by Angel Payne
Yeah. And a rainbow would burst out of the night sky and onto the beach, bringing jolly leprechauns that would form a magical ring of protection around Hale Anelas.
“So you’d really be happy with that?” Tait charged. “Just ‘moving on’ from here, like any other recon gig we’ve been on, like any other day we’ve been through?”
Kellan exhaled with deliberate slowness. Then counted to ten for patience. Then sucked the breath back in, again with steady purpose. “And how would you have us proceed, oh head shrinker on high?”
His dig didn’t faze Tait. “We should start at the obvious.”
“Such as?”
“Such as how you’re feeling about the direction of things with Lani.”
And there it was. The only F-word he always wished they’d drop from existence—at least before today. Right now, it only made him lift a grin at his friend. He’d always scoffed at Tait for putting things so balls-out in the emotional communication department, though it made perfect psychological sense when realizing the guy never received a sentence of meaningful communication from the bastard who’d sired him. But today, Kell was damn glad for the candidness. Let the scrotum revelations commence. “Maybe the better question here is how you’re feeling, dude.”
T’s brow furrowed. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He pivoted to square his stance at the guy. “You want feelings, T? You want clarity?” Odd satisfaction came at watching his partner’s gaze narrow with more astonishment before he continued. “Here’s what I’m clear about, man. I’m clear that the guy standing in front of me isn’t the same shell of humanity who got off the plane with me nine days ago, making me wonder if I’d ever see my best friend again. I’m clear about the fact that my buddy is back, full of the blaze and balls that’ve made him one of my biggest heroes, growling about turning bad guys into fertilizer again. And I’m very clear that Hokulani Kail was a big part of the force that made it happen. So what am I ‘feeling’ about all this?” He rocked back on his heels. “You want to take a stab at doing the math on that answer?”
They played visual chicken for a long second. “You’re talking like all she’s done is made me some cake and let me kick back in front of the TV with you two.”
He was tempted to flip the cake comment into another snarkism, but this was too important for humor. After abandoning his cavalier pose, he stepped over and stabbed a finger into the middle of his buddy’s chest. “I’m only going to say this once, so listen up, asswipe. The birth certificates may say I only have one sibling, and you know better than anyone how much I love Kadie, but God chose to give me one hell of an awesome bonus bucket. Bommer, you are my brother in every sense of the word, including the blood we’ve mixed in some of the world’s craziest shitholes. So don’t you dare insinuate that I don’t know what I’m talking about here. Don’t you dare tell me that I’m just discussing cake and TV night when you know that’s not how I roll.”
Tait let out a ragged exhalation. “I’m not trying to second-guess you, Kell. And I certainly haven’t forgotten every wild ride we’ve ever had together. But let’s face it, we’ve redefined the term wild ride this week.”
“And you think I haven’t thought about that? That I didn’t consider it with a shitload of care the other night? That I just told her to kiss you another time because it turned my rocks hard, and that it ‘happened’ as some brilliant accident?”
“I don’t know what to think, dude. It’s why I’m asking.”
He lifted his jaw and set it. “I told her to do that because I knew she wanted it—because I knew she wanted you—and because, God help me, I want to give that woman everything she wants. But it goes beyond that.” He lifted his head higher. “She also needs Sir Tait. Don’t get me wrong; it’s been fucking awesome to let Sir Kellan out of his stuffy nut sack. But the way you control her…it’s pretty damn amazing.” He relaxed his stance, breaking into a smile. “Let’s face it. She’s an extraordinary woman, T. Her heart is as big as that ocean, and her soul is just as deep. To be honest, I’m not sure one man will ever be enough for her.”
Tait turned his gaze toward the waves that Kellan just evoked. His face constricted in thought. “Damn. I didn’t think about it that way.”
“But there’s a good chance I’m right.”
“Yeah, you bastard. There’s a good chance you’re right.”
“That’s not even where my awesomeness of right stops.”
As the guy looked back, he rolled his eyes. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“She also meets needs in you, dickwad. And it goes far beyond the miracle of her confession at the monastery.” He flashed half a smile. “She’s brought that fire back to your face. Ignited you in ways that I’d given up on witnessing again. You’re laughing again. Driving like a maniac again. Damn it, you’re even hogging all the fortune cookies in the takeout bag again. You may have a few extra pieces of luggage on board your brain train, but you are back—and for that, I’m not sure I can give the woman enough orgasms to express my gratitude.”
“But maybe I can help you try.”
Kell met his friend’s uplifted fist with a countering bump. “Hell yeah, you can.”
That was normally the spot where fate tried to cue up an imaginary soundtrack of sappy bromance music, extinguished by Tait regaling him with the newest Seahawks news. The team’s championship had given the guy permission to convert from fanboy into freakboy, and there was always some new trivia Tait was gleaning about the team. Fate, in its mercy and cruelty, had other plans. They blended back into some fern and Ti plants together as a man approached from a bend in the beach, running a hand through his designer haircut as he spoke rapid Korean into a cell phone.
Kell tossed an expectant glance at Tait. His buddy had always been the better of them with foreign languages. His jaw tensed when T shook his head and grimaced. “Weird dialect,” he whispered. “I’m only getting every third or fourth word. I think he’s referencing a meeting and saying that a ‘final bid’ will be requested tonight. Either that or he’s ordering kimchi for takeout.”
The guy took a turn inland, down a narrow path cutting through some sizable boulders. Kellan stifled a groan upon realizing they’d have to hump over the rocks to keep following him unnoticed. Luckily, their target stopped for a long second, his voice rising in the middle of an argument, giving them time to find footholds on the boulders. Things weren’t easier once they reached their goal, since haircut boy was on the move again. They had to step more carefully than he did. Boulders on the island were notoriously unpredictable due to the eroding effects of the weather, so they hustled as cautiously as possible.
“Where the fuck is he going?” Kellan finally muttered.
“Not sure.” Tait’s answer was grim. “But I’ll bet he’s not on his way to a friendly fuck in the woods, which means my hackles are up.”
Kellan grunted his agreement. He didn’t need to say more. T’s statement addressed what they’d both noticed. The man was on a direct trajectory back toward Hale Anelas. Shit.
Abruptly, the boulder walls flared out as the ground dipped down by at least ten feet. They now overlooked a sizable, sunken clearing carpeted in beach sand and surrounded by the looming boulder walls. It was like the island’s own version of Bruce Wayne’s manor—
Complete with a bat cave at one end.
“Ker-ching,” Tait murmured.
Kell nodded.
Haircut hunk made his way to a double-sided steel door that was clearly a recent addition to the scene. The portal had been custom-cut to fit the large opening in the rocks. As the guy ended his phone conversation with a couple of terse words and stuffed the thing into the back pocket of his jeans, Kell joined T in dropping belly-down against the nearest boulder. They watched him walk to a smaller rock near the door and stomp on the thing, revealing it as a trigger for the door. The portal retracted on itself, accordion style, to let the man inside the entrance.
“Fuck me,” Tait murmured.
“All they’re missing is the signal in the sky,” Kell added.
“Something tells me they want to stay off Gotham’s grid. And everyone else’s.”
Kell swept another stare through the surrounding boulders and foliage. “I don’t see any suspicious red camera lights,” he stated. “But that doesn’t mean they’re not here.”
“Do we still follow him?”
Kellan could’ve punched the guy for putting that question on him. “Well, I know what Franz would advise.”
Tait twisted his lips. “He’d want us to pull back and wait for the CIA to do their magic spy thing. Probably loop the feds in on it too.”
“Which could take weeks.”
“At least.”
“Even though there’s a meeting going down tonight.”
“Especially because there’s a meeting going down tonight.”
Tait snorted hard before letting a significant pause go by. “How close do you think we are to the ranch now?”
“Maybe three hundred yards.”
“In other words—”
“Too damn close.”
Tait cocked his head so their stares met. They didn’t exchange thousands of words with the look this time—because they didn’t need it. They already shared the same conclusion about their action plan. The next second, Tait acted on it. With a soundless roll, he slid off the boulder, leading the way down to the cave’s entrance.
It was simple to locate the same rock their predecessor had used for the entrance. Kell hoped whoever awaited the guy inside didn’t have the thing rigged to any additional sensors. If they did, then he and Tait would have a very short visit here, Bowies or not.
The door opened with nothing more than a whisper of sound, forcing him to give Benson and his penchant for the high-end at least one approving check mark. Once inside, they found themselves in a passageway illuminated by top-of-the-line camp lanterns, though a maze of wires ran along the walls in indication there’d be an upgrade to electrical fixtures soon. That was the place’s only nod to the modern world so far. Giant tufts of moss still hung from the ceilings, and the air was damp and musty. Kell would’ve given a kingdom for his mission vest right now, outfitted with all the tools they’d need to collect more evidence. In its place, he locked his mind into experiential memory mode, all five senses engaged to commit as much of this place to his mental recall as possible.
Tait held up a fist, ordering a full stop to their progress. The reason was clear. Voices penetrated the air from up ahead, where the lighting also amplified. Kell thanked fate upon finding an alcove big enough to squeeze into, with Tait snagging a matching nook a few feet ahead. They took up their vantage points and went into complete stealth mode: breathing shallow, ears open, senses alert.
“Mr. Tan. What a pleasure to meet you in person.”
Before Kellan could get a view of the speaker, the shaving cream commercial voice gave him away. Benson, in all his I’m-better-than-you-because-of-the-suit glory.
“Forgive me for not dwelling on pleasantries, Gunter.” The man who stood opposite Benson now, looking on as haircut boy melted back into the shadows, eschewed a full suit in favor of a crisp white button-front shirt and custom-tailored pants. He also had a better haircut than Benson, spoke in a London-educated accent, wore one of the nicest watches Kell had ever seen, and called Benson by his first name. He was definitely a heavy hitter for the Koreans—whatever the hell it was they were hitting at. “As you can well imagine, the general’s time is valuable, so I am here on his behalf to act as final emissary for our country. He seems to think your setup here is impressive; I am here to support or deny that theory. We know how emotional generals can be.”
The last sentence bugged out Kellan’s eyes. Generals could be emotional?
“Of course,” Benson responded, again smooth as Gillette foam. “We have, as you know, enjoyed enthusiastic patronage from the general over the years. He has…interesting tastes in his leisure pursuits.”
“I’m not here to discuss where the man prefers to put his dick.” Tan straightened and crossed his hands, again every inch the London gentleman. “I’m here to discuss where he can store his arsenal.”
Kellan ground his knuckles into the stone wall, focusing on the pain in place of cutting loose a roar of outrage. This was worse shit than he’d ever suspected from Benson, even after his revelatory phone call to Forte.
“What would you like to review first?” Gunter asked Tan.
“You know the answer to that,” the Korean returned. “My sources state that you have already met with the delegation from Tehran. How much have they offered?”
“Seventy million.”
The man recrossed his hands. “Which means they’ve only offered sixty.”
Kell took a chance on angling his head out far enough for a clear view at Benson, who stood deeper back in the cave. The guy was in his Armani finest, choosing a dark gray suit despite the humidity of the night, keeping his red tie knotted. His face was a mask of smooth impassivity, allowing it to crack in just the slightest smirk at Tan. “Why don’t we return to that piece of the conversation after you’ve viewed all the details?” He stepped back and flipped a switch, turning on another sizable light over a wooden camp table. “For now, please step into my office.” He motioned haircut boy over. “Chris, grab us some drinks. What’s your pleasure, Tan?”
“Alacrity,” the man snapped. “Get on with it.”
Benson swept a diplomatic arm toward a table covered with giant sheets of paper that were weighed down with rocks. Kell stole enough of a glance to see that they were architectural blueprints and geological surveys. His eyes also adjusted to notice the extra people in the chamber, taking care to stick to its shadows. In addition to Chris and another pretty boy from Benson’s team, Kell recognized Casey, the Abercrombie model wannabe who’d led the group sack on Tait’s drunken ass last week. Tan had a henchman with him too—a giant who almost had to duck to fit inside the cavern. The big bastard had Kell more concerned than all three of Gunter’s boys. Unlike the fashionistas, it wouldn’t be pleasant to take him on.
Benson ran a finger down the middle of a map close to Tan. “Here’s where you met Casey on the beach. As you have likely already learned, most of this side of the island has more rugged terrain, dominated by the half dozen state parks and the Na Pali range to the north.”
“As well as the Pacific Missile Range Facility at Barking Sands to the south.”
Kellan drilled his hand harder against the stone.
Benson lifted a smooth smile. “Yes, sir. There is that.”
Tan braced both hands to the table. For the first time, he seemed to relax. “It is an ideal insertion position.”
“Hmmm, yes. You must admit, it’s a more discreet alternative to launching a full-bore assault on the West Coast of the U.S.”
Tan chuffed. It was probably the closest thing the man came to a laugh. “We all recall how well that worked out.”
“No one clearer than my partner.”
Kellan was certain every hair on the back of his neck jabbed straight up. Before better sense could stop him, he looked over to Tait. His buddy glared back, clearly wrestling with the same gut-punching rage. Benstock’s elusive silent partner was once again the burr under both their saddles—but this time, the guy was drawing blood.
Tan tapped a finger to his mouth, deep in thought. “Tell me again about the logistics of mobilizing transports on and off the beach.”
Benson cocked another confident grin. “Disguise your vessels as night fishing fleets, use only the quiet skiffs, keep to the darkest hours of the night, and I guarantee you won’t even encounter curious seagulls. The neighbors go to bed early.”
“Including the army captain who lives to the immediate south?”
“My, my. You are thorough.” Benson began a slow stroll around the cavern, forcing Kell and Tait to duck back into their alcoves. “Take John Franzen off your list of concerns. He is indeed with the arm
y—in their Special Operations Forces.”
“Ahhh.” Tan’s tone resonated with relief. “That means he’s likely in my country more than yours.”
“Beautifully phrased,” Benson offered. “And if I may add to it, consider that most of the locals have trusted the Franzen family for generations. Very few will suspect that the nocturnal comings and goings of their ‘new neighbors’ are anything more than a corporation’s eccentricities in building up their new island resort.”
“Brilliant.” Tan peered again at the big sheets with their intricate plans. “But do any of those ‘loyal locals’ know about this cave? And its connection to Hale Anelas?”
“The last time the family stepped foot in here was to wait out Hurricane Iniki, in nineteen ninety-two,” Gunter explained. “Before that, the passage wasn’t actively used for over a hundred years, since the days when pirates ran slaves, jewels, gold, and other illegal contraband up from the beach and into the original mansion.”
“‘The original mansion’?” Tan echoed. “So Iniki wiped out the property?”
“Only part of it. The mansion’s had several additions and renovations since then. After a freak lightning strike took the east part of the house in the early nineteen twenties, the owners rebuilt a sizable new kitchen and boarded up the entrance from the cave for good. A few years later, they had the tunnel closed from the beach side, as well. The good little prohibitionists were aghast at finding the passage being secretly used for illegal whiskey storage.
“When the Kails bought the house in the sixties, I doubt they even knew about the tunnel, though it’s remained structurally sound. You can imagine how intrigued we were to find it while looking at the property as a potential resort commodity for the main company. Requesting architectural surveys and geologic studies is a normal part of that process. My partner recognized the strategic importance of the discovery and has led a very quiet project to clear the tunnel once more. He’s been vital to the process of securing a legal purchase of the ranch.”
Kell bared his seething teeth at the wall now. No wonder Benson had been able to cause such a major clusterfuck with Lani’s efforts at securing the new permits for the B and B. He had help. From the goddamn partner.