Don Pendleton - Pacific Creed

Bolan considered his past. “What if I told you I would have gone for Eagle Scout but a war got in the way?”

Becca smiled. “What’re my two choices again?”

“A and B. A is you saying ‘get me out of here now,’ so we walk out of this container and I try to kill our way out against all resistance.”

Becca’s smile died. “And what’s Option B?”

“They sell you and the other girls for guns, intel and who knows what else. They put you on a boat and sail you west to God knows where. But I can put a tracking device on you and try to rescue you before you hit slave market central. Option A? Frankly I give me and my friend about a ten percent chance of overpowering everybody with our bare hands and finding our way out of the forest with you and the rest of the girls alive. Option B? You and the girls are most likely going to get loaded into a boat. I track you and rescue you.” Bolan didn’t sugarcoat it. “And you endure whatever happens until then.”

“And which one are you recommending?”

“Would you believe B?”

“God, you’re an asshole!”

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Bolan conceded. “The problem is we’re outnumbered, I don’t have a gun, and it’s a fight to the finish. No way they’ll let us get out of here alive. B gives me a chance to gear up, and it also gives me a lead on where you’re being taken, which means I can crush the slave trade at both ends.”

“And you’re going to put a tracking device on me how?”

Bolan took out his phone, opened the battery compartment and slid out the RFID the Farm was tracking him with. It was far more powerful and sophisticated than the one he had injected into the Lua man’s hand. It was the size and shape of a quarter and about as thick as a PC’s processing chip. “You can’t swallow it—it won’t stand up to digestive juices.”

Becca gave the tracking device a very dry look. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

Bolan handed Becca the device. She blinked as he stripped off his shirt and flopped on a futon. “Would you give me a back rub? I need to stay awhile.”

Becca straddled Bolan’s hips and dug her thumbs into his trapezius with skill and alacrity.

* * *

Bolan left the container. Becca whimpered and cried in a convincing show of shame and degradation.

“You’re my hero, brah!” Tino’s voice boomed. “Man, I gotta get me a piece of that—”

“She’s mine, until she’s gone,” Bolan said.

“Well, shit, brah, you don’t have to—”

The Lua master spoke gravely. “This isn’t a party, Tino. This is a grave necessity. We all know Koa’s reputation, but Makaha had to prove that he’s all in. We’re going to hurt the haoles. We’re going to hurt them in every way possible. Makaha had to prove that he’s willing to do what has to be done.”

Bolan gave Koa a defiant look. “Don’t tell Melika.”

Koa gave Bolan a faux “saddened that you would even ask” look. “That’s not going to happen.”

“It’s like killing people, Makaha!” Tino just kept digging his own grave as he leered. “It gets easier with practice, except it’s not as much fun.”

“Done that.” Bolan stared into the middle distance in memory. “It never got easier. I just got better at it.”

The Lua master, Ferret-face and the thin man reappraised Bolan. The Lua man took out two thick, rubber-banded rolls of twenties. “Take this.”

“You want to pay me?” Bolan put pure disdain on his face as he jerked his head at the container. “For that?”

The man looked genuinely hurt. “No, Makaha. This is walking-around money. From your uncle Aikane. You telling me you’re flush?”

Bolan looked away as though he was ashamed. “Nah, I spent my last bills on chicken and beer today. Koa spent all he had on plane tickets.”

The thin man’s voice went from sneering to a neutral tone that almost had a tinge of respect. “Tino will take you home. Take a day off. Take two. Forget chicken and beer. Get some real grind. Koa, get reacquainted with your home.” The thin man came dangerously close to being friendly as he wrinkled his nose at Bolan. “And show this lost home-slice what he’s been missing.”

Even Ferret-face beamed a little.

Honolulu safehouse

“I gotta go.” Bolan shoved a few personals into a bag. They hadn’t gotten out of the forest and back in Wailuku Valley until after sunrise. He suspected the girls had been taken out to a ship and were already on their way to a short life of sex slavery, heroin addiction and an unceremonious death, dismemberment and dumping.

“You sure you don’t want me along?” Koa asked.

“I need you to take Peg, like now, and get Melika. Kidnap her if you have to, but then disappear as though we four went on a romantic couples’ weekend.”

Koa raised his hands in warning. “If Peg and I show up and say, ‘Hey, let’s go meet Makaha,’ she’ll come, but if you aren’t there? She won’t take kidnapping too kindly, man. Back in the ’70s, Mama Melika was like a genuine Island-style Ma Barker, and she taught her daughter well. There’s a reason we found all the uncles hanging out at her place yesterday.”

Agent Hu tossed her hair. “I’m not afraid of her.”

“I am,” Koa countered. “And you should be.”

“I need Melika on our side.” Bolan gave Koa a hard look. “And I need her sat on until I get back and can turn her.”

“Matt, we got Uncle Aikane trusting us. We can work with that.”

“I think Melika might be my key to getting in all the way.”

Koa clearly didn’t like it. “I know it was my idea, but we took a big chance going into her bar and—”

“And I’m doubling down. Koa, I’m getting the feeling this is starting to step on your loyalties, and I get it, but I need you to get her. Get her now, or punch out of this mission.”

Koa went pure Island-style stone face. Bolan realized Koa had deeper misgivings about this mission than he’d let on. Koa lifted his chin. “And if me and Peg sit on Melika and your charms fail, what are you going to do with the home girl?”

“Let her go.”

Koa’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You’re just going to let her go, and let her compromise us and burn the entire mission down.”

“No, I’ll hold her for forty-eight hours first, and me, you and Hu go in hard, guns blazing on the camp, the cave, Uncle Aikane and the targets we know. We try to break it open the ugly way. Melika comes to no harm from my end.”

“Well, shit,” Koa opined.

“Yeah, it’s a bad deal all the way around.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it, and you can hate me after. Question is, will you do it?”

“You know I volunteered for this one.”

“I know, and thanks.”

Koa nodded at Hu. “Pack for a picnic and a kidnapping.”

Hu shot a killer grin. “I can take her.”

Koa shook his head sadly. “No, you can’t.”

Bolan tapped an app on his phone. “Bear.”

Kurtzman came on instantly. “Striker.”

“Tell me we have tracking.”

“Tracking confirmed, Striker.” Kurtzman added, “But we don’t have tracking on you, and your tracer is no longer connected to your phone’s battery. Our tracking window is getting narrow.”

“Where are they headed?”

“West, as you can imagine. But when it comes to slavery there are a host of final destinations along the way.”

“Best estimate?”

“The tracker is currently on board a small freighter, the Pukulan Anggun. She has Dutch registration, but she’s currently flying Indonesian colors.”

Bolan saw the scenario. “Heading southwest for the North Equatorial Current. Straight shot for the Jakarta or Manila flesh markets.”