the engine roar so loud, she realized she did not have to be completely quiet to keep her movements from being noticed. She shifted again, this time coming to a squat. Her legs screamed in protest, but it felt good to stretch her muscles. With a few inches of added height, she could now see out one of the windows. All that was before her was
blue sky above and green trees below. The Amazon. It was like a green ocean below as far as she could see.

  Not having any desire to look outside anymore, she settled back down on the hard, cold metal floor of the plane. It did not take long for her mind to become as numb as her ass.

  Blake and François landed at the Grand Santi airport, Emil efficiently setting down with very few bumps. Impressed, Blake thought of Drew, who was also a pilot. Jesus, I wish Drew was with me right now.

  After the plane taxied to a small hanger, he alighted, turning to thank the pilot. Once they were out of hearing range, he said, “Is our transportation here?” It was now late afternoon, and he did not want to waste any time.

  François nodded, and they walked to the back of the hangar where an old Jeep was sitting. “I know it looks rough, but I promise it’s in good condition. We have a few that we keep looking worn-out on the outside so that we blend in better to our surroundings without looking like the police or military.”

  Impressed with the foresight, Blake climbed into the passenger seat and listened with interest as the engine fired. François soon had them on the road leaving the airport heading toward the town of Grand Santi.

  “If you look in the back, there should be food. Our police contact was to make sure we had something we could eat.”

  Leaning around, Blake grabbed the rucksack that was sitting on the floorboard behind the driver’s seat. Opening it, he handed François a bottle of water after unscrewing the top. Taking a long sip out of his own bottle, he wondered if Sara had been given any food or drink. That thought almost soured any desire to eat anything himself, but he knew in order to rescue her he had to be at his best.

  He contacted Josh, receiving the reply that LSI had his location monitored. “According to François, it will take two hours to get to Maripasoula. He has an idea where the compound is, but I want everything you can get from a satellite sent to me.”