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Eighteen

T he guards led us down a long hallway. The air conditioning hummed, but steam rose off my skin from the anger that burned inside me.

“Where are you taking us?” Ace demanded. “My granddad will hear about this, and you beefcakes will be out of a job.”

The beefcake on my left snickered. He wasn’t afraid. The head cheesecake was calling the shots, and there wasn’t a damn thing we could do about it.

The WTF headquarters were in Guantanamo Bay because it’s one of the most secure prisons in the world. It holds terrorists, enemy spies, and all around super bad guys. If one of these bad guys breaks out, they’d have to swim a marathon through shark-infested water to Haiti or fight their way over rocky terrain and through the Cuban jungle. There have been no escapes from Gitmo.

We stopped outside a cell block of six. The cells in the WTF wing were like the ones that held volatile criminals of war, except ours had old-fashioned keyed locks instead of computer-driven doors. I assumed these were the original doors passed down to us after the other camps received more modern technology.

Each door had a thin rectangular glass window, impenetrable to breaking but not to sound, and a passthrough for food and medicine.

Brigands rarely needed the harsh security of the Gitmo prison. They didn’t throw feces on guards or gouge someone’s eyes out with a broken faucet. Instead, a brigand knew they’d be bartered for political gain or military advantage.

The guards locked each of us in individual cells. I couldn’t see Fredericka in the enclosure next to mine. Ace was across the corridor, his face smushed against the glass window, making his lips Angelia Jolie-worthy.

“Let my people go,” Ace chanted. “Let my people go.”

The guards left, but one remained standing just outside of the entrance to our little chamber of horrors.

“What the frig was that?” Ace’s shrill shrieking echoed off the cement walls.

“Why did I listen to you?” Fredericka spat the words. “I should have jumped on my own instead of reporting to headquarters.”

So much for us being besties. “This isn’t my fault. I wasn’t given any heads-up. I know just as much as y’all do.”

Except I knew more. There was a treasure to find, and General Potts had another treasure hunter searching for it.

Jake had ratted me out. He told Potts about the treasure map. And now Marco would die. A big tear dripped down my cheek. Where were Al and Pickles in the travel lab? Did they know Potts had taken us hostage?

“It’s the old ball and chain routine,” Ace said. “Pottsy’ll keep us locked up until the fat bastard gets what he wants or until he needs us instead of whoever they’ve coaxed into doing their bidding.”

“I can’t believe this happened.” I banged my fist against the door. “Fredericka’s right. This is all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, hon.” Ace gave me his most sorrowful gaze.

“It is my fault. I should have stayed and helped Marco find Sasha.”

“Then both of you’d be hanging from the rafters.” A sharp, pinging noise followed Fredericka’s words.

“What are you doing?” I tried to peek at the cell beside me but couldn’t see it.

“I’m trying to find a way out of here. Can’t either of you open locks?”

“Only Caiyan can do that.” But then it dawned on me. We still had our keys. Did Jake overlook the fact we had our keys, or had he planned it that way? “Wait. I’m still wearing my key. They didn’t take our keys.”

“Good luck summoning your vessel in this mousehole,” Ace said.

“I can summon Caiyan.”

“He’s not going to come here. They’ll arrest him,” Fredericka said.

“Maybe that was their plan all along.” Or maybe he’s the one Potts has searching for the treasure. I pushed the thought aside. If I could summon Caiyan, maybe I could also summon other defenders. I closed my eyes and mentally cried help to Al. If he divulged intel about Caiyan’s whereabouts to Itty, he might help us escape.

“The Scot could wear a disguise,” Ace suggested.

“Where’s he going to land in the most secure prison in the world?” Fredericka rattled the levered food passthrough.

The burley guard turned toward us. “Keep it down.”

“Hey, handsome, if you unlock this cell, I’ll show you a good time?” Fredericka motioned him over.

The guard ignored her.

“What about a good time with me?” Ace stuck his hands through the opening and made a vulgar motion.

The guard walked over to Ace and pointed his weapon at the door. Ace pulled his hands inside. The guard retrieved a set of keys from his pocket and closed and locked his hole. He put the keys back in his pocket and returned to his post.

“Nice try.” I gave Ace a morale-boosting double thumbs up.

“Thanks, Hon. Guess I’m not his type.”

“You’re not a Bull Moose,” Fredericka said, and everyone laughed.

“Freddy, you made a funny.” Ace wiggled a finger at her. I could only imagine the annoyed face she gave him.

A few hours went by. Precious hours I needed to save Marco. The guards changed. The Bull Moose handed his keys over to a new guard who wasn’t as big as the moose. He stayed at his post no matter the tricks we tried.

I gave it one last ditch effort. “I’m being restrained against my wishes,” I shouted at the guard. “You’re committing a felony.”

“Stifle it,” the guard yelled at me.

A jingle sounded in the corridor, and the guard spoke to someone.

I pressed my face against the glass but couldn’t see who it was. I heard the jingle again and recognized the clickety-clink of stackable gold bangles.

“The prisoners are allowed to have a visitor.” The sweet sound of Itty’s voice carried down the hallway.

“Itty,” I called out. Ace came to his window.

“I wasn’t told they could have visitors,” the guard huffed.

“Were you told they couldn’t have visitors?”

Another huff from the guard.

“I’m Italina, Countess of Kelty, descendant of Laird Broch Dùn Teilbh, sister to Laird Broch Dun Troddan, and daughter of the Duke of Fiefdom.”

The guard studied her for a moment. “What’s in the box?”

There was some rumbling of a package and, “Voilà!” Itty’s voice sounded chipper. “I baked it myself.”

“What the frig?” I pressed harder onto the glass. “Ace, can you see anything?”

“No, doll.”

“It doesn’t have a file or a gun baked inside, does it?” the guard asked.

“For heaven’s sake, have you watched too many Netflix movies?” Itty peeked around the guard. “This is my special pink frosted supreme. The only thing on the inside is love.”

“Five minutes.” The guard’s thick neck moved out of my line of vision, and Itty entered the prisoner’s area carrying a pink frosted three-layer cake. Her snappy casual polyester pantsuit matched the cake and her silver hair was piled high on her head in a top knot bun.

The guard leaned against the door jamb just out of earshot but watching her every move. His eyes mostly on the cake. I guessed the guards didn’t get many homemade goodies.

“Itty.” I stuck my hand through the opening to pass food.

“Hellooo.” She stopped in front of me and quirked her lips. “Seems you’re in a pickle.”

“Yes. How did you know we were here?”

“I received word of your incarceration, and your fiancé asked me to keep an eye on you.” She frowned at me. “Seems I’m the last to know of your engagement.”

Oh, for the love of Pete. “Sorry. It’s a new development. Where’s Caiyan?”

“He’s…overseas.”

I mentally thanked Al for passing the word to Itty, then swallowed hard at the evidence looking me in the face. If it were true, if Caiyan jumped for Potts, there would be no engagement. And once I got my hands on him, there wouldn’t be anything left of him to be engaged to.

“Auntie, did you bake a file in the cake?” Ace pressed his nose against the glass.

“There’s a gun in there, right?” Fredericka’s voice sounded hopeful.

“Neither would pass security.” She looked at Ace and shook her head. “It has another purpose.” She kept her voice low, turned her back to the guard, and slid a badge to me through the food slot. “You’ll need this, dear.”

I looked at it. A photo of Al, gray hair mussed and pocket protectors filled with pencils and pens, smiled back at me.

“Auntie, what’s the plan?” Ace asked.

Itty turned toward Ace and chirped rather loudly, “I thought you might be hungry, but the cake’s too big to fit through the hole.”

“I want cake.” Ace pleaded with the security guard.

“Such amateurs,” Fredericka grumbled. I couldn’t see her, but I knew she was shaking her head in disgust.

“How do these cells unlock?” She leaned toward me and examined the keyhole in the door. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in the big house.”

“There’s a set of keys in the guard’s pocket.”

“Hold tight.” Itty balanced the cake on her hands, walked back toward the guard, and held the pink frosted cake up for him to see. “The cake is too large to fit through the small hole. I need a knife.”

“Sorry, lady. No weapons in the detention area.” The guard didn’t take his eyes off the cake.

“Not a weapon, perhaps a butterknife?”

The guard shook his head.

“Surly, a big handsome man like yourself carries a pocketknife?”

“No.”

“A letter opener?” Itty paused and winked at him. “I’ll give you a slice.”

Good grief. If Itty was going to break us out, we were doomed.

The guard agreed to radio for a military issue spork.

“Itty’s got game.” Fredericka’s words carried a smile.

Itty moved into the hallway out of my line of vision. The guard followed her, turning his back to us and reaching for his two-way radio. While he was speaking into the receiver, Itty mumbled, “Hibbidi Bibbity Boo!”

The keys danced out of the guard’s pocket and over to my cell. I reached my hand through the food slot and snagged them.

Itty engaged the guard in a deep conversation about the roasted lamb she’d cooked for dinner last night. Thankfully, our guard was a foodie, or hungry, or both.

Using some creative maneuvers, I managed to unlock my door. I did the same for Ace and Fredericka.

“We have to get to the hangar.” I gave Itty a thankful nod.

She looked down at the cake and tsked. “Would you look at that?”

The guard bent over, examining the cake. Itty upended the plate and buried the guard’s face in pink frosted supreme. The Three Stooges would have been proud.

“Run!” I pointed toward the exit.

“Hey!” The guard surfaced looking like an angry pink Smurf, one hand on his gun and the other radioing for backup.

“Oh, my goodness, I slipped.” Itty kicked the guard with her pointy-toed shoe. He dropped to one knee. “Sorry, restless leg syndrome.”

“I love you, Itty,” I called out as I ran past them. I rounded the corner and glanced behind me. Ace followed, swooping up a handful of cake as he passed the guard.

“Are you mental?” Fredericka asked, running behind Ace.

“Itty’s cakes are the best. This one has raspberry filling.” Ace licked a glob of pink off his fingers.

We took the stairs down to area B. I swiped Al’s badge to access the floor. We sprinted down the long hall and took a sharp right.

“Stop,” two guards shouted behind us. We’d almost made it to the hangar.

“Go. Save Marco and bring my sister home.” Fredericka motioned toward the hangar, then turned and rammed into both guards, knocking them down with one body slam. I was gobsmacked. Ace yanked me out of my envy trance, and we ran flat out toward the landing pads.

I slowed. Something felt off. The suits that monitored the hangar were missing.

“Four hours, impressive.” Jake leaned against the wall just inside the door.

We were fucked. He’d never let us leave.

“Jake,” I started to beg, but he turned his back to us, speaking into his headset about some imaginary issue with the hangar ceiling. Sirens began screaming, indicating a breach in security.

My vessel was the closest. “Mine.”

We made a flying leap onto the landing pad and into my outhouse. I gave my pink stilettos one last wistful glance and made a mental picture of a male pirate.

“Bloody ’ell, Jen, make the jump!” Ace hollered as he slammed the door and fell beside me.

Tucking the tiny pouch I’d brought from home between my cheek and gum, I spoke the word that catapulted us to 1718, leaving the hangar, Jake, and my utmost appreciation behind.