This is episode two 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.
Waldo Pleads
Two men in dark suits stood on both sides of Franks. They walked with him to the gangplank, and they stopped. Franks wore an untucked pink shirt and chinos. His black hair flopped below his ears, and his face was smooth and shiny.
“Permission to come aboard,” Franks said.
“Permission granted,” Trace said.
Franks held out his arms, and the men stayed in place. He walked onto the gangplank and stepped on deck.
Trace did the same with the crew; holding them in place. Trace stepped an arm’s length from Franks.
“You look good, Troy,” Franks said.
“You’ve lost weight,” Trace said. “Prison food not agreeing with you?”
Franks smirked. “I don’t eat that slop. My meals are brought in. I eat better than the warden. But I’ve been working out. I had to adjust to a totally different lifestyle. It’s actually been healthy for me. I recommend it.”
“No thanks,” Trace said.
“That’s your dad, right?” Franks said, nodding toward Adam.
“Yeah,” Trace said.
“Hello, Mr. Troy,” Franks said and held out his hand. He smiled wryly.
Adam stepped forward and shook Franks’ hand.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Troy,” Franks said. “It has all been positive. You are a man to be trusted, as is your son; the old adage, like father, like son. Funny, never knew my father.”
“What brings you here?” Trace said.
The wry smile drained from Franks’ face, and suddenly, he appeared lost and helpless. He lowered his voice. “I don’t want the police to hear. I can’t trust them.”
Trace and Adam glanced at each other.
“Those are policemen?” Trace asked.
“Yeah. Could you tell your men to move back a little,” Franks said. “What I say is between us, for now. However, I know those men are your friends.”
Trace turned and motioned for Sage and Coyote to step back.
“What do you want?” Trace said. “Let me guess, you heard how we broke our passengers out of jail in Raro, and you want us to do the same for you?”
“It’s nothing for me,” Franks said. “I have a son I would die for.”
“What is it with your son, then?” Trace asked suspiciously.
“My son’s mother divorced me years ago,” Franks said. “The smartest thing she ever did. She raised my son. They lived in California. My ex-wife is self-sufficient. She’s made her own way; real estate. I’ve always sent plenty of money. I want my son to have the best and all opportunities to live a good life—better than mine.”
“What does this have to do with Trace and me?” Adam said.
“Despite Trace being instrumental in my present circumstance, I know he’s a man who can be trusted,” Franks said, “as you are, sir.”
“Okay,” Trace said, “we can be trusted. Sometimes, that means we’re suckers.”
“You have a right to be skeptical,” Franks said, “but it cost me a lot in bribes to come here and see you. My time is limited.” Franks gestured toward the police, the motorcycles, and the Land Rover. “They have risked a lot and are rewarded handsomely for it. However, if they are caught, need I say more?”
“This must be important about your son,” Adam said.
“Indeed,” Franks said.
“Well,” Trace said, “let’s have it. What do you want from us?”
“Before I go any further,” Franks said, “I must know, does somebody like me have any chance at all convincing you to help me?”
Trace looked at Adam and moved his head slightly from side to side.
Adam watched Franks’ face. It nearly melted into hopeless tears.
Adam looked at Trace and said, “It’s for a son.”
Trace stared for a moment into Adam’s eyes. A flood of thoughts telepathically passed between them.
Trace turned to Franks. “What can we do?”
Franks closed his eyes, and a tear ran down his cheek. “Thank you.” He breathed a relaxing breath through his nose. “My son is an exceptionally brilliant young man. Everything comes easy for him. He’s young. His mother sheltered him. And with youth and sheltering comes naivety. Three years ago, he got involved in a religion. It appeals to privileged, intelligent, and naive young people. They have a retreat for those especially gifted in their group.”
“Some place in the South Seas, right?” Trace said.
“Yes,” Franks said.
“Do you know where?” Adam said.
“Yes, exactly,” Franks said.
“You want us to go there—and do exactly what?” Trace said.
“Get my son,” Franks said.
“Against his will?” Trace said.
“I don’t care how you get him,” Franks said. “Just get him.”
“What are we up against?” Adam asked.
“A very smart, cunning, and charismatic leader,” Franks said. “He calls himself Yachad, sort of another Melchizedek. Are you familiar with that?”
“Thou art a priest forever after the order of Melchizedek,” Adam said. “Book of Psalms, but mentioned several other times in the Bible—a messianic passage.”
“So we’re dealing with a guy who has a messianic complex, huh?” Trace questioned.
“It appears to be that way,” Franks said.
“So we go to the island and grab him,” Trace said and asked. “It sounds easy, but it’s not, right?”
“No,” Franks said, “the island is like an armed fortress for civilians and even the police. They have armed guards, lookouts, patrol boats, and a—well, this may be a dealbreaker—a P51 airplane.”
“Dad,” Trace said, and leaned toward Adam for information.
“I’m familiar with them,” Adam said, “heckuva plane, for its day.”
“Dealbreaker?” Trace asked Adam.
“Only if it’s off the ground,” Adam said.
“I sense your fear is beyond a religious conversion,” Adam said to Franks.
“That kid could worship a rock, for all I care,” Franks said. “That’s between him and the rock. I’m in fear for his life.”
“Can you explain?” Trace asked.
“The island is like a factory,” Franks said, “a factory of ideas, records, and propaganda. They keep incredible records on about 100,000 members. They send propaganda to them. In a piece of literature sent from the island, my son sent a letter to his mother. It simply said, Please help me, I’m being held against my will.”
“And you’re sure it came from him?” Trace asked.
“I had a visitor a month ago,” Franks said. “It was a young woman, American. She was on what they call an ambassadorship to Australia. Providentially, her plane had to land in Fiji. It had mechanical problems. She is privy to members’ records and knew where I was.”
“What did she tell you?” Trace said.
“My son is under suspicion,” Franks said. “However, she said everybody is under suspicion in that place. He’s an important member of the inner workings. With his math skills, he can advance their computer system. I have no idea what all of that is about.”
“He can’t send some sort of message himself?” Adam asked.
“No,” Franks said, “that is one area they really monitor.”
One of the officers called out, “Hey, Franks, you’re going to have to hurry it up.”
“Tell us something about this Yachad fellow,” Adam said.
“Will you take the job?” Franks said. “If you do, I have a whole box full of information on this Yachad character. And, I can make it worth your while.”
Trace and Adam looked at each other and gave a single nod.
“Dad and I are in,” Trace said, “but we have to talk it over with our crew.”
“I need to know for sure, soon,” Franks said. “I don’t think I have any other options but you, your dad, and your crew.”
“Why don’t you report it to the authorities or newspapers?” Trace asked.
“Once it gets in the media and is handed to the governments, what do you think will happen?” Franks said. “Have you ever heard of Jonestown, Ruby Ridge? And look at what just happened in Waco, Texas. It’s all about a show of force, headlines, and political posturing. They don’t care who gets hurt. They only want to make pretty speeches at memorials.”
“I’ll not deny you that,” Trace said.
“And that goes for me, too,” Adam said.
An officer called out and waved his arm. “Let’s go, Franks. We have to get you back.”
“Sleep well, tonight, Franks,” Trace shook his head. “If the crew won’t agree to it, we’ll find a crew that will. Can I visit you at the prison tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Franks said, “between two and four. Thanks.”
Trace watched Franks return to shore and climb back into the Land Rover. The motorcade rumbled away.
Sage and Coyote stepped closer.
“What was that all about?” Coyote said.
“Let’s go below and make some coffee,” Trace said. “It’s going to be a long night.”
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