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Female fox, Amos translated.
“Since you’re proficient in the language and familiar with that part of the world, I want you as my second-in-command. You’ll bring the same men you took with you to Colombia, as training theAgrupaciónis our cover.”
Carrigan turned back to his monitor, worked his hand-held mouse, then gestured for Amos to come around the desk and see the map on his screen. Amos immediately recognized the northern coast of northern Venezuela, having just flown over it while delivering Grace to Curaçao.
“The USSTheodore Rooseveltis on its way to the Western Caribbean right now. We’ll launch from there, taking a RIB into this cove, here.” Jake pointed to the cove with a long, elegant finger. “This is the same spot the XO and his squad were reconning a few years back, when the warehouse exploded.”
Amos had heard the story. Jonah Mills, who had supposedly perished in the inferno, was held captive by the Venezuelans for a year before making his escape and astonishing everyone—most especially his widow—by returning from the dead.
“Maduro obviously rebuilt the warehouse, which is bigger than ever. He continues to stockpile his ill-gotten weapons there, most of them donated by Iran and Yemen. The site is now a priority target for Guaidó’s Rebel Army, which means Zorra needs to leave. On the night of August 5th, she’s to meet us at the cove—barring no unforeseen events—and we’ll convey her to theRoosevelt. That’s the best-case scenario.”
Amos knew from experience that best-case scenarios rarely ever occurred. “Count me in. But I need to ask a favor.”
Jake cocked his head inquiringly.
Minutes later, having recounted his heart-wrenching version of Grace’s extraction, Amos held Jake’s inscrutable gaze and said, “His dossier is complete. I want to go back for him. Can you leave me in-country? I’ll make my way south, pick up the boy, and call for an extraction from the same location in Colombia where we extracted his mother.”
Jake sat back in his seat and stroked one side of his clean-shaven jaw. Amos noted the thick, garnet-studded ring on his right hand, no doubt from some Ivy League college.
“Why does this kid mean so much to you?”
Amos told the story of Grace’s extraction earlier that summer and how he’d parted the boy from the woman trying to adopt him. “I was wrong to separate them. I want to make amends.”
Jake dropped his hand and sat forward. “I’ll convey your proposal to the powers that be, but I can’t promise they’ll go for it.”
Amos nodded. “Of course, sir.” If God intended for things to work out as Amos envisioned, He would make a way. End of story.
“Have a good day, Senior Chief. I’ll get back to you as soon as I know something.”
Dismissed, Amos swiveled toward the door, leaving it cracked behind him the way he’d found it.
Confidence thrummed in him. He had a good feeling that whomever Jake answered to was going to approve his unorthodox side mission. Imagining the gratitude Grace would show him when he delivered Mateo safely into her arms, Amos smiled inwardly. If anything was sure to garner her affection, returning her son to her would certainly do the trick.
* * *
Once Grace had exited the highway to fly along the wooded country roads of Suffolk, she turned off the A/C in her Honda and cracked all four windows, letting in the smells of her childhood—of pine and saltwater marshes. She and Simon were on their way to Faith’s ranch so Simon could play with Olivia, and so Grace could see for herself how Faith was faring with her first patients. A worrisome thought occurred to her.
“Listen, Simon,” she called into the back seat where Simon was buckled atop the booster seat she kept back there for her niece. “Let’s not mention to my sister or Olivia, that I’m living on your houseboat.”
“Why not?” came the predictable answer.
“Well, when grown-ups live together, people assume that they’re going to get married, and your daddy and I are just friends.”
Wanting to gauge Simon’s response, Grace adjusted her rearview mirror so she could see him. She found his forehead puckered as he stared out the window. Guilt nipped her for disappointing him.
“I think I remember my mommy.”
His unexpected words startled her.
“You do? What do you remember?”
“She was pretty. She smelled good. But I think you smell better.”
Honey, I can’t be your mommy.She caught the words back, not wanting to rub salt into a wound. Nor could she think of any excuse that he would understand as to why she couldn’t. Amos, she suspected, was clearly interested in deepening their relationship. The mere thought of trusting her future with him made her feel like she was standing on scalding hot pavement. The man was just too much.
She sought to redirect their conversation. Fortunately, they were nearing her sister’s place, which meant they wouldn’t have to talk for long. “Auntie Em was like a mommy to you, wasn’t she?”
She glimpsed Simon’s nod in the rearview mirror. “She was nice to me. I miss her.”
