Operation Caribe

10

THE BRIGHTLY PAINTED Bell 430 helicopter appeared above the Dustboat around noon the next day.

With help from two of the Senegals, the copter landed on the coastal freighter’s empty helipad and four people stepped out.

One was Mr. Jobo, the OAS officer the team had met at the beginning of the mission. Jennessa and two other women from BABE were with him.

The women, dressed in very sexy island wear, with perfectly coiffed hair blowing in the breeze, were carrying a huge ice bucket full of champagne bottles and glasses.

Batman was immediately on hand to greet them. Jennessa gave him a warm hug and took out the first bottle and popped the cork.

“You did it!” she said happily. “You rid us of those horrible Muy Capaz people.”

Batman nodded weakly. “Apparently,” he replied.

“We got the report this morning,” she said happily. “The Bahamian police are already crawling all over that island. They’re finding all kinds of things: weapons, drugs, IDs and personal effects from a lot of the missing people. You guys did in three days what those idiots have been pretending to do for years.”

Batman didn’t reply this time—he just sipped his champagne.

“So, it’s my pleasure then,” Jennessa went on, “to give you this…”

She handed him a cashier’s check for $5 million.

“… and this,” she added, giving Batman a huge kiss on both cheeks.

Then she shook his hand and said, “If only all our vendors were as good as you.”

But Batman was still uneasy. “We usually provide a post-action debrief after a job,” he told her. “It lets you know what we did and when. And how your money was spent. It also gives details of what went on.”

Jennessa just laughed.

“No need,” she replied, adding with a whisper: “However you did it, that’s fine with us.”

Mr. Jobo agreed.

“You did the whole world a favor,” he said in his booming voice. “And especially our little piece of the world here. You know?”

Batman pulled Jobo aside.

“Look, there’s something you might want to know,” he told the OAS officer. “Those guys are gone, but—”

Jobo put up his hand and stopped Batman mid-sentence.

“Are they gone forever?” he asked. “Buried in a mass grave out there?”

Batman hesitated—but then nodded yes.

“And was that not the point of your mission? To get rid of them?”

Batman nodded again.

“And you were paid?”

“Yes—we were…”

Jobo pounded him on the back. “Then celebrate, my boy. You deserve it.”

“But some strange things happened on that island,” Batman told him. “Things we really can’t explain.”

Jobo put his arm around Batman’s shoulder. “My friend—strange things are always happening out in these islands. And some of them no one can ever explain, even if they take a hundred years to try. The more time you spend out here, the more you will come to understand that.”

Batman thought this over. The pirates were dead. The BABE consortium had paid them. And the OAS representative was being quite clear he didn’t want to know or care how the pirates met their end.

So …

“End of mission, end of story?” Jobo asked him.

Batman finally managed a smile.

“You learn quick,” Jobo told him.

Batman turned and clinked glasses with Jennessa.

“All’s well that ends well,” he told her.

She smiled and kissed his cheeks again.

“Exactly,” she replied.

Crash, Gunner, Twitch and the Senegals had all joined them by now. They, too, were getting their glasses filled by Jennessa’s gorgeous colleagues.

“I guess our vacation starts today,” Crash said.

* * *

THE LITTLE CELEBRATION went on like this for a while. It was a perfect day. The warm winds were blowing, the crystal-clear water was lapping gently against the Dustboat’s hull, the sun was shining brightly.

Everything seemed ideal.

But not for Nolan.

He never joined the others. He spent the whole time up on the bow where the team’s helicopters had been brought, scraping off the oversized United States insignia they’d added before the assault on the pirates’ hidden camp.

His body language made it clear that he wanted to be left alone, and the members of Whiskey understood.

Flying the U.S.-marked copters and wearing the American flag on the back of his battle suit had been a reprieve of sorts for Nolan. For a little while, it was as if he were serving in the U.S. military again. Fighting for his country again.

It seemed like such a little thing, but it was hugely important to him.

Now that the mission was over, ending strangely or not, getting rid of the emblems was his job—no one else’s.

“What’s with him?” Jennessa finally asked Batman. “Doesn’t he like champagne?”

Batman just shrugged. “It’s a long story.”

Jennessa shook her head. “He’s really handsome, you know,” she said with a sigh, immediately taking the wind out of Batman’s sails. “Good build. Rugged looks. Has he ever done any modeling?”

“Only for the Army,” Batman replied with a sinister laugh.

It was true: When Nolan was an officer cadet, his picture had graced some Army recruiting posters.

“Well, the eyepatch adds just the right amount of mystery,” Jennessa went on, refilling Batman’s glass. “So please, tell him for me, no matter what he does, don’t ever do anything to screw up that face.”