Gator
Monday, A helicopter over international waters west of Sumatra
There were some major problems with this mission. No one had any authority on a private island in international waters. No rules at all. Every decision would be based on a moral compass rather than fear of repercussions. Though, repercussions meant more than just putting oneself in legal jeopardy.
Of course, he had a contract through Iniquus to protect Davidson and his family, which included D-day, in his role as part of the Davidson security team. He also had some cover in that the CIA had contracted with Iniquus and his duties there included Red and White’s protection as well as the protection of their asset, Christen Davidson. An asset, he reminded himself. Not his heart and soul. He could never think of her that way, for her safety. Though suppressing his feelings for Christen was beyond his strength, at the very least he could try to reframe his thoughts. She was D-day, not Christen.
He had to get her through this and get her safely away from him. Never to see her again. Those thoughts wrapped him in a dense cloak of despair. I’ll willingly wear this, he projected his thoughts out, just keep her safe.
Keeping her safe on a lawless island when her brother thought he had committed sororicide, and was on his way to commit patricide felt too unstable. If he were really doing his duty, he would have hog-tied D-day and kept her on Singapore soil.
Instead, he was sitting next to her in the Davidson helicopter that she flew with ease.
Fortunately, or not, the host at the CIA safehouse had known they were coming in. Both he and D-day were all fitted out in tactical wear that would pass for sportswear. They even had the right sized boots. And they were armed.
Johnna White, AKA Lula LaRoe was the reason Red offered the CIA Station Chief for flying out to Davidson Realm. With permission to rescue Lula from the island, they’d set off. Getting Lula off the island was imperative. If they could get Davidson off the island too? That would be the sauce, not the substance as far as the CIA was concerned.
D-day flew the helicopter under the grey canopy of clouds.
One step, then another. Get Lula and Davidson, get D-day back to her unit safe and sound, then he’d deal with what came next. He spent the flight time building a wall, as high and dense as he could make it, working to keep his emotions at bay. Emotions clouded judgement, slowed reaction time. He needed to get this mission wrapped up, D-day back to her FOB, and him on to his next mission. He beat that drum: step one, step two, step three. He’d have a lifetime to mourn his loss, to patch his broken heart. Right now, those thoughts were cowardly and selfish as far as he was concerned.
D-day came first. Her safety. Her happiness.
On this mission Red could protect herself, and she could protect White and D-day. She couldn’t arrest Karl. Someone would, eventually. As soon as Karl stepped foot on US soil, he and that asswipe Daniel would be cuffed and thrown in prison. Between the video taken with D-day’s contact lens and that taken by his own. The computer was able to fill in and brighten up the images until very clearly, they saw both men’s faces as they scooped D-day up and threw her over the rail. It was important though that those two didn’t know they’d been caught on tape. If Karl and Daniel thought they’d gotten off scot free, they wouldn’t know the perils of returning to the States.
If Karl and D-day got into a spitting match, she might throw that information in the men’s faces. The CIA absolutely didn’t want anyone in the helium club to know their plan had been discovered. It gave the government time to think and plot their course of action, to counter the unfolding world crisis without riling up the already tenuous international balance.
The plan was to try to make it to Davidson Realm in advance of Karl. Swoop in, gather up William Davidson and Lula LaRoe and head on out so that when Karl got there, there was no one for Karl to poison.
Things didn’t work out that way, though.
His satellite phone buzzed. “Gator here.”
“Nutsbe here. Dude our last satellite image shows the boat’s at the harbor. You’re too late for Plan A.”
“Roger that, we’ll have to move on to Plan B then.”
“What does that look like?” Nutsbe asked.
“I’ll have to get back to you.”
The island was ahead. They were still a fleck of black in the sky to anyone on the ground. The harbor was on the opposite side of the island. Gator spotted the boat through his binoculars, gliding slowly toward the dock.
D-day lowered the bird to mere feet off the choppy water. They were well below the hilly topography, no one would know they were flying in.
“I’m going to set down on the putting green instead of on the heli pad. We’ll have a thick tree line to shield us. It could be, if they’re not paying attention, that we’ll be missed entirely.”
D-day didn’t have clue one about the security precautions on this place. After conferring, they decided to wing it. They’d try to sneak in and find Lula and get a read from her on the ground situation. Until that happened, they just didn’t know what they’d be facing. And now, even their satellite phone didn’t function. They were on the island alone with no hope of any kind of help.