A Cult in Paradise; Episode 4, Prison Visit

This is episode four of the fifth book in the Trace Troy Adventures in  Paradise series. The Title is A Cult in Paradise. It will be featured in episodes over the next few months. It will eventually be published in full on Amazon. All of the Trace Troy books, as well as my other novels, can be purchased on Amazon by clicking the Bookstore tab above. I hope you enjoy. And thanks for stopping by. 

Prison Visit

Trace entered Suva Prison. He felt closed in by the gray concrete twelve-foot-high walls, strung with razor wire along the top. A guard in a khaki uniform led him through an immaculate hallway. They stopped at a door at the end of the hallway. The guard patted Trace down and opened the door to the empty visiting room. Twenty tables with two chairs each were neatly arranged. 

“Have a seat, sir,” the guard said. “Prisoner Franks will be here shortly.”

Trace flashed a quick smile. “Thank you, officer.”

 Five minutes elapsed, and two guards escorted Franks to the chair across from Trace. The guards moved away from the table and stood on both sides of the door.

“It’s good to see you,” Franks said. “You have good news.”

“I do,” Trace said. “First, Allie sends her regards.”

“A good woman,” Franks said. 

“Sage and Coyote are all in,” Trace said.  “And when I say all in, it’s like taking all they have and splashing the pot.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Franks said.

“There are two thousand miles of ocean between us and your son,” Trace said. “It will take time. It will take time to plan this.”

“How much time?” Franks said.

“That’s something we have no idea about,” Trace said. “Dad is speaking to a trusted friend who is familiar with this type of thing. A lot depends on what he says.”

“This has to be hush-hush,” Franks said. “We can’t have your dad consulting with old friends.”

“I said a trusted friend,” Trace said. “Dad would not jeopardize our lives with anyone who couldn’t keep secrets.”

“Understood,” Franks said. “I’m very nervous.”

“That’s okay,” Trace said, “we all are. I came here to tell you that everything was a go and that I will see you every third day, starting with today. If I don’t show up on the third day, you can assume we are on our way.”

“I got that,” Franks said.

“If anything happens on the way there or back, that our mission has failed, we will have Allie visit you,” Trace said.

Franks nervously nodded. “So, no news is good news?”

“Unless we’re all at the bottom of the sea,” Trace said.

“There’s the matter of money,” Franks said.

“In all the excitement, I’ve never given it a thought,” Trace said.

“I just had one hundred thousand dollars transferred to Allie’s account,” Franks said. “That way, there’s not a direct link between us. And that money goes through a couple of other accounts before getting to Allie. Got to look out for her too.”

“Thanks for the box,” Trace said.

“Is it useful?” Franks said.

“I’m sure it will be,” Trace said. “We looked it over last night, and I got into it this morning.”

“What do you think?” Franks said.

“It’s better than going without a clue,” Trace said. “I’m sure there’s enough to come up with a plan from that, but…”

Franks interrupted, “‘The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.’”

“Mice are terrible planners,” Trace said. 

“I would like to know more about your plans,” Franks said. “But that sort of thing is not my area of expertise. I’m not a man of action, I’m a man of statistics and odds. Men such as you beat the odds, at least that’s what the statistics suggest. You improvise on the fly. It’s best if I know little about your plans. We should cut this short. The more we talk, the more you may be implicated. I’m not able to bribe everybody. The meter is running.”

“One more thing,” Trace said, “does anyone else know about this?”

“Allie,” Franks said, “and that’s it.”

“She’s a good one to trust,” Trace said.

“I’m curious,” Trace said, “the prison is only a walking distance to The Tramp Islander, why have the Rover and four motorcycles escort you for that short of a distance?”

“I’m a flamboyant casino owner,” Franks grinned. “Everything we do is ostentatious. If I had the time, I would have used a limo.”

“Thanks for the box,” Trace said and asked, “Silk sheets?”  

“Nothing but,” Franks said, with a short, polite smile. 

“I should let you go, Captain Troy,” Franks said. “We have a badminton tournament this afternoon.”

“Well,” Trace said, “I hope you finish first.”

“Oh no,” Franks grinned, “I’m not playing. I’m collecting bets and setting odds. I have to keep sharp. If I were a barber and incarcerated, they’d expect haircuts, but as it is… Don’t worry about returning. I’ll know when you leave. We must leave on a sour note.”

Franks stood abruptly. His face flashed into a rage. He flipped the table. “You piece of crap, you’re the reason I’m here. Coming here, wanting forgiveness; you've got your nerve! ”

The guards rushed toward Franks. He turned to them and said politely, “We’re done, here, gentlemen. I’m sorry to have upset you.”

The guards grabbed him from each side and rushed him to the door. Franks turned his head, winked, and smiled at Trace. 

Trace smiled and nodded.

A Cult in Paradise; Episode 3, Planning Plans

This is episode three of the fifth book in the Trace Troy Adventures in  Paradise series. The Title is A Cult in Paradise. It will be featured in episodes over the next few months. It will eventually be published in full on Amazon. All of the Trace Troy books, as well as my other novels, can be purchased on Amazon by clicking the Bookstore tab above. I hope you enjoy. And thanks for stopping by. 

Planning Plans

The motorcade disappeared into the city night. Trace opened the hatch to the forward companionway. He was about the step down. A light green sedan stopped on the street in front of The Tramp Islander. The horn beeped three times. A man exited, holding a cardboard box with both arms.

“Trace Troy,” the man called out.

“Yeah,” Trace said, “what’s up?”

“Waldo Franks told me to deliver this to you,” the man said. 

Trace walked to the gangplank, and the man handed him the box. “Mr. Franks said all the information he has is in this box.”

“Thanks,” Trace said. And the man walked back to the car and drove away.

Adam, Sage, and Coyote approached Trace. They looked curiously into the box.

“What do ya s’pose it is?” Coyote said.

“Let’s find out,” Trace said.

They used the forward companionway, and everyone climbed below. Coyote made coffee. And they sat at the mess table. Trace and Adam the meeting they had with Franks. 

“Are you and your dad inclined to go along?” Trace asked Sage.

“That’s a lot to think over,” Coyote said.

“You guys talked to him,” Sage said. “Do you think it’s all on the up and up?”

“That was quite a show for it to be a charade,” Adam said. 

Trace looked in the box. “This stuff just isn’t thrown in here. It’s carefully indexed and in order. This was put together by somebody who cares.”

“This is a no-brainer for me,” Sage said. “I didn’t plan on going anywhere anyways. Sure, let’s give it a shot.”

“This sounds like more fun than pigs at sloppin’ time,” Coyote said. “When do we ride?”

“I don’t want to be five days out to sea and wish we had planned better or brought something more with us,” Trace said. “Tomorrow, I’ll visit Franks. I’ll tell him the crew is all in. I’ll try to get a hold of Makani and tell him what’s up. I hope he’s agreeable to go. It will be hard to find a replacement under these conditions. And I’m not hiring anyone unless they know what they’re facing.”

“Why not let me handle Makani?” Adam said. “You take care of visiting Franks. I think there’s enough for you to do as it is.”

“Do you want us to get some firepower?” Coyote said. “You know, stuff that makes a lot of noise and scares the crap out of folks.”

Everyone rolled their eyes.

“I’m just funnin’,” Coyote said. “Everyone knows more money is stolen from banks by fraud and cookin’ the books than by shootin’ tellers and blowin’ the doors off the vaults.”

“I’m thinking it would be good that we all become familiar with the contents in this box,” Trace said. He pulled a map from the box. It was a map of the South Pacific. He placed his finger on the map’s scale in the legend. He measured the distance from Fiji to the island, Flint Island, using a pencil. 

“About two thousand miles,” Trace murmured. 

“Two weeks?” Sage said.

“Yeah,” Trace said. “That sounds like a long time.”

“The planning will take more than that,” Adam said. “We have to spend our time wisely. Instead of me looking for Makani, I have an old friend on the island. I think he would be a valuable resource of information for an operation like this one.”

“Yeah,” Sage said, “I might be the best one to talk to Makani. I won’t twist his arm—well, maybe a little.”

“What about me?” Coyote said, “I’m startin’ to feel as useless as clutch peddle on a trail horse.”

“I got something right down your alley,” Trace said. “Go to a bar named Sneaky Pete’s. Tell Pete who you are.”

“Coyote,” Coyote said, “that’s dumb. So that’s right down my alley, ay?”

“No,” Trace said, “I meant Adam Troy’s best friend, and you are on The Tramp Islander. Before you get there, estimate some firepower. Not a lot, just enough to let folks know we’re serious. Pete might be the man who can get what we need. And from the stories Dad has told me, he might even have what we need at the bar.”

“Now that’s an assignment I can comprehend,” Coyote said.

“And when you’re there, ask for a Singapore Sling,” Adam said.

Coyote winked.

They discussed plans and eventually went to bed.

The next morning, everyone headed in different directions to handle their assignments. Trace visited Allie in her office.

“Sit down,” Allie gestured to a chair in front of her desk. “Look at this.” Her head turned from side to side, looking at the pile of papers on top of both sides of her desk. “I’m swamped.”

“This is going to be hard to hear,” Trace grimaced, “but I have sort of a non-cargo charter. It will take at least two months.”

Allie leaned back in her chair. “Non-cargo, charter, you say.”

“Yeah,” Trace said. “I can’t carry any cargo. The Tramp Islander will be taking a charter voyage.”

“I know,” Allie said. “I sort of steered Franks your way.”

“You're in on this?” Trace asked.

“Kind of,” Allie said. “A few years back, shortly after my husband died, this business was going through a rough spell. I went to Franks’ casino. Had a little too much to drink, and I thought I could gamble my way out of a tough spot. Franks grabbed the dice from my hand, walked me back to his office, and gave me an interest-free loan, on the spot.”

“What did he ask in return?” Trace asked suspiciously.

“Not a thing,” Allie said, “until now.”

“So maybe he’s not so bad after all,” Trace said.

“He’s bad alright,” Allie said, “but if you have his friendship, that’s another thing. He got in touch, and I visited him. I told him about you and told him your dad was in town too. I told him, if anyone could help, it would be Adam—and his son.”

“How did he react when you told him Trace Troy was Adam Troy’s son?” Trace said.

“Well,” Allie said, “I thought his eyes were about to pop out of his head. Nothing rattles him. He has nerves of steel, but that rattled him plenty. It’s sort of funny, he said, ‘Can he be trusted to do something illegal?’”

“I told him the Troys are a strange breed,” Allie said. “They know the difference between right and wrong and the law. If anybody can help, it’s those two.”

“Does anyone else know about this?” Trace said. “I haven’t told a soul. Other than that, you’ll have to ask Franks.”

“Well, I guess I’m done here,” Trace said. “This was a courtesy call. I was all set to come here and feed you a lie about what was going on for the next couple of months. I wouldn’t be surprised if you have everything mapped out for me and the crew.”

“You’re trying to flatter me,” Allie said. “How soon will you be leaving?” 

“I can’t say for sure,” Trace said. “We are planning the plans right now.”

“If there’s anything,” Allie said, “I can keep it on the down-low. I got friends in low places.”

“I’m about to visit one,” Trace said, “Franks.”

“Tell him I said hi,” Allie said.

“By the way,” Trace said, “did you ever pay him back?”

“Within sixty days,” Allie said. “That’s when the interest started. I told you, he’s not all good.”

Trace winked and stood. “If we don’t run into each other in the next couple of weeks, it’ll probably be a couple of months before I’m back in town.”

“Take care of you and your dad,” Allie said.

Trace grabbed the door knob and stopped. He turned to Allie. “Are you a religious person?”

“I got married in a church,” Allie said. 

“Never mind,” Trace said. “I was going to ask you if you ever heard of Melchizedek.”

“Melted cheese on what?” Allie smiled.

“See ya in a couple of months,” Trace smiled and left Allie’s office. 

A Cult in Paradise: Episode 2, Waldo Pleads

This is episode two of the fifth book in the Trace Troy Adventures in  Paradise series. The Title is A Cult in Paradise. It will be featured in episodes over the next few months. It will eventually be published in full on Amazon. All of the Trace Troy books, as well as my other novels, can be purchased on Amazon by clicking the Bookstore tab above. I hope you enjoy. And thanks for stopping by. 

Waldo Pleads

Two men in dark suits stood on both sides of Franks. They walked with him to the gangplank, and they stopped. Franks wore an untucked pink shirt and chinos. His black hair flopped below his ears, and his face was smooth and shiny.

“Permission to come aboard,” Franks said.

“Permission granted,” Trace said. 

Franks held out his arms, and the men stayed in place. He walked onto the gangplank and stepped on deck. 

Trace did the same with the crew; holding them in place. Trace stepped an arm’s length from Franks. 

“You look good, Troy,” Franks said. 

“You’ve lost weight,” Trace said. “Prison food not agreeing with you?”

Franks smirked. “I don’t eat that slop. My meals are brought in. I eat better than the warden. But I’ve been working out. I had to adjust to a totally different lifestyle. It’s actually been healthy for me. I recommend it.”

“No thanks,” Trace said.

“That’s your dad, right?” Franks said, nodding toward Adam.

“Yeah,” Trace said. 

“Hello, Mr. Troy,” Franks said and held out his hand. He smiled wryly. 

Adam stepped forward and shook Franks’ hand. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Troy,” Franks said. “It has all been positive. You are a man to be trusted, as is your son; the old adage, like father, like son. Funny, never knew my father.”

“What brings you here?” Trace said.

The wry smile drained from Franks’ face, and suddenly, he appeared lost and helpless. He lowered his voice. “I don’t want the police to hear. I can’t trust them.”

Trace and Adam glanced at each other.

“Those are policemen?” Trace asked.

“Yeah. Could you tell your men to move back a little,” Franks said. “What I say is between us, for now. However, I know those men are your friends.”

Trace turned and motioned for Sage and Coyote to step back.

“What do you want?” Trace said. “Let me guess, you heard how we broke our passengers out of jail in Raro, and you want us to do the same for you?”

“It’s nothing for me,” Franks said. “I have a son I would die for.”

“What is it with your son, then?” Trace asked suspiciously.

“My son’s mother divorced me years ago,” Franks said. “The smartest thing she ever did. She raised my son. They lived in California. My ex-wife is self-sufficient. She’s made her own way; real estate. I’ve always sent plenty of money. I want my son to have the best and all opportunities to live a good life—better than mine.”

“What does this have to do with Trace and me?” Adam said.

“Despite Trace being instrumental in my present circumstance, I know he’s a man who can be trusted,” Franks said, “as you are, sir.”

“Okay,” Trace said, “we can be trusted. Sometimes, that means we’re suckers.”

“You have a right to be skeptical,” Franks said, “but it cost me a lot in bribes to come here and see you. My time is limited.” Franks gestured toward the police, the motorcycles, and the Land Rover. “They have risked a lot and are rewarded handsomely for it. However, if they are caught, need I say more?”

“This must be important about your son,” Adam said.

“Indeed,” Franks said.

“Well,” Trace said, “let’s have it. What do you want from us?”

“Before I go any further,” Franks said, “I must know, does somebody like me have any chance at all convincing you to help me?”

Trace looked at Adam and moved his head slightly from side to side. 

Adam watched Franks’ face. It nearly melted into hopeless tears.

Adam looked at Trace and said, “It’s for a son.” 

Trace stared for a moment into Adam’s eyes. A flood of thoughts telepathically passed between them.

Trace turned to Franks. “What can we do?”

Franks closed his eyes, and a tear ran down his cheek. “Thank you.” He breathed a relaxing breath through his nose. “My son is an exceptionally brilliant young man. Everything comes easy for him. He’s young. His mother sheltered him. And with youth and sheltering comes naivety. Three years ago, he got involved in a religion. It appeals to privileged, intelligent, and naive young people. They have a retreat for those especially gifted in their group.”

“Some place in the South Seas, right?” Trace said. 

“Yes,” Franks said. 

“Do you know where?” Adam said.

“Yes, exactly,” Franks said. 

“You want us to go there—and do exactly what?” Trace said.

“Get my son,” Franks said.

“Against his will?” Trace said.

“I don’t care how you get him,” Franks said. “Just get him.”

“What are we up against?” Adam asked.

“A very smart, cunning, and charismatic leader,” Franks said. “He calls himself  Yachad, sort of another Melchizedek. Are you familiar with that?”

“Thou art a priest forever after the order of Melchizedek,” Adam said. “Book of Psalms, but mentioned several other times in the Bible—a messianic passage.”

“So we’re dealing with a guy who has a messianic complex, huh?” Trace questioned.

“It appears to be that way,” Franks said.

“So we go to the island and grab him,” Trace said and asked. “It sounds easy, but it’s not, right?”

“No,” Franks said, “the island is like an armed fortress for civilians and even the police. They have armed guards, lookouts, patrol boats, and a—well, this may be a dealbreaker—a P51 airplane.”

“Dad,” Trace said, and leaned toward Adam for information.

“I’m familiar with them,” Adam said, “heckuva plane, for its day.”

“Dealbreaker?” Trace asked Adam.

“Only if it’s off the ground,” Adam said.

“I sense your fear is beyond a religious conversion,” Adam said to Franks.

“That kid could worship a rock, for all I care,” Franks said. “That’s between him and the rock. I’m in fear for his life.”

“Can you explain?” Trace asked.

“The island is like a factory,” Franks said, “a factory of ideas, records, and propaganda. They keep incredible records on about 100,000 members. They send propaganda to them. In a piece of literature sent from the island, my son sent a letter to his mother. It simply said, Please help me, I’m being held against my will.”

“And you’re sure it came from him?” Trace asked.  

“I had a visitor a month ago,” Franks said. “It was a young woman, American. She was on what they call an ambassadorship to Australia. Providentially, her plane had to land in Fiji. It had mechanical problems. She is privy to members’ records and knew where I was.”

“What did she tell you?” Trace said.

“My son is under suspicion,” Franks said. “However, she said everybody is under suspicion in that place. He’s an important member of the inner workings. With his math skills, he can advance their computer system. I have no idea what all of that is about.”

“He can’t send some sort of message himself?” Adam asked.

“No,” Franks said, “that is one area they really monitor.”

One of the officers called out, “Hey, Franks, you’re going to have to hurry it up.”

“Tell us something about this Yachad fellow,” Adam said.  

“Will you take the job?” Franks said. “If you do, I have a whole box full of information on this Yachad character. And, I can make it worth your while.”

Trace and Adam looked at each other and gave a single nod. 

“Dad and I are in,” Trace said, “but we have to talk it over with our crew.”

“I need to know for sure, soon,” Franks said. “I don’t think I have any other options but you, your dad, and your crew.”

“Why don’t you report it to the authorities or newspapers?” Trace asked.

“Once it gets in the media and is handed to the governments, what do you think will happen?” Franks said. “Have you ever heard of Jonestown, Ruby Ridge? And look at what just happened in Waco, Texas. It’s all about a show of force, headlines, and political posturing. They don’t care who gets hurt. They only want to make pretty speeches at memorials.”

“I’ll not deny you that,” Trace said.

“And that goes for me, too,” Adam said.

An officer called out and waved his arm. “Let’s go, Franks. We have to get you back.”

“Sleep well, tonight, Franks,” Trace shook his head. “If the crew won’t agree to it, we’ll find a crew that will. Can I visit you at the prison tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Franks said, “between two and four. Thanks.” 

Trace watched Franks return to shore and climb back into the Land Rover. The motorcade rumbled away. 

Sage and Coyote stepped closer.

“What was that all about?” Coyote said.

“Let’s go below and make some coffee,” Trace said. “It’s going to be a long night.”