Tropic Rescue (Tropic Ryden Book 2), page 1
Tropic Rescue
By John Triptych
Copyright© 2021 by John Triptych
All rights reserved.
J Triptych Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, and/or locales is entirely coincidental.
Also by John Triptych
The Dying World
Lands of Dust
City of Delusions
The Maker of Entropy
The Dying World Omnibus
Tropic Ryden
Tropic Rescue
Wrath of the Old Gods
The Glooming
Canticum Tenebris
A World Darkly
Wrath of the Old Gods Boxed Set 1
Wrath of the Old Gods (Young Adult)
Pagan Apocalypse
The Fomorians
Eye of Balor
Wrath of the Old Gods: Box Set 2
Watch for more at John Triptych’s site.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By John Triptych
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Sign up for John Triptych's Mailing List
Further Reading: The Boy in the Gutter
Also By John Triptych
About the Author
There is no fire like passion, there is no shark like hatred, there is no snare like folly, there is no torrent like greed.
― Siddharta Gautama
Chapter 1
AMBROSIA WAS A RECENTLY opened resort at Coron Island, just north of Palawan. The place consisted of a central building with all the amenities of a world-class holiday destination, including a white sand beach, and a swimming pool that snaked around the property like a cerulean moat.
But the main attraction were a line of luxury cottages stretching out into the turquoise sea. Built on stilts above the crystal clear water, these air-conditioned suites had their own valet service, and were prized by high-rollers to give their families a much needed distraction while they gambled away untold riches at the resort’s built-in casino.
A bright and sunny midmorning, with an occasional cloud spoiling the wild blue above our heads. It was an optimum time for anyone looking for the perfect tan, and a few young women were doing just that, broiling themselves on beach chairs just a few meters from the main hotel’s rear patio. There were rumors these golden beauties were Russian prostitutes brought in by some big-shot Hollywood actor who was staying at one of the cottages, but it was really none of my business, so I didn’t inquire any further.
My back was propped up against an alcove just behind the dive center building, a small storefront at the western end of the resort. The shade from the slanted palm trees helped to shield my already bronzed skin against the blazing sun while I continued to read the news on the tablet computer on my lap. I was taking a short break and this was the best spot to get Wi-Fi internet coverage while staying mostly out of sight.
I’d decided to stay in the Philippines for the time being. My older brother Ricky was still missing, and I was determined to find out what truly happened. If I’d left without learning his fate, then it would have surely bothered me for the rest of my life.
In the meantime I’d made some new friends. I did some odd jobs for Mariana Dacanay’s various charities, and she’d introduced me to Felix Lopez, scion of a wealthy family and the owner of Ambrosia, who in turn had begged me to help him out.
It seemed that the German scuba instructor he’d hired to run the resort’s dive shop had gotten into trouble with the local authorities, and Felix needed someone to cover for the guy on a temporary basis. Being a little short of cash by then, I decided to take him up on the offer.
This was now my second month at the resort, and the mundane idleness had brought a sense of peace to my once troubled soul. Perhaps it was the constant sounds of the frothing waves or just the tranquil holiday atmosphere, but the once debilitating nightmares that used to plague me had mostly gone away, and I was feeling content for the first time since I’d joined the Army all those years ago.
On the other hand, there were a few signs that my seemingly perfect morning was about to get ugly. The first instance occurred when I started browsing the morning news, and learned about the fall of Kabul to the Taliban. As a former operator with the Green Berets, I deployed three times to that war-torn country, and the sense of failure placed a heavy weight on my heart.
My thoughts turned inward, and the words of the online article soon blurred when I remembered all my brother operators I’d lost in that fruitless conflict. We did all we could, yet it all came to nothing, and it hurt.
I was about to switch over to my webmail, but my fingertip hovered just above the tablet’s screen, and I hesitated to open it. There was a feeling that my inbox would be filled with my friends talking about Afghanistan, and I preferred not to deal with it just yet, lest the harpies that once plagued me return.
Just as I was silently debating with myself whether to face my inner demons once again, my ears picked up a commotion coming from the beach. When I looked up, I saw two local men arguing with each other near an equipment stand, while a pudgy little kid with a swimsuit stood in between them, ready to cry.
I knew one of them. Arvin was serving as one of the attendants, tasked with helping out the guests by providing them with everything from beach balls to kayaks. He kept on smiling while trying to placate the angry man who towered over him.
The guy in question wasn’t dressed like a beachgoer. He wore slacks and a loose fitting button shirt. Crew cut hair, with eyes hidden behind a pair of cheap sunglasses. He kept shouting at Arvin while poking at the poor attendant’s chest with a demanding index finger as if he was a cop making a traffic stop.
I placed the tablet onto the side while silently observing them. When it came to learning a new language I was pretty quick on the uptake, and I had already figured out how to speak in conversational Tagalog. With my ears completely focused towards the commotion, I was able to hear a few snippets of their argument.
Arvin continued to gesture for calm. “I’m so sorry, sir, but he’s too young to use the Jet Ski on his own. We have a minimum age of twelve years, and he’s only nine.”
“I don’t care what your rules are,” the man with the sunglasses said. “If he wants to use it then he can. Don’t you know who his grandmother is?”
“So sorry, sir. If you could just wait for about fifteen minutes, I’ll have another attendant drive him around on the Jet Ski and he can ride along, alright?”
“No! Give him the keys to the Jet Ski right now.”
“I’m so sorry, sir,” Arvin repeated. “But it’s against the rules. I’m the one responsible for—”
Arvin didn’t finish his statement. The other man threw a punch to the side of his chin, sending the poor resort worker into the sandy ground.
By that time I had already reacted by launching myself from the alcove and made it halfway towards them in under five seconds. I held my right hand up as I got closer. “Whoa, hold on a minute there, gentlemen.”
The assailant turned towards me and growled in English. His breath smelled faintly of stale beer. “This none of your business, Joe.”
I pointed at my own chest, which showed the logo of the Aquaholics Dive Center at the front of the t-shirt I wore. “I’m afraid it is, sir. I am a part of the staff at this resort, and my colleague is correct. There’s a minimum age requirement to use the Jet Ski. It’s for our guest’s safety.”
He took a few steps forward until his face was just inches away from mine as our chests bumped. “Go back to where you came from!”
“Well, the shop is just thirty yards behind me, so I’m in the right place. Are you?”
Arvin had gotten up and dusted off his shirt, and the other man turned and reached over for the keys that lay on the folding table by the equipment stand. My colleague attempted to stop him, and his prior assailant tried to deliver a hard slap to the side of the poor man’s head.
Only I was faster. I had reached out and grabbed hold of the man’s wrist, stopping him in mid-swing. “Guest or no guest, you’re not allowed to assault people like this, pal.”
He tore his hand loose and reached for s
A small crowd had begun to gather around the scene. The child who was in the middle of it all started crying.
I knelt down to check up on the guy I just knocked out. He was still breathing, his head twisting listlessly from side to side as if he was trying to wake up, but couldn’t. Reaching in beneath his shirt I pulled out a Glock pistol, unloaded it, and placed it on the table.
Arvin had a nervous look on his face as he stood beside me. “What do we do now, Ryden?”
“Better call the hotel manager, and the nurse on station too,” I said.
Three blond women in the crowd of onlookers were eyeing me suggestively as I smiled back at everyone. “It’ll be alright, folks.”
“You! Hold it right there!”
Someone was yelling over my shoulder. The other resort patrons gasped in shock and quickly made room while I turned and saw another man with the same styled clothing as the one I decked into the sand.
This guy was shorter and he had a Glock pistol too. In fact, the tip of the weapon was aimed directly at my chest.
I was out of options, so I just raised my hands in the air.
Chapter 2
MARIO UBALDE WAS THE hotel manager that morning, and he arrived a few minutes later. The guy I knocked out was helped over to the clinic, but the man with the gun insisted on taking me to his employer and face some sort of punishment. Mario tried to smooth things over, but the other guy would not be dissuaded.
After the various back and forth with regards to my fate continued, I decided to take matters into my own hands. “It’s alright,” I said to my manager. “I’ll go with him.”
Mario looked at me and nodded. “Alright, Ryden. Come see me when it’s over, okay? I’ll call Sir Felix up and tell him what’s happening.”
“Sure thing,” I said before turning to face my captor. “You can put that away now. I’m going with you voluntarily and without a fuss.”
Thankfully he did just that. We both headed towards the whitewashed concrete pier that served as a walkway to a line of cottages jutting out over the water. I walked slowly, and he maintained a respectable, two meter distance at my rear.
We stopped beside the cabin at the very end of the pier. He knocked twice, and we were greeted by another burly, crew cut man at the other side of the door.
I was led into an air-conditioned living room lined with overstuffed sofas and chairs. The sliding glass doors leading out to a balcony overlooking the ocean were shut tight in order to keep the place chilly. The smell of freshly cut roses came from various glass vases situated on the side alcoves and coffee tables.
A gaunt woman with black wire coiffed hair sat in the middle of the couch by the terrace. Her wrinkly tanned skin meant that she was anywhere between fifty and seventy years old. Most of her body was covered in an orange colored Indian-styled sari, and her mouth was twisted in a slight, curious smile while regarding me beneath blue painted eyelashes.
“Come, sit down,” she said. Her English accent was neutral, indicating she was educated either abroad or at an international school of some sort.
I sat down on one of the lounge chairs, but I kept my back straight. “Ma’am, first of all, I must apologize for assaulting one of your associates. When I noticed he had a weapon, I’m afraid my old training took over.”
She looked up at my escort and spoke in Tagalog. “How is Rolly doing?”
“He should be okay, ma’am,” he answered.
The woman locked eyes with me once more. “Do you know who I am?”
I shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t.”
“She is Congresswoman Gertrude Laguda,” the man standing over me said. “You beat up one of her bodyguards who was trying to protect her grandson.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“You knocked him out, and you’re gonna be arrested! The police is on the way!”
Gertrude raised her hand. “I want to hear his side of the story, Ramon.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” I said. “My fellow staff member was only looking out for your grandson’s safety. You see, the kid wanted to use the Jet Ski, but we have a minimum age requirement of driving it solo. My colleague was trying to explain it to the child’s bodyguard, but he was drunk and struck the attendant. I ran over and tried to help, but it unfortunately escalated. I meant no harm and I regret my actions.”
She looked up at the man behind me once again. “Did Rolly have something to drink this morning?”
“I’m so sorry, ma’am. Rolly was drinking because he thought he wasn’t going to be on duty today,” Ramon said. “But when your grandson wanted to go to the beach, there was no one else available.”
Gertrude nodded slowly. “Tell Rolly he’s fired.”
“Ma’am? Are you sure?”
“Do what I tell you and leave us,” she ordered.
I kept looking past the window, and I could sense Ramon’s trepidations as he acknowledged the directives before opening the front door and walking out of the cottage, leaving the two of us alone.
Gertrude had a relaxed look while leaning back into the cushions and crossing her legs. Her manicured fingers and earlobes glittered with jewelry. “You’re the diving master of this resort, yes?”
I nodded. “After this incident, it’s probably past tense now.”
She let out an amused giggle. “You’re one of those guys who always has something amusing to say even in the direst of circumstances. I like that.”
“Thanks.”
“Felix is a good friend of mine, and I’m sure we can work something out.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“They told me you knocked out my toughest bodyguard in under two seconds. Did you serve in the military?”
“Yeah,” I said. “US Army Special Forces.”
“You must have a lot of experience, yes?”
“I was deployed to Afghanistan and a few other places over the years.”
“Why did you end up working as a divemaster for Felix?”
“He asked for a favor and I was running low on funds.”
She nodded slowly. “If it’s money you want, you could work for me. I can promise a better salary than what Felix is paying you.”
I began to chuckle. “With all due respect, ma’am, the last thing I want to be is a bodyguard.”
“Oh? Why so negative about it? It perfectly suits the things you learned in the military, yes?”
“Yeah, but I prefer to move away from stuff like that and try something new.”
“Why so?”
“Too many bad memories.”
Gertrude gave me a thoughtful look. “I see. It’s such a pity though. I was hoping you might be able to help me with something, and it’s not about being a bodyguard.”
“Oh?”
She leaned forward and picked up the smartphone that lay on the coffee table. “One of my... constituents is begging me for help. Did you hear about the container ship that was hijacked a few days ago?”
“The one in the Malacca Strait? Yeah, I think I read an article about her. Why?”
“A lady named Lorna Quisumbing is related to one of my secretaries, and her husband was on that boat.”
I frowned. “From what I read the Indonesian Navy will be handling that crisis, so I fail to see how I could help in any way.”
“The latest news this morning is that the ship caught on fire. The authorities did manage to board before she sank, but they failed to find the crew,” she said. “I have also spoken to Lorna, and she told me she was speaking to her husband by streaming video during the time they got attacked.”
“And?”
“Well, I think it’s very strange that the crew has disappeared while it was under the watchful eye of the Indonesian Navy, don’t you?”
“I guess. What do you need from me?”
“Based on your little performance today, you strike me as the capable sort,” she said. “I’ve promised Lorna that I will help find her husband.”
Uh-oh. I didn’t like where this was going. “Don’t you have local people here who can do that for you? I mean, you are with the government, right?”
