Aja Minor: Shanghaied (A Psychic Crime Thriller Series Book 5)

By Chris Bliersbach

Aja gets caught in the Black Widow’s web. First, trapped on a remote island. Then compelled to abandon the allegiances she holds dear.

Aja knowingly sacrificed herself to save twenty girls from the Spider’s Web child trafficking network. She also gave herself up thinking it would free Marsha and two other SHIELD team colleagues. Unfortunately, she never should have trusted that the Black Widow would hold up her end of the bargain.

So now, she and Marsha find themselves in the same predicament. Confined to a remote island and forced to survive under the most primitive and extreme conditions. Until the Black Widow whisks them off the island, separates them, and compels Aja to cooperate in a most unexpected project. A project that will have Aja compromising more than just her allegiance to SHIELD.

Will Aja’s actions doom her crime-fighting career? And where is Marsha? Is she being tempted or tortured into traitorous actions too? And, most importantly, will either of them survive the Black Widow’s clutches?

Aja Minor: Shanghaied is the fifth book in the Aja Minor psychic crime thrillers series, including Aja Minor: Gifted or Cursed, Aja Minor: Fountain of Youth, Aja Minor: Predatorville, and Aja Minor: Spider’s Web. Fans of fierce female protagonists with unique powers who overcome adversity will find a home in this series.

A portion of the proceeds from this series is donated to the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children, established in 1984 to help find missing children, reduce child sexual exploitation, and prevent child victimization.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Bliersbach
• Release date: Mar 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9781005394141

Chris Bliersbach

Chris Bliersbach is originally from Minnesota but now thaws out in Nevada. In 2019, after 38 years in healthcare, he pursued his dream of becoming a writer. He has since published 17 books, primarily in four thriller series.The Table for Four series is a medical thriller about a blockbuster cure for Alzheimer's that has ominous and unforeseen consequences. Books in this series include Table for Four, Dying to Recall, and Memory's Hope. A portion of the profits from this series are donated to the Alzheimer's Foundation of America.The Aja Minor series is a psychic crime thriller about a teenager who discovers she has unique powers, earning her an invitation to join the FBI. Books in this series include Aja Minor: Gifted or Cursed, Aja Minor: Fountain of Youth, Aja Minor: Predatorville, Aja Minor: Spider's Web, and Aja Minor: Shanghaied. The sixth book in this series, Aja Minor: Island of Lost Souls, is scheduled for publication in January 2024. A portion of the profits from this series are donated to the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children.The Slaughter Minnesota Horror series is an occult thriller about a vengeful old lady terrorizing a Northern Minnesota town. Books in this series include Old Lady Ketchel's Revenge, Hagatha Ketchel Unhinged, and Hagatha's Century of Terror.The Metronome Man series is a serial killer thriller about a man whose abusive and neglectful upbringing breeds an unhealthy obsession and murderous rage. Books in this series include The Metronome Man: Bad Timing, The Metronome Man: Dead on Arrival, and The Metronome Man: Not My First Rodeo.He has also published a standalone inspirational romance novel Loving You From My Grave, and two poetry books, Little Bird on My Balcony and Adilynn's Lullaby.

Book preview

I guess I shouldn’t have been shocked that the Black Widow didn’t keep her promise about freeing Marsha. But it occurred to me that had I been put on this island alone, I wouldn’t have truly known that she was released or even alive. Instead, my mind would have tortured me with constant wonder. Just like how I now worried whether Josh and Tia had been safely returned. Or whether Special Ops Commander Raymond and his team found my tracking device and rescued the 20 girls, including Halle Williams, Yuna Li, and Lexi Jaubert. So, in a way, seeing Marsha alive gave me a measure of relief I wouldn’t have had otherwise.

Marsha and I had been apart for 12 days, which felt more like 12 years. We had a lot of catching up to do. But considering we were on a remote island somewhere in the East China Sea, we’d have ample opportunity to do so.

Marsha was in her underwear, and I only wanted to rip off my clothes. Not so much for carnal purposes but rather due to the oppressive heat. It was early August, and hot and humid even in the dead of night.

Jeez, it’s like a steambath here. Why are you standing by the fire? I asked as I started to peel off my clothes.

Mostly to keep mosquitoes and other bugs off me. And if you think it’s hot now, just wait until the sun comes up.

As if to confirm Marsha’s point, I promptly had to slap a mosquito that had the audacity to bite my recently bared belly.

See what I mean? Get over here before they eat you alive.

I obliged and, like a rotisserie, started turning myself by the fire.

I didn’t know you were such a talented builder, I said, looking at the shack behind us.

Oh, I didn’t build that. That was here, thank God.

So someone lived here before us?

Apparently. And whoever it was must have had a machete or something to chop down the bamboo.

Are there other people here?

No. I’ve been all over this island. It’s just us.

Us and the mosquitoes, I exclaimed, slapping another one that bit me on the arm.

So tell me, what happened after they took me? And how did they catch you? Marsha asked.

They didn’t catch me. I came here voluntarily, thinking you, Josh, and Tia would be returned.

Josh and Tia were taken too? How?

Maybe I should go back and fill you in on what happened after you were abducted, I said, slapping another mosquito feasting on my neck.

Yeah, cuz last I knew, Josh and Tia were at Langley working on technology that mimics your powers.

So I told Marsha how Jazz, Richie, and I had searched for her. That the entire team came to Boston to look for her. How we gained access to the area attached to the Highmore Plaza hotel. Which we subsequently learned were both owned by the Black Widow’s Zhizhu Enterprises. How Josh and Tia went undercover as newlyweds at the hotel as the rest of the team returned to Langley. The shootout at our house when Lars saved me but was critically injured. How the Black Widow left a message on the CIA switchboard demanding I give myself up in exchange for her, Josh, and Tia. And finally, how I ended up on a container ship and why I removed my tracking device to save the girls I knew were onboard.

Wow, Marsha exclaimed for about the fourth time during my soliloquy. What about Buddy? Who’s taking care of him?

Lars's family, I replied. The mention of that lovable bundle of excitable energy caused us both to shed some tears.

The mosquitoes are just swarming all over your neck. You better let me take a look, she said, trying to shoo them away and reaching to lift my hair. Careful not to pull my necklace with the butterfly pendant I hadn’t removed since it was returned to me after the Fountain of Youth case.

Jesus, Aja, that doesn't look good. No wonder the mosquitoes are having a field day, Marsha exclaimed.

What? What's it look like?

Well, it doesn't look good unless you're a mosquito. Lots of dried blood, and it's red and puffy around the open wound where the tracking device must have been. Let me get something to clean it up some, she said, striding off towards the shack and returning with a cloth and a bottle of water.

Where did you get those? I asked.

They were here. Which is fortunate because the only other source of freshwater on the island is catching the rain. I also have a large bag of rice, which has been my main food source besides fish, she said as she wet the cloth and carefully cleaned the back of my neck.

Oww, I howled.

Jeez, I'm sorry. I barely touched it. I'm afraid it might be infected.

I don't suppose you have any antibacterial ointment handy.

Unfortunately not. I wish I knew more about natural remedies. I'm sure some of these trees and plants must have healing properties.

Yeah, I'm no naturopath either. What about salt in seawater? Would that help?

Ou, I wouldn't try that. I can't even imagine all the possible bad things in the water.

What if we boil it? I added.

Hmm, I think it's safer to use fresh water to clean it and then cover it with something to keep the dirt, sweat, and bugs away.

Okay, what do we cover it with?

Well, step on over here to my pharmacy, she said, taking a few steps from the small clearing to a wall of trees and plants. What looks medicinal?

Hmm, these heart-shaped leaves on those bamboo-like stems look interesting, I said.

Well, let's try one, Marsha said, pulling a leaf off. This should do the trick. Hold your hair up.

I obliged while Marsha poured fresh water on the leaf and my wound. Then she held the leaf against the back of my neck.

I'm just going to hold this here for a minute, and hopefully, it will adhere to your skin.

My arms were tired from holding my hair up when she announced, Success, after removing her hand.

Let’s hope it’s not like some Chinese poison ivy or something, I replied, letting my hair fall back into place.

Well, you picked it out, so I can’t be held responsible, Marsha exclaimed, smiling.

I just said it looked interesting. You’re the one who forced it on me without my informed consent. I might have to sue, I countered.

Good luck finding a lawyer, Marsha jabbed.

The fact that we could joke in the face of dire circumstances wasn’t surprising. We had gone through so many trials and tribulations in our short but intense relationship. So there was no reason not to think we could overcome this too. But, of course, I had only been there a few hours. So the reality of our predicament hadn’t fully sunk in. And as I was to learn, Marsha’s experiences over the twelve days there brought a perspective I couldn’t fully appreciate.

Chapter 2: Trying to Adapt

I was exhausted when we retired but ended up listening to Marsha snore more than getting any sleep. She somehow found the bamboo bed covered in leafy fronds comfortable, even with me now taking up a portion of it. Normally, our bodies touching while sleeping wouldn’t have been an issue. But not now. The heat, bugs, foreign sounds, and pitch-black darkness conspired against cuddling or sleeping – at least for me. Consequently, I was nearly delirious from lack of sleep when Marsha woke up reasonably refreshed.

How can you sleep here? I exclaimed as Marsha stretched and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

You get used to it. I didn’t really sleep for the first couple of days, she said as we stepped out of the darkness of the shack into the light of breaking dawn.

Look at me. I have so many bug bites that I look like a human pin cushion! I said, inspecting my body.

Yeah, you’ll get used to that too. Plus, I have found a remedy for that. Follow me, she said, striding up the small path I had used the previous evening.

Where are we going? I whined, not particularly up for a hike.

For our spa treatment and to pick up breakfast, she replied.

Yeah, sure, I responded. And I suppose we’re going to the hair salon this afternoon? I added sarcastically.

No, but I thought we might go clothes shopping after breakfast. There’s a lovely little boutique not too far from us.

Have you lost your mind? I said, only half joking.

No, but I probably would have by now if I hadn’t decided to focus on what I have here versus what I don’t have. You’ll see.

Alright, if you say so, I sighed. How much farther to the spa?

Just up ahead. Nothing on this island is very far, she replied brightly.

And soon, the dense vegetation and trees abruptly ended, opening up to a beach with an endless sea ahead of us. I stopped and squinted as my eyes adjusted to the unfiltered sun. Marsha continued on until she was standing in mud up to her ankles.

Come on, time for your mud bath, she announced, bending to pick up a handful of mud and spreading it over her shoulder and down her arm.

Really?

Yes, really. Believe me, you’ll thank me. When it dries, it prevents bug bites and protects your skin. I got the worst sunburn before I found this place.

I took a few tentative steps and felt my feet sucked into the mud.

Now, just start rubbing it all over you, Marsha prompted. I’ll get your back, and you can do mine.

I followed Marsha’s lead and was covered with mud head-to-toe before long. Then, having to hold up my hair again to let Marsha do my back.

I see the leaf we put on your wound is still there, Marsha exclaimed. How does it feel?

It feels fine. I forgot it was even there, I replied.

Well, that’s a good sign, I think. Do you want me to take a look at it? I can always put another one on.

Sure.

Marsha carefully peeled the leaf back.

Oh, you know what? It looks better.

Really?

Yeah, the swelling is down, and it looks less angry.

So I won’t need to sue you for malpractice?

I guess not. After we check the fish trap, we’ll go back and put a new leaf on it.

Fish trap? You made a fish trap?

No, that was another thing I found when I got here. And it works. At least some days, she added as we extricated ourselves from the mud and returned to the trail that now appeared to trace the island's circumference.

So you haven’t seen anyone the entire time you’ve been here?

Nope, Marsha replied. I’ve seen ships in the distance, but nothing that ever seems to come close to the island.

So why put us out here?

To get us out of the way without compromising her leverage, Marsha replied, referencing Dr. Leann Xiong, AKA the Black Widow.

Yeah, but what is her end game?

Well, for her, I imagine it’s more wealth and power to remain anonymous and untouchable, Marsha exclaimed. But for us, I’m not sure. So, besides using us as bargaining chips, the question is, what can we offer her that she couldn’t obtain without us?

You’ve thought a lot about this, I replied.

I’ve had a lot of time and not many distractions, she replied as the trail turned toward a rocky outcropping that extended into the sea.

You’re not suggesting we cooperate to give her something she wants, are you?

Well, not if it compromises our values, she responded as we stepped from rock to rock toward the end of the rocky peninsula.

She abuses and exploits children! Why would we ever cooperate with her even if it was for one of her honorable ventures?

I hear ya, Aja. I was in that same emotional space when I got here. But now, I’m beginning to wonder.

Wonder or cave? I asked, getting upset as we reached the last rock.

You know me better than that, Aja. I don’t cave. Even if I’m stuck on a remote island with limited resources, she replied, grabbing hold of a cord whose one end was attached to a branch wedged between the rocks. Then she started to reel in what was submerged on the other end.

All I’m saying is that the Black Widow is obviously very smart and practical. And as unlikely as it may seem, there may be something up her sleeve we haven’t thought about. I can’t imagine she’d risk what she’s done without a sound plan guaranteed to succeed.

I wanted to respond but was too engrossed in what she was pulling in.

Looks like we’re having fish with our rice this morning, Marsha announced excitedly as the fish trap broke the surface.

What kind of fish is that? I asked, looking at two slender silvery fish no more than 8 inches long.

Hell if I know, Marsha exclaimed. All I know is they make a tasty accompaniment to rice.

For the time being, the question of the Black Widow’s mysterious intentions was put on hold as the more fundamental issue of feeding ourselves took over. The sun had already baked the mud dry on our bodies. And wading back into the dense jungle provided only a modicum of relief from the intense heat and humidity. My stomach growled in anticipation as we made our way to camp. My belly and me unaware that it would be nearly two hours before we could enjoy our catch and satisfy our hunger.

Meanwhile, after applying a new leaf to my wound, Marsha taught me the best place to gather kindling and firewood, start and tend to the fire, and clean fish. Fortunately, whoever occupied this camp previously, left a flint and a small knife. Otherwise, those chores would have been much more difficult.

Why don’t we use the wood and kindling you have in the shack? I whined as we foraged around in the woods near our camp. Still dragging from sleep deprivation.

Because that’s for when it rains. I always grab a little extra kindling and firewood for the emergency supply. We’re on a tropical island, and from what I know about tropical islands, they are subject to typhoons and monsoons. So better safe than sorry.

When is monsoon season?

That I don’t know. We might be in it right now. It has rained every 2 to 3 days. All I know is that our camp is on the island's highest point. Which I don’t think is an accident.

How do you know that? I asked, beginning to sound like a two-year-old who incessantly questions everything.

Because the runoff when it rains heads away from the camp.

I was beginning to realize that Marsha’s headspace was fundamentally different from mine. And why shouldn’t it have been? She had been here nearly two weeks all alone. She didn’t have the luxury of feeling sorry for herself. She had to focus on adapting and surviving. While I had a woe-is-me attitude about being stuck here and not getting enough sleep. When only 24 hours ago, I was gorging myself on a sumptuous catered Italian feast from Mama’s restaurant. If anything, I was the one who should have been doing the heavy lifting and propping Marsha up.

Why don’t you go back and clean the fish, I said. I’ll gather the wood.

You sure? Marsha asked.

Yes, I’m sure. You shouldn’t have to do everything now that I’m here.

As Marsha headed off toward camp, I gathered wood and racked my brain for an answer to the question Marsha had posed earlier about the Black Widow. What can we offer her that she couldn’t obtain without us?

After thirty minutes, I collected and delivered enough firewood to last several days. But I wasn’t any closer to finding an answer to the question.

Our fish and rice breakfast was better than I had anticipated. However, I could have really used a couple of cups of coffee. When I mentioned it to Marsha, she told me she suffered a two-day headache from caffeine withdrawal.

So when can I expect my headache? I asked.

Probably tomorrow or the next day. I had the quadruple whammy. No caffeine, no protein consumption, hardly any sleep, and a sunburn. It wasn’t until Day 4 that I caught fish and found the mud bath.

So you’re saying I should only have a double-whammy headache?

Yes, in my expert medical opinion, she replied with a smile.

I’m going to hold you to that, Dr. Swenson.

I wouldn’t expect anything less, Miss Minor. Now, what do you say we retire to our little bungalow and take a mid-morning nap?

Why, doctor, isn’t sleeping with your patients a breach of your professional ethics?

My only oath is to do no harm.

But what if I enjoy a bit of pain, I responded lasciviously.

Then I will try my best to satisfy that need.

Then lead the way, doctor, I replied.

My pleasure. Follow me, she said, standing up and sashaying toward the hut.

What about the fire? I asked.

She turned and gave me a smoldering look.

Let it burn. Now get in here so we can start a real fire.

I stood up and did as the doctor ordered.

Chapter 3: Dwindling Resources

On my 14th day on the island and Marsha’s 26th, we were beginning to believe that perhaps the Black Widow didn’t have any plans for us other than letting us rot on the island. I survived my caffeine withdrawal and finally got acclimated enough to sleep. My neck wound healed after a week of daily cleaning and applying the heart-shaped leaves.

Marsha and I got into a comfortable daily routine. Given the oppressive heat, most of our chores were reserved for early morning and after sunset. To ward off boredom during the long periods in between, we taught ourselves new skills like fashioning island wear by weaving palm leaves. Trading out our now ratty underwear for our primitive creations, including sandals using a combination of leaves and plastic from water jugs.

Our rice supply was dwindling, and catching fish was hit and miss. And our unvarying diet was getting old for me and intolerable for Marsha. So unbearable that she was ready to add bugs, lizards, and frogs to our menu. And that I didn’t find this suggestion gross, disgusting, and unacceptable told me something.

Fresh water was also becoming an issue. We had consumed all the bottled water from the supply of 1-gallon jugs, which now served to catch rainwater. So we built a water harvesting station with rock and mud walls where the empty jugs sat secured under a gap in the jungle’s canopy. And given the frequent showers and occasional deluges, fresh water had not yet become a crisis. However, not knowing the precipitation patterns, neither of us was comfortable relying solely on rain. The weather pattern could change anytime, leaving us high and dry.

Then there was the concern about inadequate nutrition and weight loss. Which wasn’t yet a crisis for either of us. However, we knew that the lack of a balanced diet and continued weight loss would eventually adversely affect us mentally, emotionally, and physically. And if left unattended too long, we’d die.

So you can imagine our excitement when we heard the rumble of an engine from a vessel near the island. Despite our depleted conditions and immodest clothing, we sprinted down the trail toward the sound. Arriving on the beach, just as a small boat carrying two men cut the engine and glided to a stop on the sandy shore. In the distance was a familiar-looking yacht. I recognized the men as well, both of whom were armed.

Get in. The Black Widow wants to meet with you, commanded the man who wasn’t operating the outboard motor.

We must have been a sight to see with our mud-caked semi-naked bodies and disheveled, split-end, dried-out hair that hadn’t seen a comb, brush, shampoo, or conditioner for weeks. Despite this, we really didn’t have any other option but to cooperate. So we approached the boat. I don’t know how Marsha felt then, but I was more self-conscious about my revealing attire than frightened. Although the men weren’t triggering any of my warning signals. Which was reassuring since my history with men and yachts had been fairly traumatic.

He helped us into the boat without any gratuitous ogling or taking liberties. And both remained perfect gentlemen as the little outboard motor pushed us slowly through the slight chop of the waves.

Once