Pacific Creed. Don Pendleton

gotta go.” Bolan shoved a few personals into a bag. They hadn’t gotten out of the forest and back in Wailuku Valley until after sunrise. He suspected the girls had been taken out to a ship and were already on their way to a short life of sex slavery, heroin addiction and an unceremonious death, dismemberment and dumping.

      “You sure you don’t want me along?” Koa asked.

      “I need you to take Peg, like now, and get Melika. Kidnap her if you have to, but then disappear as though we four went on a romantic couples’ weekend.”

      Koa raised his hands in warning. “If Peg and I show up and say, ‘Hey, let’s go meet Makaha,’ she’ll come, but if you aren’t there? She won’t take kidnapping too kindly, man. Back in the ’70s, Mama Melika was like a genuine Island-style Ma Barker, and she taught her daughter well. There’s a reason we found all the uncles hanging out at her place yesterday.”

      Agent Hu tossed her hair. “I’m not afraid of her.”

      “I am,” Koa countered. “And you should be.”

      “I need Melika on our side.” Bolan gave Koa a hard look. “And I need her sat on until I get back and can turn her.”

      “Matt, we got Uncle Aikane trusting us. We can work with that.”

      “I think Melika might be my key to getting in all the way.”

      Koa clearly didn’t like it. “I know it was my idea, but we took a big chance going into her bar and—”

      “And I’m doubling down. Koa, I’m getting the feeling this is starting to step on your loyalties, and I get it, but I need you to get her. Get her now, or punch out of this mission.”

      Koa went pure Island-style stone face. Bolan realized Koa had deeper misgivings about this mission than he’d let on. Koa lifted his chin. “And if me and Peg sit on Melika and your charms fail, what are you going to do with the home girl?”

      “Let her go.”

      Koa’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You’re just going to let her go, and let her compromise us and burn the entire mission down.”

      “No, I’ll hold her for forty-eight hours first, and me, you and Hu go in hard, guns blazing on the camp, the cave, Uncle Aikane and the targets we know. We try to break it open the ugly way. Melika comes to no harm from my end.”

      “Well, shit,” Koa opined.

      “Yeah, it’s a bad deal all the way around.”

      “I don’t like it.”

      “You don’t have to like it, and you can hate me after. Question is, will you do it?”

      “You know I volunteered for this one.”

      “I know, and thanks.”

      Koa nodded at Hu. “Pack for a picnic and a kidnapping.”

      Hu shot a killer grin. “I can take her.”

      Koa shook his head sadly. “No, you can’t.”

      Bolan tapped an app on his phone. “Bear.”

      Kurtzman came on instantly. “Striker.”

      “Tell me we have tracking.”

      “Tracking confirmed, Striker.” Kurtzman added, “But we don’t have tracking on you, and your tracer is no longer connected to your phone’s battery. Our tracking window is getting narrow.”

      “Where are they headed?”

      “West, as you can imagine. But when it comes to slavery there are a host of final destinations along the way.”

      “Best estimate?”

      “The tracker is currently on board a small freighter, the Pukulan Anggun. She has Dutch registration, but she’s currently flying Indonesian colors.”

      Bolan saw the scenario. “Heading southwest for the North Equatorial Current. Straight shot for the Jakarta or Manila flesh markets.”

      “That’s the way I’m seeing it, Striker.”

      “Bear, it’s going to be a solo airborne mid-ocean interdiction. I need a plane and a jump rig.”

      “Way ahead of you. I have a bird lined up at Coast Guard Maui station. I think we can get you in the air within twenty-four.”

      Bolan breathed a sigh of relief. The U.S. Coast Guard had a very strong presence in Hawaii and often got some of the latest ships and aircraft. “I need a war load, stat.”

      “The commander of Coast Guard North Pacific Sector has been informed that he’ll have a guest to whom, if he felt so inclined, he might show every courtesy. You’ll have your pick of their armory and stores, but it’s going to be Coast Guard armory and stores. Their rigs are mostly rescue jumpers rather than military stealth, but that is your fastest option, and you have a green light as of five minutes ago.”

      Bolan quoted the United States Coast Guard motto. “‘Semper Paratus.’” Always Ready.

      Kurtzman made an amused noise. “I will see to it that the USCG is loved and thanked for their cooperation.”

      “Thanks, Bear. Koa and Hu are going to kidnap a U.S. citizen and go dark.”

      Kurtzman paused for a second. “How is that again?”

      “I’ll let Koa explain it to you.”

      Koa folded his arms and shook his head. “You’re a dick.”

      Bolan nodded and scooped up his bug-out bag. “Bear, I’m in a Jeep and inbound for the Oahu Coast Guard station.”

      Chapter 5

      North Pacific, 6,000 feet

      A maelstrom of violent air roared into the hold of the

      HC-144A Ocean Sentry search and rescue plane as the loading ramp lowered. The interior lights blinked off and the emergency red lights lit. The bewildered and amused U.S. Coast Guard jumpmaster shouted over the wind. “Two minutes to target!”

      Bolan rose. “Thank you, Sergeant!”

      The six-man United States Coast Guard Port Security unit that had been scrambled out of Honolulu cradled their Colt carbines and Remington shotguns and observed Bolan with keen interest.

      Bolan was dripping in Coast Guard issue. The jump rig was big, bulky and far from stealthy, but it was designed for operations at sea. The Mk11 Mod 0 rifle he carried resembled an M-16 on steroids. At nearly four feet long and weighing more than ten pounds, it wasn’t the ideal weapon to jump out of a plane with. However this was the only weapon in the Coast Guard armory that had a sound suppressor attached. Bolan hoped the sight of the big, silent, semiautomatic sniper rifle would put the fear of God into sailor and slaver alike. With luck they would never see it at all, much less hear it. He had also picked up a pair of .40 caliber SIG pistols and a Mark 3 Navy knife along with his jump rig and night-vision goggles. Spare magazines, flash stun grenades and flares made up the rest of his kit.

      Sergeant Goldstein of the Security Unit gave Bolan a sympathetic look. “You sure you don’t want someone to come with you? I got three men who are jump qualified, including me!”

      “Nothing I would like more, Sergeant. But not this time.”

      “Are you expendable and deniable ’n’ stuff?” the sergeant inquired.

      Bolan nodded. “’N’ stuff.”

      “Awesome!”

      “One minute!” the jumpmaster shouted. “We have an FLIR on target. The rain shouldn’t start for another ten minutes. The sea is pretty heavy and she’s only doing eight knots. You have a good glide path and a good window. Within thirty it’s going to start getting rough.”

      Bolan nodded. The