Invincible (The Trident Code) (4 page)

BOOK: Invincible (The Trident Code)
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6.

 

Our carrier pulled into port
at sunrise. Had this been Annie’s last sight before she had been taken? Her desire to photograph its beauty had cost her freedom. Today, I would liberate her. I couldn’t wait to see the look on her face once I’d saved her. All the training I’d gone through in my life had prepared me for this mission. And if we're being honest, I relished that feeling of accomplishment. It was the only thing in my life that made me feel better.

Vic, Kyle, and I left the ship and headed to the private dock to get our yacht.

We made our way through the maze of scuba tours, glass bottom boats, and moonlit cruises. A middle-aged bearded guy with a ponytail and a beer belly met us at the dock, dangling the keys.

“You must be Dave.” Kyle shook his hand, and Vic and I fo
llowed suit.

“Nice to meet you. The
Cleito
is all cleaned up and ready for you.”

I glanced at Vic and Kyle. The
Cleito
. In Plato’s myth of Atlantis, Cleito bore Poseidon ten sons. An obscure Navy SEAL trident reference, but we all understood the significance of the name instantly.

Dave handed me the keys. “So what are your plans? I know some great scuba spots.”

I placed the keys in my pocket. “Thanks, man. We’re just going to relax, go fishing, snorkel, maybe head to Aruba.”

Dave glared at our
seabags, filled with our night-ops equipment. He was no dummy; former old-school frogman. He probably sensed that we were planning something other than checking out the local tropical fish...at least not the kind that swam in the sea. “Well, I’m happy to show you around. Anything you need.” He placed his hand on my shoulder. “Please, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“We will.” I eyed Kyle, who nodded toward me. We could trust this man. Any BUD/S class, any trident. He was one of us. Basica
lly fucking family.

“Well, let me give you a tour.” He led us on the boat. It was no luxury yacht by any means but it would be perfect for our needs. Downstairs there was a small galley kitchen, upstairs there were two bedrooms—one with two twin beds and one with a queen, a bathroom, and a tiny living area.
And a small area to relax up on top deck. I gave Kyle the keys and he fiddled around with the controls.

We spent the rest of the day stocking up the ship with food, drinks, and supplies. I’d bought Annie clothes, shoes, toiletries,
magazines, some books. Wasn’t sure what she was into but I figured anything that could keep her mind off drugs and what she’d been through would be a good bet.

Hours later, the sun had finally set. We cleaned, loaded, and concealed our weapons.

I was ready to fuck some shit up.

Kyle stood up. “Let’s do this!”

Operation Rumpelstiltskin was ready to go down. 

We’d all dressed casually. I had no fear—this was more like a training exercise than a mission.

Nothing could go wrong.

We walked down through the back alleys of
Curaçao. A rush pulsed through my body. In less than an hour, Annie’s nightmare would be over and a whole new world would begin.

When we turned onto the street, I gasped. The brothel was n
owhere in sight—instead, ashes were strewn across the ground, burnt mattresses collapsed in the street.

It was gone—she was gone.

I’d failed her.

Vic put his arm around my shoulder. “You sure this is the place?” 

“Positive.”

Kyle sifted through the embers, eyes focused. “I’m sure she’s alive and they just moved her.”

My eyelids burned and I could feel the pulse in my throat.

A man walked
by, wearing a watch that looked like the one I’d given the pimp.

I ran and shoved him against the next building. “Where did you get that fucking watch?”

He quivered, and once I got a closer look, I realized it wasn’t my watch.

Vic and Kyle dashed after me.

I released the man. “Sorry. My mistake.”

Vic stood in my personal space and made strong eye contact. “Pat, we’ll find her.”

I backed away from them, and started back into town.

If she were still alive, I would find her. Annie had survived this long. I just prayed she wouldn’t give up, because I would search every corner of this earth until I found her.

“I will never quit. I persevere and thrive on adversity.”

 

 

7.

 

We sat around
in the
yacht and hatched a plan over beer and pizza. I had two weeks to find her. Two weeks until we were due back on our carrier where we would deploy to the Middle East. By then she would be lost forever. And so would I. There was no more room for errors.

Kyle always tried to take charge. “It’s easy. Let’s just go and ask around town until someone talks. Or we can ask Dave for help. He knows this area.”

“It’s not that easy.” I took a swig of my beer and studied the breaking waves. “I don’t want to involve Dave. We don’t know him. We can’t raise suspicion. They could kill her if the wrong person found out.”

Vic nodded in agreement. “We should tell Lt. Marshall. Just go through the channels. That’s the best way.”

Kyle and I exchanged a glance. I’d already informed Vic that telling our command wasn’t an option. Especially now—I’d wasted enough time.

“I fucked up. I should’ve told you guys the night I met her. We could’ve gotten her the next night when I went back. Now it'll be on my shoulders if she ODs or winds up in a ditch.”

Kyle grabbed another slice of pizza. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. We had to get back on the ship that night. What the fuck could we have done? Save her and then just drop her off somewhere? And don't be suck a fucking pussy. She didn’t get moved because you came back. They move these girls all the fucking time.”

I knew that, she’d even told me that. But I hadn’t listened. Too cocky, and now I didn’t have a fucking clue where she was. 

I stood up. “Let’s go.”

I didn’t have to explain myself. Vic and Kyle pounded back their beers, polished off their pizza, and we left.

We weaved in and out of the underbelly of Curaçao. Must’ve hit up a dozen more brothels. It was so fucking depressing. Some of the whores couldn’t have been older than fourteen. The older ones reeked of desperation. Dead eyes, bruised bodies, drugged minds.

But there was no sign of Annie.

We found another joint; this one was more similar to the one I’d met Annie at. But again, she was nowhere in sight. More importantly, at all of these brothels, I never recognized any of the other girls who’d worked with Annie. I knew that they couldn’t have all just vanished into the night. They had to be somewhere. Unless they were six feet under.

Kyle disappeared into one of the rooms with a girl. He said he was going to ‘take one for the team’ so we didn’t arouse susp
icions.

When he emerged from the room, he had a big smile on his face.

“Was she that good?” I asked.

“Wouldn’t know. I couldn’t bear to fuck her, just in case she was another American and I’d have to deal with this shit. So she just gave me a hand job. Not half bad but I do a better job myself. Anyway, I told her I had fucked this amazing whore at the brothel that had burnt down. She said she’d heard that a bunch of girls were just moved to Aruba.” He smirked. "Told you I'd take one for the Team."

“Let’s go.” I pressed my palms downward; this time I didn’t want to be overly confident. The cool Caribbean breeze calmed my mind. Annie had mentioned she’d been transferred to Aruba once. Made sense that she was back there now.

Aruba was a mere sixty-nine miles away.

Pictures of Annie in various situations raced through my mind. Annie being raped by some sweaty fat ass with tentacle hands and bad breath. Annie shooting up and stoned out of her mind on the dirty floor of a dark room. Annie being beaten by an overenthusiastic pimp with a heavy hand and no one to protect her. Annie crying alone at night because she'd finally given up hope that I would find her.

Over the years, I’d participated in many missions. Accomplis
hing them gave me a great sense of pride for my country, but I’d never felt as connected to a mission as I did to this one. I was meant to be in the brothel that night, to choose her, to ask her name. Even my ex-fiancée cheating on me led me to that moment, that decision, because if she had been faithful, I would be married to her and would’ve never set foot in a brothel. I may have many character flaws, but cheating was not one of them.

I would not fail Annie. I don't fail.

“I am never out of the fight.”

 

 

 

8.

 

We survived a rocky boat
ride to Aruba. This neighboring island had the same vibe as Curaçao: tropical, humid, colorful. My eyes were gritty from lack of sleep and not even the black tar that Kyle claimed was coffee could wipe the fog from my brain. A restless night on the piece of shit boat coupled with vivid nightmares of Annie's fate had me feeling edgy and irritable. I couldn't relax until we'd gotten this shit done.

With the boat safely docked in a slip, the three of us made our way through the energetic market, elbowing through hoards of tourists and locals hocking their wares. The sun was already ba
king a sea of bodies on the stretch of beach and though I wore faded jeans and a frayed t-shirt with a cap pulled low over my eyes, I felt the heat heavy on my skin. I couldn't stop Vic from donning a tacky Hawaiian shirt, his attempt to dress like a tourist. Vic followed at a distance, strolling leisurely from shop to shop along the beachfront road.

We’d rented a car and reserved a hotel room in the middle of town. Until we found her, we wanted to make sure that we were staying in the center of the tourist hub so we could do our best to blend in with the throngs of visitors.

At night, Kyle, Vic, and I set out again, scouring the red lights. The ones in Aruba seemed more upscale than the ones in Curaçao. Most were set up like bars. Men could sit and order drinks at little tables and chat up the hookers. I guess that was great for the men who liked to pretend that these women were actually interested in them, instead of admitting that they were paying for sex. I preferred to be honest with my intentions so I never needed to play any games or delude myself any more than I already did.

But after another long night of too many drinks and too bright neon lights, we’d come up empty-handed. No Annie.

Kyle convinced Vic and I to cool off at the hotel bar, Enrique & Richie’s. It was dark and pulsed with loud music, heavy on the bass. Spring break was out in full force. Coeds writhed on the small dance floor with candy-colored drinks and short skirts paired with bikini tops. Most were already halfway to blitzed and I couldn't help but wonder if one of them would be the next Annie.

Vic and Kyle hit on girls at the bar, but I was too fucking d
epressed to make small talk. I sat alone at a table in the corner, drinking whiskey. Why should I be out having fun in paradise, while Annie was turning tricks in hell?

Think, motherfucker. What am I missing?

My mind drifted, and I zoned out listening to the Calypso music. The beat of the steel drums shook my shot glass.

Steel. Drums.

Annie had said that the last thing that she’d remembered the morning she had been taken was that the drummer entered into her elevator and drugged her. And the other American girl who went missing, Nicole Race, had been last seen at this bar. Annie had even said she knew Nicole, but Nicole had overdosed. This couldn’t just be a coincidence.

I glanced over to the drummer and my eyes narrowed. A larger than life man with piercing dark eyes; he wore a pink shirt and played those drums as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Kyle was busying grinding some girl on the dance floor, so I told Vic that I’d meet him back in the room because I wanted to take a walk. He gave me a look, like he thought I was up to something, and asked if I wanted them to come with me. When I said no, he just nodded.

I made my way to the alley near the back of the club. There was a van parked there. A tree was painted on its side door with the words
Divi Divi underneath. I moved my rental car around the corner. When the band left, I’d be ready to follow them.

Hours passed. I was tired as fuck but didn’t so much as close my eyes to risk sleep. Staying up casing this van was easy co
mpared to the training I’d endured. In BUD/S Hell Week, I’d survived on only four hours of sleep in five and a half days. To this day, every time I was tired during a mission, I could hear my instructors’ words echo in my head, taunting us, trying to get us to ring the bell three times and quit.
“Anybody who quits right now gets hot coffee and doughnuts. Come on, who wants a doughnut? Who wants a little coffee?”

I needed a pick me up. I sprinkled some instant coffee into a water bottle. Time to hurry up and wait.

Eventually, the five-member band loaded up all their equipment in the van. But instead of taking off, they milled around, talking and smoking, no sense of urgency at all.

Another half an hour passed. Finally, they climbed into the van. When it pulled out on to the street, I slowly followed behind them, keeping my distance.

After a few miles along the road, the van stopped in front of a one-story plantation-style house. It wasn’t one of the brothels we’d investigated—I wasn’t even sure if it was a brothel at all. No sign, no man out front, just a door with some metal bars on it and some lights in the windows.

Could Annie be in there?

The men got out. Four of them took off in a different parked vehicle. Then the door to the house opened and the drummer walked inside and greeted another man.

I took out my binoculars and his face came into focus. It was that pimp. The one with my watch, I was sure of it.

Fuck. Annie had to be in there. But was it a brothel? A drug den? Maybe it was a holding place where they drugged up the women before they moved them elsewhere. And how many men? I could see two: the pimp and drummer. But as far as I could tell, only the pimp was armed.

I drove my car around the building. In a window to the back, I could see a girl stare out the window. She had dark hair but even with my
binoculars that was all I could make out because she had left the window so quickly. Was she Annie? My gut told me she was, but there was only one way to find out.

I needed my men and my night-ops equipment. I drove off back to the hotel, careful to mark the path in my mind.

I couldn’t wait another day, another chance for them to move her. We had to move in tonight.

 

 

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