She turned to look at Derek, slowing to a jog. They jogged together, their breaths labored. She had wavy brown hair to her shoulders. Blue, wide set eyes, and a round face. Her arms were thin but she had a belly, like she was pregnant, just starting to show.
“What do you want?” Then she looked straight ahead and said, “Shit.”
Derek looked from her and saw what she saw.
They slowed their pace and stopped. Roughly fifteen men hustled toward them. Derek glanced over his back. A handful more approached, tightening the metaphorical noose.
66
Jacob and Happy Wife, Happy Life
It had been a rough weekend. Rebecca and Lindsey had been in full mourning mode for Derek: Lindsey locking herself in VR all weekend and Rebecca in a depressed funk, completely uninterested in sex or any contact whatsoever. Then she had stayed up all night searching the internet for a solution. She found a company called Libertad del Proyecto, or Project Freedom, based in Venezuela. The company claimed to rescue island prisoners, even though there’d never been a documented escape. Rebecca had been ready to go to Venezuela and spend Jacob’s money. Jacob had to beg her to wait, to let Eric look into the veracity of their claims.
She didn’t say it, but Jacob thought Rebecca blamed him for Derek’s fate, like he should’ve helped when Derek fell on hard times. Jacob could’ve saved Derek’s farm with a few taps on his tablet, but the foreclosure wasn’t the reason this had happened. It had been April’s murder, but Rebecca didn’t know about that.
Jacob could’ve helped April too, but, like the foreclosure, he hadn’t. Jacob had rationalized his guilt, thinking, I’m not the police. Zhang and his men would’ve killed me. Even if I had called the police, Zhang has diplomatic immunity. If anyone had been arrested, it would’ve been one of the guards. But Jacob couldn’t rationalize the fact that, if he’d called the police, they might’ve stopped April’s murder.
Eric had been nice enough to use his contacts to help, which had surprised Jacob, but, then again, Eric enjoyed playing the powerful connected man, especially with his big brother asking for help. Eric had been waiting for information and call backs from experts on the island prison system. Jacob didn’t think he’d hear anything until Monday or Tuesday.
Now it was Tuesday afternoon, and Jacob was still at work, but he didn’t feel like going home, not without some sort of resolution for Rebecca. Jacob leaned back in his chair, thinking of the possibilities. Maybe Derek’s dead. That would be a resolution. That’s the best-case scenario. Then we can all move on. I could tell her that he’s dead. But I’d need proof. No way Rebecca accepts that without proof. Maybe Eric could get proof somehow.
Jacob’s cell phone chimed. Speak of the devil. He leaned forward, picked up his cell phone from the desktop, and swiped right. “Eric.”
“I have some information for you,” Eric said.
Jacob grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from the top drawer of his desk. “I’m listening.”
“Derek’s ship is in San Juan. They’re offloading right now. He’s probably on the ground.”
“How do you know that?”
“We have connections with IPC and the navy.”
Island Prison Corrections was the prison system run by the Federal government.
“Is there a way to get him off the island?” Jacob asked.
“Not really,” Eric replied.
“What does that mean?”
“It means, there’s a very slim possibility, and, as far as I know, it’s never been done. You don’t really want to get him off the island, do you?”
“Of course not. It’s Rebecca. She’ll want to exhaust every option trying to help him. That’s just who she is. In the meantime, my home life and my bank account will be taken over by her newfound cause. If I’m not helpful, she’ll be resentful, making it that much worse.”
“Well, an escape is nearly impossible. My contact at the navy told me that hypothetically, immediately after a hurricane, it is possible to launch a submarine from the island. Apparently, the naval blockade leaves during a hurricane. Of course, the prisoners would have to manufacture a submarine without any manufacturing skills or supplies and with little to no fuel to power it.”
“Why couldn’t they just use a sailboat?”
“Satellite would pick up the boat.”
“He’ll die there.”
“Without a doubt.”
Jacob set down his pen, thinking for an instant. “Did you find any information on that company, Project Freedom?”
“The company’s a front for a drug smuggling operation that operates in Venezuela. They smuggle drugs by submarine through Hurricane Alley to the US. They have a base in what’s left of the Virgin Islands, roughly midway between Venezuela and the US, and very close to Puerto Rico. It’s the perfect place to be if you wanted to rescue island prisoners.”
“Are they rescuing island prisoners?”
“They tried to fly drones into Puerto Rico, but they were all shot down. According to my contact, only small stealth drones can avoid detection, but they don’t have the range. You’d have to launch them from the island, but that would mean going through the blockade undetected. Not likely. Project Freedom claims to patrol the waters outside the blockade with boats and a stealth sub, in case anyone makes it past the navy.”
“Do you think that’s true?”
“No. I doubt they waste their resources looking for people who aren’t there. I think looking for island prisoners is just a side business. It’s a con. They give the families hope and take their money. They might fly a drone to the island, but ultimately they don’t rescue anyone.”
Jacob rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Is there a way to find Derek and prove he’s dead?”
“No. Project Freedom tried to fly drones with facial recognition cameras to find people. The CIA thinks they did this so they can contact the families for money for the footage. Like I said, the navy shot down the drones. I have no idea if they got footage or not.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. If the CIA knows what they’re doing, why don’t they shut them down?”
Eric chuckled. “Because these guys work for the CIA. Not directly mind you, but they’re part of the CIA drug-dealing operation. The CIA uses gold- and silver-backed cryptocurrency from the drug sales to fund off-budget missions. They don’t care about the rescue operations because they know they’re ineffective.”
Jacob blew out a heavy breath. “None of this helps me with Rebecca.”
“Then don’t tell her.”
“She already knows most of it. Most of what you told me about Project Freedom is on the internet. She said she doesn’t care if they smuggle drugs. She said they’re probably good at smuggling people too. That maybe they can rescue Derek. She’s dead set on going to the Virgin Islands.”
“You’re looking at this all wrong, big brother. You know they’ll never rescue this guy, but, if you make an effort, it’ll win big points with Rebecca. Happy wife, happy life, right?”
Jacob frowned. “So, I’m supposed to drop everything and travel to the Virgin Islands, even though no commercial airliners fly there? Then what? Pay these smugglers a pile of cash to do nothing? What’s to stop these guys from kidnapping us and holding us for ransom?”
“I have some mercenaries who can provide security. These guys are former Navy SEALs. They’re pricey, but they’re worth it. I also know a good captain with a ship who’ll take you to Saint Thomas. Boats have to take a wide berth around Puerto Rico, which adds another two hundred miles, but you’ll get there in a day and a half. If I were you, I’d make a deal with Project Freedom. Offer them some money to tell Rebecca that her ex is dead. You’ll end up looking like the supportive husband, and you won’t have to worry about Rebecca spending the rest of her life wasting your money trying to rescue her ex-husband.”