by S. D. BROWN
"Trace didn't say. All I know is that I have to rescue Dad before tomorrow or he's dead."
"How do you plan to do that?"
"I don't know, but I'll think of something." He pulled the car back onto the road. "If I could just figure out where they've got him."
"I'll do whatever I can to help."
"Thanks."
My phone rang. I looked at the caller ID. Uncle Monte. "Hi Uncle Monte."
"Where are you?" he asked.
"Driving back to Cancun from the pyramids."
"It's time to bring the boy in."
"Great."
Bring J.T. in? That wasn't part of the plan. I looked at J.T. and smiled. "So you're changing the theme of the party?"
"The pictures aren't enough to get the dad to talk. It's not the emotional blackmail we'd hoped for."
"I'd love to. What should I wear? Formal or casual dress?"
"Here are the coordinates of where to bring him." He rattled off some numbers.
"Can I bring a friend?" I asked and winked at J.T.
"Get him here by midnight."
"Okay, bye." I transferred my attention to J.T. "Let's brainstorm. Has anything strange happened? Or out of the ordinary?"
He wriggled a crumpled letter from his pocket and handed it to me. It was from his dad. I read it. This was fantastic. It provided the perfect opportunity to give J.T. the coordinates he wanted so I could deliver him to Uncle Monte. I'd just have to carefully plant the seeds and let J.T. think going there was his idea.
"When did you get this?" I asked.
"It was waiting for me when I arrived, but I didn't read it right away."
"And did you call your grandfather?"
"Yeah. The only weird thing is that Gramps doesn't play golf."
"That's not the only weird thing. The Isla Contoy is a small island and a protected national park with supervised eco-tourism. It doesn't have a golf course. And there's not a North Avenue, either."
"I've got it!" J.T. let out a whoop. "The numbers must be a GPS location. How far away is this island?"
"Not too far." I pulled a map from the glove box and made a show of studying it. "The road we're on ends at Puerto Juarez. From there it's a little over an hour's speedboat ride to the island." I knew he'd want to leave immediately, but I didn't want to seem too eager, so I added. "We can leave early in the morning."
"You mean, tonight."
"Look at the sky," I said. "It looks like a storm is coming in."
"I don't care," he said. "It's my dad were talking about here. I'm going to take the risk. I'll understand if you don't want to."
"No," I said, feeling a sudden twinge of guilt. "I'll be right by your side."
20: J.T.
Trust in the LORD with all thine heart;
Proverbs 2:5a
Puerto Juarez
Yucatan Peninsula
It was getting late. The sky had turned ugly. From the ocean came a steady salt breeze and I wished I'd brought my Diamondback hoody.
We'd got to Puerto Juarez around 3:00 pm and started looking for a boat. Now it was 5:00. I was getting impatient. Juan's Deep Sea Fishing was the fourth place we tried.
"Tell him, I don't care how much it costs. I'll pay." I couldn't stop pacing. It felt like I'd been tasered with a thousand electrified adrenalin darts.
Rena spoke to the man in Spanish. She sounded cool and collected. Business-like.
He didn't answer her. Instead he kept shaking his head and repeatedly swatted the air. She paused.
Finally he said something.
She translated. "He says it's too late in the day. And the weather doesn't look good. Says a huge thunderstorm is forming on the radar. He wants us to come back tomorrow."
"Nooooo," I said, trying to keep the whine from my voice. "Dad could be dead by then." I popped my knuckles and tried to think.
Rena said something else in Spanish.
This time the man took longer to answer.
"He says that if he rents us a boat with a storm coming in and something happens to the boat, the insurance company won't pay."
It made me mad when the man laughed like we were a couple of stupid kids.
"Tell him I want to buy his boat. I'll use Dad's credit card."
The man stopped, turned to face me and winked. "What's the limit on the card?" he asked in perfect English.
"Enough." I wasn't going to tell him Dad had a $100,000 credit. "How much for that one?" I pointed to the dark blue Bayliner.
"Twenty thousand."
"I'll take it."
"That's too much," Rena said. "It's used."
"It's a deal," I said. "Here, run the card."
The man came back smiling. "Lucky for me, you have expensive tastes. And a nice allowance." He laughed. "Need a personal guide?"
"No. We're good."
I helped Rena into the boat and tossed her a life jacket. She wasn't looking, and it knocked her sunglasses into the water. She leaned over the side and grabbed empty air. For a moment I thought she was going to jump in after them. And then she sank down realizing it was pointless. They were gone.
"Sorry," I said. "I'll buy you a new pair."
"It's okay," she said, but I could tell she was a little upset because she got quiet.
I untied the ropes that kept the boat from floating off, jumped in and started the engine. A blast of water shot from the stern and pushed us away from the dock.
"You know how to run a boat?" she said as I steered though the marina dodging watercraft coming into port.
"It's kind of like driving a car. Right?"
"You better turn on the GPS tracking system, so we don't get lost."
"This thing?" I flipped a switch. The monitor lit up with a map of the Yucatan. Latitude and longitude coordinates ran across the top and down the right side. Other than that, it was like using a Google map search. With an added blinking red light to show our current location.
Five minutes later we were in open sea. I pushed down on the throttle hard and the boat raised-up and seemed to skim across the water like it was flying. A fine mist of seawater fogged the windshield and I had to stand up to drive.
"Isla Contoy, here we come!" I shouted.
A brown pelican flew across the bow, circled low and dived into our wake.
Rena moved up and huddled in the front of the boat shivering. "I guess I should be careful what I wish for," she said.
"What do you mean?"
"This morning it was so hot, I wished for a cold snap."
"Then wish we find my dad in time." I pointed to the long skinny outline of an island on the GPS screen. There's the Isla Contoy. Looks small."
She nodded. "Yeah, it's only about five miles long and in some places only a hundred meters wide. Our coordinates are for the east tip."
"It's a good thing it's getting dark. If this is where they're holding my dad, they won't see us coming."
"It's good for another reason. Since it was made into an eco-sanctuary, they limit the number of visitors to 200 a day. And they're not allowed to stay after sundown."
"If they're that strict, it's making me wonder if this is the right place. How did Santana manage to set up shop?"
"I don't know." She bit her lower lip and looked at the horizon. "Does this have running lights?"
I nodded.
"We should probably turn them on. We don't want to get run down by another boat. We can turn them off when we reach the island."
I flipped the switch. "At least we're making good time," I said glancing at the GPS. "We're halfway there."
The running lights glowed and reflected off the water. From a distance I imagined we looked like a low flying spaceship in a cocoon of black light. It was like we were alone in time and space and nothing existed but us.
Rena must have felt it, too.
"J.T.?"
"Yeah."
"There's something I need to tell you, because I consider you a friend and I want you to understand why. . ." Her voice
faltered. "I don't want you to hate me."
"What are you talking about?"
"I haven't been totally honest with you."
"That's okay. Nobody is."
She sucked in a deep breath and held it for a minute. "I live in what you Americans call a foster home. My real parents are dead."
"What happened to them?"
"They were killed in a supposed hit-and-run car accident, but it wasn't an accident. I was there. I know the man killed them on purpose. He rammed our car three times before he took off."
"That's harsh. I'm sorry."
"I hate him."
"Don't blame you. I would, too."
She looked at me, tears welling. "The man was never caught and I've made it my mission to see that he's punished. You understand, don't you?"
I put my arm around her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze. It wasn't a romantic thing. Just a friend-to-friend hug thing.
Tears streaked down her cheeks. Her voice started breaking up like it had a bad connection.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "But I can't let anything or anyone get in the way."
"Don't worry about it. Just do what you have to do."
We traveled the last half hour in silence. Each of us in our own heads. I'm sure she continued to think about losing her parents. Well I didn't want to lose Dad. I wouldn't. Like Rena, I'd do what I had to and not let anything or anyone get in my way.
The dark clouds overhead split and pelted down rain. By the time we reached the island we were both drenched.
When we were about a quarter mile out, I switched off the running lights, slowed to a crawl and navigated using the GPS screen. We were close.
"Hope there's nothing underwater to run into," I said.
"It should be fine." She sounded like her old self. "The island is surrounded by shallow sand bars. No rocks. Maybe one day you can visit during daylight. Because the island is located in the transition zone between the warm, clear waters of the Caribbean and the deep, cold waters of the Gulf of Mexico. It's supposed to look fascinating."
The rain stopped as quickly as it started. The dark clouds became patchy with pockets of stars peeking through. It made it easier to navigate. I just hoped no one on the island was looking our way.
I turned off the motor and we were encased in silence. The only sounds were the gentle lapping of water against the side of the boat and the occasional screech of a bird.
"I'm going to see how deep the water is." I took off my life vest and slipped into the ocean. It was surprisingly warm, like bath water. "Hey, I can touch bottom. Toss me that rope. I'll tow the boat as close to shore as we can get it."
"There are hundreds of marine birds nesting here and over 150 species," Rena whispered. "Mangroves cover 70% of the island."
The high clouds grew thinner and the stars brighter. Uncovered, the moon blazed bright. By the time I reached the shore I could see the dense oasis of trees. There were no mountains, but a lot of plant life. Tall coconut palms silhouetted in the night sky were dwarfed by a 300-foot lighthouse.
"That's the place," Rena said, pointing at its looming shadow. "21, 31 North."
I pulled the boat up high on the beach and helped her out.
She gave a little squeal and clapped her hand over her mouth. I looked down and saw why. The sand looked alive. Scuttling little crabs darted in every direction.
"Come on," I grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the tree line.
Once under the cover of the overhead limbs, we crept silently toward the lighthouse. We reached the cleared perimeter and I spotted a guard armed with what looked like an automatic machine gun.
That's when I realized we were way out of our league. I wasn't a ninja spy. I was just a fourteen-year odd basketball player who liked rock climbing. And to think I could take down armed guards without a weapon was ridiculous. I could see only one option. It was time to call in the authorities. I reached for my cell. A sick feeling crawled into my stomach as my hand slid into my wet pants pocket. Wet pocket meant a wet phone.
It was dead. Pantomiming for her to try her cell had the same results. We were on our own.
I put my finger to my lips and pointed. Crouching low, I motioned to my eyes and then drew circles in the air to indicate I wanted to check out what was going on before we went any further.
Rena seemed to understand because she nodded and settled against a tree trunk. We watched the area for another ten minutes. All together there I counted five guards outside patrolling.
A muscle in my back kinked so I stood in the shadows and tried to stretch it out. That's when I caught movement just to our right. Rena and I weren’t the only people hiding in the shadows. But what I saw made my jaw drop. It was Rena's new stepdad Harry and he was lip-locked with someone that wasn't her Mom.
It was Dharma. And she was kissing Harry like they were on their honeymoon.
I nudged Rena and pointed. She stood and coughed.
Harry and Dharma pulled apart and turned.
"I was wondering how long it'd take for you to say hello to your dear old dad," Harry said. He pulled out a cell. "Serena has delivered the bait. Where do you want me to put him?"
I stared at Rena.
"Why?" Her betrayal was more than a slap in the face. It was a slug to my gut. "How could you?"
"I told you. I can't let anyone get in the way of punishing the man who killed my parents. I'm sorry, but that man is your father."
21: Serena
Where we have strong emotions, we're liable to fool ourselves.
Carl Sagan
Isla Contoy
Mexican Caribbean
J.T.'s stare wrenched at my heart. His countenance read like the final death gasp in a Shakespearean tragedy. When Romeo found Juliet poisoned in the chapel. But it was my dagger of betrayal that had wounded J.T.
I wished things could be different.
For seven long years, I'd been consumed with one object in mind. Justice for my parents; I couldn't let my warring emotions derail that objective. They would have their revenge. James Thomas Chapman would be punished. Humanely. Swiftly. Painlessly.
And J.T. would hate me forever. It was the price of his father's betrayal.
"I'll take the boy to the lighthouse," Harry said to Dharma. He pointed a pistol at J.T. "Take Serena to Mr. Santana."
"Come on Serena," Dharma said, grabbing my arm and squeezed hard. She started dragging me toward the two-story building connected to the lighthouse. In the moonlight, the structures gleamed white.
"Hey!" I jerked my arm free. "You do realize I'm Uncle Monte's ward."
"So you say," she said, sounding like she was the queen of mean and proud of it. What kind of double agent game was she playing? Didn't she realize as soon as I saw Uncle Monte I would expose her? Maybe that's why she'd been so rough. Her last hurrah.
She shoved me. "Keep moving. I don't have all night."
Uncle Monte sat in front of a monitor and jerked his goatee left and right in what I recognized as annoyance. He watched a video feed from a minuscule room on screen. Perhaps a closet, and in its center a huge heap of what looked like ten years of soiled cleaning rags.
"Uncle Monte!" I ran to him and gave him a hug. I whispered in his ear. "Dharma works for the enemy. She's a spy."
He chuckled. "Indeed she is, but she works for me. We planted her in Madison Hunter almost a year ago. It's worked well."
"Oh," I said.
"You may leave," he said to Dharma. "I want to speak with Serena in private. We have much to talk about."
"Yes, sir," she said and left.
"You've done well," he said. "Exceeded my expectations. Would you like a cup of tea while you debrief?"
"Love one," I said, feeling more shaken that I'd expected at seeing J.T. taken away. "It's only been a couple of days, but I've missed you."
He smiled and pointed to a tea tray on the sideboard. "Would you like to do the honors?"
"Glad to."
We settled in a pair
of straight back wooden chairs. I had questions, but I'd wait.
"You know," he said. "The future rewards those who press on. How does it feel now that your revenge is almost complete?"
"A little bittersweet."
"So you like the boy. Feel like you've betrayed his trust?"
"Yes, but I know it was necessary. Part of the job. I am a professional and this wasn't my first mission."
He nodded and sipped some tea. "It's true. In this profession you don't have time to feel. Or have strong emotions. Such sentimentality is destructive."
"I've missed your philosophical observations."
He sat in thoughtful silence for a long while. He was prone to withdraw into himself and so I waited. Looked about the room and finished my tea. Watched the monitor. What? I blinked hard several times to make sure my eyes weren't playing tricks. The heap of rags shifted ever so slightly. Like it was alive.
I felt Uncle Monte's eyes on me. Finally he spoke. "What do you remember about your last mission before this one?"
I stared at him, trying to dredge up the memory. It was strange. I couldn't remember one single detail. "I . . ."
"Can you remember anything about any of your previous missions?"
"No," I said, feeling suddenly confused. "I just remember that I've been on lots of them."
He smiled, but somehow it didn't include me. It was more like he was studying me. Kind of like the troll under the bridge in a fairy tale.
A shiver prickled the mole on my neck. What was wrong? Why couldn't I remember? What had Uncle Monte done to me?
"Good. You've learned your lessons well. It's important to live in the present moment. It's not wise to dwell in the past, or to dream of the future."
"And concentrate the mind in the present moment," I said like I was repeating a familiar mantra. I couldn't stop. More words spilled out. "And if some animals are good at hunting and others are suitable for hunting, then the gods must clearly smile on hunting."
He clapped his hands in delight. "Yes! Total success."
"What do you mean?"