We ease up to the entrance at the warehouse and I’m relieved to see there isn’t much security here. Like Hunter said, there’s just a couple of shoddy cameras. It’s evident they don’t think anyone is coming to rescue the women. In this part of the world, lives are bought and sold cheaply and no one cares if babies are part of the equation.
The security on the door is nothing more than a simple chain and a lock that could’ve been bought in any hardware store. The bolt cutters cut through it with ease.
I resist the urge to run through the building kamikaze style, straight to my new female partner who has taken a pretty intense hit for her first job. As much as I hate what she has gone through in getting captured, her reaction will tell me if she is cut out for this type of work. You have be a certain temperament to do what Undercover Elite does.
We cautiously make our way through corridors, using training similar to what police officers or military use. We position our firearms out in front of us as we make our way around corners and then say, clear. Various hand signals are used to cut down on verbal exchanges. I doubt there is anyone here but we know how unpredictable search and rescue missions can be. Taking anything for granted in our line of work can mean someone paying with his or her life.
We clear hallways and corners, going through meticulous procedure rather than risking errors by rushing. Everything in me wants to hurry up and get to her but I make myself apply my training. Finally, one of the corridors leads us to a steel door. I pull the large lock through the rusted hasp that houses it and swing the door open to reveal my woman. She’s sitting, huddled in the corner with her knees pulled up against her chest, rocking back and forth.
As soon as I look across the room, I understand why she’s in a state of shock. The sight of the dead woman, holding her stillborn baby in a puddle of blood, makes me cringe. I hate the man who has put her in the position of having to witness not just the death of one human being, but two.
I am familiar with the horror of war and death but she isn’t. Much like any other job, this one hasn’t gone as expected. I scoop her up in my arms and listen as she whimpers. “She died… I tried so hard, but she died.”
We quickly backtrack through the corridors, in a rush to get back to the Jeep. Sniper makes his way out of the woods and joins us shortly after we get there. We will be flying out tonight. I have already notified one of my contacts, Ricardo Ramirez, about the black market baby ring. He’s a high-ranking Colombian official and he will do the rest. After I give him the details that Hunter was able to get off of Johnnie’s tracker, Ricardo will have this shut down in no time. Our job here is done. Now, I just need to convince the woman I love that the death of that mother and child wasn’t her fault.
Johnnie
I don’t even remember the plane ride home. Any sleeping I managed to do was interrupted by nightmares—vivid images of a mother holding her dead child in a sea of blood. Cash’s voice cuts through my thoughts each time they wake me up, trying to reassure and soothe me. He cradled me in his arms while onboard, carried me from the plane when we landed, and held me the whole ride home. I don’t even remember entering the mansion when we finally did arrive.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes… it was. He told me that if I would reveal who sent me, he would get her medical treatment.” I tell him one of the times he tries to reassure me.
“You did what you were trained to do. You know they’ll say or do anything to get the Intel they want. The baby was born dead. He was stillborn, Johnnie.”
I toss around whether he’s telling me the truth or not as I watch him make his way over to where I’m sitting on the bed. He scoops me up in his arms and carries me to the bathroom. He sits on the toilet and pets my hair as I cry. I can hear the water running in the large Jacuzzi and the bath salts he’s pouring waft the soothing scent of lavender in my direction. He gently undresses me and then removes his own clothing before reclining his large frame behind me in the more than ample sized tub.
“The hardest part of this job is not being able to save everyone, Johnnie. It’s the first thing you’re going to have to come to terms with if you’re going to make it in this line of work. I have a confession to make,” he playfully splashes at the water, forcing a laugh from me even in my depressed state.
“Oh yeah? And what would that be?”
“I’ve been reading your journal.”
I turn, eying him with suspicion. “How in the hell did you get that?”
His boyish demeanor doesn’t fool me one bit as he answers, “I broke into your apartment back when I was stalking you.”