Wired Courage

by Toby Neal

  Sophie had been to Connor’s cliffside aerie before, so she was used to the beauty of the custom-made home high on the bluffs. Seeing it fresh through Jake’s and Rhinehart’s eyes, she didn’t blame the men for the awed silence with which they’d first viewed the mansion, an exquisite rendering in native wood and stone, a perfect marriage of cultures.

  Nam, Connor’s houseman, had set up a projection screen on one wall of the dining room along with a whiteboard. Connor lowered burnished metal, bulletproof blinds to cut the sun streaming through floor-to-ceiling sliding doors that provided a brilliant and distracting view of turquoise sea and tiny, fertile atolls far below the bluffs on which the house was perched.

  He projected a satellite photo of the Yām Khûmkạn’s elaborate stone temple stronghold onto the white screen. He flicked on a laser pointer and pointed out the main building, a pyramid-like structure of elaborately carved, lichen-covered stone. “I have been trying, since Pim Wat began attempting to recruit Sophie to go to this stronghold, to get eyes and ears inside this place—but it’s the most locked down fortress I’ve come across. Everyone who goes in or out has some loyalty or association with the Yām Khûmkạn, and they are feared. I can’t find anyone to take my bribes.” Connor glanced at Rhinehart. “Thoughts?”

  “We often don’t have much on the place where the target is being held, but that’s never stopped us before.” Rhinehart was a fireplug of a man, heavily muscled as if making up for lack of height with breadth. A low-slung jaw and cauliflower ears completed the visage of a thug, but Rhinehart’s small brown eyes glittered with intelligence. “We still haven’t heard what the takers want.”

  Sophie lifted a finger to get the table’s attention. “If by ‘takers’ you mean my mother, we may not hear from her at all. I gave this a lot of thought on the way over. Best case scenario: Pim Wat wants something specific from me, something she’s been trying to get since she contacted me. I’ll hear from her about that, and we’ll move forward with some kind of negotiation.”

  “You will not go into danger at that fortress,” Jake said through his teeth.

  Sophie ignored him, holding up her finger. “Or, Pim Wat won’t contact me. She has my daughter for herself for whatever reason. I may never hear from my mother.”

  Everyone stilled at these words. Sophie went on. “Pim Wat has been frustrated with me for years now. She has repeatedly told me I am not the biddable child I was, clay to be molded to her wishes. Perhaps she simply took my baby and means to raise her instead.”

  “Nasty thought.” Rhinehart inclined his buzz-cut head in Sophie’s direction. “But not out of the realm of possibility with this woman, though she hardly seems the nurturing type, with the patience to raise a newborn.”

  “You forget. She has Armita, my former nanny,” Sophie said. “Pim Wat can have all of the benefits and none of the hard work of raising a child with my baby in Armita’s capable hands.” Her nanny’s betrayal still hurt more than it should.

  Rhinehart nodded. “I had time to read the file Mr. Hamilton has assembled on your mother on the way over, and . . . she’s a real piece of work, if you don’t mind my saying. This kidnapping isn’t the usual grab for cash we deal with.”

  “It’s not. It never was,” Connor looked back down at his tablet. “We still have satellite imagery and can map the stronghold from the outside. I’ve also been able to use some leverage on one of the Yām Khûmkạn’s kitchen suppliers to get a bug into the place. Unfortunately, he planted it in a shitty area. They have signal dampeners in place, so I can’t even get that data out.”

  “Let’s move forward as if we know she’s in there,” Jake said. “How are we going to penetrate and get Momi out?”

  The discussion was long.

  Nam brought in steaming plates of rice, fish and vegetables, and they ate while working. Rhinehart, taking the lead, drew approach ideas on clear Plexiglas set over a blown-up satellite image of the compound and the surrounding jungle.

  Sophie, who hadn’t slept during the entire eighteen-hour flight, felt exhaustion pulling at her limbs. Her breasts throbbed—she had to do something about the milk hardening them. “I need to get some rest. I will be back in a couple of hours.”

  “Let me walk you to our room.” Jake got up and followed Sophie into the beautiful courtyard with its fountain statue of Quan Yin surrounded by tropical plants. Sophie led him to the guest quarters she’d occupied before, a large, airy room with an attached seating area and a sliding glass door leading out to a balcony overlooking a spectacular view.

  Her bag rested on one side of the bed, and Jake’s on the other—Nam had brought their belongings in when they arrived. Sophie stared at the bags, wondering what to do next.

  Depression lapped at Sophie’s consciousness, black oil coating her thoughts. She needed to take that little white pill . . .

  “I would ask Hamilton to put you in another room, but there aren’t any with the extra people here.” Sophie took her duffel off the bed and set it on a chair. She unzipped it and took out a breast pump. “I’d appreciate some privacy.”

  “Come on, Sophie.” Jake sat on the edge of the bed, immovable as a boulder. “Remember, I’ve seen it all. Touched it all. Tasted it all, as a matter of fact.” She shot him a narrowed glare, but he just grinned. “Don’t hold onto being mad. We need each other. Momi needs her parents united, not fighting.”

  Her parents. He said it so naturally. He really did consider Momi his, as much as Alika’s. Sophie sat down slowly on the bed. “You thought I might have killed my baby.”

  “I didn’t. I thought . . .” Jake leaned forward, pushing big hands into his hair, rubbing up and down through the short dark strands. “I thought maybe you sleepwalked. Had a fugue state. I don’t know! I was looking for an explanation. Never did I think you’d have consciously harmed our baby.”

  “Not good enough.” Sophie unbuttoned her blouse and contemplated the wall-like exercise bra flattening her breasts. She pried the bra down to expose one of them, as jutting and hard as if it were in rigor. She applied the plastic suction cup to her nipple and turned the pump on. The apparatus rumbled in her hand, and she winced as suction dragged at her swollen, painful flesh.

  They both watched in fascination as reflex finally kicked in and milk jetted, as if under pressure, into a small holding tank affixed to the pump. Jake’s eyes were wide at the sight. “You’re gonna need to dump that pretty quick.”

  “Such a waste.” Sophie felt tears prickle. “I hate to just throw this milk away when my body made it for her.” Saying Momi’s name was too difficult.

  “You can be a mother to her in other ways,” Jake said.

  Sophie nodded but couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat. When the catcher was full, Jake took it from her hand and dumped it in the bathroom sink without a word. Sophie did the other side, and he dumped that too.

  Relief from the milk’s pressure felt like another kind of pain. She wasn’t going to cry. Not anymore. She was done with tears.

  “Get some rest. You need it.” Jake gave her a gentle push so that she tipped over onto her side, her eyes already closing as her head hit the pillow.

  Sophie let him lift the coverlet and cover her. Felt his lips touch her forehead in a gentle kiss. The lights dimmed, the door shut, and he was gone.

  So was she.

  Chapter Nine

  Day Ten

  Armita looked down at the baby’s tiny face, relaxed in sleep, the pink bud of her mouth slightly open. Sophie’s infant daughter had a full head of glossy black curls, tawny skin, and features that hinted at future beauty. Armita traced the baby’s downy cheek, and Momi’s plump lips turned to follow the touch, making Armita smile.

  Momi would lack for nothing, not even human milk. Armita had arranged for a woman from a nearby village to come in and provide that, and now the wet nurse had gone back to the kitchens.

  Her heart still pounded when she thought of the day Pim Wat had taken Momi, and her arms tightene
d around the baby as memory transported her back to the scene.

  She and the pilot had been waiting two days on the bluff in the scrim of Java plum trees for Pim Wat and her soldiers to return with Sophie Malee. Armita had checked the adult-sized emergency transport pod in the helicopter over and over: the oxygen tank, the coverings, and restraints. Everything had to be perfect. Sophie Malee would be unconscious, and they had to monitor her carefully on the flight because of the pregnancy.

  Suddenly Pim Wat had appeared, bursting out of the trees at a run. She was carrying a yellow-wrapped bundle in her arms, and the soldiers behind her were empty-handed but for their weapons. Where was Sophie Malee?

  Pim Wat reached the helicopter, and the soldier closest opened the side door for her and gave her a hand up the step. Pim Wat thrust the bundle at Armita, speaking in Thai. “Hold this.”

  Armita gasped, looking down at a tiny crumpled face framed in the yellow blanket. “Mistress! What is going on? Where is Sophie Malee?”

  Pim Wat’s face was expressionless as she took her seat and buckled into the four-point harness. “Sophie Malee gave birth early. Easier to take the child than to deal with my daughter. Now that we have the baby, we don’t need her.”

  Armita sat frozen as the men assumed their seats. “But . . . we do need Sophie Malee. She is the baby’s mother.” Armita’s heart thudded and her hands sweated as the pilot warmed up the engine. She tucked the baby between her neck and shoulder, clasping it close.

  “We will stop on the next island and get formula to feed it. The child will be fine.” Pim Wat barked orders at the pilot as she donned her helmet with its built-in comm. “What’s wrong with you, Armita? Put on your helmet and harness.”

  Armita clutched the newborn tightly as the speed of the rotors increased and the sound of the engine rose to a roar. She pressed the baby’s head against her chest, covering the infant’s delicate ears to protect them from the tremendous sound. She could not bring herself to put the child down, even to take care of necessary safety details.

  One of the soldiers, his expression softening slightly, picked up Armita’s helmet and put it on her, buckling the strap under her chin, then securing the four-point harness over her arms as she held the baby against her.

  G-forces pressed them into their seats as the helicopter rose rapidly and then spun, arrowing out from its hiding place, soon reaching top speed over the nearby ocean.

  Armita closed her eyes. Grief swamped her for the suffering her former ward would feel upon the disappearance of her newborn. She snuggled the baby as if through that contact she could somehow comfort the infant’s mother, too. And in the shadow cast by her helmet, Armita surveyed Pim Wat.

  Her mistress’s striking countenance was turned toward the window. Her indifference was palpable; all she cared about was returning to the Master.

  Pim Wat had no compassion, not a breath of love in her body for her own daughter or grandchild, let alone the poor maid who had tried to serve her all these years.

  It wasn’t right.

  Armita had felt the baby wriggle, the vibration of its tiny cry, the touch of its lips rooting against her neck as she held it in the chaos of the helicopter’s flight. She closed her eyes and breathed in the child’s tender, unforgettable milky smell. “I will protect you, little one. I will find a way to bring you home.”

  And she would do that, even if it killed her in the end.

  All of that had led to this moment, and Armita had no regrets. She had reached the end of what she would tolerate from Pim Wat. Sophie’s daughter had her loyalty now.

  Chapter Ten

  Day Eleven

  Sophie stretched, and the dull ache of her body gradually brought her into awareness—but even so, she felt rested. She’d slept a long time.

  She stared up at the woven natural fiber lattice of the ceiling, wondering at the achiness of her body—and recognized her room in Connor’s house on Phi Ni, Thailand.

  Her daughter was missing.

  Sophie surged up so quickly that she fell out of bed, landing on the pandanus matting covering the floor. She groaned as she got up more slowly, rising to hands and knees, then gradually standing.

  Someone had closed the blackout curtains over the sliding glass doors, likely Jake.

  She drew the curtain aside and recoiled from the brightness of sea, sky, and sand on the other side of the balcony far below. She let the curtain fall, frowning—Jake’s bag was gone, and his pillow beside hers, undented. He must have found other accommodation after all.

  Pain in her chest—Sophie hadn’t really meant for him to leave. She would have to find him and tell him that.

  But first, her breasts were causing her agony.

  Sophie went to the bathroom and did her business, expressing just enough milk to relieve the pain, pleased that various leakages were much decreased. She palpated her belly as she looked in the mirror—even that was subsiding a bit, and hurt much less today.

  She was a long way from fighting fit, but she was also a lot closer than she’d been the day before.

  The silence of the house penetrated Sophie’s awareness.

  The men must be outside, packing or putting together their gear and weapons. How long had she been sleeping? She checked the clock beside the bed. “Son of a snake charmer!” She’d been out for close to twenty hours!

  Sophie dressed quickly in a fresh exercise bra and nursing pads, yoga pants, a tank top, and wet/dry hiking shoes. She zipped up her duffel, slung it onto her shoulder, and exited the room.

  Anubis, Connor’s beautiful Doberman, sat outside her door. “Hey, boy.” She greeted the dignified dog with a head rub. “Where’s your master?”

  “Woof,” Anubis replied, and fell into step beside her, moving with springy grace.

  Connor’s house was a square laid out around a central courtyard. She walked down the hall to the front entrance. Glossy woods, sculptures, and vista views alike passed by her unnoticed. “Hamilton? Jake?” Her voice echoed around the stone-flagged entry.

  “Ms. Smithson.” Nam had always refused to call her by her first name, and now the dignified houseman tripped over her new last name. “They are gone.”

  “What?” Sophie pulled herself up to her full five foot nine as rage and alarm flushed her system. Her bag dropped off her shoulder to hit the ground. “What did you say?”

  “You slept for twenty hours, miss. The men went to the mainland to get your baby. Mr. Hamilton, he left you a message.”

  “No. They wouldn’t.” Sophie had always thought the phrase “seeing red” was some American slang, but now her vision actually was clouded by the color. All she wanted to do was smash something.

  In a plain black tunic, narrow leggings and felt-bottomed shoes, his face blank, Nam reminded her of one of the inscrutable stone lions that guarded the front door. “I’m sorry, miss.”

  “Demon spawn of a pox-ridden whore!” Sophie balled her fists. “Swine-born betrayers!”

  “The message is in Mr. Hamilton’s office, miss. He did not want the other men to see it.” Nam’s hands remained folded together over his midriff, his gaze calm.

  Sophie ran forward and wrenched open one of the French doors that led into the central courtyard. She flew across the pretty space with its tinkling fountain to the sliding glass door that led into Connor’s office.

  She spotted the note immediately, resting on the keyboard of the computer rig Connor had set up for her on her last visit. Sophie picked up the note, but her hand was shaking so badly that she could scarcely read his elegant handwriting. She remembered the last time she’d seen his writing; he had left her another note, equally devastating, in a deposit box—a note to be read upon his death.

  Which had turned out to be fake, like so much about him. Smoke and mirrors, as her friend Marcella would say. Yet Sophie’d never doubted the feeling behind whatever words he might have chosen to explain his duplicity, and she didn’t doubt them this time, either.

  “Dear Sophie, />
  We thought of waking you. Jake and I talked it over. But when we looked in at you, sleeping deeply, so clearly at the end of your physical resources, we couldn’t do it. Even though we both know how angry you are going to be to be excluded from this mission, think about this: what if we fail?

  The Yām Khûmkạn fortress is no easy target.

  Who will Momi have if we are taken?

  I’ve left information with Nam in case of such a contingency—all you will need to take over Security Solutions and more. I trust you with that, with everything that I have, and with that other secret, too.

  You need to recover from the birth. You need time for your body to adjust to all of the changes. And Momi needs a mother to come home to, a mother who is healthy and strong. Because whatever is between you and Pim Wat won’t be over when we take her grandchild from her.

  Rage all you want—but rest when you are done. Eat well. Use my gym until you are fit again. And be waiting for your daughter when we bring her home to you.” ~ Connor

  Sophie cursed, long and inventively.

  She didn’t tear the note up, though. She had done that to the other one, and regretted it. She stuffed the paper into her pocket and began rifling the office, looking for a set of keys, some way to get off the island.

  The mission they’d discussed the day before had a two-week timeline. They would be radio silent, unless Connor was sure he could use a satellite internet signal undetected.

  Two weeks was an eternity for her to be stuck here, alone, without even an update!

  Sophie felt rather than saw Nam standing in the doorway. She spun to face him, and he inclined his upper body in a bow, his hands folded. “Mr. Hamilton has left an ATV for your use.”

  Sophie put her hands on her hips. “How does that do me any good in following them to the mainland?”