The Sun Seeker

By Millie West

Unable to save his beloved Callie from Venezuelan kidnappers, Jeff
Radcliffe vows to help others with a natural talent: his skills as a
marksman. Reconnecting with Marcel Renaud in Europe, Jeff joins a
secretive team of military contractors who protect and save innocent
people from terrorists and kidnappers.
Assigned to North Africa and the Middle East, Jeff quickly adapts to
his new profession and begins to pay back old debts. While Jeff
attempts to put down roots in southern France, his first cousin,
Cooper, has not given up his relentless search for Jeff’s whereabouts.
Cooper has made a vow of his own: to return Jeff to the United States
to stand trial for the murder of Cooper’s wife, Elise.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gatekeeper Press
• Release date: Nov 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781642376654

Millie West

A graduate of the University of South Carolina, Millie West has a background in aviation, as well as in real estate, and has owned and been the broker of her own company. A South Carolina history buff, Millie has spent countless hours exploring the rich historical vestiges of her home state. She has viewed many treasures of the pzst by taking less-traveled paths into the countryside that was inhabited by Native Americans hundreds of years ago. Her love of the fascinating, complex, and compelling history of the south is expressed in her writing. Millie resides with her family near Columbia, South Carolina.

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West

Prologue

Jeff stared at the face of his beloved, Callie. He touched a small yellow flower in the veil that covered her head.

You’re like Sleeping Beauty—if I could only kiss you and you’d awake, he whispered to her. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. All I wanted to do was make you happy.

Jeff rose from his seat beside Callie’s body to a desk, retrieving stationary with Maiquetía Aviación’s logo from a drawer. He composed a letter to Callie’s father telling him of his love for his daughter, how she’d given him hope when he needed it most.

A knock on the door diverted his attention. Callie’s aviator friend and rancher, Ed Fuentes, stuck his head in. Let me make you a cup of coffee.

Ed advised him that an official from the American Embassy was on his way to the airport and that Callie’s father’s airplane would be arriving at Símon Bolívar Airport in two hours.

Jeff held up the letter. I’ve written Callie’s father.

I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. Then, Ed repeatedly hit his right fist into the palm of his left hand. I was thinking. You can come back to the ranch with me. I’ve told you, my property is large, and a man can easily disappear.

To tell you the truth, I’ve never felt so lost in all my life, but thank you.

Let Clareta and I help you.

I’m afraid if I stay here, I’ll eventually get arrested.

I don’t want that to happen. Ed paused for a few moments as he looked at Callie’s body. I think you can pay tribute to her by making it your goal to help others, like she did. You can’t do that from a jail cell.

Jeff studied Callie’s features and thought of how she’d fulfilled her vow. What could I do to help others? he thought.

Suddenly feeling bone tired, Jeff said, I think I could use a cup of coffee.

Come on, I could use one, too.

I don’t want to leave her.

I’ll keep an eye on the room.

Jeff bent down and kissed Callie on the lips. If only I could breathe life into you. When he reached the doorway threshold, he turned and looked back at her for a few moments more. I’m so sorry.

Reporters with camera equipment came into the lobby, but as Jeff took a sip of coffee, he noticed a tall Caucasian enter the room. He wore dirt-streaked khakis and a navy blazer. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as Jeff realized the man was heading in his direction.

The man stopped a few feet from them. Jeff Radcliffe?

Jeff turned to face him. Who wants to know?

My name’s Bill Anderson. I work for your cousin, Cooper Heath. He would like to see you extradited to the United States to stand trial for the murder of Elise Heath. He quickly pulled a handgun from a shoulder harness inside his coat and aimed the gun at Jeff.

Hold on now, what’s going on? Ed said as he stepped forward.

Whoever you are—stay out of this! Anderson reached for a pair of handcuffs on his belt. He called out to the two policemen in the building, This man is wanted for murder in the United States. There’s a reward.

Okay, Anderson, give me just a minute, Jeff said as he handed Ed the letter for Callie’s father. Please see that Mr. Forte gets this.

I’ll see to it—remember what I just told you about helping others?

Yes, sir. You can’t help others from a jail cell.

Anderson moved toward Jeff with the handcuffs in one hand and his gun in the other. Put the cup on the counter and turn around, he commanded.

Jeff slowly raised his hands, and then threw his coffee in the man’s face. Anderson cried out. Jeff threw him to the floor. The gun came out of his hand sliding across the floor into a corner. Jeff sprinted out the door. Running between tied-down airplanes, he reached the edge of the tarmac and climbed over a five-foot fence. Ahead of him lay a four-lane roadway for airport traffic. He dashed across, the sound of horns and squealing tires rang in his ears as cars braked for him.

Operating on pure adrenaline, he ran full speed into the airport parking lot. The sun had set, but the area was illuminated with incandescent streetlights. He clung to the shadows. Crouching down behind a car to catch his breath, Jeff looked back toward Maiquetía Aviación, and watched as the two policemen and Anderson crossed the four-lane thoroughfare. Once the three made it to the other side of the road, they stopped. Jeff watched as they used hand signals pointing in different directions before splitting up.

Looking for an escape route, he dashed to a bus at the north end of the lot and boarded it just as it pulled away.

Jeff heard a gunshot. Looking out the window, he saw the pursuing policeman pointing his firearm straight up into the air. Watch out, pal. What goes up must come down. Everyone in the bus turned to see the source of the noise. The bus driver shook his head, and after a moment, the people on the bus faced the front as if nothing had happened.

The bus traveled a few kilometers and then stopped. Jeff descended the steps with several young men in uniform. Jeff stood on the street corner and watched them go inside a café. A taxi sped by him.

Quickly crossing the street, he went to the opposite corner. I’ll have to hire one going back to the airport empty, he thought as he paced back and forth on the corner. Five minutes later, he spotted a taxi inbound to the airport. He ran a few feet into the street and hailed the driver who braked hard and pulled to the curb.

Jeff got in and said, Las Mercedes, Café American, Veintidos, Avenida Roosevelt, por favor. The address of the Café American, one of the few places I know in Caracas.

"Si," the driver responded doing a U-turn in the street.

Jeff collapsed in the seat. About five minutes into the trip, they passed the bus he’d been on. Two police cars, one blocking the front and one pulled directly behind, had stopped it.

He closed his eyes for a long moment and then reopened them. The twinkling lights on the skyline of Caracas were in sight.

CHAPTER 1

Obsessions

Alston Station, South Carolina

July 8, 1990

W hat happened? Cooper asked.

I tried to handcuff Jeff Radcliffe at the general aviation terminal at the Simón Bolívar Airport.

You caught up with him, but he got away?

I’m sorry, Mr. Heath. I was holding a gun on him. That usually convinces people to come peacefully. I thought I had some backup. There were two policemen in the lobby. I told them your cousin was wanted for murder in the United States. I offered them money to help me take him in.

With all the corruption in Venezuela, I understand why you chose to act on your own.

I wasn’t expecting your cousin to throw a cup of hot coffee in my face.

Jeff has always been resourceful.

Dr. Forte’s remains had been taken to the general aviation terminal. I had no way of knowing if he would be in the building or if he was on his way out the door. I thought I could take him.

I suppose the police didn’t either.

No, sir. He got on a bus, but when the police stopped it, Radcliffe wasn’t on board.

So you’re telling me he’s Houdini.

No, sir, he just made the slip. The bus stopped once before it was pulled over by the police. He must have gotten off there.

All right, Anderson. Tomorrow morning, check around the neighborhood where you think he got off. Maybe somebody saw him. If you can’t find anything out about him go back to Puerto San Marcos. If you come up empty-handed, get on an airplane back to the US.

Yes, sir. I did go to a police precinct and offer a reward for his arrest. They photocopied the picture I had of him. The cop I spoke with said that other precincts would be notified. I’ll circle back around with them and call you tomorrow.

Cooper hung up the phone and lay back down beside Mills.

That was a late phone call, she softly said.

Bill Anderson caught up with Jeff in Venezuela, but he got away.

Mills put her head on his shoulder and rubbed him on the chest. Obsessions aren’t healthy.

Is that what I’m doing? Obsessing over Jeff?

You don’t get mad often, so I know it when you do.

Furious is a better word.

From what you told me, Jeff had become close to the doctor down there. He’s hurting right now.

I’m sure he’s in pain.

My mother used to tell me and Viv that life on earth could be heaven or hell depending on what we made of it. I expect Jeff’s life is a living hell—always afraid that someone’s following him.

You think he has a conscience?

I do. I think his life will be very lonely.

Tell me why.

When he gets close to someone, they end up dead. I think he’ll be afraid to be near anyone.

Yes, but he’s free.

Is he really?

I want him tried for murder. He betrayed me, along with— Jeff stayed with Dr. Forte until Anderson arrived. She must have been very important to him, Cooper thought.

Mills placed his hand on her bulging abdomen. Think about something good in our lives: our baby.

He rubbed his hand around her belly. I’ll think about our baby and you. He kissed her repeatedly and then whispered, Good night.

The next morning, Cooper knocked on the door at his Aunt Jennifer and Uncle Robert’s home in Charleston. His aunt opened the door. When she saw Cooper standing on the front porch she smiled and invited him inside.

How nice to see you. What brings you? she asked.

Is Uncle Robert here? I was hoping to speak to both of you together.

Is something wrong?

I have . . . information for you.

Cooper followed his aunt into their library where his uncle sat on a couch reading. As soon as he saw Cooper enter the room, he closed the book and rose from his seat.

Jennifer twisted her rings on her left ring finger. Cooper has something to tell us.

Sit down, Robert said.

The couple sat down on the couch opposite of Cooper.

Jeff’s in Venezuela.

Jennifer and Robert eyes locked and then she asked, Is he all right?

He was when he was last seen.

What do you mean? Robert asked.

He was involved with an American doctor. She was working with a missionary organization to provide health care in a rural part of the country.

His uncle rubbed the back of his neck.

Her name was Callie Forte. She was kidnapped and killed.

Dear God.

Jeff was involved in a rescue attempt, but she had been murdered the day before trying to escape.

Jennifer shook her head. Oh, how awful.

Where is Jeff?

My investigator lost him at the Simón Bolívar Airport.

Then he escaped.

Yes, sir, he did. Cooper stood up. I just wanted to let you know about Jeff.

Jennifer and Robert rose from the couch. Please let us know if you learn more. Robert extended his right hand to Cooper for a handshake. Trouble seems to follow Jeff.

I’ll let myself out.

We’re heartbroken. We love and miss him, Jennifer said.

As Cooper left the room, he glanced back at his aunt and uncle. They were gazing into each other’s eyes and holding hands.

CHAPTER 2

The Escape

July 9, 1990

Caracas, Venezuela

I ’ll take the whole bottle, Jeff said to the bartender at the hotel bar. He had chosen to stay at a small hotel, La Vista Del Parque, in the Las Mercedes neighborhood. It wasn’t the Princess, but it was clean and in a good area of town.

He took the bottle of bourbon, sat down at a table in the corner of the room, and poured a glass. His first sip slid down his throat and warmed his stomach. It was past midnight. He hadn’t eaten, and the alcohol went instantly into his system. The tension in his neck muscles relaxed. He took several more sips and began to feel lightheaded. He thought of Callie. If we had just found her a little earlier, we could have saved her. Damnit, just one day earlier—and she died so that someone else could live. Those bastards.

He looked up toward the bar and noticed a dark-haired woman in a halter dress staring at him. When their eyes met, she gave him a large smile. Oh, hell no. Jeff picked up his bottle and went into the hotel lobby. The elevator stood open, and he quickly walked into the carrier. He pushed the button for the third floor, and the car slowly rose. He stepped out on his floor and went to his room. He placed the Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob, went in, and locked the door behind him. Even I know enough Spanish to understand, No molestar.

He went to the window and looked out. Adjacent to the hotel was a small park. There were several couples sitting on benches, and Jeff watched as they snuggled against each other. He felt an overwhelming sadness as he closed the drapes and collapsed on his bed. Although his mind was cloudy from exhaustion and alcohol, one thought would not go away: What am I going to do?

Jeff woke from a troubled sleep. Images of the Venezuelan woman who had sewn Callie’s hair into her beret tortured him throughout the night. He looked at his watch: three o’clock. On the nightstand stood the bottle of bourbon—half full.

He rubbed the stubble on his chin. I bet Ed’s wondering where I am. Jeff struggled to get out of bed, then slowly walked across the room to open the drapes. Sunlight blinded him. He glanced at his watch again and realized that it was three in the afternoon and not three in the morning. I slept for almost fifteen hours.

He entered the bathroom and turned on the water in the sink. Looking at himself in the mirror, he stared at the dark circles under his eyes. He splashed water on his face over and over. Callie, I’m going to miss everything about you. Then he thought of the kidnappers and their brutality. As he shot the five men in the initial phase of the mission, he’d felt no remorse. I felt horrible about Elise and even the young men I shot to save Esmeralda, but not this time. His mind drifted to the woman who had butchered Callie’s hair to make a wig of sorts for herself, and the fire of hatred in her eyes.

Anger surged through his body and sweat beaded up on his chest. Something Clareta said after she tended Callie’s body came to mind. Wicked men who prey on innocent people should be wiped off the face of the earth. And what was it Ed said? You can pay tribute to Callie by making it your goal to help others, like she did. You can’t do that from a jail cell. With renewed composure and resolve, Jeff turned off the water, dried his face, and stared at himself in the mirror. He thought of Marcel.

Walking back to his bed, he picked up the phone from the nightstand, but hesitated once he held the receiver. I wonder if it’s safe to use the public phone system? What the hell! I need to thank Señor Santiago and tell him about Callie. And Ed. I want to let him know I’m alive. He’ll be worried about me. Another person came to mind, and he picked up his wallet from the nightstand. He thumbed through a few notes until he came to the phone number of Arianne Bellamy in Marseille, France.

Jeff entered the high-rise building where Alejandro Santiago occupied the penthouse suite. Arturo Blanco waited for him in the lobby. He shook Jeff’s hand. Come with me. Señor Santiago is expecting you. We are all very sorry about Dr. Forte.

Thank you, Jeff nodded and got in the elevator beside Blanco. The elevator quickly rose to the penthouse level and the doors opened. As he stepped into the lobby, Jeff inhaled the fragrant scent of lavender.

Señor Santiago will see you in his office. This way.

Jeff followed Blanco down the hallway. They passed the dining room where he and Marcel had richly dined the evening they’d rescued Esmeralda. Blanco stopped in front of a room on the left side of the hall and knocked.

"Entre," a man said from inside the office.

Blanco opened the door and Santiago immediately stood up from behind his desk. He crossed the room to shake Jeff’s hand and then hugged him.

Please, sit down. He motioned with his hand to a couple of leather chairs. Blanco left the room, closing the door behind him. What happened is a tragedy. I know you must be distraught, but tell me, after Callie’s Range Rover was spotted in Elda, what happened?

Some of Señor Fuentes' men followed the man driving her truck. They were able to find the kidnappers’ camp. One of the men, Lobo, went in for a close look. He saw Callie and three other male hostages. The men were chained to posts.

Barbarians, he murmured, his face tense with wrinkles.

It turned out there was a power play among the kidnappers, and one named Leonardo killed the leader, Andrés. At some point during the chaos, Callie grabbed the keys to the shackles, released the other hostages, and made a run for it. Callie was shot when she pushed a German out of the way of a trigger-happy thug. They recaptured the remaining hostages.

Santiago shook his head. She sacrificed herself for someone else—she is a saint. If only my man in Elda had just spotted her Range Rover earlier.

If is a very sad word. ‘If’ applies to everything I wish could have been different. If I had gone with her to Las Palmas. If we’d been able to go into the kidnappers’ camp sooner. A feeling of extreme sadness overwhelmed him. I will miss her.

I know you will. What happened to the other hostages?

We saved them. They’re probably with their families.

I know it’s hard, but try to think of the people that you helped rescue. Think of the happiness and relief you have brought their families.

But I didn’t save the one I loved the most.

What happened to the kidnappers?

Of the ones we found, they’re all dead.

A wry smile appeared on Santiago’s face then faded. He took Jeff’s hands in his and bowed his head saying a prayer for Callie. Jeff’s eyelids drooped shut. When Santiago finished, Jeff glanced up at him.

Where are you going and what will you do? Santiago asked.

I haven’t decided for sure, but I intend to look up Marcel Renaud.

I’ve told you this before: you are welcome to join my corporation. I have interests all over the world.

Marcel mentioned an opportunity months ago. I may investigate that first.

What type of opportunity?

Working with an international security firm.

As a sharpshooter?

I’m not sure, but I’m guessing my marksmanship would play a role in getting a job.

Where are you going?

To France.

Esmeralda and I visit often. There’s no visa requirement for Venezuelan citizens to go there. There is, however, a time limit on how long you can remain. Just a minute.

He took a sheet of paper from his desk. I’m writing down that you are my representative. You are traveling to France to research business investments in real estate and shipping. After he finished penning the missive, Santiago placed the letter in an envelope and handed it to Jeff. It’s on my company letterhead.

Thank you for your help. I don’t think it will take long to decide if that kind of work is for me.

If it isn’t, get in touch with me. He rubbed his hand along the side of the leather chair. Sometimes things seem very bleak. You must not let the darkness interfere with moving forward to the light. You must have hope.

Callie’s words.

You can stay here in the penthouse for as long as you like.

Oh no, not with Esmeralda around. Thank you, but I’m going to Puerto San Marcos to say good-bye to friends.

Jeff stood. Thank you for everything you’ve done to help me. The satellite phone you loaned me is at the Fuentes’ ranch. I’ll ask them to return it to you.

Don’t worry about the phone. Just a minute, I have something to show you.

Santiago went to his desk and picked up a newspaper. A photo of Callie was on the front page. "This is one of Caracas’s daily newspapers, El Universal. The article was written by a reporter, Lucas Cabello. Two nights ago, the newspaper received a tip that Dr. Forte had been killed and her body was at the general aviation terminal at Simón Bolívar. The reporters got there just in time for your fight with a private detective from the United States. If they intended to take a good picture of you, they were ill-prepared for a photo shoot. He turned to page eight where the article continued. There was a photograph of Jeff in a struggle with Bill Anderson. They got a decent snapshot of your back. Underneath the photo taken at Maiquetía Aviación was Jeff from the shoulders up. This one is pretty good." Santiago said as he pointed to it. A picture from my real estate days in Charleston. Photo courtesy of Bill Anderson.

It says here you’re wanted for crimes in the United States and there’s a reward offered for information leading to your arrest. Santiago looked him in the eye. You should disguise yourself. Here. He handed him the newspaper, and Jeff tucked it under his arm. Feeling somewhat speechless, Jeff managed a soft, Thank you.

Santiago opened the door to his office and motioned with his hand. I’ll show you out.

They walked through the penthouse and when they reached the front entrance, Santiago gave him a hug and repeated what he had said earlier. You must have hope.

Why are you so kind to me? Jeff asked.

I told you before. You saved the most precious person in my life. I am very loyal.

Jeff thanked him again and went inside the elevator. He could see Santiago standing in the doorway of his penthouse watching him until the doors closed. I hope he never finds out what Esmeralda is really like.

CHAPTER 3

Leaving Venezuela

W hat have you done to yourself? Ed asked.

I dyed my hair, Jeff replied.

The plane is ready to go if you are.

Is the engine repaired?

Yes, working fine.

Let’s go then, Jeff said as he climbed aboard the Cessna 310.

As Jeff strapped himself in, Ed opened up an aviation chart. How are you?

It’s as if my heart’s been ripped out.

Ed nodded. Clareta and I feel the same way.

Jeff could feel the sting of tears in his eyes.

Ed pointed to a spot on the map. Take a look. We’re here at Oscar Machado just south of Caracas. We’ll depart to the northeast and land at the grass strip near Puerto San Marcos. After you handle your business there, we’ll head southeast to a town just below the border of Guyana, in Brazil. The town is named Boa Vista.

Jeff tried to think of something to say to get his mind off his misery. What does Boa Vista mean?

It’s Portuguese for good view. Ed traced the route with his finger. From Boa Vista you’ll have one stop at Manaus which is in the middle of the Amazon rainforest. Then on to Rio de Janeiro.

"That’s