Syd and Nancy go to South America to go after Wesson

“Well, hello, beaches…” Nancy grinned as she looked out of the airplane window at the small island below. It had been one hell of a trip with a boring lay-over and two meals of microwaved food and stale sandwiches, but they were finally about to touch down on Aruba, the tiny Caribbean island state off the coast of Nicaragua. Sparkling white sand and turquoise waters did a lot to lift her spirits after her strenuous journey, which was immediately followed by a pang of sadness when she realized that she was unlikely to enjoy the exotic luxury a lot, but rather she would spend their time working…

It had been hours upon hours in the interrogation room with a disgruntled, thin-lipped Vincent Beretta, working him in tandem from all sorts of angles to coerce the information out of him where his partner had disappeared to. Finally, he had cracked, revealing the contacts that had enabled Wesson to escape. Partners from diverse financial ventures on the wrong side of US-law had flown in with an inconspicuous, small machine and had retrieved the high-ranking crime-lieutenant, bringing him back with them to their island paradise where he was now living it large.

There had been a lot of discussion on how to proceed from here. With no extradition agreement in place, things were quite tricky and local police was unreliable to say the least, acting more like a militia for local crime lords than a unit to protect and serve the honest citizen. Syd and Nancy had fought passionately to gain official permission to go and oversee the capture of Wesson themselves, eager to finally get to a figure that had been a thorn in their side for months, years even. But permission had not been granted. So instead, the duo of gorgeous detectives had put in vacation days.

There wasn’t much of a set up: Contacts of friends of people Syd knew from her old days with the DEA had an acquaintance on Aruba that Syd and Nancy would meet and that could act as a local guide. Carlos de Santos was a former Colombian police officer, retired for several years now and due to issues with a local syndicate he had moved to Aruba where he now freelanced as a sort of private Detective. He would be the one picking them up from the airport, provide them with accommodation as well as equipment as Syd and Nancy were posing as mere tourists to avoid too much attention as they came close to their target. He and his partner would be the only reinforcements the two women would have during their quest to capture Wesson and smuggle him back to the US.

Nancy had seen a photograph of de Santos. About sixty, balding, with his remaining black-grey hair slicked back and an unkempt beard, not only was he not much to look at, but from the picture, Nancy guessed him to be north of two-hundred pounds. His partner, Alexandre Torrero, was a local guy with a face that strongly reminded Nancy of a rat. While weighing about half of de Santos, it didn’t look like Torrero was much use in hand-to-hand-combat either, so the women had braced themselves for the reality that it was the two of them against a small island state.

“Kinda has a Bond-vibe, doesn’t it?!” Syd grinned in the seat next to her, leaning over to catch a look at the paradise below. Dressed in a colorful, low-cut top and a loose white skirt, the black woman was not really dressed to avoid attention, but the attention was likely focused on her body rather than her intentions. “Beautiful island, white beaches, a secret mission, likely a gun fight…”

“Even got my Bond girl here with me…” Nancy quipped and the two women chuckled as the plane was about to touch ground. Nancy herself was dressed in a similar style, like a tourist ready to spend some days relaxing on a tropical island rather than a detective and former soldier who was about to abduct a high-profile criminal. Faded denim hot pants left her long legs almost completely bare, displaying her smooth, silky skin to breathtaking effect while the flowing, almost see-through white blouse showed of some mouth-watering cleavage. To gain some protection from any security cameras, just in case of the slim chance that Wesson had alerted the local forces that they might show up, she wore an oversized, white hat with a wide brim and a large pair of sunglasses, hiding herself while not arising suspicions.

Her stomach tightened a bit as the plane landed, then came to a halt. She was nervous. This was one hell of a risky move. If something went wrong, there would be no cavalry to bail them out, they would disappear in a third world country with hardly anyone even knowing where they were in the first place. The decision to come here was unwise, but after seeing the destructive results of Wesson’s work neither of them could manage to just let him slip away.

The two women grabbed their hand luggage and exited the plane, both gasping as the wave of hot, humid air hit them like a brick before they turned and followed the small crowd of chattering tourists to the airport building, blending in.

This was going to be an adventure!