Rendition Protocol

by Nathan Goodman

  The man walked up the Jetway and into the terminal like any other passenger would. He was in his early sixties, but years of tough living had taken their toll. Such signs of outward wear are often the result of years of drug and alcohol abuse. But for this man, it was the result of something different.

  For him, the wear and tear showed in two physical areas. First, there was constant tension in his shoulders, as though he might need to react at any moment. It was tension that would not abate, the result of years of being on guard, never knowing what direction the next attack may come from. And the second was written in his eyes. They decried a deadness like those carried by soldiers who had endured a long, intense war. Often referred to as the “thousand-yard stare,” the wartime gaze might come and go. But this was different. His eyes carried in them crushing defeat. It was like looking into the soul of a person who had died inside, yet been forced to carry on.

  Across from Gate 14, he stopped and reshouldered his carry-on then stared out the massive windows onto the tarmac and to the buildings beyond. It was a bright, clear day and the blueness of the sky hearkened something from deep within. He withdrew a photograph from his shirt pocket, inadvertently dropping his American Airlines boarding pass in the process. He stared at the photo of a young woman at what appeared to be a graduation ceremony. She was shaking hands with a much taller man in a business suit. To the man’s thinking, her eyes seemed to be staring back at him, as if she was watching his every move. Yet he knew his mission. He knew his goal. He flipped it over and read the words etched in pencil on the back. It said simply “Jana Baker.”

  23

  Back at the Safe House

  Safe house, Gray’s Farm Main Road, Hawksbill Bay, 1:14 a.m.

  “Here she comes,” Cade said.

  “Will you calm down?” Stone replied. He swept his hair back and flopped onto the couch. “I’m telling you, she’s good.”

  “Good?” Cade barked. “Good at what?”

  Stone shook his head. “Man. I wasn’t even talking about that. I mean she’s good to go. She can take care of herself.” He pointed at Cade. “You need to get that shit under control. We’ve got a man missing.”

  “I know Kyle’s missing!” Cade yelled.

  As Jana walked across the crushed coral driveway, Stone jumped up. “Don’t bark at me! She can take care of herself. I’ve seen it. Hell, I trained her. She can almost kick my ass. And another thing. She and I had something good going. And if you have a problem with that—”

  They both turned and saw Jana in the open doorway.

  “What’s all this?” she said. Her voice was hoarse.

  Both men looked down.

  Jana said, “And I thought this was going to be awkward.”

  “Sorry, babe,” Stone said. “It’s not important.”

  Cade stepped toward her. “Do you know who that was with Rojas tonight?”

  “The man that pulled him outside? No.”

  “His name is Gustavo Moreno. He works intelligence for Rojas.”

  Jana let the thought play forward. “It was bound to happen. There’s no way my background was going to go unnoticed.”

  “How did you leave things with Rojas?” Stone asked.

  “He invited me to his villa.”

  “Yeah,” Cade said. “I bet he did.”

  “Cade. For God’s sake. I’m not going to sleep with him.”

  Cade shuffled his feet and muttered just under his breath, “At least that’s one person you’re not going to sleep with.”

  “What was that?” she blurted.

  “Nothing,” Cade replied.

  “What time?” Stone said.

  “Lunch.” She glared at Cade. “If I play this right, he’s going to trust me.”

  “How are you going to get him to do that?” Cade said.

  “I can take care of myself, you know? I don’t need you to come to the rescue.”

  He walked to her. “Let you handle it? Got it under control?” He reached down and pulled up her hand. “Then why is your hand shaking? The PTSD isn’t gone. It never left you, did it?”

  She yanked the arm back. “Stay out of my business.”

  Cade said, “On this op, your business is my business. What you know, I know. What you hear, I hear. I’m in charge.”

  “You’re in charge, huh? I don’t work for the government anymore. And I don’t work for you. I’m doing this on my own.”

  Cade’s voice rose. “Kyle MacKerron is a CIA agent and this is a government operation.”

  Jana said, “If this is a government operation,” the word spat out like spoiled vinegar, “where is the government to save him? You can’t even convince people he’s missing!” She started to pace. “You’ve got no support. There should be spec-ops teams crawling this island. The president should be on the phone threatening the Antiguan government. There should be a half dozen F-18s streaking over the interior ministry, just to scare the shit out of them!”

  “I told you we had no support when we started this!” Cade yelled back.

  Stone jumped between them. “Let’s everybody just calm down. We’re on the same team here. And all this bickering isn’t going to get us closer to finding Kyle.”

  “I’m going in,” she blurted. “I’m going all the way in, with or without support. Kyle is alive.” The vibration in her hand intensified and she turned away from Cade. “I have no choice.” The periphery of Jana’s vision began to blur and her breathing became erratic. “I can handle myself, Cade.” She walked into the first bedroom and shut the door behind her. She planted her hands onto the dresser and leaned closer to the mirror. A cold heat flushed across her face and, for just a moment, her knees weakened. She exhaled hard and shut her eyes. But the harder she tried to purge the terrors pinging her psyche, the brighter the terrors became.

  She pictured herself back at the cabin, tied to the wooden chair. Rafael leaned over her, the knife in his hand. Come on, Jana. Get a grip on it. Don’t let it pull you down. But further down she tumbled. Rafael cracked her face with the back of his hand and she tasted salty wetness in her mouth. Stop it. Stop thinking about it. Think back to the fort. Everything will be okay if you can just get to the fort. She crushed her eyes closed and thought back to her childhood, to the little path in the woods. She pictured the tall pines, the bright sun gleaming between the branches, and the sight of the ramshackle fort. With Rafael and the cabin fading into the background, in her mind’s eye she walked toward the tangled mass of vines and sticks that made up the fort’s door and tried to conjure the ever-present smell of fresh earth, jasmine, and pine needles. She took a deep breath. She was in. She was safe. And nothing could hurt her in the fort.

  She opened her eyes and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair and makeup were disheveled, her eyes, weary but not defeated. She stood tall. “Rafael is dead. I killed that son of a bitch. He got what he deserved and he’s not going to hurt me anymore.”

  24

  The Highest Bidder

  Jana pulled up to the security gate and waited as an armed guard approached. She glanced at the mirror one more time and blew out the jitters. Her long blond hair was smoothed back in an elegant bun and she wore a flowing sarong skirt that blended into the island atmosphere. The guard leaned toward her open window and his eyes glided across her exposed leg all the way up to the hip. That’s right, she thought. Get a good look. He may not have been the person whose attention she sought, but the effect was exactly what she had intended.

  “Step out of the car, please,” the guard said as he adjusted the shoulder strap on his submachine gun and slid it to his side.

  Jana got out and the guard motioned for her to place her arms out wide. He used a handheld wand and waved it up and down her legs and torso. “Think I’ve got a Glock tucked somewhere?” she said. Her inference was not lost on the guard—her garments were form-fitting and left little to the imagination.

  “This isn’t a metal detector,” he said.

  Good thing I�
��m not wearing a wire, she thought.

  Back in her car, she proceeded up the long drive, a manicured entranceway paved in finely crushed pink corral and surrounded by ornate tropical landscaping on all sides. As she crested the small rise, the panoramic view of MorrisBay unfolded before her. Turquoise-blue waters and white-pink sands were common of Antigua’s natural beauty, but from the hillside, it was breathtaking.

  The estate itself was palatial and sat in beachfront seclusion. The property was on a hilltop but was nestled in somewhat of a valley; there was not another structure in sight. And if one ignored the two armed guards walking the shoreline, the beach itself was completely deserted. Jana pulled the car to a halt in front of the entryway, a set of hand-carved glass-and-teak doors that spanned beneath a massive sandstone archway.

  Rojas pulled both doors open and walked out. He wore a loose-fitting button-down shirt and gray linen pants. He took Jana by both hands and held her arms out wide to look at her.

  “Your beauty is in parallel to the beauty of this island.” There was a refinement in his enunciation. “I am glad you decided to join me. Welcome to my rancho.”

  As they walked inside, Jana took in the breathtaking view of the bay through the wall of glass that lined the rear side of the home. About a dozen of the huge glass panels had been drawn back, an open-air span of about forty feet. Gentle island breezes carried with them the faint scent of jasmine.

  He led her onto a balcony where they sat at a table cloaked in white linen.

  He smiled. “I think we both know you lied to me last night.”

  A wave of jitters raced through Jana’s stomach, and although the statement caught her off guard, she did not flinch. “As did you,” she replied.

  He sat back in his chair. To Jana, it was an acknowledgment that the tables had turned. “You first,” he said.

  “My name is not Claire.”

  “No, it is not.” His accent was enticing, seductive. “Your name is Jana Baker, and you were formerly an—”

  “FBI agent,” she said. “Does it surprise you so?” Her hand shook ever so slightly.

  “I do not like surprises, Agent Baker.”

  “Nor do I, Mr. Rojas. But I do not go by that name any longer. You are free to call me Jana or Miss Baker, but the title of agent has come to repulse me.” She nodded at him. “I suppose a man of your means ran a background check on me. And what else did you find?”

  “I found a short but storied career with the United States government. Quite the little terrorist hunter, weren’t you?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “But you seem to have taken up shop with us here on Antigua. Working as a bartender for the last year or so?”

  “I’m never going back,” Jana said as she stared out into the bay’s tranquil waters. “I’ve had a change of heart, you might say. But let’s talk about you. You’re not just a successful businessman, are you?”

  Silence accentuated a sudden interruption in breeze.

  He crossed one leg over the other. “And what makes you say that?”

  “I know who you are.”

  “Yet you still came?”

  Jana replied, “That’s why I came.”

  He sized her up a moment.

  She continued. “Do you think it’s an accident that I broke Montes Lima Perez into little pieces?”

  Two well-appointed servants walked to the table and placed salads plated on fine china on top of the larger china already on the table.

  When they departed, Rojas said, “Are you telling me you targeted the unfortunate Mr. Perez?”

  Jana said nothing.

  “You did more than break him to pieces, Miss Baker. From what I understand, he will never walk correctly again.”

  Referring to the gunshot to the groin, Jana said, “That’s not the only thing he’ll never do again.”

  “Indeed.”

  They sat quietly a moment before Rojas said, “I find it hard to trust you, Miss Baker. One doesn’t often find a federale from your country defecting.”

  “Oh no? Yet you employ the services of a Gustavo Moreno. Surely you are familiar with his past. The first ten years of his career were with the CIA, yet you trust him.”

  “Of course I am aware of Mr. Moreno’s past. But I am curious, how do you come to such information?”

  A nervousness descended upon her. “I learned a lot in my former life, Mr. Rojas.”

  He exhaled. “Yet you say you have left that life behind. Convince me.”

  “Are you of the belief that the US government would send an undercover agent to work in a tiki bar on the beach for a year, just as a cover? Perhaps Mr. Moreno also told you that the FBI, NSA, and CIA have been looking for me that entire time. And do you know why? Because I threw my badge at them and walked away. I changed my identity. I’ve been off the grid, learning a few things about myself. Things I didn’t know, and I’ve never felt more alive.”

  “Go on.”

  “Did Moreno also tell you my former employer wanted to charge me with murder?”

  “The shooting death of a man known internationally only as Rafael.” His Colombian accent was enticing.

  “They can go screw themselves,” she said. As the breeze picked back up, Jana leaned across the table. “My entire life has been a lie, Mr. Rojas.” She allowed her eyes to drift down the open buttons of his shirt. The look was seductive yet her insides were beginning to churn. “I have learned my interests lie elsewhere. I will not serve a self-serving government. An ungrateful lunatic with an appetite that has no end. My path lies on the other side now.”

  “Does it?”

  “Let’s just say I have certain talents, and they are available to the highest bidder.”

  “And if the US government is the highest bidder?”

  “Then I will take their money and turn them upside down in the process. I’ve thought of few other things over the last year than doing just that.”

  “Retribution is a most dangerous bedfellow, Miss Baker.”

  “I’m sure Montes Lima Perez would agree with you.”

  He laughed. “Your intelligence is a wonderful pairing to your beauty. Like this wine.” He held up his glass. “A perfect match to the bitter sweetness of the salad. One without the other is good. But when brought together, magic.”

  They both sipped the deep-red wine.

  Rojas said, “I take it the police reports of your arrest are accurate then. The vile Mr. Perez sought to harm you?”

  She looked away. “He was not the first.”

  “A chip on your shoulder, no?”

  Jana ignored the statement. “Let me sum it up for you. After I took bullets for my country, stopped two bombings, was abducted and nearly tortured to death, they falsely accused me of murder. So do I have a chip on my shoulder? You’re damned right I do. I don’t give a shit about your business. My distinct talents are available to the highest bidder.”

  Rojas looked out into the bay and his eye landed on a seagull. The bird swayed effortlessly in the breeze. Rojas took another sip of wine and leaned toward her. “You caused a lot of damage to Montes Lima Perez. Don’t get me wrong, he is a rival and I am glad to have him out of the way. But I don’t need high-profile bloodshed like that. Not here. It draws attention.” He exhaled. “This is not a game, Miss Baker. If you come to work for me, I demand the highest loyalty.”

  “I already took out the Oficina de Envigado cartel’s top security agent on the island. The cartel may still be here, but I would think you should already know where my loyalties lie.”

  “I need to quiet Oficina de Envigado. I need the senior-most elements of their cartel to vanish from the island silently. I cannot afford to have local law enforcement or others like the CIA take notice. Are you interested in helping me with my problem?”

  Jana smiled but her hand shook harder. She held it in her lap, just out of view. “Money,” she said.

  His eyes became stern. “Don’t worry about that right now. Just tell me how you intend
to carry out your assignments.”

  25

  Fishing Tales

  The man squinted into the bright Antiguan sun then pulled out his phone and opened a map application. He again removed the photograph and stared into the eyes of Special Agent Jana Baker. The photo had been taken on stage at the FBI training center on the Marine Corps base in Quantico, Virginia. It was her graduation from special agent training. She was shaking the hand of Stephen Latent, the then director of the FBI.

  The man studied the map, which indicated a single ping located not far from his position. “Still in the same place,” he said to himself, then walked toward Heritage Quay and followed signs to the Nevis Street Pier. “Need to rent a boat,” he said to a man on the dock.

  The man had weathered ebony skin and was shaded beneath a straw hat. He did not look up. “How big a boat?” His accent was tawny with a distinct island flavor.

  “Just need to cruise around. Maybe a twenty-footer.”

  “Doing some fishing?” the vendor asked.

  “Yeah, something like that,” the man said as he stared up the coastline.

  Twenty minutes later the man turned the key and dual outboard engines roared to life. He let them idle a moment, then threw ropes off the bow and stern and pushed back from the dock. He wedged his phone tightly between the windshield and dashboard so that he could see the map, then propped the photograph next to it. He motored out of the harbor, following the direction of the ping. “Won’t be long now,” he said as his smile revealed yellowed teeth.

  26

  Fire in the Belly

  Jana stood and walked just beyond Rojas’s chair, placed her hands on the balcony’s handrail, then stared out at the bay. She gripped the rail tightly so as to obscure the vibrations in her hand. Rojas turned to watch and his gaze did not go unnoticed.

  “I want an answer, Miss Baker. I want to know how you intend to carry out assignments such as these. These people would need to simply disappear with no one being the wiser.”