Thunder Storm

by Matt Lincoln

  We slept until the sun began beaming through the windows, and the brightness ushered me out of bed and slowly eased me awake. The aromas of bacon and coffee wafted past my nose, and I hurried to get dressed as it dawned on me just how hungry I was. When I stepped out of the room, I followed the scent around the corner to the well-appointed galley to find Holm in the kitchen scrambling eggs while a pan full of bacon sizzled off his left elbow.

  “Coffee is on,” he mumbled as he juggled the two pans on the stovetop.

  “Perfect,” I replied, the grogginess still in my voice. “Thank you. You know, we could have grabbed something to eat while we were out.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Holm shrugged. “I wandered in here this morning and became inspired to do something. Besides, there are budget cuts. Consider this to be me helping out.”

  “I’ll let Diane know,” I chuckled as I made myself a cup of coffee and propped myself up on the edge of the counter. “Speaking of, I should probably call her with an update.”

  “Make it quick, I’m about done here,” Holm announced over his shoulder.

  I pulled my phone out and dialed Diane.

  “Ramsey.” I had expected iffy cell reception out here on the end of the pier, but the call came through flawlessly. Then I remembered whose boat I was on, and suddenly the phone clarity made sense. I doubted that any member of Header’s crew would accept less-than-stellar communications, regardless of where they were.

  “Hey, Diane, it’s Ethan,” I announced. “We are here in Santo Domingo. Holm found the galley on the boat and is cooking us breakfast.”

  “Glad to hear it,” she replied. I heard papers shuffling and chairs scraping in the background. It sounded like another typical morning at the office up there. “I heard Bonnie stayed back with Ethel.”

  “Yes, Bonnie picked up Clyde from the airport. Ethel shouldn’t need to be here much longer though, I wouldn’t think.”

  Holm made a plate up for me and set it beside me on the counter. I swiped a piece of bacon and bit off a piece.

  “Yes, Ethel will most likely be gone by the time you return to Puerto Rico,” she informed me. “She’s done everything she can for now, so I’m bringing her back home.”

  I nodded. “That sounds good to me. I’ll let you know if anything exciting happens. Does the president know we’re coming?”

  “Yes, he does,” Diane replied. “He said he is looking forward to your visit. He almost sounded relieved.”

  “Okay.” I bit off another piece of bacon as I spoke. “I’ll be happy to try to alleviate some of his concerns. Our biggest task, however, is to gather information from him and find out why his son was taken to begin with.”

  Holm chimed in. “Also, who is the girl, and does the president know about her?”

  “Exactly,” I agreed.

  Diane continued. “Let me know how I can help. In the meantime, go talk to him. Gather as much new information as possible and then get back to me.”

  “Will do,” I promised.

  I hung up the phone and picked up the fork that Holm had rested beside the plate, making quick work of my breakfast.

  “Brother, this was amazing, thank you.” Holm shrugged off the compliment as I downed the last of my coffee. I was once again feeling jittery, but it wasn’t as bad as the last cup I had. Maybe my body was adjusting.

  “I’m pretty much ready to go,” he replied as he began wiping down the countertop where he had been cooking. “Give me a minute to get the galley cleaned up, and then we’ll head out to see the president.”

  “Of course,” I nodded. I stepped away when I had finished my meal, heading out onto the main deck which was toward the aft end of the ship. Despite the cool air blowing in down below, out here, the air was hot and unbearably humid. I thought back to the last time I had ever set foot on land here in the Dominican Republic but didn’t remember it being quite this sticky.

  I propped myself up against the ledge and looked out toward the other end of the ship. The ocean splayed out before my eyes, and the blue and turquoise waves were calm and beautiful. Birds chirped overhead, and boats passed by in different directions, heading out to do whatever they had set up for the day. I got lost in the view for a while, losing track of time.

  “I keep saying this, but damn, I could get used to this,” I mumbled to myself.

  “Yeah, same here.” Holm’s voice interrupted my thoughts. I looked over at him as he approached my perch. “This is a good spot. I’m wondering how much downtime we’ll have. A six-pack and some good food would make for a nice evening up here.”

  “Well, we have to end up back here anyway,” I reminded him. “Let’s do that tonight. If all goes well today, we’ll head back in the morning.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Holm replied cheerfully.

  We headed off the boat and called a cab over to the National Palace. The building was long and beige, with a domed center and a double set of stairs running up past immaculately pruned landscaping. All of this was behind a wrought-iron gate with an official-looking sign tacked onto the side and a guard standing on either side. Along the edges of the gate, the Dominican flag was mounted on every other post. There was no mistaking where we were.

  We climbed out of the cab and walked up to the gate. I heard Holm muttering beside me and turned to see him squinting at the sign.

  “Authorized personnel only, please identify yourself. That’s about what I’m translating so far.” I was certainly glad to have Holm with me.

  I approached one of the guards and flashed the badge that was sitting on my belt. “Special Agents Marston and Holm from MBLIS. We are here to see President García.”

  The guard turned to Holm, who showed his badge, as well.

  “Tarjeta de identificación,” the guard replied sternly.

  “Our IDs?” Holm dug out his wallet, and I did the same. Once he verified our identities, he let us through the gate. He must have been expecting us.

  The front lawn really was gorgeous, the various plants accentuating the length of the staircase as we ascended to the front entrance. There were four doorways, but the one nearest us was open, and another guard awaited us inside. He quickly scanned us through, and we got a visitor’s sticker for our troubles.

  “Err, where can we find President García?” Holm asked as I finished affixing the sticker to my textured polo shirt.

  I let Holm do the translating, but from what I gathered, we were to take the staircase at the end of the hall. I followed Holm up the steps, and when we reached the president’s office, the space opened up to a set of double doors with ornate etchings and painted details. One of the doors swung open as we approached, and a heavyset man with a burly mustache opened the door.

  “You must be my Special Agents,” he guessed warmly, stepping back to allow us to enter the room. The arched ceiling was painted with what looked like gold leaf, and columns lined the room. The room dwarfed the ornate desk that sat at the far end. “Please, take a seat.” His heavily accented voice trailed behind him as he closed the doors and walked over to his desk. “I appreciate you coming out here to speak with me. I understand you have also spoken with Jake Header?”

  I exchanged a look with Holm. “Uhm, unofficially, yes,” I replied hesitantly.

  “Oh, it’s okay,” he assured us. “Mr. Header assured me that though you are all friends, you two are working in an official capacity, and discretion is required. I do understand.”

  “May we speak frankly?” Holm asked, leaning forward in his chair. I wasn’t sure which direction he was heading with this tactic, but I trusted him.

  “Of course. Please do!” García sat forward as well, his voice insistent.

  “Why did you want us involved if you already had Header’s help?” Holm’s question surprised me a bit. This wasn’t the direction I thought this meeting would take, but I was suddenly incredibly curious about his response.

  The President licked his lips thoughtfully before answering. He lowered his voice an
octave and locked his eyes onto Holm’s.

  “Have you ever worked with someone you didn’t trust?” he asked ominously.

  Holm balked. “I mean, there was the kid in BUD/S training that almost got us all kicked out,” he reminisced. “In our line of work, you had better trust everyone you work with. It’s life or death.”

  “Life or death,” García repeated. “That is exactly it. When I gained this office, I hand-selected a group of trusted advisors to assist me along the way. I work with experts in medicine and science, military tactics, funding… I could not do my job as well as I have without the help of these people, and yet, I don’t trust them. Someone within my close circle knows my secrets, and they are plotting against me.”

  “You are confident it’s coming from your trusted advisors?” I clarified. “It couldn’t be anyone else?”

  “No, it has to be one of them,” he replied confidently. “I just don’t know which one, and now I better figure it out soon so that we can find my son before it is too late.”

  “Do you have any idea where they may have taken him?” I asked, leaning forward to mirror the stance of both García and Holm.

  “I do not,” he replied, shaking his head solemnly.

  “Does your son have a girlfriend?” Holm asked suddenly.

  The President sat back in surprise. “Why, yes,” he replied slowly. “Why do you ask?”

  Holm’s brow furrowed as he took in his reaction. “Who was he supposed to go to Mona Island with?”

  “Originally, his friend, Luis,” he replied. “I know Luis backed out at the last minute, and he was supposed to take Maria.”

  “Maria’s his girlfriend?” I interjected.

  “Yes, she is.” He looked at the two of us for a moment, waiting for our line of questioning to make sense.

  Holm was the one to tie it all together. “Were you aware that Maria is missing, too?”

  “She is?” The way the President sat upright at the news seemed very genuine. “I did not know that. Oh, this is worse than I thought.” García rubbed his temples with his fingertips worriedly. Despite my obvious reservations about this entire scenario, I had to admit, I believed him.

  “Worse than you thought?” Holm clarified. “What do you mean?”

  “They won’t kill my son,” he muttered. “Not right away. They are using him as a pawn, as a tool to get me out of my office. If I do not comply, they will probably kill him, but without a direct threat, I can trust that he is alive, at least.” The President looked up at us with fear and concern in his eyes. “If Maria has been taken, I fear she might not survive with him. They’ll have no use for her. Saving her life wouldn’t be as motivating as saving that of my son’s.”

  Holm and I exchanged a look. “That makes sense,” I replied thoughtfully. “So, we need to track them down as quickly as possible, while also trying to figure out who is behind this, trying to underhandedly boot you out of office.”

  “Yes,” García nodded. “You can see why I don’t trust my own government. However, we do need to follow certain protocols to keep this aboveboard and eliminate any chances for them to accuse me of abusing my position. So, I will need you to work with a liaison.”

  “Wait,” I blurted out. “You don’t know who we can trust, but you want to send them as a liaison to work with us?”

  “She is the one person I trust completely with my life.” The President beamed proudly. “Alejandra García. My daughter.”

  Holm chuckled from beside me. Or maybe he just cleared his throat, I wasn’t sure. Either way, I chose to ignore it.

  “Very well,” I agreed. “We’ll be heading back to Puerto Rico after this to speak to Maria’s family. When will Alejandra be ready to leave?”

  “As soon as I get everyone on board with the plan,” he mumbled as he stood up from behind his desk. “I will return.”

  He walked out the door, and I turned to Holm.

  “This case is getting more and more complicated,” I muttered, looking behind us to ensure the door was completely closed. “We need to find two people, figure out who murdered a bunch of campers, and prevent a coup? All the while unofficially working with Header, and at the same time entertaining a liaison that may or may not be who we think she is.”

  Holm shrugged. “She is his daughter. There’s no reason not to trust her.”

  “There’s every reason,” I argued. “He doesn’t know who can be trusted, and she could very well fall into the category of not-to-be-trusted. Plus, how do you think Header will feel when we show back up with a random woman that’s supposed to follow us around all day?”

  “Honestly?” Holm asked with a chuckle. “I think it all depends on what she looks like.”

  “Good point,” I agreed lightheartedly, “but even if she’s a freaking supermodel, there’s no way she’s getting near Wraith.”

  “Oh, absolutely not!” Holm yelled.

  Some commotion began to build outside the doors, and when they did burst open, President García stormed in, followed by two uniformed guards and a young woman who came damn close to looking like a supermodel.

  “Oh, boy,” Holm muttered beside me.

  The argument that had traveled with the group into the expansive room was in rushed Spanish, and neither Holm nor I could make heads or tails of what we were hearing. At one point, there was a lot of pointing and staring at us, and the only thing I could gather was that the guards were angry, and somehow we were involved.

  The President must have won the argument, because he bellowed something out one more time, causing the guards to storm out.

  “I apologize for all of that,” he announced as he walked back to his desk with the woman close behind him. “The guards were not pleased with my choice of liaison, but I must do what I feel is right for this mission. It is quite possibly the most important mission of my presidency.”

  “No need to apologize,” Holm assured him. “Is this your daughter?”

  “Indeed, it is. Alejandra, these are Special Agents Marston and Holm from America. Men, this is Alejandra.”

  I stood up and extended my hand for a handshake. Alejandra took it firmly, repeating the process with Holm. Her handshake was solid, yet brief, and I had a hard time finding anything to distrust. Then again, a handshake wasn’t really the best way to determine trustworthiness.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I asserted.

  “Likewise,” Alejandra replied, her voice smooth as honey. “I understand I will be traveling back to Puerto Rico with you?”

  “Yes,” I nodded. “We will probably leave early tomorrow morning unless something comes up before then.”

  “That will work for me,” she assured us. “My job is to stick to you two like glue and ask questions as they arise. So long as you are doing a satisfactory job, I will do my best to stay out of your way.”

  “I think we can handle that,” I chuckled. I looked over at Holm, and he agreed.

  “We are happy to have you onboard,” he declared. “You’ll probably be able to give us a deeper insight into the details of this case, as well.”

  “Most likely,” she replied warmly. Her smile was disarming yet friendly. “I will take the evening to pack up, and I will meet you two in the morning.”

  “Sounds good,” I replied. I turned my head toward Holm. “If that’s everything, we will see ourselves out for now.”

  “Yes,” García announced. “That is everything. Thank you both so much.”

  Holm and I waited until Alejandra had left, then we said our final goodbyes and headed out. We walked in silence until we were outside the wrought-iron gates, where I pulled out my phone and called for a cab.

  “What do you think?” Holm wondered aloud.

  I looked over at him. “I think we still have one more stop to make.” There was no way I was discussing my thoughts with Holm right now, not in front of the gate guards. If the President didn’t trust his closest advisors, then I didn’t trust anyone.

  Holm nodded
resolutely, understanding my intent. “Maria’s family, right?”

  “Right,” I asserted as the cab pulled up. “Let’s see if she’s been to see them lately.”

  The address that Bonnie had texted me was in a quiet neighborhood. Lush greenery lined one side of the road as we drove further away from the bustle of Santo Domingo, and around a corner sat a low-lying building with shutters for windows. The house was painted a pale gray, but the shutters and front door were bright purple.

  “Interesting color-scheme,” Holm muttered as we exited the cab and stood before the house. He leaned back into the cab and gave the driver some cash to wait for us, then followed me up to the vibrant front door. I rapped quickly on the door, but the shutters were open, and I could hear chatter from inside the house.

  The door opened after a beat, and a short woman with a shawl draped over her shoulders and gray peppered through her dark hair looked up at us cautiously.

  “Hello, ma’am,” I began, showing her my badge. “I’m here to talk to you about Maria Gonzalez. Do you have a moment?”

  The woman’s expression was unreadable until Maria’s name had passed over my lips. Her eyes widened, and concern replaced caution as she stepped aside and let us in.

  The room was longer than it was wide, and a floral-patterned couch sat along one side, where a few people sat. The floors were a speckled beige tile, and the walls were a dusty pink color decorated with various family photos. I noticed the large crucifix hanging by the doorway that led deeper into the house.

  The woman turned to the younger man sitting on the couch and spoke to him in hurried Spanish. His eyes widened, and he looked over at us as he stood up to introduce himself.

  “I’m Manny,” he said warmly, his accent noticeable. “Sorry, my grandmother doesn’t speak English too well.”

  “It’s quite alright,” Holm assured him. “I’m Special Agent Holm, and this is Special Agent Marston. We’re from MBLIS, and we are down here investigating a case. How are you related to Maria Gonzalez?”

  “She is my cousin,” Manny informed us, his voice glum. “Have you found her?”