Page 35 of Pierre
“We need to get into the house,” said Pierre.
“I’ve got it,” nodded Frank. “I brought the stealth netting.” Pierre looked at his father, then at Ham, who was chuckling, nodding his head.
“After dark, we’ll go inside. Just keep an eye out for anyone entering.”
“I wonder if the good sister realizes that these men have occupied her church?” asked Butch. “Do you think these are the same men who have been taking the kids?” Pierre nodded.
“It would make sense, but I’m like you. Does she know they’re here, and if so, does she offer them sanctuary often?”
“I think that’s what we need to figure out,” said Pierre.
As the day wore on, they realized why the men had been lining the walls of the church. The interior stayed cool, with ceiling fans at least moving the oppressive weight of the heat and humidity. Outside seemed to heat up with the presence of the volcano.
“Is that damn thing going to blow?” asked Frank.
“No. It’s like this a lot,” said Henri. “Angry. But the heat it emits makes me wonder why they would put this church here.”
“Is it new?” asked Ham.
“No. It’s been here for many years. I visited once as a boy with my uncle. But it did not look like this.”
“This is not making me feel confident about the good sister,” said Butch. “Would a, could a nun be involved in all of this?”
“She’d have access to the children, that’s for sure,” said Frank. “If she is involved, we can assume that she was involved in the killing of the other woman we met.”
“Let’s eat and get some rest. We’ll take watch while you two go into the house,” said Pierre.
The men carefully watched Pierre and the team, but more out of curiosity than anything. They commented on their size, their bulk, and why they’d taken the pilgrimage up the mountain to see this church.
The team was careful not to show their weapons, knowing it would only increase their suspicion. When the Haitians whispered to one another, they made sure it was far from open ears.
Shortly after midnight, Ham and Frank disappeared on the pretense of using the bathrooms behind the church. Swiftly, they donned the stealth netting and found their way to the back door of the house.
Both men were surprised that it wasn’t locked. The interior was modest, a small kitchen with modern appliances, a respectable seating area with a sofa and two chairs, no television, but several radios, which seemed odd and out of place.
Two bedrooms and a bathroom rounded out the interior but showed nothing else that would bring about suspicion. Ham turned to walk toward the back door once again, and the floorboards creaked beneath his weight. Remembering the floor in the other church, he looked at Frank, and they kneeled.
Using their knives, they pried the floorboards up, scanning the depths beneath.
“I don’t see anything,” whispered Ham, leaning over the edge of the boards. His heart leaped into his throat as a tiny hand reached for his own, gripping it.
“H-help us,” said the voice in broken English.
“Shit!” He leaned back, Frank shining his light into the space. Two dozen pairs of eyes stared back at him. He tapped his comms.
“Pierre, stay where you are and keep the others away from us. The basement is full of kids. We’re going to lead them away under the netting and get them to safety. We’ll come back to help you find the nun.”
“Roger that.”
Pierre couldn’t see his father and Ham taking the children toward cover, but he knew that’s exactly what they were doing. He indicated to the others what was happening so they could help to cover for as long as possible.
“Pierre? Get Henri to send a man who can get these kids out of here. We’ll wait behind the old fueling depot at the bottom of the trail. There’s a truck here that runs. He can get them to the ship.”
“Roger that.”
Pierre spoke in barely a whisper to Henri, who nodded toward one of his best and most trusted men. He disappeared down the mountain, and forty-five minutes later, Frank and Ham reappeared from the back of the church.
“What took you so long?” asked one of the gunmen.
