Page 73 of Thaddeus

“Spent the last few years with the Gold Team. We’ve been OCONUS most of that time.”

“Yeah, don’t know what OCONUS means or what the Gold Team is,” I told him.

“We’re the Gold Team. Zane has different teams for different regions. OCONUS is outside the continental U.S.”

“So there’s more of you? I mean, more teams?”

“Yeah. Red Team, which is the team Zane deploys with is the fast-action response team. But in recent years, Blue Team which specializes in Maritime piracy has been picking up their slack, because Red has mostly run ops for the president. Our region was mostly the Middle East. We normally stick to the major trade routes that are inundated with stolen antiquities and human commerce.”

Human commerce, that’s the PC, nice way of saying sex trafficking. For eight years I’ve been trying to track my sister, wading through traffickers and men who steal, buy, and trade women. All the while Thaddeus worked a job that specialized in human commerce. The irony of that was crushing.

Pushing that depressing and quite frankly just plain old sad thought out of my head, I concentrated on the other information he’d given me. I didn’t know what fast-action response team meant but it sounded exciting.

Then it hit me. Swiftly. Hilariously. And once it did, I couldn’t stop the giggles that bubbled up and turned into laughter.

“What’s funny, babe?”

I waved my hand in front of my face trying to stop the fit of cackles that wouldn’t stop. A few deep breaths and I tried to speak through my hilarity.

“FART.”

“What?” Now Thaddeus was laughing, too.

“Acronym.” I laughed. “FART.” I waved my hand some more and tried to spit out the rest. “Red Team is… FART. Fast-action response team.”

I laughed harder and suddenly I was on my back. Thad’s face was buried in my neck and my laughter died. That was because I was enjoying the full body experience of not only hearing but feeling Thaddeus Bench letting loose and roaring with laughter.

His body shook over mine.

His voice rumbled against my skin.

I was lost in sensation.

And I never wanted to be found.

Thad

“You’re gonna have to watch your space,” Declan said, pointing at a map of Garcia’s property in Manicore. “We’re gonna be tight. Garrett measured it out and estimates each of the houses is approximately twelve-hundred square feet.”

“Did he get in touch with the local task force?” Brooks asked.

“He put some feelers out but he was met with resistance and didn’t want them to clue in to what we were doing. He did get in contact with a security contractor that has boots on the ground in the area. They’re not watching Garcia’s land, but they are tracking a drug smuggler so they’re watching and there hasn’t been much activity in the area, or should I say, more activity. Therefore, they said they’ve clocked five men regularly going and coming using the road that leads to the property. But again, they’ve not scouted the property so there could be more guards that don’t leave, so they wouldn’t’ve seen them,” Declan explained.

I continued to study the maps laid out on the table. There was a small town a klick away—grocery stores, eateries, churches, and auto part stores were in abundance. And housing. I checked the notation Declan had added—population fifty-four thousand. Lots of people jam-packed into the municipality. The number of people on Garcia’s payroll, unknown.

“Any ideas how to get in?” I started. “River infil again?”

The land was surrounded by dense woods on the north and south sides, less so on the west where the entrance was, and a body of water to the east.

“That would be a hell no. The Madeira River is a major tributary of the Amazon. Not only is the shipping traffic heavy through that area but indigenous tribes along the river fish the river. Then of course there are the snakes.”

“Snakes? Brother, since when are we afraid of snakes?” Kyle chuckled.

“Since there are anacondas in that river. Not to mention, the Penis Snake. That bitch might only top out at two feet, but I’d rather not have to find out if it bites.”

“You’re serious?” I asked, unable to hold back my laughter. “You’re scared of a little penis?”

“Goddamn right, I am. I hate snakes. But that’s not our biggest concern, the waterway is a no-go due to shipping. Garrett checked the AIS satellite map and movement is substantial. Tugs and special craft are passing the Manicore port at a rate of one every ten minutes. Tides are high due to rainfall and grain and logs are being transported. Pleasure crafts are in the area as well. It’s not worth the risk of bumping into one of them.”