Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 113741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“If it is, I can’t find it,” Javier said.
“Yeah, neither can I. So, he’s found religion?” Gage asked.
“It’s looking like it. I must go. I’ll check back tomorrow if I can.” The line disconnected, and Gage ended the call on his side.
This one threw him for a surprise, and he leaned forward in his chair. With a few swipes on his keyboard, Gage brought the live video feed back up on his computer to watch in real time, like he’d been doing for most of the night and all of the day. They were in the La Popa Basin, located in Mexico, an obscure location in a tiny abandoned sixteenth century Christian mission. Men from all over the world stumbled there every day, joining the cult-like teachings of this pseudo-religious throw back of the Christian church from hundreds of years ago.
They all wore long, dark robes, their heads cleanly shaven, and no shoes on their feet. Hours and hours were spent in silent meditation, only to then go into hours and hours of lecture-style teachings of how old religious values of a simpler, yet darker, time in our history, got it right all those centuries ago. The teachings went just shy of promoting the massacres of earlier centuries, changing course in mid-teaching, making it all about the Lord’s love. Gage listened and came to the conclusion this was some sort of vigilante-meet-Gandhi kind of place and still undecided which side might prevail in the end.
The best Gage could determine, the mission looked like a recent start-up and appeared strategically planned, with abundant hiding places in the mountains surrounding the old cathedral-style buildings. The most undesirable men of the world flocked there and the drug cartel still ran Mexico, but the teachings of this mission’s underlying goals were to take back their country to a more wholesome time. These newly trained clergy were coming to help in the cause. Perhaps building a small army to fight the drug cartel? Time would tell. For now, Gage knew only one thing for certain: Abdulla spent his days there, on his knees, with no sign of interaction with anyone.
If Abdulla had a target in the mission, it never made itself known under the constant surveillance. Gage’s gut told him Abdulla fully bought into this new religion he got himself into, because he could have easily taken them all out the first day he arrived and no one would be the wiser. None of Gage’s contacts found any sign of weapons on the property.
A vow of silence… Well, wasn’t that convenient. By all accounts, it looked like Abdulla might be having a change of heart or at least conscience, but Gage rejected the thought as quickly as it came in his mind. Come on, asshole, show me what you’re up to. Why hide in such a remote, uncivilized area? Gage chuckled at his thought. The question actually answered itself: hiding. But who else might be looking for him? Gage’s pursuit had been utterly discreet. Abdulla may have contacts reporting back to him, but one of the reasons it had taken so long to nail this report down were the lengths Gage went to in researching Abdulla. He never spoke with anyone directly associated with the guy. Gage worked his way through interviews with the grieving and hurt, those people left standing after Abdulla demolished their lives on his quest for power and money.
Gage focused on the screen again, watching the newsfeed come through in less than desirable conditions. The video looked grainy, and slightly off focus because of how they hid the device in the room. Abdulla sat on the floor with his legs crossed, meditating now for the last seven hours. He never moved from his spot, nor did he open his eyes. He remained in this position, praying silently. His mouth moved, but no words issued forth.
Under normal circumstances, Gage would have sat right here with Abdulla, watching each minute pass, trying to find the discrepancies, but today he found every few minutes his eyes wandered back out into the gallery, looking for Trent and each time he would have to remind himself Trent had left hours before.
Last night, Gage stayed up watching these videos courtesy of a generator in his bedroom and office. The panel change went on beneath him, the construction stayed loud all night, and Trent’s presence affected Gage. He could sense him there, within reach, but completely untouchable. There wasn’t much sleep happening when all his body and mind wanted were for him to be right down there in the middle of Trent’s mess, watching the guy work.
Gage made the trip downstairs, under the cover of checking on progress, about every thirty minutes. On about the third trip down, Gage realized Trent wasn’t clueless to him, but purposefully ignored him. Those were two vastly different things.
The night then became a game to Gage. He dropped in, over and over, putting himself in Trent’s way. He’d chuckled as he’d watched Trent fumble through the chance meetings, dropping his tools, pulling the wire a little too hard, or bumping into things as he took the widest distance around wherever Gage stood. Trent never looked his way, and when forced to, he focused on Gage’s forehead. Surely it meant Trent wasn’t as unaffected as he pretended to be. Could it be Trent was a closet homosexual or maybe a closet bisexual? But Gage rejected that thought immediately; Trent didn’t seem like the kind of guy who messed around on his commitments. Maybe a late in life homosexual, now stuck with a wife and children…
Even with those thoughts, nothing helped him find an outcome where he could get inside Trent’s pants without looking like a big ass perv. So, just as he had last night, Gage forced his eyes and attention back to the screen, back to something he could work until the outcome landed in his favor. He sat back, getting comfortable, and prepared to sit there for the next several hours watching Abdulla breathe until he slipped.