Waiting... On You (Force Recon Marines) (34 page)

Hanna handed her duffle bag to Nick,
and he hoisted it inside the rear of the six passenger plane. After putting in
the other two bags, he and Kurt went over the items the FBI agent had brought
with him. Nick was more than pleased that Hanna had made sure everything on the
list that he’d drawn up two days ago had been procured.

Quietly gratified by the praise, Hanna
watched the two men check the weapons they’d be using. Both were dressed in military-style
olive green pants, long-sleeved black t-shirts, combat boots, and all-weather
black flight jackets. Underneath the jackets, they both wore a nylon mesh vest
that seemed to have a host of pockets. Black gloves and black knit caps stuck
out of their outer coat pockets.

Hanna was dressed for the expedition
the way Nick had asked her to dress— in dark clothing. She was wearing black
denim jeans, a black turtle neck sweater, a navy blue down-filled vest and her
Gore Tex dark green hooded jacket. She also had a pair of leather gloves and a
black stocking cap tucked into her coat pockets. On her feet, she was wearing
her well broken-in hiking boots.

She looked ready for the mission, but
she wasn’t entirely sure she felt ready. When Nick swiveled sideways, Hanna saw
his Glock in the shoulder holster under his jacket. Earlier, she had seen him
slip another handgun into a holster inside his lower pant leg. He was also
armed with that wicked looking knife he always carried or had available. This
time, it was sheathed on his belt. She assumed Kurt was carrying similar
weapons. It seemed they were armed to the teeth, although she had no idea what
a rescue mission usually required in the way of weapons.

But seeing all those guns, grenades,
and explosives that Kurt had brought made it clear just how dangerous and
potentially violent this rescue mission could turn out to be. She’d asked to go
along, but she now realized that she wasn’t really prepared for this kind of thing.
The thought of what could happen frightened her enough to make her wonder if
she should stay behind.

Some of her trepidation must have
shown on her face because when Nick was satisfied they had packed and loaded
all the equipment he thought they would need, he turned to her and frowned.

“Are you having second thoughts?”

Yes, but she didn’t want to tell him
so. He’d make her stay, and she didn’t want to sit here and worry about him,
either.

Nick took her hand in his and rubbed
the back of it with his long fingers. “You don’t have to go. Kurt and I can
handle this, and he’s arranged to have Web Montel and some other DEA agents
waiting off shore on a Coast Guard cutter. The Canadian authorities will be
nearby, too.”

“Won’t all that law enforcement spook
Chen and his men?”

“They’re going to keep a low profile
until we call them in.”

She nodded and looked from their
entwined hands to his face. “I want to go. I guess seeing all those weapons
just made me a little nervous. Will my going put you in more danger?” She
didn’t want that to happen, either.

“No.” He sent her a reassuring,
crooked smile. “I’ll make sure I stash you somewhere safe before any firefight
starts.” His grin faded, replaced by a more serious expression. “I’m going to
do my best to avoid any confrontation, though. We’re just going in to get Lance
out. The DEA and Canadians can take care of putting Chen and his operation out
of business. This isn’t a drug raid. This is an extraction. Different tactics.”

The FBI agent came up to stand beside
them. “An extraction is a sneak and snatch mission, not a gun battle. If we all
go in quick and silent, we shouldn’t have any trouble.”

“What if Chen is expecting you?”

“I’m sure he is expecting us,” Nick
told her. “In fact, I’m planning on it, but he doesn’t know exactly when or
from where.”

“Hey, and a bunch of drug thugs are no
match for a couple of Force Recon Marines,” Kurt added. “So, what do you say,
folks? Shall we get this show on the road? I’ll bet Lance is more than ready to
come home after a month of Triad hospitality.”

That thought strengthened Hanna’s
resolve. Lance had stuck his neck out for her, suffered a lot because of it,
and now she needed to make sure that he got back home safely to his son.

“What is it you guys say when you’re
ready to go?” she asked, squaring her shoulders.

“Hooyah,” Kurt supplied.

“Okay then. Hooyah!” she echoed with
enthusiasm. “Let’s do it!”

CHAPTER
23

QUATSINO SOUND, near the northwestern
end of Vancouver Island, British Columbia, was over three hundred miles from Port
George, Washington, but by air, it didn’t seem that far. The flight up the
western coast of the long island was non-eventful. Although they were flying
too high to sightsee, every once in the while, Hanna caught glimpses of the
rugged, inlet-riddled land below them. This side of the Canadian island was
more remote than the eastern side. Much of the interior was unpopulated, except
for those communities that sat on the fractured edges of the great Pacific.
Isolated, but wildly beautiful, they stood alone against thousands of miles of
ocean.

Hanna sat in the rear seat of the
Cessna, while Nick sat in front of her, in the co-pilot’s seat, and Kurt piloted
the sleek six passenger amphibian. For most of the flight, both men discussed
and studied the satellite photos that Kurt had procured of Chen’s compound and
the surrounding area.

Every once in the while, Nick swiveled
around to check on her. Each time he did so, he smiled at her reassuringly. He
was undoubtedly worried about her. She was determined, though, not to be a
hindrance or burden. She didn’t want to be a distraction, either. He had enough
to worry about. She didn’t want to add to it. Except for the weapons, she was
physically capable of doing this, and she wanted to help.

By the time they reached their
destination, the weather had turned overcast and gray. Rain clouds were chasing
away what had begun as a sunny day, and the temperature was rapidly dropping.
It would begin raining within the hour.

Past the wide mouth of Quatsino Sound,
Kurt flew northeast to the tiny coastal village where they were going to land. At
the lower knuckle of a finger-shaped inlet of water, Stormy Harbour was an
outpost community of about twenty people. From the air, it looked like there
were less than a dozen homes along the waterfront.

This far north, it was true wilderness
territory. Thick, nearly impenetrable forests grew to the water’s edge. Cape
Scott Wilderness Park lay to the north of them, and beyond that, the vastness
of the Pacific Ocean. They were nearly at the northern most end of Vancouver
Island. The locals called it the
End of the Road
. There were no highways
or cities, and very few residents— just publicly accessible logging roads, old
growth rain forest, and tiny communities, dependent on forestry, fishing, and
the eco-tourists who enjoyed hiking, camping, and boating in the region. It was
rugged land, and trekking through it was not for the novice adventurer. The
only access to the area was by boat or seaplane or in some locales, four-wheeled
drive vehicles. It was an ideal place to seek solitude or conceal a drug
operation.

As the plane dipped toward Stormy
Harbour, Nick pointed towards the inlet branching off to the right. “Before we
land and unload, let’s fly over Chen’s compound.” Hanna knew from studying the
map that the compound was midway up the inlet, a few miles east of the village.

Nick checked the map he’d been
studying and gave his ex-recon buddy some headings. “Fly low enough to get a
good overview, but not so low as to be suspicious. We don’t want to get shot
at.”

Past the fishing village, they flew
along the coastline of the sheltered inlet that was one of many that flanked
Quatsino Sound. At a bend in the body of deep blue water, they veered inland. Almost
immediately, they spotted a complex of buildings that sat atop a high, fractured
headland that overlooked the second knuckle of the inlet. The sides of the
promontory were carved out of sheer rock, bare of any foliage. At the bottom,
the waves crashed against a boulder-strewn coastline. But around the eastern curve
of the bluff, there was a small sheltered bay where the water was calmer. A
long wooden dock had been constructed in the cove and a half dozen motor boats
were anchored to its sides. At one end of the dock, nestled against the cliff
wall, there was a large guardhouse. Four guards patrolled the length of the
dock, and two more sat inside behind a big picture window.

Kurt flew over them, and a couple of
the men briefly glanced upwards. The plane swung wide and high.

“How do they get down there?” Hanna
asked, peering out the window. “I don’t see any steps down from the top.”

“That’s something we’ll definitely
have to discover,” Nick answered her. “It might be a quick way off the compound
if we need it. Getting back to Stormy Harbour by boat would be faster than
backtracking out of the compound, then driving out on our ATV’s.”

At the top of the bluff, the ground
had been leveled, cleared, and landscaped, pushing back the dense forests that surrounded
three sides of the complex. The headland was fractured into three sections,
each connected to the other by artfully constructed bridges between the rock
fissures.

A large two-story cedar-planked house stood
at the edge of the forest, at the far end of the bluff, overlooking the inlet
below. Three smaller houses formed a half-circle beside the mansion.

“The main house and probably guest
houses,” Kurt commented from his pilot’s seat. “Seth Haru tells me Chen enjoys
showing his operation off to his clients.”

“Is he still undercover?” Nick asked,
referring to the DEA agent they’d met a few weeks ago in Kurt’s office.

“Yeah,” Kurt responded. “But he’s
stuck in Vancouver, at that end of the operation. He didn’t have any luck
getting sent out here. We’ll be on our own down there, until you give the okay
to call in the task force waiting offshore.”

“After we get my brother out safely.”

On the middle section of the bluff,
there was a long metal building resembling a very large Quonset hut. Hanna
heard Nick and Kurt take special note of it, and assumed from their comments
that it might be a laboratory and storage facility.

“Chen had a lab that looked like that
in Thailand,” Nick commented. “They refined and cut their heroin in it.”

Finally, on the last section of bluff,
there were several barrack type buildings, each connected to the other by
cement walkways. Vehicles, mostly four-wheeled drive SUV’s were parked between
the buildings and off to one side.

“Staff quarters,” Kurt speculated.

Hanna recorded all of it to memory.

The plane banked and made a high wide
turn so they could get a better view of the entire complex. A dozen guards with
automatic rifles slung over their shoulders patrolled the area. They walked
from building to building and around the perimeter. They crossed the wide
wooden footbridges, and watched an area to the rear of the compound, where more
vehicles were parked. The entire complex was surrounded by a high chain link
fence, topped with rolled barbed wire, no doubt electrified, the men decided.
Amid the trees that covered the rest of the headland, a wide swath had been
cleared for a private landing strip. A Cessna twin engine airplane sat on the
runway. A small helicopter was parked farther away, but there was no sign of
the Lear jet they had seen the other day. There wasn’t a fence around the
little airport, but there were six guards patrolling the tarmac.

“Shall we circle and take another
look?”

Nick shook his head. “No. It’s too
risky. They might notice this time. I don’t imagine they get too many fly overs.”

“There’s bound to be some, though,”
Hanna commented. “Cape Scott Provincial Park is just north of here, and there are
a lot of outfitters who fly tourists in for the day or night.”

“That’s probably why we didn’t attract
their attention. Let’s head for Stormy Harbour now and pick up those ATV’s.
Didn’t you tell the outfitter who brought them over from Port Hardy that we’d
pick them up around 1400 hours?”

“Yeah.”

Stormy Harbour got its name from the
shelter it offered mariners from the storms in the Pacific. Besides a refuge
for boaters, it was primarily a fishing village and a starting point for those
adventuring into the northern interior of Vancouver Island. It had served as a
seaport haven since the 1800's, and yet had never grown much past its current
size. There was a rustic campground at one end of the harbour, but the populace
it added was strictly seasonal and transitory.

Like many of the coastal settlements,
it was a boardwalk community. The houses that lined the waterfront were built
on stilts, linked by a boardwalk over the water and silt.

Kurt landed the floatplane in the bay,
then steered it toward the government wharf, Hanna gazed out the front window
of the plane, her chin resting on Nick’s left shoulder.

“I can’t believe I’ve never stopped in
here when I sailed by. It’s so picturesque.”

“And remote.” he reminded her,
swiveling to plant a kiss on her forehead.

Rising up from the free-floating wharf,
there was a second, permanently anchored dock ten feet above it. The Harbor
Master’s house sat at the farthest end like a control tower at an airport. It
was named the Maritime Center, a lofty name for the cedar house with big glass
windows. A sign on the building indicated it also served as the post office.

After lining the floatplane up with
the dock, Kurt and Nick climbed out to tie it off, then Kurt left for the
Harbour Master’s to secure two days’ anchorage for the seaplane and pay
whatever fees were required. While he made those arrangements, Nick and Hanna
unloaded their gear and managed to lug it up the steps to the upper dock. Once
Kurt returned, he and Nick walked to the end of the marina, where the outfitter
Kurt had contracted was waiting with three all-terrain vehicles.

The sky was growing darker by the
minute, and it was getting colder, windier. Low, thick clouds of gun-metal gray
were threatening to drop their load of rain. Hanna pulled on her stocking cap
and yanked the hood of her waterproof jacket up over her head, then dug out her
gloves, and put them on. By tonight, there would be pea-soup fog blanketing
this end of the island. She certainly hoped they managed to find somewhere dry
to camp for the night.

Within half an hour, the three ATV’s
were loaded with their gear. Following Nick, who was in the lead and appeared
to know exactly where he was going, she drove her ATV off the wharf, onto the packed
dirt road that headed out of the hamlet. Kurt followed her, bringing up the
rear.

Despite the drizzle that had begun, they
rode through beautiful country. Narrow knotty trails wound sinuously through the
heavily wooded terrain. As they climbed higher to grassy wind-swept hilltops,
Hanna caught glimpses of the rocky shoreline along the white-capped Pacific
Ocean to the west.

They were headed away from the rocky,
driftwood-strewn coastline, though. Old growth forests of cedar, hemlock, fir,
and pine surrounded them on all sides as they ventured deeper into the interior.
Trails were not always available, and Hanna saw Nick use his GPS frequently.
The sound of the ocean breaking against a jagged coastline was replaced by the
hushed quiet of the rainforest. Thick undergrowth carpeted the ground and
absorbed the sound of the vehicles. The unpopulated wilderness that surrounded
them was hauntingly beautiful.

They had been riding under the canopy,
protected from the drizzle. When they at last emerged into a large clearing, Hanna
finally felt how hard it had actually begun to rain. The wind, which had been
non-existent in the groves of trees, blew the rain into their faces. Nick
quickly led them into the shelter of a thick stand of ancient Sitkas. Kurt and
Hanna pulled up next to his ATV. While he checked his map and compass, Kurt
studied his own GPS device. They conferred with one another, swapping location
data, and Hanna took the opportunity to check her clothing. Her jeans were
damp, but not soaked. She hoped they stayed that way since she hadn’t brought a
change of clothing. Damp would dry. Soaked― not so much in this humidity.

She dug her water bottle out of the
small waterproof knapsack that she had strapped over the handlebars of her ATV.
Inside she carried what she always did on her excursions – her water bottle,
her energy bars, and her eye glasses, which she didn’t need at the moment
because she was wearing her contacts.

“Would either of you like a drink?”
she asked Nick and Kurt. “I also have some chocolate chip granola bars.”

Nick smiled and took the water bottle
from her out-stretched hand, while Kurt took a granola bar. She waved another
one at Nick.

“Come on, Mr. Sweet-Tooth,” she teased
him. “I know you want one, too.”

Nick laughed. “Yeah, toss me one.”

She did, then got one out for herself.
“I have more in my duffle bag.”

“You do come prepared.”

Nick’s comment made her smile. “I want
to be useful.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You want to
cook tonight?”

She laughed. “Sure. Why not?”

“Good, because this isn’t going to
hold me long.”

Hanna looked over her shoulder to
check on Kurt, who was again reading his GPS while he ate his granola bar.
Since he wasn’t paying them any attention, she got off her ATV and walked over
to Nick’s.

Smiling mischievously, she looped her
arms loosely around his neck and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “If
you’ll join your sleeping bag with mine, I’ll hold you all night. We’ve been
camping together lots of times, but we’ve never done that, you know.”