Generation Lost (Gray Wolf Security #17)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“They’re playing a game,” frowned Gaspar. “They’re playing a game and didn’t think any of us would find out about it. They made sure, somehow, that the criminals got control of these mortgage companies. They placed stipulations and clauses in the mortgages that would increase interest rates to the point of unaffordability, knowing they could then foreclose, sell the land for double the value, and make all their money back plus some.”

“I’m going to bet Uncle Sam was going to get a chunk of the profits from all of this as well,” said Ian. “But why the weapons manufacturing? Why allow the drugs, trafficking, all of it?”

“Maybe that was part of the agreement,” said Nine. “Turn a blind eye to what they’re doing, but they help with the mortgage rates. The administration is taking a beating on inflation, unemployment, all of it. This was their bright idea to recover.”

“It’s a fucking stupid idea,” growled Ghost. “Exposing it won’t work. They’ll spin some bullshit that will fool the general public. Think about it, Jean and Victoria had to explain this shit to us three times to understand it. Most people won’t get it. They’ll say, ‘well, that’s life, up and down,’ blah, blah, blah.”

“Blah, blah, blah?” smirked Gaspar.

“I’m tired of this shit. I’m tired of thinking we’re making headway and we’re helping, only to discover that we’re not. We might not be able to do shit about the mortgage situation, I mean, unless we’re willing to buy up every damn independent lending company in the whole country. But we can damn sure do something about the other shit.”

Sly ran into the room with a sheet of paper in his hands. It actually turned out to be a photograph.

“What’s that?” frowned Nine.

“Got a call from a contact on a destroyer near Jacksonville. Said they passed a freighter going out to sea that was stuck due to low tide. Nothing they can do until the tide rises again.”

“Sly, I’m getting a migraine,” said Gaspar, rubbing his eyes.

“There were more than twenty young women in t-shirts sitting on the deck in a circle, men guarding them. By the time they turned back around to take another look at the ship, it was gone.”

“What’s the name of this ship?” asked Nine.

“You’re going to think I’m lying, but it’s called First Bank ,” smirked Sly.

“Who is it owned by?” asked Ian.

“A phantom investment group. I’m still trying to identify the owners but my guess is our oligarch’s involved already.”

“Where was she headed?” asked Ghost, standing.

“From what we can see, toward the Caribbean. The manifest says Bolivar.”

“Get eyes on it,” said Gaspar. “I think it’s time we took one. Get the boat ready.”

“Like the boat,” smirked Sly.

“ The boat. Make sure everything is working perfectly, load her with ammo and explosives. We’re taking this one for the team,” said Gaspar.

“Not without me,” said Miller, leaning against the door.

“Brother, it’s time we took more risks,” said Gaspar.

“Fuck that, mon frére,” laughed Miller. “We all take enough risks that we should have been dead years ago. This one you’ll need more hands than four. You’ve got three SEALs. Let’s bring a few more that can help. You’re gonna need assistance with all them girls.”

Gaspar looked at the others, and they nodded.

“Alright. Who else?”

“Us,” came the echo behind Miller in the hallway. The four leaders looked out the door and laughed, shaking their heads. Lined up against the wall were Max, Wilson, Cruz, Angel, Trak, Gibbie, Rory, and Jazz.

“Um, they weren’t all SEALs,” smirked Nine.

“Nope, but we damn sure know how to have fun, and he’s right,” said Rory, nodding at Miller. “You’re going to need help. The kind we can all give. If we’re not giving this shit up for good, let’s go all in.”

“Everyone feel the same?” asked Ghost. “You know we said we wouldn’t do these kinds of jobs any longer.”

“We know,” nodded Gibbie. “But if we don’t, who will? It’s pretty obvious that our government has sold their souls and doesn’t give a shit. Too bad we do.”

“Trak? You feeling healthy?” asked Nine. He pulled his shirt up, revealing a completely healed cut. He’d visited the pond, and as usual, it did its job. “Alright. We do this the right way. We’ve gone in flying by the seat of our pants too many times. We’ll plan and plan again. Bring more than we actually need.”

“No offense to anyone, but we’re all fucking slower than we were twenty years ago. Yeah, we’re in good health, and yeah, we’re still fucking badass. But we are old and slower. They won’t know that or see that. Stealth the entire way,” said Gaspar.

“We’ll board her from the starboard side,” said Ghost. “Stealth suits over our wetsuits in the dark. We’ll be impossible to see. Focus on getting the girls off that fucking ship first.”

“It looks like there’s a cargo load area here,” said Gibbie, pointing to the photo. “Cruz, Trak, and me can get down there, open it, and hand the girls to you from that opening. Miller, Max, and Jazz can set the charges. We leave, the cargo door is open, and everything goes boom.” Nine nodded at the other men in the room.

“Sly? Send all the cameras we can toward that damn ship. I want to know what’s on it. All of it. Do they have weapons? How many men? I want no surprises. Our wives are going to be seriously pissed off.”

“Cruz? You and Wilson get everything you think we might need to help those young women. We don’t know what we’re dealing with. We have no idea whether they’ve been drugged, raped, beaten, nothing. Some may need medication that we don’t carry. Let’s be prepared for this.”

“And what happens when the government calls and says we know it was you?” asked Ian.

“We do what we do best,” said Ghost. “We play stupid.”