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At the mention of going to Caracas, Jack was excited to visit the cloud forest that was located west of the city near Lake Maracaibo, which had over one thousand confirmed species ofCattleyasorchids. Ever since she’d gotten the plant from Rosa, she’d been obsessed with learning everything about them. Jack had poured over books about orchids, propagating them, the business of selling them. It all intrigued her. She had a keen interest in plants since she’d been a little girl, and now, she was totally consumed with orchids.
“I see on your schedule you’re going to Venezuela.” Rosa’s tone was filled with both fear and concern. “It’s an unpredictable country right now. Are you sure you have to go?”
“It’s a business trip. I’ll be in the capital for four days to close a deal and kick Kyle’s butt again.”
“As satisfying as it is to hear you’ll trounce that bottom-feeder again, I still don’t like it.”
Jack grabbed one of Rosa’s freshly baked cinnamon muffins from the basket on the counter. Rosa took it from her, set it in a plastic container, and tucked it into Jack’s carry-on.
Jack smiled at her. “I’ll be fine.” She got a notification on her phone that her car was outside to take her to the airport. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you every day. That work?”
“Yes, but…” Rosa took Jack’s phone and pulled up her notepad, then she typed rapidly. “This is my sister’s address in El Vigia. If you get into trouble, she’ll help.”
“That’s so kind, Rosa. But I’m sure I’ll be okay. I’m going to plan a side trip to the cloud forest. I’ll drop in and say hi to Maria.”
Rosa’s face clouded over, and her eyes got too sad. “I miss her.”
Jack nodded and smiled, hugging her. “I’ll see you soon.”
The next day, she landed in the capital city of Venezuela, Caracas, immediately disgusted with the “security” they’d assigned her—an overweight man who was still eating a doughnut. A chill of foreboding washed down her spine, but she pushed it away.
After a quick freshening up at the hotel, she put on her powder pink power suit, her six-inch Jimmy Choo rare pink crock heels, and took the town car over to TP’s headquarters.
She spoke fluent Spanish and conversed with the three executives with ease, even with Kyle’s attempts to circumvent her presentation. She won the deal and the competition. She was getting that promotion and all the other perks that came with winning.
As they were hammering out the last parts of the deal—she had gotten quite a few considerations from them, netting the company potentially hefty profits, and upping her already substantial bonus—the door burst open and armed men poured in.
“What is going on?” Jack asked. One of the men shoved her over the desk and slapped handcuffs on her as he pressed his sweaty body against her. “What are you doing?”
“You’re under arrest.” She looked at Kyle who said nothing in her defense, only smirked at her. All she could think at the moment was he was gloating while she was in deep kimchi.
“Why?” she demanded, glaring at Kyle.
“For consorting with known subverts who have threatened the Venezuelan government.”
“That’s absurd!” Desperate enough to plead, she screamed at Kyle, “Help me. Call the company. Get me a lawyer.” But he didn’t move an inch. As the door started to close behind her, he turned to the executives.
“I’m an American businesswoman here to work a PAY-TV deal. You can’t arrest me.”
She was instantly proven wrong as they dragged her out of the conference room, her “security” standing there drinking coffee and eating another doughnut. They shoved her into a van with a guard who looked her up and down in a way that made her skin crawl. Thirty minutes after that, a cell door closed in her face.
“Wait,” she screamed. “Where’s my phone call! I demand my rights!” But her words echoed off the filthy, solid walls.
3
Ready Room,Joint Expeditionary Base Little Creek—Fort Story, Virginia Beach, Virginia
Easy sat in the briefing room, thankful to be back at Little Creek. His Aunt Helen, after some concern over his well-being, had taught him some ways to overcome the waking flashbacks, mostly using meditation. He was still experiencing the three-incident loop at night, but he’d managed to get back to his relatively normal self during the day.
Unfortunately, there was still tension in the team, and Easy wasn’t sure why, but as he’d been taught, ignore and override. He chose to move on, hopefully things would even out once they got downrange.
They had been training a prison floor plan for a hostage rescue in Caracas, Venezuela. They were going into El Helicoide.
The State Department representative, Amber Watson, stood at the front of the room, casually leaning against one of the tables while their CIA liaison, Amanda Morris, detailed the mission. “Astraea Jacqueline Devers was supposedly arrested on suspicion of aiding the Perez movement, a minor, poorly funded, and ineffective dissident organization who oppose the current regime, but Venezuela can provide no evidence that proves she had any ties to them at all. We insisted they do so or return our citizen to us. They refused and countered with a demand to exchange her for a large cash settlement.”
“Ransom,” Easy said matter of fact.
Amanda nodded. “Exactly. That’s their motivation. Greed. They’re not going to give her up and the United States doesn’t bow down to outright extortion.” She looked back at the screen. “She works for PAY-TV as a top-producing sales representative and has been with the company for six years.”
