Savage Bay (3 page)

SIXTEEN HOURS BEFORE THE SAVAGE BAY HALO JUMP

MARABELLA, SPAIN

Sixteen hours before the Savage Bay HALO jump, Isabella Cruz took a sip of her softly bubbling Prosecco, leaving behind just a hint of her full, dark red lips on the rim of the glass.

She sat at a small, elegant table at Restaurante Las Rejas, eagerly awaiting the fillet of sea bass with cream puree and salmon roe suggested to her by a young, attentive waiter. The cluster of tables outside Las Rejas was only lightly populated, and Isabella sat with her back to a broad plaza lined with restaurants and boutiques.

The afternoon sun warmed Isabella’s deeply tanned, olive skin. She sat with one long, slender leg crossed over the other. Her long, black hair flowed across her bare shoulders and down her back. Her thin white camisole was stretched tightly across her ample chest.   

Isabella poked at her salad with a cold fork, ignoring her date, and instead studied an attractive man seated at a nearby table. Then she abruptly realized that her much younger companion had stopped eating and was intently staring at the plaza behind her.

She turned around in her chair. Isabella’s eyes grew wide.

Twenty meters above the brick piazza, a black helicopter descended toward the ground. It made almost no noise. The helicopter’s rotors spun in near silence, thumping quietly in the afternoon air. The helicopter’s harsh angles and flat surfaces were unlike anything she had ever seen.

  The sight was so unexpected that Isabella could only sit and stare as the stealth helicopter landed in the central plaza of the old city center. Around her, the other diners watched in stunned silence.

Four men in black tactical gear and assault rifles slung across their backs jumped from the helicopter. They surveyed the sidewalk tables.

Two tables to her right, a man stood and then walked toward her — the same man she had been watching just moments before. He stood about two meters tall, solidly muscular, with short dark hair and blue eyes. Beneath his linen suit he wore a black shirt that stretched across his broad chest.

He nodded toward the group of armed men from the helicopter. They drew their weapons and arrayed themselves in a semi-circle around the cluster of tables in front of the restaurant.

“Isabella Cruz,” said the man in the suit.

“Yes?” she said in surprise. “What is this about?” 

“And the name of this gentleman is?” he said, gesturing to Isabella’s date.

Marcos’ face went pale and his jaw dropped open.

“Bond. James Bond,” she replied.

“Try again.”

“Fine. His name is Marcos.”

“And does Marcos have a last name?” asked Hawkeye.

Marcos closed his mouth and then started to answer. Hawkeye silenced him with a stern glance.

“I wasn’t speaking to you,” said Hawkeye.

He turned his attention back to Isabella. “Well?” he asked.

“I have no idea. I mean, I’m sure he has a last name. I just have no idea what it might be. We only met last night.”

Marcos looked around at the armed men standing sentry around the outdoor cafe. Then he looked back at Isabella. And then at Hawkeye. Marcos’ mouth opened, but no words came out.

“It’s time for you to go,” said Hawkeye.

Marcos nodded and stood abruptly. He knocked over his chair in his haste to flee the scene.

“It was a pleasure meeting you. You have yourself a wonderful day,” said Hawkeye, waving goodbye to Marcos.

Marcos scurried off across the plaza and disappeared around the nearest corner. Hawkeye gave Isabella a smile.

“Now, where were we?” asked Hawkeye. “Ah, yes. Catherine Caine requires your assistance. You’ll be coming with us. Now.”

Hawkeye unbuttoned his blazer and took another step forward. Beneath his jacket was a stainless steel 9 mm in a black leather shoulder holster. He now stood mere inches from Isabella.

“But ... I ... ”

“Stand up,” he ordered.

Her lips parted slightly, and she looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Why?” she asked.

“I said stand up,” Hawkeye replied.

He took her roughly by the arm and pulled her to her feet. Isabella drew back, but Hawkeye pulled her close. She put a hand against Hawkeye to push him away, but his chest was hard and unyielding.

“She couldn’t just call?” Isabella asked.

Hawkeye leaned forward and fixed Isabella with his trademark stare. His face was mere inches from hers. He reached down and grabbed Isabella’s wrist. She winced as his grip tightened. Then Hawkeye spun her around, pulling her right arm behind her back. He pushed her forward against the table.

“You’re hurting me,” she said. Isabella gripped the edge of the table with her free hand. Hawkeye’s body pressed against hers.

“Not yet I’m not,” he said.

Hawkeye put a steel-toed boot between her three-inch heels. He pressed his boot against her right foot, forcing her to widen her legs until they stretched the fabric of her dress taut against her thighs.

“Are you armed, Ms. Cruz?”

She felt the strength of his body against hers.

“No,” she said softly. “I’m not.”

“Put your hands flat on the table,” he ordered.

“But I -- ”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

She complied, and placed both hands facedown on the white table linen.

“Stay right there,” said Hawkeye. He ran his hand down Isabella’s neck and back, beneath the long silky hair that fell across her shoulders. Then he slid his palms down her sides to her waist. His touch was firm, but not unwelcome.

Hawkeye reached his arms around her tensed body. He smoothed his palms up the concave expanse of her stomach, stopping just as the edge of his hand brushed against the heavy curves of her chest. Isabella arched her back, pressing against him.

“Not going to just take my word for it?” she asked.

“Not this time,” Hawkeye replied.

He moved his hands down her legs. She shied away as he strayed from her hips to her thighs.

“Don’t move,” he warned.

Hawkeye felt thin lace between her legs as he searched beneath her summer dress. Isabella’s skin tingled beneath his touch.

“Wait, I — ” she began to say.

And then, abruptly, he was finished.

“Take her,” Hawkeye said.

Two of the armed men took Isabella by the arms and led her away from the cafe. Hawkeye retrieved a roll of Euros from his jacket pocket. He counted off five hundred and dropped them on the table.

“Enjoy your meals,” Hawkeye said to the few slack-jawed spectators still seated at the surrounding tables. Then he followed the Titan Global security officers as they escorted Isabella Cruz toward the helicopter. She turned her head to look back at Hawkeye.

“Nice to see you again, Hawkeye,” she said.

Hawkeye nodded.

“It’s been a while. Almost a year since the embassy project wrapped up in Baghdad,” he replied.

“You said you’d call.”

Hawkeye smiled. “I meant to.”

TWELVE HOURS BEFORE THE HALO JUMP,

OFF THE COAST OF ANDALUSIA, SPAIN

The stealth helicopter thumped its way over the Mediterranean, leaving the Andalusian skyline behind. Cruz sat in the second row of seats behind the cockpit, flanked by her burly escorts.

Cruz adjusted her headset and spoke into the mic.

“A bit overdramatic, no?” said Cruz. Her voice sounded hollow. It echoed in her ears.

“The ship is just a few miles offshore,” said Hawkeye. “We’ll be there in no time.”

“Ship?”

Hawkeye just gave her his trademark stare.

Cruz sighed, gazing out the window at the rolling surf below. In the distance, a freighter left behind a broad wake as it lumbered south. A dark storm loomed on the horizon, and large swells churned the surface of the sea.

“There she is,” said Hawkeye, pointing toward the horizon. “The
Alamiranta.
”

“It’s huge,” said Cruz.

“Nine hundred fifty-one feet. She began her life as a cruise ship, actually.”

Cruz stared at the floating monstrosity in amazement. At least eleven decks were visible above the waterline.

“A little big for a private yacht, isn’t it?” Cruz asked.

Hawkeye laughed. “Catherine Caine runs an international business empire. And she runs it largely from that ship. There are benefits to conducting business from a location outside the laws of sovereign nations.”

“A floating headquarters?”

“You could say that. Over two thousand Caine employees live and work aboard ship. Banking, oil and gas, commodities, and currency trading. Private military and intelligence services provided by Titan Global. The core of all of those operations is aboard the
Alamiranta
. She’s outfitted with state-of-the art technology and infrastructure. And all the amenities of a cruise ship. Caine takes good care of her people. A floating city in international waters.”     

Cruz knew Catherine Caine by reputation, but had never actually met her even though Cruz worked as a project engineer for one of Caine’s defense contracting subsidiaries. The Caine family had made hundreds of millions of dollars in lucrative government contracts, rebuilding infrastructure in the Middle East and Afghanistan that had been destroyed by the U.S. military.

Three years ago, Demetrius Caine was nearly killed in a helicopter accident in Israel. Traumatic brain injury rendered him comatose, his prognosis uncertain. It was variously rumored that Demetrius was recovering in a secret life-extension facility in Switzerland, had been cryogenically frozen in a lab in Hong Kong, or was now hidden in a secret hospital in Spain built and staffed solely to attend to its single patient: Demetrius Caine.

It was also rumored that as long as Demetrius Caine continued to draw breath, assisted by machine or otherwise, Catherine retained control of their business empire.

The stealth helicopter silently thumped over the waves of the Mediterranean Sea toward the
Alamiranta
.

“We’re about five minutes out,” said the pilot.

Tank motioned for Hawkeye to join him on the jump seats at the rear of the helicopter, away from the rest of the group. Tank spoke into his headset microphone to Hawkeye on a private channel.

  “Caine wanted me to brief you on Savage Bay. At least the general picture. That’s all I really know anyway at this point,” said Tank. “Savage Bay is the name of a deepwater cove on Es Vedra Island. It’s also the name of a secret installation hollowed out beneath the island’s central mountain ridge. A decommissioned submarine base.”

“A what?” Hawkeye deadpanned.

“Shut up. We’ve only got a few minutes. The Savage Bay complex was built and operated by the U.S. military under a secret treaty with Spain during the Cold War.”

“I can understand why they chose that location,” said Hawkeye. “It’s right near the Strait of Gibraltar. American submarines could guard and control the only entrance to the Mediterranean from the Atlantic Ocean.”

“And because the base was concealed underneath the island, submarines could covertly leave and return to Savage Bay through underwater entrances hidden beneath the sea,” said Tank. “They never had to surface, and the subs could come and go undetected. The Chinese and the Russians have similar submarine bases that are still in operation.”

“But the Savage Bay base was decommissioned?”

“In 1989,” said Tank. “That’s the year the Es Vedra Treaty between Spain and the U.S. expired. Negotiations to extend the treaty collapsed when Spain found out that America had been storing nuclear warheads at the base. That was a clear violation of the agreement.”

“Spain refused to renew the treaty?”

“They did. But the public never found out about any of it. The Spanish government kept everything quiet. No one wanted to take responsibility for turning a blind eye to the U.S military using Spain as a nuclear weapons depot.”

“What happened to the base?” asked Hawkeye.

“The U.S. stripped the facility and turned it back over to Spain. The Spanish government inherited an abandoned, and apparently useless, secret military installation.”

“And how did Caine get involved?”

“For years Savage Bay just sat there, mothballed. Two years ago, however, a private company leased the entire island from the Spanish government and converted the complex into a secret scientific research facility. Any guesses who brokered that deal?”

“Demetrius Caine.”

“Good guess. The biotechnology company Triad Genomics is one of the crown jewels in the Caine empire. Triad took over the Savage Bay complex and began classified research.”

“Makes sense,” said Hawkeye. “Secret location. Isolated. Military grade infrastructure already in place. And knowing Caine, she got a hell of a deal on the lease -- ”