Chapter 1

Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Extra Sensory Perception, .

Desc: Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Chuck and Lisa get back to all of the fun they enjoy best. This time they begin including others in their fun. Lisa is gathering and the Fab Five is helping. Just enough action and blood to keep it interesting. Enough sex, to be not recommended for Sunday school reading. Enjoy. I did. If you're not familiar with the Florida Friends stories, this will still be fun but the other stories are fun too.

Who would have believed everything that had happened during the last year? I, me, Chuck Johnson, had become a dad. Not once, but many times. I even fathered twins. The crazy thing is that neither of the two women I felt closest to were mothers of my new children.

I sometimes felt that it was as if all of these other women wanted me to abandon the two that I wanted to pay the most attention to, or it was as if they wanted me to become their slave. That really wasn't their nature, and I know it really wasn't how they felt, but it sometimes seemed to be that way to me. The women also loved the two who I was closest to, and probably paid more attention to them than they did to me.

Even stranger yet, I loved each and every one of these women. Each had their individual special appeal that warranted my attention. Was it a feeling of superiority, or my sense that I knew what they really wanted or needed? They all had a certain appeal to me, but Lisa was the most special.

I would somehow escape the masses and be with this special person in my dreams. I knew each of the women and children was my responsibility, and that they had to know of my devotion to each of them, as well as to the special one. Was it just the music connection I had with her, or was it a feeling of community? Who knows, but all of those feelings were there.

Then there were the weird dreams; dreams of being in another universe where aircraft were being bought by the dozens, and doing crazy things with people from all over the globe. One of the early dreams even had Steve being sucker-punched and no one did anything about it. That wasn't happening in this lifetime; sucker-punch my buddy, and I'll hunt you down and treat you like the rat you are.

Steve said he also had some of those strange dreams when I talked to him about it.

They were dreams of another universe, maybe another dimension not of this world. Sitting with Steve, drinking some coffee, made what we had at that moment real. The other dimension may have bought a thousand more aircraft, but they weren't real. I was here now with those that were real.

Who is Chuck Johnson? I'm a Marine, now a civilian, since the Corps feels it can't use a guy with only half of his right leg. I lost the bottom half to an RPG while playing in the sand, you know, the war that never ends. I've become a U.S. Deputy Marshal and an operative for the Secret Service since then, and have more recently also been used and valued by the NSA. Being a Deputy Marshal in a supervisory capacity has put me in a lot of hot situations that have often resulted in dead people. That wasn't my choice, but dead guys became the result when they fired at my people, and me, of course.

I hadn't noticed that I was becoming an adrenaline junkie while all of this was going on. It became almost imperative that I join in every high-intensity confrontation there was. Give me a bunch of shooters who were threatening friendly civilians, and we were in my habitat, me and Lisa, my special sidekick.

Lisa is also a Marine in civilian clothing. She had gone from fighter/bomber pilot to Secret Service backup pilot for the big guy. The problem was that she didn't get to do anything except surf the Internet and work out while in that position. She opted for an undercover observation job that brought us together. She was assigned to observe me, and if necessary, come between me and bad guys, but we found each other and made some music together.

Yep, that was the thing; along with being adrenaline junkies, Lisa and I are also both music addicts. We can hole up in the studio, play twenty-four hours straight, and then wrestle on our big bed. Lisa loves all of my female friends, and I think she may have a stronger attraction to them than to me. That's fun to observe, but the important part of this is that Lisa and I are soulmates when it comes to music. We're both down and dirty blues freaks.

Lisa is a great guitar and piano player, and can also sing with a voice so pure, soft, and sweet (unless she's doing a Janis J. impression) that she will twist you around her finger the way Eva Cassidy can. That was how Lisa found her solitude. She'll isolate herself, play, and sing those gentle ballads that pull at your heart. Thank goodness our sound guy knew how to capture the moments when she did; we have them all recorded.

Me? I'm a bassist; I play some decent guitar, enjoy the piano, and even do a respectable job pounding the skins. My voice is decent, so I end up singing lead and/or backup all the time. I can sound like some of the greats, but I really love to imitate the blues guitar masters. My passion is to copy a master and add my own interpretations with those special notes that let the true discerning listener know this is different. But then, let me give you a solid soulful bass backup that sings. Now that is distinctive. Like I said, Lisa and I are true blues junkies.

The last several months have been spent doing what I was intended to be doing with the Marshal's Service. I had to visit each office to make sure they were in compliance with all the butt-kissing regulations the DOJ thought up by the hour.

If you don't already know, I had become a Deputy U.S. Marshal when a gangster tried to take advantage of a government program around the United States, but the hub of activity was right here in Tampa. I had joined the Federal Employment Group during my "Job Hunt" since I had just medically retired from the military back then with a prosthesis as part of my right leg, and became embroiled in the problem. It all worked out, and I became a Deputy U.S. Marshal in the process. I became a special supervisor for not only the Marshal's Service, but also for the other law enforcement branches, because I was in the right place at the right time.

I kept gaining a reputation after several occasions of being in the right place at the wrong or right time, depending on how you looked at it, until I became a person for bad people to focus on. That's when I had to shoot my way out of several situations, and became known for leaving a lot dead bad guys behind, instead of for the live ones I brought in, or the civilians and law enforcement officers I protected.

You can't do that, I mean terminate really bad guys in this day and time, without drawing a lot of attention to yourself. I almost became an outcast, and the Service even had to make me take an extended vacation that it kept interrupting for me to handle serious problems that suddenly popped up.

Enter another branch of law enforcement. The Secret Service needed someone to hunt down, bring in, or dispose of some really bad men. These were ex-CIA operatives who had turned on society and were working as contract killers. Their successful attempts in killing some medium profile men in various agencies was what brought them to the attention of the Feds.

I was then tasked with attempting to bring them in to be prosecuted. It wasn't happening that way, but let's say that I was able to neutralize all of them so that they wouldn't be causing any more problems. I learned a lot about that agency, the CIA, and how someone could turn bad, so I learned to always look over my shoulder when I thought those guys were around.

I have a lot of history since the military, but that's a whole 'nother story', as they say.

Now some of my travels have let me enjoy capturing one or more of the criminals who make it to our special most wanted list. It's surprising how I can show up at a location a day or two before a special capture occurs. I won't let them use my name in the arrest report, but it will somehow show up on my travel report that I was there except for the fact that I had a part of the final cuffing, or in a lot of cases, resulting in a call to the coroner.

This last time is the best example. I was in Laredo to take down a cartel person of interest as he came across the border. The Laredo office had their men in position and we were watching the gates as a school bus came across. The border inspection wasn't that thorough, as the bus looked like the usual group of day laborers coming across for a day's work. One of the inspectors went into his little hut when he got off the bus and called for help, "I've got a bus load of drugs and about forty men with weapons. There's no way I'm going to hold them up, so get ready and see if you can stop the bus and take these people down."

Lisa heard the broadcast and said, "Shit, we're trying to stay out of this crap and it comes right at us. How are you going to handle it?"

I broadcast over our stakeout frequency, "I'm going to take out all the tires when the bus gets past the last gas station. I want everyone to converge, but stay covered. You don't know how defensive these people will be."

I began almost running toward where I would be in position to do the tires, with Lisa on my heels. Lisa hollered at me, "Let me get on the other side of the road and do the tires on that side while you do here. They should give up as soon as all of the tires are down."

All I could think of was, "I hope that's the way it goes down."

Lisa and I could see all of the other Agents running toward where the take down would be, and bringing vehicles to us as fast as they could.

I dropped to one knee and brought the MP5 up on single shot and blew the left front, then the double set on the left rear. The tires blew, but the bus was in the midst of trying to make a sharp right turn as it happened. There was no balance for the bus and it flopped over on its left side scooting along the concrete roadway.

The back door opened and men with rifles were pouring out as soon as the bus stopped. Men were crawling out the front door that was now up in the air. They also had weapons.

A local Deputy Marshal began broadcasting on a powered horn to lay down their weapons and put their hands behind their heads. It was obvious they could hear the Spanish broadcast as they hesitated, but then looked around and began wildly firing their rifles.

A man near me yelled and grabbed his side, so I leveled at all of the men now outside the bus with rifles. They were in the open and easy targets. I was knocking them down one after the other when the bunch began organizing, and then attempted to run toward Lisa's position. She didn't have any help over there as she was by herself. I began picking off the armed men running toward Lisa, and got up to chase after them in order to continue to have targets and to help her stay as safe as possible.

I was knocking down the last of the men running toward Lisa, when she hollered, "Behind you, there's another one."

Diving to the ground and turning at the same time gave me a view of two men at the rear door of the bus trying to find me in their scopes. I rose to one knee and began firing. Lisa was firing at the same targets, so it's anyone's guess who made the hits. I did a quick 360 degree swivel to see if there was anything moving in a threatening way.

Lisa walked up on me and smiled, "Guess we took care of that one, didn't we?"

I told Lisa, "We need to take that bus apart to find out what was so important. We also need to make sure we got that cartel guy we were looking for. Let's check out this bus."

Deputies and DEA guys were running toward us as we kept kicking weapons away from either very still men or those moaning from injury. The Deputy Station Chief came up to Lisa and me and said, "You two need to get out of here before someone gets your name and unit. I know you have all the trouble you can stand, Chuck. I'll try to clean this up without you being involved. Thank you both for doing the dirty work. It seems you two are always right in the middle of something like this."

Lisa and I shook his hand and left for our rental vehicle. We didn't even bother breaking our weapons down before we dumped them into the back seat and took off. We always wonder about how many of the men we had worked with before would recognize us and possibly give us away.

As we sped toward the airport, Lisa said, "That was crazy. They must have had some heavy weight to try to defend that bus the way they were. They knew we wouldn't hesitate to defend ourselves once they began firing, and that is how you can get hurt."

I made the comment, "They seemed to know that we would fight back, but they were determined to save whatever it was they were guarding. I'll be interested in hearing what we recovered."

So as you see, we don't try to get in the middle of a fight, but we always seem to be where the action is and have to protect our people.

DC was stupid, but not that blind. I was summoned. Since Lisa was my partner or backup, she went to DC with me for a spur of the moment meeting. You have an ominous feeling things are going to be bad whenever you're called in like this with little notice.

I let Lisa put the aircraft into its slot when we landed at Andrews. I was nervous about this visit for some reason. Sam had even become distant with me as the wheels of DOJ were closing in on what they considered non-conforming Deputies. I had always performed to the best of my abilities, and only used deadly force when necessary. I had been wounded on a recent capture, but had not fired back. Had I shot the man, I might have killed the person he was holding in front of him as a shield. Who knows what they wanted, but that wasn't it.

No Fed vehicles were there to pick us up, so we commandeered a Marshal's car that was being used to watch for us. I outranked them, so we were delivered to our destination in time for the meeting.

The meeting went about how I expected since there was no one in the conference room that I recognized. Because of my service and more recent injuries, I was given a year to recover before being re-evaluated for service. A year, twelve months, fifty-two weeks, three hundred and sixty-five days, to figure out how to be a wimp and suck up to who they thought I should.

One of the conditions was that I had to meet with a stress counselor to evaluate my progress once a month. I looked for Sam, but he was conveniently out of town. I looked for the Marshal whom I had the most faith in, and what do you know, he was somewhere within his domain, but not in DC.

A couple of guys I knew came up to me and told me, "You really need to get out of here, Chuck. You're very much persona non grata around here. You've done too much during this group's admin and they don't like to be shown up. Go do something other than for them for a while. All of them are jealous because you've been able to mix your duty life with a social life and still be successful. Trust me; I'll be knocking on your door for some kind of position when I'm free here. Everyone I know thinks you're one of those chosen few who we all need to follow."

I looked at the guy and nodded, thanking him for his frank and genuine warning.

It took me a half-hour to locate Lisa in one of the cafeterias. She was being hit on by several of the locals who looked at her as being fair game. She smiled at me when I showed up and stood to the side. She told the lothario trying to woo her, "Get lost, Buster. My guy, who has the biggest damn gun you've ever seen, is right behind you, and he isn't enjoying you hitting on me."

The man turned, saw my smile, thought about it for a few seconds, and excused himself. I'm not very intimidating, as I just don't have the size, but Lisa says there is something lethal about my appearance and facial expression.

Lisa and I had coffee while I told her of the conversations I had. She nodded in understanding, and said, "The Marshal's Service doesn't usually have many casualties unless it's their own dead guys. They can handle a dead Deputy easier than a live one who just finished shooting a dozen creeps who try to kill everyone around them."

I told her, "Let's get out of here. I'd like to burn some fuel and go somewhere; just about anywhere, but we're going to have to have a talk with the ladies. They won't understand unless we talk to them. Come on, let's go home, talk to everyone, and see what comes up. Either way, I need to get off by myself, or at least just you and me, and let it out. I'll be right back under the gun if I stay around the Service and I'm needed."

We took a taxi back to Andrews, but had to get a ride from the gate to the aircraft. At least someone had been good enough to refuel the Ten (Citation X), so we only had to do the usual preflight before spooling up and requesting to get out of there.

Jimmy, the head mechanic at the charter company, came out when we landed at home and told me, "Your bird is due for a thousand hour teardown. How about we start it now and get it done in less than a week."

I shook my head, thinking that my lady bird was going to go on the rag on me just when I needed her. This was just what I didn't need, an aircraft that needed some TLC. Oh well, I had access to other aircraft.

On the way back home from the airpark, Lisa said, "Why don't you get all the women together and take us all down to the islands for the rest of the week. You and I can do some music in and out of the studio there, and if we're really bored, we can ask our other taskmasters to find some cartels around there or up in Mexico to go mess with. They've been sending teams into places to eliminate some of the most lethal cartel leaders. The NSA and CIA have been targeting some of the groups who kidnap and kill. They think they can bring some of the violence down by giving them some of their own medicine."

I hugged Lisa to me and said, "Just what my life needs, a lady with blood lust after my own heart. I think today would be a good day to go fuck with some bad guys. I'm really on edge and could use some adrenaline surging in my veins."

Lisa hugged me in return; "Let's get our ladies down to the islands first, then we'll see if there are any bad guys we can mess with. The one who also needs some release is Tina. She's been right there on the edge a lot lately. She has a two-week break coming and a little excitement would keep her straight for a while. How about I work with her for a week before we go hunting? You can talk to our contacts and line something up."

I had asked the charter desk if there were any luxury 737s available before we left the airpark. The answer was perfect. "We have two available today and we wouldn't be under the gun to get one chartered if you were to keep it for a week or two."

The mood at home was on the upscale when I began talking about heading to the islands. All of our family was ready except for Jan and Don, and Wanda and John, who had work obligations here. The plan was to stay on the original island and enjoy the peacefulness of the beautiful home on top of the hill. I did disclose that Lisa and I might have to make a trip or two out of the area to take care of some business. That didn't bother anyone since they were used to that. That Tina was also going with us was exciting to the other women.

Our trip down was about as exciting as playing dominoes. You did everything by the numbers taking off, flying the flight plan, and landing exactly within the expected time frame. That was a good thing.

We enjoyed being coddled by the locals and were given an enormous amount of attention that we really didn't deserve when we arrived at the house. All of us enjoyed the extra food, the island drinks, playing pool, and discussing whether or not to go to the resort for some swimming.

The ladies wanted to continue letting the babies swim every day, saying it would make them safer around the pools at home. It was a rip to watch the little ones, barely a year old, giggle in the water as they floated on their backs. A couple of them were really aquatic and had actually learned how to swim. They were motivating around in water far better than anyone could have expected.

Mark, a sort of retired engineer who had relocated down here to help run things, and I had a few conversations about his B200, and found we could probably use it at will as it wasn't the most popular transportation to and from the States.

After enjoying the laid back atmosphere of the island for a week, Lisa told me that Tina and she had found something for us to do. She said it was perfect for us, and that Tina would be an asset to us if I would use her. She told me, "Our handler called me about the job that had come up and no one within NSA was available. He said that they could use some help since all of their out of country troubleshooting crews were occupied by North African problems."

I had to ask Lisa, "Are you sure you want to use Tina to do what we do?"

Lisa said, "Damn straight. Tina is a tough cookie and could easily partner with us. I've spent a week teaching her how to shoot handguns and rifles better, as well as teaching her what to watch for. This job isn't rocket science, since just one of us could probably do it. Come on, Mr. Tough guy, let's do something fun and see how it works out. We'll do another if everything goes right, but let's see how we work together first."

Looking me in the eye, Lisa told me, "We haven't done anything exciting except the escapee capture that got you suspended, and that isn't even worthy of being thought of as blood pumping. Two idiots try to hide out during an attack and pick off a local cop when they're being offered a way out. You didn't have a choice except to neutralize both of them when they came out shooting. Let's go do something that requires some stealth and brainwork. Tina can use the excitement the same as us."

I was hesitant about using Tina to do what Lisa and I had been so used to doing, but this wasn't a capture or an attempt to interrupt some drug trade. This was almost the straight assassination, or, if you will, elimination, of a very vicious man and men responsible for hundreds of deaths in his own country and in ours. Tina was tough, but should she be put in harm's way the way Lisa and I were used to being? Lisa thought so, and when I discussed this and the truth of our mission with Tina, the only thing she said was "Try me", with a smile and wink.

Lisa had done her homework and had the location of our target within five miles of a small airfield that we should be able to use. Our fuel capacity should be good enough to get there and easily get to a major airfield to refuel before coming back to Costa Rica if we used the B200. We checked all of our weapons and assembled them in the King Air so they would be ready as soon as we were down. Lisa had found another good vest for Tina and made sure she knew to keep it on during any confrontation.

The only prep work on the aircraft was to put all-purpose grass runway tires on the aircraft. Those were slightly larger, with a little more 'balloon' than the regular tires.

The flight between our island and the target area was all low level, keeping under a thousand feet where possible.

We landed at the small unattended airfield and were able to park under a heavy tree canopy hidden from the rest of the field. We were about to begin walking to the target when a small truck came roaring up to a metal building at the middle of the field. Two men jumped out and went into the building. We heard an aircraft overhead, and watched as an old twin came in and bounced on the grass runway before turning and stopping at the metal building.

We watched as the men from the truck, and two men from the aircraft, carried bundles from the metal building to the aircraft. They loaded an impressive amount of packages into the aircraft, then hauled some barrels out of the metal building and began cranking fuel from the barrels into the aircraft.

They had been on the ground for an hour before they were ready to go. We watched the aircraft go to the far end of the field and wind it up tight before starting the takeoff roll. The old twin got off the ground and cleared the trees at the end of the runway, then circled as it climbed.

I was watching the climb out when I heard the distinct sound of a round being chambered. I turned to see Lisa with the fifty resting on a tree limb as she tracked the old twin. Boom, then another boom, as the port engine disintegrated from the wing. The aircraft nosed over and came straight down.

The two men who had helped load the aircraft must not have heard the fifty go off, as they were only concerned with the falling aircraft. I heard the "crack" of a rifle just as one of the men pulled a cell phone from his pocket and opened it. Tina was still sighting through her scope as I turned to see the other man quickly look around, trying to identify where the shot came from.

Lisa looked at me, winked, then leaned to Tina and said, "Take the other guy out so we can use the truck."

"Crack." No more resistance.

We rushed to the metal building and looked inside. It was stacked to the ceiling with bundles of what had to be cocaine. They had loaded the aircraft full, but it was only a small portion of what was in the building.

Lisa took her map out and said, "The main compound is about five miles west. Let's go get 'em."

I drove as the two women watched in every direction at once. While I was driving, I couldn't get over Tina's ability and willingness to blast someone. It usually took a few encounters before a shooter or sniper was effective. We pulled into the heavy growth on the side of the road and hid the truck when we were about a half-mile from the main camp.

Lisa had a CIA map of the premises, complete with what defenses they had. We were going to have to take a few perimeter guards out on the way in, but they should be easy for Lisa and me. We had to find them first, and then we could figure out how to make them ineffective.

Tina saw the first guy and pointed. Lisa held her hand up to us and snuck up on the guy who was reading his cell phone. I saw Tina shudder as Lisa's K-bar cut the guard's throat. We worked around the perimeter until I found the second guy, and I took care of him this time.

There was some kind of gathering on the lawn in back of the big house, so we were able to walk right into the front of the big luxury building and look around. We found two more guards almost dozing inside and helped them permanently into dreamland.

As we stood on the second floor looking out at the assembled group drinking and carousing, Lisa said, "How about two kilos, about four pounds of C-4, with nails?"

"Where are you going to find that, Sweet Thing?" I had to ask, as we only had some light backpacks.

Tina said, "I took it from the airfield building. They have several bundles of C-4 stuffed with nails. I took a couple of detonators too, but I don't know how to use them."

Lisa grinned at me; she had taught Tina about what explosives looked like, but not how to use them.

I looked at the assembled guests, trying to determine who the real bad guys were. I didn't have to wait long to find out. One of the waiters stumbled and dumped his tray on a lady lying in the sun. An older man, whom we readily identified as our target from his age, height, and other distinguishing marks, including scars, jumped from his lounge chair and looked at the waiter. He cursed him as he brought an automatic out from under his lounge chair, and shot the man at least five times. The woman the waiter had spilled the tray on kicked the body, tossed her head back, and stretched back out in the sun.

The shooter calmly put his weapon back under his lounge chair as he directed someone to get the body away from there.

Tina said, "I'll do him while you guys blow up the rest of them. That was really brutal. The rest of those people don't even act like anything happened."

I looked at the detonators that Tina had brought, and found they had a minimum of a ten second setting and then it was thirty, sixty, one hundred twenty, and two hundred and forty seconds. I clicked the setting around to ten seconds, and told the two women; "Find your targets, then hit them and get down when I pitch this thing. Tina, you can get the leader while Lisa takes out the guards farthest from the center of the blast. We'll beat feet out the door we came in while they try to figure out where they were hit from. The confusion should be perfect for us to get back to the airfield." While we were conferring, I noted that the waiters and other staff types had prudently found other places to be, so we wouldn't have to worry about collateral damage to them.

I received nods from both girls and pointed at the small red knob that had to be pulled out to arm the detonator. I was going to hold the bundle for five seconds before throwing it over the railing so I pulled the red tab and counted with my fingers: one, two, three, four, five, and threw the bundle toward the center of the masses below. Both ladies fired as I threw the bundle, then we three were on the floor as there was a burst that was much bigger than expected.

We were moving toward the door before the explosion's trash hit the ground. The door burst open as we approached it, but all three of us fired at once and the two men coming through were thrown back. We checked outside and ran toward the opening in the fence we had come in.

We found the truck where we left it, and I drove reasonably fast back to airfield listening to the two girls planning how they were going to blow up all the cocaine stored in the metal building there.

The girls were setting the explosives while I checked the aircraft and started it. One thing Lisa was good at was getting the most out of explosives. The two girls came running to the aircraft and both piled in. Lisa pulled the door shut and yelled, "Get us the fuck out of here."

I went to the end of the runway area and spun around, wound the engines up, and literally blasted out of there. We were about a mile from the end of the runway when there was an explosion that we felt way up in the air. Lisa was sliding into the right seat as she said, "Those assholes were planning on something big, as they had over a hundred kilos of explosives in there. I don't think anyone is going to salvage much of the cocaine they had stored.

Tina was sitting in the jump seat behind the cockpit, and said, "That was fun. I love the excitement of doing something like that. That's as good as motocross."

Lisa and I looked at each other and grinned. We had a soulmate.

Lisa asked Tina, "How do you feel about taking lives when you've been training to save them all these years?"

Tina sighed, "Yes, I'm a doctor doing my residency, and yes, what I do is save lives, but as a doctor I'm also taught to work hard to prevent sickness. Those people cause sickness. It's as if they are a virus and I'm the penicillin curing the infection. I'm like a surgeon cutting away cancerous tissue to save the rest. Those people won't kill others any longer or make any more people sick. I suppose it's a little sick to think that way, but that's how I feel. So where do we go next?"

We flew to the nearest large airport and refueled. No one asked us any questions, and we didn't offer any information. The girls used the indoor facilities, but I stayed on the tarmac and peed behind a strut. I paid in greenbacks, so the gas guys were happy. They were used to gringos coming and going, paying cash, and not staying long. No one questioned someone who flew in and was obviously carrying. The Federales might have been a problem, but they would take a bribe and get lost.

The flight back to the island was easy and without incident. On the way, Lisa asked me, "If the intelligence is as good, how about we see if we can do one of those tomorrow. We'll do something for everyone's good if it is, then bug out of here."

I asked Tina, "How do you feel about taking a chance on another hit like this?"

"In one way I am remorseful that we carried out an assassination of that magnitude. I'll have to think about it and have an internal war with myself. However, I would be pissed if they were all this easy. I know you two get into some dicey situations, and I want to experience them with you. You know I like excitement, but I also know the risks. I want to do it, so take me with you."

All I could do was nod that I accepted her terms. We were one mean team.

We couldn't get any referrals from any of the agencies when we got back to the big house, so we relaxed the next day, enjoying the sun before we all went to the resort for a fancy supper. We brought half the island with us so they could enjoy the resort's special food as well. Our people deserved the opportunity to hobnob with the big shots as much, if not more, than the folks who worked full time at the resort.

Lisa and Tina spent the entire next day online trying to determine where we might do some good, or bad, depending on how you looked at it. I called my SS/NSA contact and asked them for any southern Mexico problem that needed taking care of. He didn't have anything in that area, but said the CIA had a hotspot they were working. I was sent to a CIA desk after they had cleared my call, they gave me a URL, and hung up.

My sat phone began ringing a few minutes later. It was my Secret Service contact. He only said, "The cowboys will be calling you as soon as I hang up. You asked, and they want you. Keep your head down and double check everything. You know how careless those assholes are."

He hung up and my cell phone rang. When I answered, the voice said, "If you will log on to the URL we gave you, we'll talk about it." Lisa was trying to log on, but the net kept trying to gain access to her laptop. She shut it off and I said loud enough for the caller on my phone to hear, "I guess you don't want the help. Call us when you can give us the information without fucking with us," and hung up.

Lisa said, "I'll try the URL again in a minute. If they let us get the information we want without fucking with us, we'll go do the job and see if they will play it straight with us."

We accessed the URL later and were in and out fast enough to just get the info we needed, but there wasn't a lot of Intel on the defenses. I'm sure they knew exactly what we had and didn't have.

The phone rang and the voice asked, "Do you want some info on the defenses?"

While putting the phone on speaker, I said, "Tell me."

The man gave a very good briefing before saying, "These people are some of the worst. Don't let them catch you. Get in and get out. Do what you can, but don't get caught."

Lisa and I spent an hour putting everything we knew down on paper and analyzing it. We went over the big map and the local area map that had a diagram of the main building we would hit. None of it looked complicated, and the defenses looked a little weak. It was Lisa that said, "This looks too easy. We need to watch the place a day or two before we hit it. They may have it looking easy to trap people. Let's scout it out before we decide."

Lisa gained NSA access of the satellite scans and photos for the area we were going to hit, and was able to bring them in for a very close look. There was a small airstrip not far from the target that appeared to be long enough for the B200 to takeoff from. The problem would be transportation from the field to the target and where best to observe for a day or two.

Lisa and Tina were looking over various other targets when Tina made an observation, "Look at this place in northeast Panama, then back at the target in southern Mexico. These photos make the two places look like mirror images. Lisa has a satellite photo of the Mexican place, so let's see what the Panamanian location really looks like."

Lisa used another window to pull the Panama location up and zeroed in on it. It did look almost exactly the same. The differences were the roads leading up to the compounds. Lisa looked up the known intelligence on the Panamanian location and found it to be very thorough. It looked like we could use what we knew and do a number there, but they used helicopters to fly in and out of an airfield about ten miles away.

Lisa went back to the Mexican location, looking the grounds over inch by inch, until she pointed out what appeared to be camouflage netting over an area away from the house. We couldn't see beneath the netting, but it made us go back to the Panama location and look for the same type of area there. There wasn't any, but they had a large hangar in that area in relation to the Mexican compound.

The intel for Panama said the compound was protected by as many as fifty guards and ten personal bodyguards. There is no way only three of us should do anything in Mexico if there were that many there. It's funny that we had been told that there were only about ten guards and personal bodyguards at that location. If the two locations were so similar, why was there such a big difference in personnel?

Lisa said, "We should pass on this one. We might be able to do something if we had better intelligence with some history of the two places, but we can't take a chance running into fifty or so men. We could definitely do some damage, but I don't think we could make it out."

I nodded in agreement, noting the disappointment in both of the women's attitudes. "We'll find something that we can do. Nicaragua has a couple of cartels that are causing some problems, so we could mess with them, and you know Panama is teeming with small groups in the mountains."

We were about to put the laptop away, when Lisa said, "Let's play some music. That will take our minds off this stuff."

Tina spoke up, "That's the problem, Lisa. I can't play anything, and you and Chuck don't want me interrupting you when you're playing music."

Lisa gathered Tina to her, giving her a very sweet kiss. "You need to sing with us, Baby. You have a great voice, and I'll bet your voice would be wonderful singing some really good blues."

Tina blushed while telling Lisa, "I can't sing."

"Bullshit, you can't. I hear you singing while you're doing housework or cooking, and I hear you in your room when you're studying."

"Oh, Lisa, I'm just singing some of those songs you play and sing, you know, the Eva songs."

"And you do them so well, Tina," Lisa said, as she pulled on her arm. "Come sing with us while we play some of the ones you already sing. We'll let Chuck play and the two of us will sing a duet. Come on, it'll be fun and it'll get our minds off this stuff."

I brought my Gibson Blues King guitar to the porch where we were sitting, having some iced tea to sip on. I began picking, getting the feel of the strings and making sure the guitar was in tune, when the intro notes of 'Wonderful World" just happened. Lisa grinned and began singing. She pulled Tina to her and tickled her to get her to join. The two voices blended so beautifully; Lisa's huskier voice with Tina's very melodic projection that was very similar to Mama Cass Eliot.

We did that twice just to make sure we were in sync, then Lisa told me, "Chain of Fools, then Time after Time. Both are good duet pieces."

We did this for a couple of hours, bringing more and more of our family and some of the island people out to listen to us. It's easy to entertain family and friends.

Lisa and I talked about investigating the locations a little more before giving a definite no while we were getting ready for bed that night. We both wanted the excitement, and both girls wanted the satisfaction of finishing off some very bad people. That Tina was hot to dispose of bad people was almost as amazing as the fact that she was going to become a doctor, someone who specializes in saving lives, not taking them. She had a true Jekyll and Hyde personality when it came to people who were hurting others.

Primary Editing by Pepere
Proofing and Continuity by Sagacious
Helicopter and Legal Guru, Rotorhead

Chapter 2 ยป

Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Extra Sensory Perception /