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.