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Millie wanders around the room, head down, sniffing.
“Go. Get help.” My eyes bulge. Burn. “Hey, Sage, I’m gonna be okay. But maybe don’t take your sweet ass time.”
What he’s saying is…Move. Those. Legs.
CHAPTER 29
Knox
“This isn’t at all what I was expecting.”
Cayman Brac is a typical small Caribbean island. The homes whizzing by late at night are a mix of cinderblock and stucco. Shrubs and low-lying trees dot the sandy landscape.
“You spend much time in the Caribbean?” Mateo is so relaxed, arm halfway hanging over the rolled down window, you’d think we’re shooting the shit while zipping around the island on vacay.
“Not a lot.” It’s been a long time since my folks took me on a family vacation to the Bahamas, and the vacations I’ve chosen to take as an adult are more of the adventure variety. Rock climbing, camping, whitewater rafting.
“It’s glam and glitz if you’re resort side. Once you leave the resort, shit gets real.”
“I get that,” I say, scanning the area as Max slows.
Given our objective is to get in and out undetected, after further analysis, we opted for a four-man team. We also canned the swim-in plan as unnecessary.
Our contact at Interpol sent over blueprints of the building. All they want in exchange is information. Apparently, they like to keep tabs on shell companies and businesses exercising shady accounting practices.
The Caymans are known for harboring all kinds of law-skirting operations, but it’s not one run by organized crime with big guns. In this country, accounting crimes are the norm. Violent crime isn’t.
“Doesn’t feel like we’re in the right place,” I say. The salt-tinged, humid night air and the swaying palms remind me of a small Florida beach town, the kind where all the doors are unlocked and during the day there are as many cyclists as motorists.
Back in the hotel, when we were reviewing blueprints and aerial shots, I suspected our intel was off. Being out here on location only serves to underscore that suspicion.
“Eh, you’re picking up on the friendly vibe. All the locals know each other. Doesn’t mean they wouldn’t look the other way with the right incentive,” Mateo says.
Mateo is an independent contractor Arrow hired. He’s got a military background but does mostly surveillance work now.
The stretch of road ahead darkens, lit only by our headlights and a sliver of moon. The faint sound of waves crashing blends into the hum of the combustion engine. Given the widest stretch of island spans one mile, we’re surrounded by ocean.
Max veers off the asphalt road onto a stretch of dirt mixed with shell. Winding, curly branches with green foliage provide cover. He cuts the engine and the four of us climb out.
From the rear, we gear up, strapping on Kevlar vests, holsters, guns, knives, and night vision goggles.
Rex, another independent contractor, points past the hood of the Jeep. “We’ll take that trailhead. Mateo and I scouted it two days ago. Direct route to the buildings.”
Aerial views from a drone counted four men with assault rifles patrolling the perimeter of the grounds.
As we prepare to head off down a narrow path, I’m hit with regret that I didn’t find time to call Sage earlier. Which is proof she’s different from anyone else I’ve dated. It’s not like me to regret anything, or for that matter, to be thinking of anything other than the mission. Three teammates rely on me to maintain focus.
“You take the heat sensors. Okay?” Rex hands the goggles to Max. “I’ll take the lead, as I’ve taken the path before. We’ll go in one by one, as up ahead the trail narrows. Order goes me, Max, Knox, and Mateo takes rear.”
Rex extends a tube of camo face paint. “You want?”
There’s not a lot of light in the area we’re moving into. I squeeze some out on the tip of my fingers. Mateo has dark skin, and he waves it away. Max’s nickname was Viking thanks to his height, build, blond hair, and blue eyes. He rubs the paste around, taking care to get the white areas below his eyes where his sunglasses keep him from getting color.
Mateo lives in Puerto Rico, and Rex lives somewhere on the East Coast. He didn’t specify the location. We’re trained to seamlessly function as a unit, even if we haven’t worked together before.
Geared up, we head out.
There’s a decommissioned lighthouse nearby. I saw it on the map and the aerial photograph but can’t see it through the trees. Fifteen minutes in, we come to a stop at the tree line.
