by S. E. Smith
He had kissed her like he would never let her go, but he had. When he had a chance to kiss her again, he was going to make sure she knew it was forever. It wasn’t often that someone was given a second chance and he was smart enough now to know to hold onto it with both hands. He just needed to get her back first.
*.*.*
Tyrell wiped his sweaty palm across the denim of his jeans before shifting the gun in his other hand to the one he had just wiped so he could do his other one. He glanced at Helen. She looked like she was ready to go shopping instead of climbing aboard a huge ass cargo freighter with armed guards.
“Okay, how are we supposed to get on that thing without being seen?” Tyrell asked for the fifth time, glancing around the cargo container that they had slipped up behind. “I see two gangplanks going up to the deck and they both have guys with bigger guns than we do.”
Helen glanced over her shoulder at him and shook her head in amusement. What she could find so amusing at the moment was beyond him. Personally, all he could think about was he hoped he didn’t piss his pants. He’d been in some scary situations before, but nothing like this. The other times, he hadn’t been one of the ones toting a gun.
He knew it was a throwback to his life before his journey on the Defiance. Before he had fallen asleep on the sailboat and woken to find himself at sea, he had only dreamed of becoming a professional photographer. In reality, his life had been one step away from being dragged down into the gangs that his older brother had gotten caught up in. A life that had come close to getting not only his older brother killed, but Tyrell and their grandmother.
When one of their high school teachers had assigned Makayla and him a class project to show how social media can be used to share extraordinary events in a person’s life, he had never expected that event to be the Voyage of the Defiance. He had inadvertently stowed away on the boat when Makayla had stolen it and their subsequent journey had gone viral when he’d shared it. The fact that they had made it through not only a storm at sea, but a hurricane had captured the attention of millions of viewers following their journey – a journey that Makayla and he hadn’t thought they would survive.
Swallowing, Tyrell gazed down at the long black barrel of the gun. It was vastly different from the camera lens. He had decided years ago that he didn’t want the violent life that had killed his father, lured his mother and brother away, and had come close to taking everything he held dear. Now, he would have to use some of those skills to rescue Henry Summerlin.
“Do you see that?” Helen whispered, nodding to where a crane was loading cargo.
“You want to ride on a cargo container?” Tyrell asked in disbelief, his gaze following the swaying metal container that was hundreds of feet in the air.
“No, I want to go through the opening where they load the smaller crates under it,” she retorted in quiet exasperation. “Look down.”
Tyrell’s gaze dropped to where a section of the cargo ship was open on the side and wooden crates were being lifted by a forklift which disappeared through the opening in the side of the ship. It looked like there was only one person working at the moment. His gaze followed the forklift. It looked like what the big cruise lines did when one of them was getting ready to leave port.
“So, what’s the plan?” He asked, glancing down at Helen.
Helen smiled at him. “Do you know how to drive a forklift?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.
Fifteen minutes later, the former driver of the forklift was tied up behind one of the crates, and Tyrell was wearing the man’s vest and hard hat. He was grateful for the growing darkness, because the vest was at least one size too small. It didn’t take him long to remember how to drive the small piece of machinery. He had spent a couple of summers helping down at the boatyard, thanks to Henry’s reference and helpful guidance.
He loaded several crates before he picked up the one with Helen in it. Turning the forklift, he guided it over the metal platform bridging the dock and the freighter. He guided the forklift over to where he had stacked the other crates and gently lowered the wooden container to the floor. Leaning forward, he turned off the machine and climbed out.
“Clear,” he murmured after double checking to make sure they were alone.
Helen peered around the side of the crate. In the bright lights of the cargo hold, the gun she was holding looked huge and menacing. Tyrell swallowed and reached for the one Brian had given him that he had tucked into the back of his pants. He also reached for his cell phone. Kevin had sent each of them a blueprint of the cargo ship so they could find their way around the massive ship. He glanced at the map before turning to get his bearings. A silent curse escaped him when he saw Helen was already heading for a set of stairs leading up.
“That’s right, just leave the rookie behind,” he muttered with a shake of his head. He shoved his cell phone back in his pocket and hurried to follow her.
Together, they climbed the metal stairs. At first, he thought they should be stealthy. It wasn’t until Helen gave him an inquisitive glance over her shoulder that he realized that acting like they were supposed to be there would draw less attention than two people slinking around. She kept her weapon by her side so it wasn’t as visible, but he could tell she was ready for any unexpected encounters.
“What do we do if we meet someone?” Tyrell whispered.
Helen glanced up at him. “We try to avoid that. I would prefer not to have to kill anyone if I can. If they shoot at us, we shoot back. Otherwise, we try to do what we did with the other worker,” she replied in a barely audible voice. “I have found from previous experience that most vessels like this have a minimum crew while at port.”
“Yeah, but do most of them have a person that they’ve kidnapped on board?” Tyrell asked with a skeptical expression.
Helen’s lips twisted in a slightly bitter smile. “You would be surprised, Tyrell. Human trafficking is a huge business,” she said in a somber tone.
Tyrell stared after Helen. He knew a little about human trafficking. In some of the other countries he had visited, he’d heard about it, but he had never thought about it being an issue in a city as modern as Hong Kong. He didn’t know why. After all, it was a hub for activity between China, the Philippines, and other surrounding Asian countries where he knew human trafficking was a major issue.
Once again, he realized that if he didn’t pay attention, he could find himself left behind. They had to stop twice and hide when they heard the sound of approaching footsteps. The first time, Helen and he had remained frozen under the stairwell when two men came down. Fortunately, the men were too busy arguing and laughing over a recent sporting event to pay attention to anything but their conversation and where they were going. Tyrell was able to pick out enough of the words they were speaking to understand what they were talking about thanks to the months he had spent in China a couple of years ago.
The second time, they were able to slip into a room. Tyrell nodded when Helen indicated the coast was clear again. They walked down the narrow passage and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the huge 3 painted along the dull, gray walls. Helen moved more slowly now with her gun up and ready. Tyrell copied her, glancing back over his shoulder.
“The door on the left is closed,” Helen murmured. “The others are open.”
“I hear footsteps,” Tyrell warned.
Helen nodded and motioned for Tyrell to follow her. They slipped through the open door across from the one that was locked and pressed up against the wall just inside the door. Less than a minute later, they heard the sound of a man’s voice humming a song growing closer.
Tyrell glanced in the distorted mirror mounted over a small sink across from them. He could see the door across the hall. Seconds later, a young Asian man stopped in front of the door. The man was carrying a tray that looked like it had some food on it. White earbuds hung from the man’s ears and the muted sound of pop music could be heard. The man bent and set the tray down on the floor before reach
ing into his pocket and pulling out a set of keys. They could hear him fumble with his key and the lock on the door before he removed the key. Replacing the keys in his pocket, he retrieved the tray.
Helen quickly moved once the man stepped into the room and muttered to the occupant. She stepped over the lip of the doorway, her gun raised. Then she crossed the corridor and went through the now unlocked door. The man carrying the tray froze when he felt the hard tip of her gun pressed against the back of his head.
Tyrell stepped through behind her and glanced around. The room was barren except for a small sink, toilet, and metal framed bunk attached to the far wall. A grin lit Tyrell’s face when he saw the weathered face of Henry Summerlin scowling back at him.
“Hey, Mr. S.,” Tyrell greeted with a wave of his hand before he realized he had the gun in it. “Are you ready to get out of here?”
Henry slowly sat up, the blanket he had draped over him falling to the side when he slid his feet over the edge of the bed. Tyrell’s gaze darkened with worry when he saw the old man was in a lot of pain. He stepped closer, noticing the old man’s good hand tremble when it dropped to the bed so he could push up. Tyrell wrapped an arm around Henry’s waist and helped him to stand.
“Thanks, Tyrell,” Henry replied in a rough, slightly uneven voice. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Rescuing you,” Tyrell replied in a quiet voice.
“How did you know where to find me?” Henry asked in a slightly stronger voice before he looked at Helen. “Who is she?”
“Detective Helen Woo, Hong Kong Police,” Helen replied in a clipped tone. “I suggest we get out of here. We’ll leave the same way we came. If we are lucky, no one will even know Mr. Summerlin is missing until we are long gone.”
Tyrell heard Helen order the young man quietly standing with his hands up to give her the keys and his phone. The man reached into his pocket and withdrew the keys and his cell phone, pulling the earbuds out of his ears at the same time. Helen had the man turn the music off before she took the phone and told the man to sit on the bed. With a nod of her head, they backed out of the room, making sure the passageway was clear first.
Tyrell started slowly making his way back down the long metal corridor. Behind him, Helen closed and locked the door to the room where Henry had been held before falling in behind them. Tyrell worriedly glanced over his shoulder to make sure Henry was doing alright. The corridors were too narrow for them to walk side by side, so he couldn’t assist Henry. He could see the old man’s face was pale and etched with lines of pain, but he didn’t make a sound while they threaded their way back to the cargo hold and freedom.
25
Brian strode down the long dock back to Kevin’s yacht. He slowed and stopped when he saw movement in one of the boats moored several slips before the yacht. In the muted glow from the restaurant lights, he could see Kevin’s familiar shape moving around.
Kevin glanced up at him and nodded. “I found her,” he said with satisfaction. “Let me finish with this. I’ve got you some heavy duty fireworks here.”
“Thanks. Where is she?” Brian asked, reaching down and giving Kevin a hand back onto the dock.
“I have to tell you, when your girlfriend gets kidnapped, she does it in style,” Kevin muttered. “Come on.”
Brian followed Kevin back to his boat. Within minutes, he was staring up at the bank of computer screens again. Kevin had dimmed the lights and switched the screens to nighttime mode to help reduce the time it would take for Brian’s night vision to return. The soft glow of red lights gave an eerie feel to the control room.
“Ren Lu has to be more than Sun Yung-Wing’s Chief of Security,” Kevin commented with a shake of his head. “The yacht he is on is listed with a British company. I’m still working on peeling back all the layers, but the yacht the man is on makes this thing look like a life raft.”
“Where is Makayla?” Brian demanded, gritting his teeth. “I don’t care how luxurious a prison is, it is still a prison and Makayla is in danger.”
Kevin nodded, glancing back up at the screens. Brian stared at the one in the center. A frown creased his brow. He recognized the Royal Hong Kong Marina where the Defiance had been moored. His gaze followed the cursor when Kevin slid it just to the east; anchored less than a kilometer from the marina was a large yacht. An angry expletive burst from his lips when he realized that Ren Lu had had a front row seat to everything that had been happening.
“Yeah, I said pretty much the same thing when I saw it, too,” Kevin muttered, staring up at the image. “Oh, Helen and Tyrell are on their way back.”
“Henry…?” Brian asked, turning to look at Kevin with a concerned frown.
“He’s a little beat up. I’ve called a doctor friend to come check him over,” Kevin said. “I figured it would be safer here. Helen seemed to think that the worst was a broken wrist, a cut to his head, and exhaustion. I told Karl to be prepared to sedate the old man. Helen said Henry was ready to kick some ass when he found out that Ren Lu had Makayla.”
Brian’s lips twitched. “I can imagine,” he replied.
Kevin opened his mouth to say something. Brian saw his friend blink and lean forward. He glanced down and winced when he felt Kevin poke his finger through the hole in his shirt.
“Is this a bullet hole?” Kevin asked with a scowl.
“Yes,” Brian replied, running his hand down over the hole before sliding it up to the other one. “Thanks for the vest, by the way. It saved my ass today.”
Kevin shook his head. “I told you I don’t like getting shot at,” he said. “You must be hell on clothes.”
“Not normally,” Brian said. “Kevin, I need to get Makayla back.”
Kevin nodded. “Here is the blueprint of the yacht. I can only guess where he has her based on the specs I was able to download. I’ve included a pair of infrared, night vision goggles for you. I calculated you have a better chance of success the darker it is. Luckily, it’s a new moon so you’ll only have to deal with the artificial lights. Since the yacht is self-contained, there is no way I can cut the power or anything. Once you get there, you will be pretty much on your own,” he said.
Brian nodded. “I’m not sure I should even ask what you are doing with half the stuff you’ve got,” he retorted.
Kevin turned and grinned. “I get bored easily. When you have as much money as I do, any new gadget looks cool on eBay,” he quipped, rising out of his chair. “Come on, I’ll show you what I’ve packed. I’ve got a Zodiac BayRunner 420 for you. It has both a kick-ass Yamaha F50 EFI 4-Stroke on the back, as well as a powerful electric trolling motor. The water is pretty smooth now that the winds have died down. Your biggest enemy will be the light if they have the yacht lit up like downtown. It’s kind of hard to sneak up on someone in a bright room.”
“I’ll figure out a way to deal with it,” Brian promised.
“I figured that. I also included my paddle board. I’d like it back if at all possible,” Kevin added, walking back up the stairs.
“Paddle board?” Brian asked.
Kevin nodded. “I figured it would be easier to get closer. It can fit two people, but you aren’t going to be going anywhere fast. I’m trying to think of every scenario.”
Brian nodded. They looked up when they saw a flash of car lights. Brian saw Tyrell emerge from the passenger side of the car. He walked around to the back and opened it. Brian’s jaw clenched in anger when he saw Henry Summerlin slowly emerge from the back seat of the car; it was obvious, even from this distance, that the old man was in pain.
“Looks like they made it back,” Kevin murmured.
“Yeah,” Brian replied.
Several minutes later, the three were making their way slowly down the dock. Every once in a while, Brian would hear Henry curse at Tyrell, who was following behind him, to keep his damn hands off him, that he was old, not dead, and could walk unassisted.
“Hi Henry,” Brian greeted, scanning the old man’s face.
<
br /> “What the hell are you doing in Hong Kong?” Henry asked in a gruff tone.
“Working,” Brian replied. “I’m sorry you were drawn into this mess. You shouldn’t have been.”
“Not your fault,” Henry groused with a tired sigh. “I’d better find a place to park my ass, otherwise I might be needing Tyrell’s help after all,” he added.
“I’ve got a doctor on the way,” Kevin said, motioning for everyone to follow him.
“I just hope he’s got some painkillers with him,” Henry muttered, wincing when Brian and Tyrell helped him aboard the junk. “This is a hell of a lot nicer than the last place I was at.”
Brian saw Kevin’s lips twitch in amusement. Henry’s muttered observations and snappy retorts made Brian more confident that the old man would be alright. Now, he needed to bring Makayla home. Almost as if Henry was reading his mind, the old man turned to glare at him with a pain-filled expression.
“You’re going to bring my granddaughter back safe, aren’t you?” Henry asked in a slightly uneven voice.
“Yes, sir,” Brian responded. “Tyrell, I’m going to need your help.”
Tyrell looked up in surprise from where he had helped Henry down onto the couch. “Me? Sure,” he replied, glancing over at Helen. “You know I’d do anything for Makayla, but I don’t know much about using a gun.”
“I don’t need you to use a gun. I can do that. I need you to operate the boat,” Brian said in a grim tone.
Tyrell nodded. “Now that I can do,” he replied. “When are we leaving?”
“Now,” Brian said.
*.*.*
Makayla sat on the edge of the plush couch. She rubbed her wrists and glanced at where Ren Lu had stepped over to the bar. Her fingers caressed the watch still strapped to her wrist. She had been terrified Ren Lu would remove it when he had tied her wrists together, but he had tied the bindings slightly above the watch.