CHAPTER 10
John had been given an encrypted phone number and code to contact Trigger. Pretending he needed to call his girlfriend, John walked away from the helicopter and Manari to the platform edge. Below, waves rolled past the huge steel pylons, not even so much as creating a vibration in the giant metal construction. He could see two of the Island’s peninsulas from here, and he stared out over the water as he waited for Trigger to answer his phone.
Trigger’s rough voice sounded in his ear. “Whoever this is better have a blasted good explanation, or I will spend the remainder of my life hunting you down and torturing you.”
“That would be a very short life then, Trigger,” John responded. “I’d skin you alive and you know it.”
“John? John Dale? While I live and breathe. What the blazes are you doing calling me?”
“Need a favor, my friend.”
“Sorry, buddy. I’m kinda tied up at the moment. On the job, you know, trying to keep some savage from getting killed.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m sitting on this metal death trap off shore, staring at your lousy tan lines.”
“You’re a bad liar, John. I’m inside right now. We’re all watching this insane game. Wait. You know where I am?”
“Yep.”
“You’re on that oil platform off shore?”
“Yep.”
“I oughta kill you on principle,” Trigger grumbled. “Whatya doin’ out there? Those are bad guys.”
“Aren’t these the guys you’re working for?”
“They can all go—”
“So you are working for them, then?” John interrupted. If he let Trigger, the sharpshooter would spout every vile, foul-mouthed thing he could think of in four different languages.
“I needed the work and they asked me to keep someone alive and out of the way. I don’t have to kill anyone.”
“Yet.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Like I said, I need a favor. Can you meet me on the beach in about two hours?”
“Sundown?”
“Yeah. Any recommendations? I don’t want to get caught by any of those cameras they have installed everywhere.”
A pause. “There is a small cove to the north of the village that is not covered. Go there. I’ll bring you some jamming and detection equipment. What’s this all about anyway?”
“I came in with the prisoners. I am under orders. Can’t tell you more.”
“You never did when I served under you, Cap.”
“Nothing new then.”
“Guess so. See you then.”
John turned off his enhanced cellular satellite phone and walked back towards the helicopter. Manari had left, figuring he would get on the helicopter. And why would he not? There was no reason not to. He put on a headset and talked to the pilot. “Change of plans. Manari wants me to stay.”
“He didn’t tell me anything about that,” the pilot protested.
John shrugged. “Manari doesn’t seem to be the sort of person to be very forthcoming with information. You sure he would bother telling you?”
A pause. “No. He wouldn’t.”
“Call him if you feel the need. I am going below and tell him you’ll be contacting him shortly to question his orders.”
Another pause. “That won’t be necessary.”
“On your way then.”
The pilot saluted and started the rotors spinning. John replaced his headset and backed away from the chopper. He then turned and made his way to the lowest level of the platform. Taking off his shirt and jeans he rolled them up into a ball and tied it to the small of his back. Then he dove into the rolling ocean. He surfaced, sputtering. The water around the rig was foul from refuse and debris. Grumbling, he started out for shore. He figured to reach it in 45 minutes.
It took him longer to reach the shore than he supposed. Once he had to turn over and float as his leg began cramping up, but after five minutes he continued on his way. He stayed in the surf and made his way to the agreed upon cove. When he finally hauled himself out of the water, Trigger waved to him from underneath a palm tree above the tide line.
“You’re late.”
“Was never able to please you, Trigger.”
“Be on time next time,” he retorted, good naturedly. He slapped John on the shoulder as the later walked up to him, breathing hard from the swim. “Good to see you, Cap.”
“You too, Trigger.” John studied his friend. Dark haired, clean shaven to show off a series of face tattoos that resembled some fierce bird of prey, the thin, wiry man fairly bounced on his toes. Trigger always had too much energy, but when he bore down on someone with one of those weapons strapped to his hip, he went stone cold—a killer in all aspects.
“What do you have for me?”
“Nothing here. I stashed it in an abandoned hut not far from here. The locals avoid it since someone shaman died there a year ago. Anyway, no one will bother you and the cameras are only situated along the more obvious approaches to the village. You can use the hut as your HQ if you want.”
“Sounds good. Let’s go.”
As they walked, John untied his clothing and wrung as much water as he could from them. He then unrolled them, hanging them over his shoulders to dry in the sun. “What’s the situation?” he asked.
“Since I don’t know the objectives, Cap, hard to tell.”
“Just tell me what’s going on.”
“Well, them prisoners are moving—and if you ask me, none of them have a snow ball’s chance in blazes of surviving this—and the betting continues to ramp up. All except for Bangor and his people. Bangor just wants one of these kids to kill that Komodo dragon that killed his boy. The rest of the tribe wants what Bangor wants. The world, however, has gone mad over this. A lot of money is exchanging hands, John.” He wiped a bead of sweat off his brow. “I don’t know much about this Ts2 tech you guys were using, but I’m telling you, it scares the piss out of me.”
“Me too,” John said softly.
They came to a ramshackle hut. The tropical foliage was working hard to reclaim the hut as its own, and John figured he wouldn’t want to sleep there during a rainstorm. He’d get drenched.
Inside, he whistled. A portable computer was set up on a rickety table, the screen already displaying three blimps that represented the hunters and their current locations. A second computer showed live feeds of the three youths as they walked through the underbrush. Ali had already decided to bed down for the night by climbing a tree. He looked uncomfortable, but no more than Sty and Neesha. Sty, John guessed, had moved less than a hundred yards from where they had dropped him off.
Neesha stumbled along in the fading light and would often stop to rub at her forehead. Her headaches had returned. Poor kid.
“I also brought you some toys,” Trigger said, pulling John’s attention away from the computer screens. Trigger pointed to a case sitting in one corner.
John went over, pulled the case onto the table and opened it. Inside was an array of weapons. He pulled out a modified MP-5. “Personal stash?”
“Yeah,” Trigger admitted. “I like guns. So sue me.” He nodded to the weapons. “You better not get a scratch on them,” he warned, “or I’ll be forced to shoot you myself.”
John laughed. “Maybe I should take out an insurance policy then.”
“It’s not funny, Cap. I know how you are with guns. Everything issued to you got broke.”
“Well, I like using my hands more.”
Trigger snorted and John grinned. In hand-to-hand combat, John trounced Trigger every time. But when it came to guns, John had never seen someone so deadly. Trigger hardly even seemed to aim, and he hit everything he wanted to—whether it was moving or not.
Next he pulled out a .40 caliber automatic handgun, which he set to one side. He retrieved the 30-round clip and set that next to the pistol. “This should be all I really need.”
Trigger shrugged. “Suit yourself. Personally, I like to carry somethi
ng along that can get more range.”
“I’ll be working more close up,” John disagreed. “A rifle will just slow me down.”
“You’re not seriously thinking of going out there, are you?”
John holstered his pistol and frowned. “Of course I am. Well, not right away. It will take me a few days to prepare, but why not?”
Trigger rubbed both hands over his balding head. “Come with me, Cap. You need to see something.”
The two walked over to the computers again. “Pull up a chair, Cap,” Trigger said, pulling the only available chair up to the computers.
John cuffed him. “Funny man.”
Trigger snorted and began tapping on the screen. A short time later he had tapped into a satellite news broadcast.
“…on an unheard of level,” the broadcaster was saying. “The frenzy has spread to even this small town in Iowa. The entire population has turned out to lay bets on the winner. Most are betting on Neesha—as are most Americans and Europeans. She has the long odds and, well, most people are desperate for the huge pay off.” The background faded and suddenly the broadcaster was standing in front of a studio screen. “For those of you just tuning in, here is how the betting system works.
“The Dragon Derby, as it has come to be called, works off a prediction algorithm. This means to win, you must come the closest in predicting the correct outcome. There is only one winner. First, you must select a contestant. Then you must code in a variety of variables such as time and date you predict your contestant will kill the dragon and—if any—which of the other contestants will still be alive and the manner in which the dead contestants will die, and so on. There are twenty variables you must fill in on the computers along with your name, ID number, address, and other contact information. Each wager is issued a unique number. The winning number will be read two days after the close of the contest. The winner will have 24 hours to claim the prize.” The broadcaster paused here and lifted up a ticket stub. “And what a prize it is. The winner will receive a one-time payment of 500 million Euros!
“Several high rollers have purchased millions of tickets and submitted various scenarios for each of the contestants.”
A woman stepped on screen and asked, “Isn’t that cheating, James?”
“You might think so, Julie,” Frank replied. “But they have the money. Statisticians claim that the odds of successfully predicting the exact outcome of the contest is upwards of a trillion to one. It is entirely possible that the blue collar worker who buys only one wager has as much change as these millionaires who are buying hundreds of thousands of wagers.”
“Wow!” Julie said. “I better go get mine then!”
“You probably should, Julie. The lines are filling up.”
At this point the camera shifted to a scene in Moscow. “As you can see, everyone is getting into it. Here in communist Russia, the lines have begun to cross entire city blocks as people wait to place their wager. Most Russians are betting on Sylvester to take it all, but the frenzy has captivated the entire planet.
“In Dubai, the streets have been plastered with posters of Ali. The President has invited dignitaries to his home to watch the game on wall-to-wall screens. This is happening all over the planet.” Frank turned to look right into the screen. “Neesha, Sylvester, Ali, I don’t know if you will ever see this, but we wish you the best of luck. The whole world is watching this Dragon Derby!”
Trigger hit a button and turned off the screen. “Did you see that? Everyone is watching, Cap. If you go out there the surveillance cameras are bound to pick you up eventually. And what do you think the world is going to do when they find out you’re sneaking around the Island trying to help those kids?”
John considered. “I can’t just let these kids die like this. It’s not right.”
“Maybe not, but how can you stop it?”
“Do you know where all the cameras are?”
“Yeah, but, Cap, they have overlapping fields of view. You get close to one and another one will spot you right away.”
John swore. “I’m going out there anyway, Trigger. Find me a way.”
Trigger scowled. “You was always a hard-nosed pig, you know that?”
“Aye.”
“Okay. Okay. Let me think.” Trigger stared at the screens for some time, tapping his chin. Finally, he scowled deeply. “There might be a way, but you’re not going to like it.”
“I already don’t like it, Trigger.”
“Well, wait until you hear what I have planned.”