FALLEN | The Devil of Caracas

Chapter 5 | I Spy

Caribbean Sea | 12:16 hours

After three hours in the air, the loud hum of the plane's propeller is now hardly noticed by its passengers. Lexi's gut churns. She does anything she can to keep her focus off her complaining stomach. Six people crammed in a small compartment with no fresh air, accompanied by the wobbling of the aircraft, convinces her body to throw a nauseating fit.

"How much longer?" she desperately asks Gabriel.

"Not much longer," he replies. They sit in the cockpit, peering through the windshield. Sam and Dietrich are seated in the next row, with Sam positioned directly behind Gabriel, so he and Lexi can freely look at one another as they converse. Unfortunately their conversations have become limited as Lexi's body is repulsed by the idea of looking backward. The nauseating motion seems like it might be the last straw before her gut regurgitates.

Jason and Anatoly sit at the rear of the plane. The former Marine leans as far away as he can from the Russian's body odor.

Lexi leans forward and drags a 'barf bag' from beneath the console. She then clenches her jaw and sits up straight as she listens to her husband brief the team. 

"The target owns a ton of properties throughout Venezuela," says Sam. "This includes hospitals, hotels, resorts, and what not. He operates his businesses from a high-end golf course, just south east of Caracas. His house is nearby, so it's convenient for him and this place seems to be kind of his 'pride and joy' or whatever. The surrounding neighborhood is full of a bunch of other rich people like him."

"So what's the plan?" asks Deitrich. He grips Anatoly's gift in his right hand, resting it on his knee. The Vodka swishes back and forth inside the glass bottle as the plane gently rumbles through the sky. A third of the beverage has been drained between the four men during the duration of their journey.

"After we land, we're gonna do some recon," replies Sam.

"After we eat, of course," jokes Jason.

"Oh good. That is most important," replies Anatoly. He then reaches out his hand to Dietrich, requesting the Vodka. The german leans forward and complies.

"The CIA brief gives us Pérez's address," continues Sam, "which - like I said - is located right next to the golf course. So, we're gonna start off by scouting both locations. Aside from his campaigning, that's where he's been spending most of his time."

Lexi's grip tightens on the 'barf bag.' The conversation is too dull to distract her. She strains her mind, looking around the cockpit for something new to occupy her attention. She sees a photo taped to the dashboard. It's a small image of a beautiful woman holding a tiny baby.

"That your girl?" Lexi asks Gabriel.

"Si," he replies with a smile. "Both of them." He points to the women and then the baby. "That's my wife, Maria and our little girl, Isabella."

"How old is your daughter?" Lexi asks.

Gabriel laughs. "That photo was taken a week ago. Our little girl is only three weeks old now." He beams with excitement. "The money you are paying me," he adds, "goes straight to her future - her education. She's going to be a brilliant girl. I just know it."

"Do you do a lot of gigs like this?" Lexi asks. She grips the edge of her seat, fighting back the sickness.

"A few," he responds. "Never for the American government, until now. Perhaps more in the future. Good money, you know?"

"Yeah," she replies, looking out the windshield. "I know what you mean."

Her stomach suddenly convulses. There are no more distractions to keep it at bay. She pops open the bag and plants her face directly inside it.