A Cult in Paradise; Episode 27, Nick's Offer

This is episode twenty-six of the fifth book in the Trace Troy Adventures in  Paradise series. The Title is A Cult in Paradise. It will be featured in episodes over the next few months. It will eventually be published in full on Amazon. All of the Trace Troy books, as well as my other novels, can be purchased on Amazon by clicking the Bookstore tab above. I hope you enjoy. And thanks for stopping by. 

Nick's Offer

They stopped in a small clearing. 

“How are we going to get out of here?” Paul spoke quietly.

“A seaplane will land in a few minutes,” Trace said. “I will signal it. It will land and come near. We will take a rubber boat out to the seaplane.”

“As soon as the plane is spotted, a P51 fighter plane will take off.”

“We have explosives on the P51,” Trace said. “If anybody goes near it, the tail section will be blown off.”

“There’s two speed boats,” Nick said. 

“We have explosives attached to them, also,” Trace said.

“Listen,” Sylvia said. “I think I hear the plane.”

“Let’s go,” Trace said and they hurried through the brush. 

They came upon the area where Adam was hidden. 

Trace spotted him. 

“Dad,” he whispered loudly, “the plane is coming.”

They all continued through the brush to the area of the island where Cally and the seaplane planned on landing. 

“Who’s the extra man?” Adam said.

“The guard,” Trace said. 

“Geez,” Adam said, “did you bring the sheriff and his deputy too?”

They reached the position where the rubber boat was hidden. Pete was waiting there. They looked out to sea and saw the seaplane splash down in the water. 

From overhead a searchlight flashed. It came from the tower a quarter of a mile away. Then a loud warning horn blared. 

Trace pulled a small black box from his backpack. “Let’s see if this works.” He pushed a button. 

Two flashes came from the direction of the light. The light pointed skyward. An explosion was heard. And the light disappeared. 

Trace nodded to Pete. He pulled a small black box from his back and pushed the button. 

They paused to listen. Two loud explosions echoed. And then came a couple more fainter explosions. 

“We have a problem,” Adam said. 

“Our rubber boat is made for four,” Adam said. “We planned on five and that was pushing it. Now we have six.”

There was silence. Everyone’s minds raced for a solution.

“I’ll stay,” Nick said. “I’ll tell them you kidnapped me.”

A Cult in Paradise; Episode 26, Escape

This is episode twenty-six of the fifth book in the Trace Troy Adventures in  Paradise series. The Title is A Cult in Paradise. It will be featured in episodes over the next few months. It will eventually be published in full on Amazon. All of the Trace Troy books, as well as my other novels, can be purchased on Amazon by clicking the Bookstore tab above. I hope you enjoy. And thanks for stopping by. 

Escape

Trace stooped and quietly approached the stockade. His eyes and head darted at the sound of a leaf, a groaning palm, or the chirp of a night bird. 

The stockade was a square building, about the size of a garage. It was made of lumber and painted white. Four lamp stands stood a few feet from each corner of the stockade. They lit the area with electric lights.

He reached the side of the stockade and hugged along the side with his back against the wall. He moved slowly. He peered around the corner of the stockade. The guard sat sleepily on the chair next to the door. 

Trace stepped back, picked up a stone. He heaved it over the top of the stockade and into the palms on the other side. Trace listened for footsteps. He heard them walking away from the stockade. 

Trace slipped around the corner of the stockade to the front. He opened the door slightly. Turning sideways, he eased into the stockade. The light from the lamps outside shone through the barred windows of the cells. It looked like a jail from an old western. Two cells were straight ahead and two to the side. 

The girl rested in a bunk on one side and the boy on the other.

Trace flashed his flashlight in the boy’s eyes a couple of times. He woke up.

“Quiet,” Trace whispered. “Are you Paul Parnell?”

He rubbed his eyes and sat up. 

“Are you Paul Parnell?”

“Yes.”

Trace motioned for him to come closer. He moved close to the bars.

“Is that Sylvia Bedford?” Trace motioned to the other cell.

“Yes.”

“I’m here to get you out,” Trace said, “both of you. Do you know where the keys are?”

“The guard has them.”

Trace stepped quietly to the door. He heard the guard sit back on the chair. He pushed slowly against the door with the barrel of his rifle. He inched the rifle forward until it touched the side of the guard's head. The guard jerked and turned quickly. He nearly fell off the chair. His eyes stretched wide.

“Not a sound,” Trace said to the guard.

The guard swallowed and nodded nervously.

“Step inside,” Trace said.

Sylvia tossed in her sleep.

“Paul,” Trace said, “wake her up.”

Paul quietly called out, “Sylvia, Sylvia.”

“What?” Sylvia said. 

“Wake up,” Paul said to her. “Somebody’s here to get us out.

Sylvia sleepily approached the bars.

“My name is Trace Troy. I’ve been hired by your parents and Paul’s dad to get you out of here.”

“My dad?” Paul questioned.

“Later,” Trace said and pointed the rifle at the guard. “Unlock the doors.”

The guard grabbed the keys from the chain attached to his belt. They fell from his hand. He quickly bent down and picked them up. He nervously fumbled with the keys while unlocking both cell doors. 

Paul and Sylvia slipped on their shoes and stepped out of the cells.

Trace grabbed a roll of duct tape from his backpack. “Turn around,” he told the guard. Trace tore off a strip.

“Wait a minute,” Paul said. “Can he come with us?”

“A hostage is not a good idea,” Trace said. “And with Demeter, I’m sure a hostage means nothing.”

“I mean to escape too,” Paul said.

“I want to go,” the guard said.

Trace paused for a moment. Then he said, “Sure.”

“What’s your name?” Trace said. 

“Nick.”

“Nick wants out as badly as we do,” Sylvia said.

“I was about to tape your mouth shut and choke you out,” Trace said. “It’s your lucky day.”

“My lucky day is when I’m off the island,” Nick said.

“Okay, Nick, I'm not sure of you,” Trace said. “But, you lead the way out of here. We are going to the brush behind us. Go ahead,” Trace nudged him with his rifle. “If you yell out, you will have a terrible headache. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes, I do,” Nick said.

“If you take off running, I’ll shoot your legs out from under you,” Trace said. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, I do,” Nick said. 

One following the other; Nick, Adam, Sylvia, and Paul slowly walked out of the stockade and into the bush. They walked far enough away that they could not be heard.

Maybe It's Just Me, Over Precise Doesn't Always Work

Maybe it's just me, and it usually is, but when someone asks me more than once to repeat myself, the third time is worse than the first two. 

Let me illustrate. If somebody asks me the capital of Wisconsin. I'd say, "Madison, Wisconsin."

"What?"

"Madison, Wisconsin!"

They are not cupping their hand around their ear, so I assume that volume is not the issue. I may be speaking too fast. 

I'll slow it down to 33 and1/3 RPMs and be very precise. I twist your mouth all around to make sure every syllable is just right. "Ma di son, West con son."

The listener looks at me as if I'm trying to give directions to a tourist from Japan. 

The thing is, you usually say it right at 78 RPMs, but when you slow it down, you really have to deal with all the individual parts.

A Cult in Paradise; Episode 25, Island Landing

This is episode twenty-five of the fifth book in the Trace Troy Adventures in  Paradise series. The Title is A Cult in Paradise. It will be featured in episodes over the next few months. It will eventually be published in full on Amazon. All of the Trace Troy books, as well as my other novels, can be purchased on Amazon by clicking the Bookstore tab above. I hope you enjoy. And thanks for stopping by. 

Island Landing

Near sundown, everyone but Makani prepared to go ashore. They dressed in camouflaged wear. They assembled on the deck and passed a jar of green face paint. They smeared it on. They hoisted on their gear and grabbed their weapons.

“Anybody have any questions?” Trace asked.

Everybody looked at each other and back at Trace. They shook their heads.

“Let’s go,” Sage said, and grabbed hold of the rubber boat. 

Coyote helped, and they tossed the rubber boat overboard. Adam and Pete did the same. The outboard engines were placed in the boats. Sage and Coyote climbed into one boat. Trace, Adam, and Pete climbed into the other.  The engines were pull-started and the boats raced away in opposite directions. Sage and Coyote went south. They planned to come ashore on the southern tip of the island and work their way to the middle. Trace’s boat would go ashore north of the center point of the island. Trace and Adam would work their way to the northern tip. Pete would remain near the compound and radio if anything detrimental to the mission occurred there.

Adam steered the engine while periodically checking his compass. Pete sat in the middle of the boat. Trace sat on the bow, peering toward the island and checking his watch.

Trace timed half an hour and waved to Adam. He gave a cut sign across his throat, and Adam cut off the engine. Without a word, Trace and Pete grabbed an oar and began rowing. Adam grabbed the binoculars and began scanning the shore.

The waves carried them ashore. Quickly, they dragged the boat across the sandy beach and into the palms. They covered it with whatever foliage was in reach. 

Trace and Adam walked among the palms and thick plants, north. They didn’t speak. They only listened. They came to the north observation tower. They crawled until they were under it. Indistinct human voices came from the tower. They strapped the explosive devices to two of the four posts supporting the tower. They flipped the switches.

Trace and Adam gave each other a thumbs up and stealthily moved south through the palms. They stopped after fifteen minutes and sat amid the green brush and palms.

They spoke only above a whisper.

“Sage and Coyote ought to have their devices in place by now,” Trace said, looking at his watch. 

They waited for a couple of minutes. 

“Ready?” Adam said.

“Ready,” Trace said.

“I’m going to get in position,” Adam said. 

“I’m going to plant the device in Demeter’s yacht,” Trace said. “And I’ll head to the stockade. 

Trace switched on the handheld radio. “Ready,” he said. Trace waited for a tap that meant the message had been received.  He heard it. 

Trace and Adam stooped low and headed toward their assignments. Trace and Adam split. Trace headed to the yacht docked on the east side of the island. Adam huddled in a hidden position in the brush to provide support and reconnaissance if needed. 

Trace reached the yacht. He claimed aboard and quietly moved around the deck. He climbed to the upper deck and looked inside the pilothouse. Only a small green light lit the control panel. He found the door leading to the engine room. He used a flashlight to find a good place for the explosive. He placed it below the propeller shaft. He thought, ‘Not only will it damage the propeller and engine, but it will blow a nice-sized hole.” 

He hurried from the engine room and back up on deck. He slowly climbed over the rail of the yacht and onto the dock. He crouched and walked straight ahead into the palms. 

He stopped when he reached the stockade. He eased around to the front, remaining hidden among the palms. The guard, dressed in white trousers and a button shirt, sat on a chair beside the door. He didn’t have a weapon. Behind him, just above his head, was a large red button attached to the building.

‘The escape alarm,’ Trace thought.

He inched closer for a better look.

‘Somebody is in there,’ Trace thought. ‘It has to be them.’ 

A Cult in Paradise; Episode 24, Makani Understands

This is episode twenty-four of the fifth book in the Trace Troy Adventures in  Paradise series. The Title is A Cult in Paradise. It will be featured in episodes over the next few months. It will eventually be published in full on Amazon. All of the Trace Troy books, as well as my other novels, can be purchased on Amazon by clicking the Bookstore tab above. I hope you enjoy. And thanks for stopping by. 

Makani Understands

Trace sailed to the west side of Flint Island. Sage and Coyote luffed the sails. Trace called Makani to the pilothouse.

“What’s up, boss?” Makani said.

“You’ll be the captain before long,” Trace said. “You’ll be safe here.”

“I would like to go with you,” Makani said sincerely.

“I know you would,” Trace said, “but you are our lifeline.”

“How you mean?” Makani said.

“If you see and hear explosions, that means the airplanes and their boats have been disabled. There is no way they can get to you. You can wait for a long time. If we aren’t back to the boat by noon, start the engine and head to Penrhyn Atoll. You have enough fuel to get you there.”

“What then?” Makani said.

“Fly to Pago Pago,” Trace said. “Cally will be there. He’ll know what to do.”

Makani’s face seemed as though it turned to melting wax. A realization he had previously pushed to the back of his thoughts. Death may be involved. The place in life he felt good and comfortable with, may be gone in a heartbeat. Men as dependable as the sunrise may be gone. All of his plans centered in some fashion or another included The Tramp Islander and its crew. And he reasoned, when Trace and Sage return to Texas, somehow, he imagined himself with them. He didn’t know how he might fit in; he reckoned he would always be with them.

Trace interrupted Makani’s forlornness. “Might you have something else in mind?”

“No,” Makani said distantly.

“I know you’d like to go,” Trace said. “You are just as invested in this as anyone. I know you’d be more than up for the task, but I need someone who knows and can handle the ship. Makani, you are the best man for the job. I don’t really know Pete or Calley. If I left Dad her, his concern for me would cloud his judgment. Sage is my oldest and best friend; he’s done some pretty boneheaded things in his life. And he had to have gotten it from somebody—Coyote. You see, you’re it. You bring coffee to me in the pilothouse at the right time. You cook and shop for our food. None of us complain or worry. We’ve never run out of anything. If Sage were in charge of the galley, we’d be having chili for breakfast, lunch, and supper.”

“I understand,” Makani said. “I don’t feel better, but I understand.”

A Cult in Paradise; Episode 23, The Plan

This is episode twenty-three of the fifth book in the Trace Troy Adventures in  Paradise series. The Title is A Cult in Paradise. It will be featured in episodes over the next few months. It will eventually be published in full on Amazon. All of the Trace Troy books, as well as my other novels, can be purchased on Amazon by clicking the Bookstore tab above. I hope you enjoy. And thanks for stopping by. 

The Plan

Over the next six days, the crew exercised vigorously twice a day. Cally studied the material they possessed and formulated plans along with contingencies. Each day, Cally updated the crew, and they mentally rehearsed their roles and recited them. 

Trace saw a slight trace of green above the horizon, off the starboard bow. He glanced at the coordinates on the panel and turned quickly in his chair to look at the chart on the desk.

“Vostock,” he smiled.

He grabbed the mic. “Cally, pilothouse.”

Cally climbed up the companionway. At the head of the steps, he said, “Vostock.”

“Yep,” Trace said.

“There should be a beautiful seaplane anchored there,” Cally said.

“And if not?” Trace said.

“Plan B,” Cally said. “Which is the same as Plan A, omit seaplane, insert man with glider.”

Vostok Island looked as lonely as the first star at night. Trace steered as he looked through the binoculars. He spotted the plane at peace near the shore. Trace pointed, and handed the binoculars to Cally.

“Get as close as you feel comfortable,” Cally said, “and I’ll use the launch to get to it.”

A quarter mile from the seaplane, the sails were dropped. Trace motored to about twenty yards from the seaplane. They loaded the launch with the equipment needed.

Before Cally got aboard the launch, he shook everybody’s hands. 

When he shook Trace’s hand, he said, “Let me test everything before you sail. I’ll give you a thumbs up. When you are in place at Flint Island, give me a call. I will take off ninety minutes after I get the call. When I answer only say “ready.” If you say anything else, I’ll assume something’s not right.” Cally smiled at everyone. “Good luck.”

“Same to you,” everyone replied.

Cally stepped into the launch, and Sage motored him to the seaplane. Sage returned. As soon as the launch was hoisted back onboard, Cally started the engines of the plane. He moved the flaps and tail. He fired a quick burst from machine guns attached under each wing. He shut the engines off. He waved from the cockpit’s window and gave a thumbs-up. Trace started The Tramp Islander’s engine and motored away. The sails were hoisted, and a course was set south toward Flint Island. 

Shortly after Vostok Island sank below the horizon, the crew engaged in final preparations. They tested their weapons, shooting rounds into the open sea. The rubber boats were inspected, and the motors were test-started. They stowed the needed equipment on the rubber boats. Communication devices were checked and calibrated. 

Trace had Makani take the helm. He gathered the rest of the crew around the mess table. He arranged aerial photos of the island.

“Remember,” Trace began, “we try to avoid being seen and confrontation. We own the night. Remember, as soon as we get to shore, hide the rubber boats. And don’t forget where you hid them.”

Trace pointed at two locations on the photographs. “Here and here, at the north end and south end of the island, are the guard towers. Cally says they are fifty feet high, and two guards in each. We’ll pass under them and attach our explosives on two legs on the same side. We want them to fall quickly.”

“Any flare or alarm means we detonate, right?” Coyote said.

“Exactly,” Trace said.

“The P51,” Trace tapped at its image. “Sage, you and Coyote will attach an explosive to the tail section. Only detonate if you have to detonate the towers. If we aren’t detected, we detonate it as soon as we clear the island. And do the same with their passenger plane.”

Trace next pointed to the largest building on the island. “This appears to be what is called ‘the palace.’ That’s where Haywood lives. Right here,” Trace pointed, “attached to ‘the palace’ is a small room. It has a high antenna. It must be their communications center. Pete, it has a back door. If you see a flare, hear gun shots or alarms, get whoever is in there, out. And toss a grenade inside.”

“Sounds like a good time,” Pete said. “Can I hit him?”

“Remember,” Trace said, “most of these folks are victims. But, you use your best judgment.”

“Dad,” Trace said and placed a schematic of the palace over the photos, “Haywood’s bedroom is believed to be here.” He pointed. “You know what to do. If nothing happens, nothing happens. However, if something does happen, break in and immobilize him; restraints and duct tape.”

Trace handed the schematic to Adam.

Trace circled a building with a pencil. “This is their stockade. All the information gathered and photographed indicates only one guard there at a time. My task is simple: immobilize or distract the guard, enter, and get the guy and the girl out—preferably without notice. However, before I get there, I have a slight side-trip. It’s only a hundred yards or so from the stockade. Demeter has a yacht. It can come after us and overtake us. I’ll attach an explosive to it. If no one is on it, I’ll place it in the engine room.”

“Go over contingencies,” Trace said firmly. “We will use them. Nothing ever goes as planned. There are always unforeseen things. Everything starts when Pete and Adam are in place and ready. If things go wrong, we want to control the communications room and the head.”

“If the timing is right,” Trace said, “about the time the guy, the girl, and me get to eastern beach, Cally ought to be landing just off the coast. Dad, the two Franks’ kid, the girl, and me, will hop into the rubber boat and motor out to the plane.  As soon as the plane lifts off, head back to The Tramp Islander. Cally will fly us there, and that’s where we all rendezvous. Cally will fly the guy and girl back to Pago Pago. We’ll be there about eight or nine days later.”

“We have big lovo,” Makani said. “I hire dancers and singers. I not cook. My treat.”

“I hope the couple we rescue is five thousand miles away by then,” Adam said.