New Years SEAL Dream: A Bone Frog Brotherhood Novella Page 14

  “Good thinking. So, Gretchen, what is this area here called?” asked Coop.

  “We just call it the warehouse waterfront district. Used to be the cheapest loft rentals in the city, but now it’s gotten trendy. Still, many of those buildings are abandoned,” she answered.

  “Is it close to the school?” Trace asked.

  “Very close. Yes.”

  Coop’s phone rang, and, after a brief discussion, he ended his call with a, “Thanks buddy, I owe you one again.” He smiled to his audience. “Okay he gave me coordinates that said between the river and Brickyard. North is the Pallatine Bridge and south the entrance to the 305 freeway. He said that was about a ten block radius.”

  “Brickyard is right here,” Gretchen pointed out the labeled street. “And the rails run right through the first third of that square you just gave me. All the new upscale lofts are along the river, so I’d guess they’d be somewhere around here.”

  Trace was starting to feel hopeful. “Good job, sweetheart. You know that area at all?”

  “Lots of homeless shelters. Some rescue missions and a couple brewery houses. The whole place is undergoing massive renovation so there are construction projects all over. Closed streets. It’s a mess getting through there.”

  “But we didn’t hear any construction, either. Just the trains,” said Trace.

  “That’s the part I don’t like to go. Sometimes the church youth group would help out serving Thanksgiving Dinner down there, but as a big group. Not a place to go to at night by yourself.”

  “And that’s why you’re not going by yourself.” Trace could tell Coop was also feeling hopeful. “Good deal. I can live with that. How many buildings are in that area?”

  Gretchen sat down again and put her palm to her forehead. “Tons.”

  “Explain what you mean by tons,” said Fredo.

  She stared at her hands neatly folded on the tabletop. “I’m going to guess and say more than a hundred. At least.”

  Chapter 11

  Tony Sanders called her about the same time as the police showed up at her door.

  “Hey, Gretchen. I just want to tell you Joanie is real sorry about all this.”

  “I’m beyond that, Tony. They say they want the money tomorrow. And they’ve upped their price to a million five,” she told him flatly. She was surprised at her control. But the last thing she wanted to do was show Tony how scared and helpless she felt, even with the SEALs helping her.

  The police were questioning the men on Trace’s team, but looking in her direction.

  “Tony, the police just arrived.”

  “They’ll accompany you and give you a vest to wear.”

  “A vest? You volunteered to send me out there with a vest?” She felt her blood pressure rise. “Did it ever occur to you I might be the next victim here?”

  “Don’t get all crazy on me, Gretchen. What the hell was I supposed to do? Not like he gave me much choice.”

  “Well, if Joanie had been on time, none of this would have happened!”

  “Oh yeah? Well perhaps she would have been taken hostage as well. Did you for once ever think about anyone but yourself?”

  Gretchen was livid. “You complete asshole. You are a worthless human being. A worthless husband and less than worthless father. You don’t even deserve to have the company of those three beautiful girls, and if I have my way, you’ll be not spending any time with them soon.”

  She knew it was wrong, but the pressure of the events had set her off. His lazy attitude added fuel to the fire.

  “Okay big shot. I’m going to bring you one million five hundred thousand dollars in cash tomorrow after the banks open. Let’s see how well you do suing me for custody. I think you’re a reckless mother to go off on an island vacation, screwing who knows how many guys, leaving your daughters behind. Angela is only four!”

  “And she doesn’t like spending any time with you already. And I was with Kate and Tyler and their friends.”

  “At an orgy house, I hear.”

  She was going to object, but she saw Trace and a detective walk toward her. She’d gone way over the top and now had dug herself a big hole.

  “I’m not sure where you get your facts, Tony, but as usual, you’re completely wrong.”

  “Check the morning paper, Gretchen. Mother of kidnapped daughter on romantic Tropical Tryst in Hawaii.”

  Her face got bright red.

  The detective extended his hand. “Let me talk to him.”

  Gretchen agreed to comply. Trace kept his distance, which was a good thing. Right now she didn’t want anyone’s hug. She was looking for the sledgehammer in her fantasy life.

  The detective introduced himself and then gave Tony a sage piece of advice. “Son, luckily I don’t have to do a lot of these types of things on a daily basis, but I’ll tell you what. It makes no sense to accuse and abuse those around you who are only trying to help. I think you need to keep your mouth shut, and that goes for any more television interviews.”

  The detective listened to Tony give some explanation.

  “Yeah, well, you let the coach do his job with the Trailblazers and their organization. We’re trying to save your daughter’s life and that’s a whole other thing. Now, if they contact you again, you let me know. You have my card.”

  He listened to Tony again, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. Gretchen liked the detective immediately.

  “Well that’s fine son, but these leaks to the paper are not going to do your girls any good when they go back to school. Just think about it. For their sake, keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.”

  Without allowing Tony to give more excuses, the detective hung up the phone and handed it back to Gretchen. He warily looked at the four SEALs standing in front of him.

  “I’ve got a hunch none of you is going to get much sleep tonight. We’ll patrol the warehouse area where you think they are holding her, but we don’t do anything until tomorrow morning, understood?”

  Gretchen knew the SEALs were lying when they shook their heads yes. He addressed Gretchen. “You need to get some sleep mother. Tomorrow is going to be a very big day. I’ll post a guard to patrol your neighborhood. We’ll be in touch if we get any breaking developments, and I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. Focus on your daughter. Try to think about how she’s feeling tonight, all alone, stuck with a bunch of strangers. Let’s not do anything to jeopardize our success tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, detective,” Gretchen whispered.

  He started for the door and then stopped. “I have to say this one more thing, sweetheart. Everyone in town knows who your husband is. You can tell him after the fact that he’s the reason they went after her. He’s the goose that laid the golden egg. So, let him do his job and you don’t speak to him anymore unless you got one of your boyfriends here to chaperone. Am I getting through?”

  “They’re not my boyfriends.” She saw Trace bite his lip. “Only one is. But that’s sage advice, detective. Thanks for your time. I’ll let you know if they make further contact.”

  She accepted his card, and then shook his hand, and again he headed for the doorway. He gave the SEALs a long conspiratorial look.

  Gretchen suspected he understood just what they were going to do tonight. Tomorrow was indeed going to be a very big day.

  Chapter 12

  Trace knew the lack of specialized equipment was a severe handicap. But their experience and training was far superior to anything else on the planet, and in that he had complete confidence. They hadn’t had the time to rehearse over and over again, sometimes re-creating their mission over a hundred times before they set out. But they had intuition. It wouldn’t be the first time they were in an unfamiliar town, going after people they’d never seen or met before. But without firepower, specialty explosive charges Fredo was legendary for creating, it was like doing an op blindfolded.

  But their odds were still better than most.

  Then there was the raw truth that all four of the
SEALs were pumped up and ready to go, without having a moment’s hesitation to risk their lives to save Clover. And maybe it was a good thing all they had were their sidearms. They were not supposed to interfere with local law enforcement. They were officially supposed to defer to them. They weren’t even allowed to use their guns except in cases of self-defense, and then only on rare occasions.

  But there was no doubt about it. This was a snatch and grab mission, without their gear. He hoped the bad guys were not very well trained or armed. Then the odds would be hugely in the SEALs’ favor.

  The evening had come full upon them, and he noted the stars looks lackluster compared to the bright twinkling orbs in Hawaii. He vowed to take Gretchen and her daughters back there, if he were given the chance. He hoped he had that chance.

  He also hoped he was given the chance to meet Gretchen’s ex, and give him a lecture to let him know what a douchbag he thought the man was. But all that could be accomplished after they had success. And if they didn’t, then all bets were off.

  Coop directed him where to drive. Gretchen had insisted on coming with them and talked over his shoulder, pointing out places she knew.

  Coop angled his face and cleared his throat. “I’m going to ask you to call your daughter’s cell phone. They might not have turned it off, since we got a good triangulation out of the signal. But, they could destroy the phone if they get wind of what we’re trying to do.”

  “Wouldn’t my location finder help?” She’d brought her laptop. “Can’t I just look it up on here?”

  “You can ask the phone company to ping it,” said Armando.

  “We don’t have the equipment to pick it up. But sure, go ahead and try.”

  Gretchen directed Trace to stop in front of one of the missions, thinking they might have internet.

  “Nope. No signal. Any one of you have a hot spot?”

  None of the SEALs did.

  She directed him to drive in front of a coffee house down the street where she was able to log into their WIFI, which was strong enough to use while she was seated in the car. The red dot located an intersection, but then moved around and targeted another intersection. Then another. Trace tried to head in the general direction of the signal, but at last stopped.

  “They put this on a dog or something?” Fredo asked.

  “I think that’s exactly what they did. Or in someone’s backpack. Damn. This isn’t going to help,” Cooper muttered.

  They watched as the red locator moved briefly outside the box that had been created with the triangulation. And then it strangely moved back inside.

  “I think we should follow it. Check it out,” said Trace.

  Coop shrugged. “Everyone keep an eye out for Casa de Flora. They may not know we have that name.”

  The streets were in shadow. Half the lights had been broken. Pieces of broken glass littered the sidewalks and shone in the moonlight like diamonds. Flocks of ashen-colored people in baggy clothes were huddled over trash barrels set ablaze to keep them warm. They passed several rescue missions, most of them with lines going down the street.

  Gretchen offered an explanation as Trace turned the corner, the headlights scanning the shabby crowd. “They take only a certain number each night. Most of them sleep in the meeting rooms, or the sanctuary, on cots or the church pews. And these are the lucky ones.”

  “It’s a shame. Reminds me of our project in San Diego, right, Fredo? But this looks worse. No families,” said Armando.

  “Oh they’re here, but they wouldn’t dare go outside now,” answered Gretchen. “This is a very dangerous area, constantly involved in turf wars. Clover might have even been here a time or two with her youth group. But not at night. Never at night.”

  “She’s a good kid, Gretchen. You did well.” Armando smiled. Trace watched in the rear view mirror as Gretchen couldn’t help but blush at his good looks, even in the evening shadows.

  He aimed toward the red dot again, which had temporarily stopped in one place. Coming into view were the bright lights of a liquor store, so they waited outside with the car running. Some teens were smoking cigarettes just outside the door, when a young lanky youth exited the store, and joined them.

  “That’s Clover’s backpack!” exclaimed Gretchen.

  Trace focused on the newcomer. As the group ambled down the street, under the light of a streetlamp he could see that the backpack was black and red, with the distinctive hurricane logo of the Portland Trail Blazers. Dangling from one of the zipper pockets was a small pink teddy bear.

  “You stay here, Gretchen, and keep the doors locked,” Trace said as he shut the motor down and they moved away from the SUV in pairs.

  Fredo and Armando came at the group from the right, to their rear and Trace and Cooper walked straight toward the boys. About ten feet before confrontation, Cooper spoke up.

  “You guys know where I can score a little weed, man?”

  As one of the taller boys delved into his own black backpack, Trace saw Armando and Fredo rip Clover’s backpack from the kid, sending him on his knees. The crowd turned and were greeted with a couple of SigSauers.

  “We want no trouble. Just want the backpack and your friend, here,” Armando said. He walked up to the youth, yanked on his shirt collar and stood him up on his feet. The group was about to run when they were stopped by Cooper and Trace, also showing firearms. The kids disappeared into the streets, scattering all over the place.

  They dragged their prey back to the SUV, and slammed him up against it. Armando checked his pockets carefully and spilled his contents of pills, bags of powder and some loose weed all over the street. The kid swore but was given a swift kick to his butt.

  Trace examined the contents of the backpack and in addition to more drugs found a book, a binder and some loose papers, a zipper bag of pencils, some deodorant and chap stick as well as a change of girl’s underwear. He also found a half-eaten energy bar. Crusty with sticky flakes from the opened bar, Trace found Clover’s cell phone at the very bottom, and turned it back on.

  “So where did you get this?” Fredo asked the kid, holding up the backpack.

  “In a dumpster.”

  “Show me.” Fredo pushed him toward the street.

  The youth started to run, but Cooper easily caught up and tackled him, sending his face to the pavement.

  “You wanna play hide and seek? I like playing that game, except you’re gonna get all messed up. And oh wow. Look at that. You’ve got a bloody nose.”

  The boy cursed.

  “So you gonna show us this time?” Fredo repeated.

  Armando stood him up again by hoisting his collar, and the boy scanned the faces of the four SEALs. At last, he nodded.

  They asked Gretchen to move to the third seat, while Armando and Fredo babysat the boy in the second seat. He turned around briefly, taking note of Gretchen. Then he pointed and Trace followed directions.

  “So you meet the people who left this behind, son?” Coop asked him.

  He shook his head.

  “Did you see the people who dumped this backpack?”

  Again he shook his head.

  They stopped at a large green dumpster outside a brick two store warehouse building. Armando held the boy while Fredo jumped into the dumpster and then began to sneeze. “Dammit. Flowers in here. I’m fuckin’ going to be sneezing all night with my allergies,” grumbled Fredo. He sneezed several more times and swore in between.

  Coop chuckled. “I think he can go,” he said to Armando.

  The kid ran into the night.

  Trace scrambled to the front of the building and saw the letters on a glass door, “Casa de Flora.” Inside, it looked like a clean little flower shop with refrigerators containing bunches of bouquets and flowers in white metal cones. He went back and reported to the others.

  Armando returned from the other side, breathing heavily. “There’s a roll up door to the warehouse on the other side, and another side door about ten feet in front. No door on the rear. The
rollup isn’t padlocked but the side door is locked.”

  “Fredo, can you pick the front door lock first?” asked Coop.

  “No tools, Coop. But wait a minute!” He hopped back into the dumpster and the sneezing began. He climbed out clutching a bundle of discarded florist’s wire. “I can use this, I think. Be right back.”

  “Trace, you go let Gretchen know what’s happening. Tell her to stay inside the SUV again, but keep her head down.”

  As Coop discussed several of their options, Trace tapped on the window and Gretchen leaned over the rear seat, opening the driver side rear door. “We’re about to breach the building. You stay put, and keep it locked. The keys are still in the ignition, okay?”

  “Do we know it’s them?”

  “I think so, sweetheart. The name of the flower shop matches the cell phone record Coop got from the NSA. So, we’re treating this as a go. We’ll split up. Anything goes wrong, you call 9-1-1 immediately, okay?”

  “What about the detective?”

  “Call him second. 9-1-1 gets the paramedics and a shitpile of others.”

  She took in a deep breath. “Trace, thank you so much. I—”

  His name was being whispered, so he had to cut her off with a swift kiss, pointed to the lock and joined Armando at the rollup. Coop headed up front to join Fredo, who had already entered the flower shop. Their watches had been set, and on the mark, Trace pulled back the latch as Armando threw his full weight into raising the metal accordion material. Trace immediately grabbed the other side and together they got the door fully raised in less than thirty seconds.

  Prepared for firepower, they each rolled into the shadows, Armando on the right and Trace on the left. They heard the rattle of a semi-automatic of low caliber, sounding more like a child’s toy. Trace fell into some water and realized he’d encountered a shallow tray holding dozens of pot plants, each covered with large sacks of burlap. The distinctive skunky smell of growing marijuana made his nose itch.