He grinned. “All right. Let’s go.”
Tom secured his submachinegun and nodded. “Let’s go see what secrets this ghost island wants to release.”
They hugged the jungle, following the beach until they reached a well worn path leading to the center of the small island.
Above the chirp of tropical birds, came another sound resonating from the middle of the island’s hidden interior.
Sam paused, cocking his ears to listen. “What is that sound?”
Tom bit his lower lip. “I don’t know. It’s not natural, that much I know for sure.”
“Yeah, but what could it be?”
“I don’t know.”
They continued nearly half a mile before the sound became loud enough for them to make out its origins.
Sam swept the dense jungle, trying to locate the sound’s origins. “Do you hear that?”
“Sure, but I don’t believe it.”
“No. So much for a ghost island.”
“Indeed…” Tom raised his eyebrows. “Unless, that’s the sound of ghost-laughing.”
Sam grinned slightly. “Come on, let’s go find out.”
The trail rose to a narrow crest. They both ducked down, edging their way to the top on their bellies to get a better view.
Looking down on the opening far below, Sam shook his head in disbelief. Hundreds of people were playing on a sandy clearing — say, four or five hundred to be exact — the same amount one would expect to be onboard an A380 superjumbo. They were all dressed in an array of beach attire, well suited to their deserted island retreat. The men wore board shorts and for those who wore any shirts at all, they appeared floral and had a Hawaiian theme. The women were in a combination of bikinis, board shorts, or a mixture of the two.
The tourists were spread out, enjoying an array of different pleasure activities you’d expect at any resort island. Some played beach volleyball in the sand, others played tennis on a pair of tennis courts, while others simply sunbaked, basking in the warmth of the Caribbean sun. To the north, more than thirty people were drinking cocktails beside a crystal-clear spring.
Tom’s lips curled upward into a wry grin. “Well, Sam… I have to admit, that’s a sight I was not ready for.”
“I agree. What sort of prison is this?”
“Beats me.”
Sam grinned. “Let’s go find out.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Tom said, “At least we’re well dressed for the occasion.”
“You’re right,” Sam agreed, trying to conceal his MP5 submachinegun beneath his Hawaiian shirt.
They followed the trail until they got closer, before diverting into the jungle to avoid being seen and skirting the clearing.
On the opposite side of the island, they came out of the jungle on a tropical paradise. There were a group of people in their twenties playing beach volleyball in board shorts and bikinis. A couple older people were snorkeling in the turquoise water. The thick canopy of the jungle extended right to the beach, which was no more than a few yards to the water.
“Some paradise these drug dealers have here for themselves,” Sam said.
Tom shrugged. “Hey, crime pays until you get caught.”
“Sure, but caught doing what, exactly?”
“I have no idea. This has got to be where someone’s keeping the passengers and crew of the Phoenix, but for what purpose I can’t even imagine.”
“Ransom?”
“It’s been more than three months. Who ever heard of someone keeping this number of prisoners happy for three months without making any ransom demands?”
“Beats me.” Sam turned to keep heading around the island. “Let’s keep going around the island. We need some definitive proof if we’re to organize a rescue operation.”
Tom asked, “Like what?”
Sam crossed his arms. “The A380 would be nice. A runway long enough for it to land would also help.”
“Okay, let’s keep going.”
Behind them, a woman said, “Hey, you two weren’t on the flight!”
“And what flight would that be?” Sam asked.
The woman swallowed hard, her eyes widening with fear. “I’m sorry it doesn’t matter. The point is, you don’t belong here, do you?”
Tom asked, “How would you know that? Maybe we paid for a lovely vacation on this beautiful island, like everyone else?”
The woman was about to argue against that point, but stopped short when she spotted someone approach.
“You’re not supposed to be here!” A young woman, no more than eighteen approached wearing a blue, striped bikini. Beneath her smoking hot body, Sam noticed fine definition in her muscles, as though her figure was the product of hard work, not for show, rather than the other way round.
Sam met her eye, holding her gaze, without any more than a glance at the way her perfect, supple body was encased in the bikini. “Why not?”
“It’s going to make them very angry. You should leave!”
“Make who angry?” Sam stopped. “Where exactly are we?”
The woman set her jaw, her reply curt, removing her original appearance of a young socialite. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing here, but you’re not helping anyone. You need to leave before you ruin everything!”
An older man came up from the beach. His face was surly and his tone violent. “Get out of here! What do you think you’re doing? You have no idea how much harm you’re going to do!”
The first woman approached slowly. “They’re not going to be happy with us.”
“Who’s not going to be happy?” Sam asked, backing away. “Are you prisoners?”
The woman in the striped bikini, who appeared to be in charge, said, “You don’t understand. You couldn’t! But you’re making it worse for everyone. You need to go before you’re spotted by THEM!”
“Who are THEY?”
“We’re not supposed to talk to strangers. THEY said you might come. This will all be over soon, but not if you interrupt it. THEY’LL do it again if they have to.” The woman’s voice was pleading. “Please, don’t make them do it again.”
Sam felt constricted by their advancements. None of them were armed, but they didn’t need to be. Outnumbered by the mob of apparent tourists, they could easily become overwhelmed.
Tom said, “I think I’ve seen enough.”
“Yep, me too,” Sam said. “Time to go.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Sam and Tom raced all the way back to the Alessandra.
They climbed the rope ladder, handing their sea scooters to Amy and Colin, who pulled them on board their houseboat.
Amy said, “Welcome back. So what did you find? Any ghosts on your island?”
Sam shook his head. “No ghost. Only some of the happiest prisoners of all time.”
Colin tilted his head, meeting his eye. “They’re holding people prisoner on the island?”
“It appears so.”
“What are you going to do about it?” Colin asked.
“That’s a good question,” Sam replied, swallowing hard. “If you’re right and this whole place is an offshore interrogation center to process people for the CIA, then we’re not going to be very popular with our own government.”
Amy said, “All the same, maybe it should be disclosed.”
“Yeah, I’ve got some connections in the Department of Defense. I’ll come up with something. This isn’t just an American thing. There were people from all around the world on board that flight.”
Sam’s satellite phone started to ring.
The number was a UK country code. It was Sandi Larson, the anthropologist he’d met in Colorado.
He squinted his eyes. “What did you find?”