The Forgotten Soldier: A Pike Logan Thriller (5 page)

8

T
hree hours later, on the other side of our boat, shielded from the castle, I slowly lowered Jennifer into the small rubber Zodiac. Already in, Knuckles helped to keep her from falling overboard. Something necessary, given the dress she was wearing.

A black, formfitting top with long sleeves, the dress was actually a Lycra bodysuit. The long, flowing skirt was simply applied to her waist by Velcro, allowing her to remove the skirt and operate unencumbered. At the small of her back was a waterproof pouch, making the skirt look like it had a bustle. In her left hand was a pair of high heels.

Knuckles stabilized her waist and I let go of her hand, saying, “Looks like the Taskforce is going to get their money’s worth from those shoes.”

She sat on the bench in the middle of the small rubber craft and smiled, saying, “My favorite piece of Taskforce kit.”

She’d had to dress up once before, on a mission in Kenya six months ago, and had gone hog wild buying an outfit on the Taskforce’s dime, including a ridiculously expensive pair of high heels called Jimmy Choos. I couldn’t believe how much they cost—and neither could the bean counters when we returned. But it was a successful mission, so the boss, Kurt Hale, had shushed them and allowed Jennifer to keep the shoes. Up until now, they’d held a special place in our closet, gathering dust.

I climbed down the ladder and took my position in the rear of the Zodiac. I was nothing but the infil-exfil platform for this mission. I said, “Comms check.”

First Knuckles talked, then Jennifer answered. I couldn’t hear either one, because they were wearing microscopic earbuds that slaved through Bluetooth to small transmitters hidden in their clothing.

Ordinarily, we communicated through a proprietary earpiece that worked encrypted through the cell network with our special Taskforce phones. Looking like an ordinary cell phone Bluetooth, they usually blended in fine, but since the host of this party confiscated all cell phones, running around with that in their ears would look a little silly. We’d opted for a covert communication system, which had far less power. It would allow Jennifer to talk to Knuckles, but I wouldn’t be able to hear anything on the dive boat.

Satisfied, Knuckles looked at me and nodded. Dressed in his tuxedo, his hair in surf-boy disarray, he really
did
look like something from an Abercrombie & Fitch poster. I chuckled.

He said, “What’s so funny?”

I glanced at Jennifer, her dirty-blond hair piled high on her head, wearing expensive-looking earrings and a faux emerald necklace, and said, “I can’t believe we get paid for this shit.”

Knuckles grinned and said, “Somebody’s got to do it.”

I said, “Okay. Primary mission is the audio for the Brazilian and the guy from Qatar. Specifically, any discussion of investing in the mine and the reasons why Qatar would be interested. Secondary mission is the cell phones. Jennifer, if you can’t get upstairs to the master bedroom, let it go.”

She nodded, but said, “I think I can get up there. As a female.”

“How?”

She grinned and said, “Let me worry about that.”

I paused for a moment, then nodded. She was pretty good at solving problems, and I knew she was working some plan that wouldn’t
be finalized until she was in the lion’s den, after she could take a look at the atmospherics.

I said, “Okay. Showtime. Knuckles, cast off.” He did so and I turned around, starting the outboard by punching a single button. It was a fairly powerful motor, but was electric. All that came out was a small whine, like that of a remote-control car.

We broke the cover of the dive boat and circled to the left, toward a small beach and away from the rocky outcropping the house sat upon. We’d remain out of sight of the castle until we were beneath the level of the rock, then slide in parallel to the coast, out of view of the security by the pool.

Scooting along barely fast enough to cause a wake, I said, “Any changes to contingencies?”

Knuckles said, “Nope. This goes south, and we’re running straight to the water. I’ll activate the beacon in my phone once I get the chance, but the only early warning will be you with an eye on the scope. You see us getting thrown out, you start chugging forward in the Zodiac.”

I nodded, then said, “What if you can’t get out?”

“Then you’d better call in a Taskforce assault team.”

Neither one of them had a weapon, because we’d decided it would be too much to try to hide. Well, the lack of weapons wasn’t exactly true. They had their hands, and their fighting skills were positively lethal.

I grinned and said, “Not much of a plan.”

Jennifer said, “We’ll get out. That’ll be the easy part. Getting in is going to be the issue. We might be in the water before you’ve made it back to the boat.”

Knuckles glanced back at me, and I saw a smile in the moonlight. Jennifer clearly didn’t like our plan. Knuckles had come up with it, and I thought it was downright devious.

We reached a point where we were below the line of sight of the men on the patio, and I slowed the boat to a crawl, lowering my night
vision goggles. I cut closer to the shore, paralleling the rock and looking for the parapet of the lowest sunbathing deck. I saw it above me, about ten feet up the cliff, a primitive set of stairs cut out of the stone leading down from it to the water. Jennifer pulled out a thermal scope, checking for body heat along the top of the crest and around the deck.

I puttered closer, seeing the waves slap into the rock. I whispered, “Hey, the surf’s worse than it was before. I’m going to get bounced into the cliff.”

Crouching down, Knuckles said, “You call that surf? That’s nothing. I should have known better than to let an Army guy drive the boat. Just get it close. I’ll buffer while Jennifer gets out, then I’ll go, pushing you away.”

We crept toward the stairway and I slowed further still, letting Jennifer complete her sweep. She put the scope down and nodded at me, her eyes bright with excitement, making me grin involuntarily. A year ago, she would have been soiling her bodysuit. Now she looked like a kid about to take a roller-coaster ride. Eager for the prospect of some harmless thrills. Only this one might not be so harmless.

We bumped into the rock, the underside eaten away from years of surf, making a mushroomlike shape. Knuckles grabbed a plant growing out of the stone and pulled us forward until we were abreast of the primitive staircase. Shoes around her neck, Jennifer scrambled up, clambering with one hand while hoisting her skirt with the other. I waited until she was clear, then hissed at Knuckles.

Still holding the plant and starting to exit, he turned around. I said, “Remember what we talked about. She likes to push things. She wants those cell phones, but don’t let her push too hard. You have the experience here.”

He grinned and nodded, saying, “I’ll bring her back in one piece. We might be wet, but she’ll be fine.”

He slipped out of sight, kicking the rubber of the Zodiac and
pushing me away from the rocks. I did a tight turn and motored about fifty feet away, sweeping the crest of the sunbathing deck with my night vision. I caught a slash of movement, but nothing else. I turned around and began steaming back to our dive boat and my lonely vigil.

9

C
linging like a cat to the steps carved in the rock, Jennifer waited until Knuckles was behind her. He tapped her and she began to climb. She moved slowly, taking the steps one at a time, bent forward so far she could almost go up on all fours, listening for any sign of movement over the soft noise of the surf.

They reached the plateau of the sunbathing deck, and the lights from the house spilled out. Jennifer paused and surveyed, seeing five lounge chairs lined up, facing the ocean. At the back of the deck was a proper staircase made of crushed coral, leading to the next terraced deck, then a farther staircase going up to the infinity pool and patio.

The noise from the party spilled down the hill, tinkles of glass, conversation, and laughter. She rose up slightly, until she could pinpoint the security at the edge of the patio. She ducked back down and whispered, “They’re still in place, on our side of the pool.”

Knuckles grinned and said, “Should we use one of the chairs or just lie down on the deck?”

Jennifer scowled, inwardly cursing Pike for talking her into this plan. He routinely came up with some pretty outrageous ideas, but agreeing to Knuckles’s suggestion was about the worst.

After spitballing various ways to get inside, they’d decided that they needed to play on the guard force’s reason to exist. In other words, let the guard force find them, but do so in such a way that
they’d be laughing instead of suspicious. Let the guard force discover them engaged in something embarrassing, then apologize in the face of the laughter and slink “back” into the party.

But what? What could the guards stumble upon that wouldn’t get them thrown out? Knuckles had come up with the idea: sex on the beach. Or more appropriately, sex on the sunbathing deck.

Jennifer was mortified just thinking about it.

Knuckles said, “Well?”

Jennifer shook her head and said, “The lounge chair.”

Knuckles said, “Me on the bottom or you?”

“Jesus. Seriously?”

“Well, it’s got to look real.”

“You on the damn bottom.”

He crept to a chair and lay down. She straddled his waist, glaring at him. He said, “Put your shoes on.”

“What?”

“Your damn Sammy Foos or whatever they’re called. They’re still around your neck. It’d look pretty silly when they find us.”

She bent over and put on the high heels, muttering. She leaned back up and said, “Satisfied?”

“Oh yeah. This is every male’s fantasy. High heels, formal dress . . .”

She tried to thump him in the head, but he blocked it, continuing, “. . . secret mission in the Cayman Islands. I’m with Pike. I can’t believe I’m getting paid.”

Exasperated, she said, “Are you done? Can we get on with the mission?”

He grinned and said, “Yeah. Final equipment check. You can get to the Octopus? And your Third Lung if this goes south?”

She reached back and felt the butt pack, saying, “Yeah. It’s good. All I need to do is ditch this skirt.”

He said, “Stand up for a minute.” She did, and he unbuckled his belt, dropping his pants to his mid-thigh, but not touching his underwear.

He patted his lap and said, “Okay then, lover. Let’s get it on. Start moaning.”

She did, embarrassingly trying to sound like she thought someone in the throes of passion would sound. She’d never really paid attention to what she truly did. It came out like a wounded kitten.

Knuckles said, “That’s it?”

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Shit. I can barely hear that, and I’m underneath you. Get them over here.”

She shook her head and took a breath, then let out a moan like a porno film. Knuckles whispered, “That a girl! Pretend like I’m Pike.”

Her eyes flashed, and she let out another moan, which sounded dangerously close to a lion closing in on a gazelle. Knuckles said, “Uhhh . . . might want to tone that one down a bit. You sound a little like you want to hurt me.”

She said, “Shouldn’t you be helping?” And dug her hands into the soft flesh right above his hip, twisting. He involuntarily yelped, grabbing her hand, and they both saw the flashlight beam flick above their heads. He let go and said, “This is it. Get ready to act.”

She moaned again, getting into it, and the flashlight came bouncing down the stairs. They jerked their heads up as if in surprise, then Jennifer sprang to her feet, pretending to adjust her dress. Knuckles leapt up, buckling his pants.

The guard said, “What the hell are you two doing down here?”

Jennifer ducked her head and moved behind Knuckles. Looking sheepish, he said, “Nothing. Nothing at all. Just looking at the view.”

The guard tried to hide a grin, but could not. He said, “Sir, madame, I’m sorry, but the party is up at the house. Please, for my job, save this for after you leave.”

Knuckles adjusted his tuxedo, gathered his feigned dignity, and said, “Sure. Sorry. Can you keep this between us, please?”

The guard nodded, obviously having no intention of doing so once
the party was over, and the three marched up the stairs and entered the house. Nobody paid them a second glance.

Jennifer couldn’t believe it had worked, whispering that into Knuckles’s ear. He said, “It was the moaning.”

She dug her hand into his kidney, twisting the flesh and making him jump. She said, “Now it’s your turn. Find the target.”

They passed across the patio, the separate bedroom off to the left, a man outside. Knuckles said, “Still no way in from the front.” She nodded and they entered through the sliding glass door to the lower level. Knuckles looked around, seeing impossibly beautiful couples dripping wealth, but not his target.

They went up the wooden staircase to the main floor and Knuckles saw him sitting on a couch in the corner, next to the balcony, the Brazilian in a chair adjacent to him, both deep in conversation. Knuckles took stock of the area, seeing the acre-size kitchen island, the expanse of food, and servers darting in and out among the guests. He looked for a couple close enough to the targets to be worthwhile. He found one about their age and said, “Let’s go. You lead, I follow. Comment on the woman’s dress or something.”

He got no response and said, “Jennifer? You switched on?”

She was staring farther in, at the metal spiral staircase leading to the master bedroom. She refocused and said, “Yeah. I’m good.”

He saw where her attention had been and said, “One step at a time. That may be a bridge too far.”

She snatched a champagne glass from a passing waiter and said, “Let’s get in the fight.”

Walking toward the couple, she said, “I’ll start the introductions, but I’m going to excuse myself. Check things out.”

“Check things out how?”

“Just look around. You’ve got the magic microphones. It’s your mission.” They got closer and Jennifer took in the décolletage of the woman. She said, “Just remember to look her in the eye.”

“What’s that mean?”

She glanced sideways at him, but said nothing. He came within frontal view of the woman and said, “Okay, okay. I see.”

Jennifer introduced herself, asking something innocuous about the woman’s jewelry, then turned it over to Knuckles, rotating her body to let him enter the conversation closest to the targets. Knuckles shook the man’s hand, then began spilling out his cover story as the CEO of a paint firm specializing in anticorrosive and low-visibility enamel, dedicated to the US military. Jennifer was actually amazed at how knowledgeable he sounded. Nothing like the man-child who’d demanded she moan for a thrill.

She asked the woman for the location to a bathroom, then moved away, following her directions, sliding in between the groups of people and weaving her way to the back of the room. She reached a hallway and saw exactly what she wanted: a line of three women waiting outside a door.

She said, “Is this the only bathroom?”

“I doubt it, but it’s the only one outside of a bedroom.”

Perfect
.

She went back to the great room, seeing Knuckles still engrossed in conversation and catching him surreptitiously stealing a glance at the woman’s cleavage.
Damn Neanderthal.

She pulled up next to him and caught his attention. He smiled and said, “That was quick.” Appearing embarrassed, she said, “Honey, I really have to go to the bathroom, but there’s a line outside.”

Knuckles looked at her in confusion and said, “Yeah? Uhhh . . . I guess wait.”

She bored into him with her eyes and said, “I
really
have to go. Something I ate.”

She was beginning to wonder if he would make the connection, when it finally clicked. He said, “Let’s see if we can find another one.”

He pointed to the winding metal staircase and said, “You guys know if there’s a bathroom up there?”

The man said, “I came early and got a tour. It’s the master bedroom, and yeah, it has a bathroom, but I don’t know if they want guests to use it.”

Jennifer put on a pouting face, looking at Knuckles as if she were a dimwit wanting him to solve the problem. He said, “I’m sure they won’t mind.”

He flagged down one of the roving security and said, “My date really needs to use the bathroom, but the one in back has a line. Something she ate. Would you mind if she went upstairs?”

The guy hesitated, then spoke into his wrist. He waited for a response, touching his earpiece, then said, “That would be fine, but I’ll have to take her up.”

Jennifer smiled and said, “Thank you. I really have to go.”

Knuckles squinted at her and said, “I’ll be right here. Don’t take too long.”

She nodded and he flicked his eyes at the targets and said, “You do, and I might wander off, looking for another date.”

Jennifer got his meaning, but the comment drew a scowl from the other woman. Jennifer pecked him on the cheek and said, “I’ll be quick. I promise. Nobody else will have to moan for you.”

She walked away, leaving Knuckles to respond to the couple now standing with their mouths open.