Page 21 of Wired Courage

She opened the choke so that the influx of fuel could make its way through the lines, and fired up the ignition. The engine caught after just a few tries. Sophie checked her heading again, and pushed the throttle forward.

The Chris-Craft leapt up onto a plane, the ocean purling back from its bow within seconds. Though a weighty craft, its sleek lines created tremendous momentum once the boat was in motion. Sophie programmed the adjusted heading into the speedboat’s guidance system, sat down in the pilot’s chair, and fixed her eyes on the distant smudge of the horizon as she held the wheel steady.

Gazing through the windshield, Sophie saw a flying fish lift off the water, and soar beside her. Up ahead, a cloud trailed a rainbow—it was raining near the coast. Long rays of sunlight played over the waves like fool’s gold, but the beauty brought her no pleasure.

The boat was a problem.

Assuming she was able to make it to the distant shore, where could Sophie stow such an expensive craft? She would need it to return to the island, and her journey to her family’s former home was still going to be a long distance on foot if she couldn’t figure out a ride. She needed to keep a low profile that would not attract the Yam Khûmk?n’s attention—it was best to assume that they had eyes and ears everywhere. The boat would certainly be attention-getting.

Sophie ran out of gas several kilometers short of the coast.“Foul demon spawn!”The speedboat wallowed in rolling waves as the sky changed from blue to indigo, and the dying day cast red beams over her shoulder.

She picked up a pair of binoculars and scanned the coast. Though tantalizingly near, the mainland was still too far away for her to attempt to swim in the waning evening light. She could too easily lose her way once in the water—not to mention encountering electric eels, sharks, or box jellyfish, hazards of these waters.

She had to find another way.

Sophie turned three hundred and sixty degrees, scanning the horizon with the binoculars. She spotted a nearby atoll to the east. One of the many outcrops off of the coast, this one appeared to be downwind. The Chris-Craft was already floating toward it, propelled by the light evening breeze.

Sophie opened the closed bench at the stern, looking for anything to help get her the remaining distance, and was delighted to discover a small electric trolling motor.

Sophie eyed the main coastline again. Still too far away, given the challenges of wind and time.But perhaps, in the morning, if the wind cooperated, she could make it to shore with the trolling motor. She’d worry about where to hide the boat to begin her overland journey once she got there.

Sophie dropped the trolling motor off the stern of the Chris-Craft and tightened down its clamps, attaching it to a narrow lip on the gunwale. She checked that the mechanism was hooked up to its accompanying battery, and turned it on with a switch on the side.

Forty-five excruciatingly slow minutes later, Sophie nudged the sleek bow of the speedboat into a tiny, sheltered bay between jagged arms of rock. She hurried to the bow, put out a rubber bumper guard, and tossed a loop of bow line over a boulder. She then cranked the rope tight around the cleat. The Chris-Craft squeaked as it rubbed against its rocky mooring, secured.

The light of sunset flamed across the back of the craft not in shadow as Sophie descended into the tidy cabin in the bow. There was no point in exploring the atoll; she had work to do, and this stop was a mere pause point.

Sophie got out her laptop and pulled up saved photographic maps of the area. She studied her route: hopefully, she would land near a fishing village and be able to make her way up a small dirt road to a more major thoroughfare that led toward Bangkok and the Ping River. Once on that road, Sophie could likely hire someone to drive her the rest of the way.

The route looked deceptively easy. “I hope it actually will be,” she said aloud, missing the company of her Lab, Ginger, who’d provided companionship and an excuse to talk to herself when alone. Ginger, and Jake’s dog Tank, were probably being spoiled by Alika and his family. That reminded her that she was overdue for updating Alika. As Momi’s father, he deserved to know things had shifted.

Sophie took out the satellite phone she’d kept turned off with the battery removed, and reassembled it. She sent Alika a text that she had a lead on Momi, and hoped to know more soon.

Sophie fixed a simple meal of dehydrated food and ate it mechanically even as her belly cramped with anxiety. Her mind ground over what had happened to Jake and Connor, and what was going on with her precious daughter. What could have happened to the men, preventing them from communicating or returning? What more could she do to help?

And who was caring for Momi? Was she healthy? Given proper nutrition? Held and loved? Would she be emotionally or physically damaged by being kidnapped, as Sophie had been?

No.Momi would be fine. She was too little to remember any of this, and Sophie was betting her life that Armita was caring for her with love. They’d be reunited soon.

But the men? There had to be more she could do. An idea burst across Sophie’s brain:CIA Agent Devin McDonald.

Sophie and Connor had been working with the agent on a plan for Sophie to become a confidential asset for the spy agency, reporting on the activities of the Yam Khûmk?n, as her mother drew her deeper into involvement with the clandestine organization. That plan had been put on hold when Sophie discovered she was pregnant. Sophie had informed the agent she was no longer interested in their proposal and was severing ties with her mother for the foreseeable future—she’d instinctively known Pim Wat was dangerous to her child, and how right she’d been!

The jowly CIA agent had reluctantly accepted her dictum, but told Sophie, “Keep in touch. Things can turn on a dime in this business, and you may well want our help or vice versa.”

“Turn on a dime” was a new saying to Sophie, but it made sense—and things had, indeed, spun in a new direction—and maybe McDonald could do something to find out what had happened to Jake and Connor.

She called McDonald’s number, routing through an untraceable scrambler site that connected via satellite. She and Connor had tried to use this method to keep in touch, but the jungle terrain had provided too much interference. Out here on the open ocean, she connected with his secure voicemail almost immediately.

“Agent McDonald, this is Sophie Smithson.” She released a trembling breath, rubbing the scar on her cheekbone and organizing her thoughts. “A lot has happened since we last spoke. I don’t know when I will actually be able to connect with you again, so I need to give you some urgent information. Sheldon Hamilton, CEO of Security Solutions, my partner Jake Dunn, and a party of seven trained mercenaries from our company have all disappeared from communication while trying to penetrate the base of the Yam Khûmk?n in Thailand.” She gave as many details as she could about the mission. “I am headed to meet someone else who has provided proof of life of my child, and I’ll be off the grid while I pursue this lead. But if you could investigate what happened to the rescue party, I would be . . . deeply indebted to the CIA.” Sophie was basically signing up to work for them with this message, but who cared?If the agency could do anything to find out what had happened to Jake and Connor, and potentially get them back, it was worth it.“Please try me back at this number and leave a message.”

She ended the call and stared down at the clunky phone in her hand.

She was out of ideas at the moment. Once she had Momi secured, she could come up with other plans. Despite her worries, she had to rest now. She would need all of her physical, mental, and emotional resources to deal with tomorrow.

Sophie disassembled the phone and closed down all of the visible light into the cabin as soon as the sunset had finished its annoying pageant. She took her antidepressant and a holistic sleep aid. She lay down on the cabin’s bunk and shut her eyes.

Maybe there was a divine entity who could help when she’d reached the end of what she could do. “Divine Force in the universe, please protect my dear ones, especially Momi, Connor, and Jake. Help me know what to do at each stage of this journey—speak to me through insight and intuition, and show me which way to go and what to do. Help me save them. And tonight, give me sleep so I can be strong for tomorrow.”

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