by Dana Marton
“Better if you let the warm breeze dry you, first.” He was already moving into the other direction.
She made a split second decision, linked her arm with his and went with him. There was no telling for how long the other two women would stay away and he might not want to talk business once they came back.
“My team sets up offices for companies who want a presence on the island. We do everything from finding the appropriate location to doing background checks on the staff.”
“A full-service company.”
“Right.”
“I talked to a colleague of yours at the pageant. Samantha Hanley, I believe. And also heard about you from a friend of mine, David Granov.”
“He is a client with a broad set of requirements. We are striving to meet all of them. I hope he’s satisfied.” They were doing considerable money laundering for the man.
“Sings your praises,” Cavanaugh said.
“And what business are you in?”
“International shipping.”
“You already have an office on the island?”
“My company’s headquarters are here.”
“If you ever need expanding, let me know.”
“I’m pondering it at the moment,” he said. “Like David, I also have a broad range of needs that must be filled.” He stopped and gave her a meaningful look.
His women caught up with them, dripping wet and giggling, each holding a bottle of rum and a can of caviar.
Anita kept her attention on Cavanaugh. She had him on the hook.
She repressed the excitement that bubbled up inside her and acted cool and confident. “Mind if I give you a call sometime this week to talk more about this? Maybe Monday?” she pushed.
“Call my secretary and tell her I said to squeeze you into my schedule,” he said. “Will you come share in our bounty?”
She wasn’t exactly sure just what that sharing meant. Looked like the women were pulling him toward a secluded spot on the beach. Anita was eager to tell the rest of her team about the development, that they finally had Cavanaugh. They were one step away from Tsernyakov.
They had the breakthrough they’d been hoping for, a direct-line connection to the man who had eluded all attempts of capture for the last decade. And it was their team, not professionals, who’d done it. She didn’t want to waste any time before updating the others and she wanted to have her clothes on, eager for her earpiece so any further information that she could get from Cavanaugh could be heard by the rest of the team.
“I better go for my costume before the incoming tide gets it. See you later?”
“I hope so,” he said, and strolled off, letting himself be steered by the women.
Anita turned to head back. She hadn’t realized how far they’d walked off as they’d talked. A group of people headed toward the beach from the dance floor, shedding costumes as they walked. Except for one. The others dashed into the water and swam for the buoys. The one that still had the black costume on kept walking toward Anita. The moonlight glinted off the white skull and crossbones in the middle—the pirate flag. His movements seemed familiar. Nick? No, not tall enough.
And not a man, at all. The black vision of death was a woman, Anita realized as they got closer to each other and she could make out the shape of the body under the folds of dark cloth. The guest’s face was covered with black paint.
Something in the way the woman moved made the little hairs rise at Anita’s nape. She looked around for Brant. Where was he?
The guest slipped her right hand into the material, still heading straight forward. Anita slowed. Going toward the dance floor, she would have to cross paths with the woman. She decided to listen to her instincts and not do that. Going toward the water didn’t seem like the right solution, either, so she angled her feet toward the area where construction machines slept on the sand, cordoned off by yellow ribbon, waiting for the morning.
The woman changed direction, as well.
Anita walked faster, cursing herself for not being more assertive about Cavanaugh waiting for her while she dressed. As it was, she was out of the loop with no radio connection to the team.
Her pursuer picked up pace, too. She was pulling from her dress a small, black object Anita couldn’t identify. She had to keep her attention on the uneven sand ahead of her, look at the jungle of machinery and figure out where she was going to go.
She glanced toward the dance floor and the beach again, but couldn’t make out Brant. If Nick was one of the men, he was disguised well enough so she didn’t recognize him.
She would have to save herself this time. And hadn’t the mission prepared her exactly for that? She could do this, had to do this.
Get into cover. Fast.
Make a plan.
She turned back to see whether the woman was catching up with her yet. Closer, but not yet dangerously close. Anita could clearly see now what she was holding—a gun.
Chapter Ten
Tsernyakov looked at the e-mail on his screen displaying the list of locations expected to be effected by the materials he was producing for his buyers. He had insisted on receiving the list and with good reason—it looked like The School Board’s operations were about to have a serious impact on his own.
Since getting anything into the U.S. was deemed too difficult these days, The School Board had decided to release the virus at top global vacation spots for U.S. tourists and let them carry it back to their home country.
He went down the list again. Canada, Great Britain, Ireland and Australia were choice spots for those who felt uncomfortable leaving the English-speaking world. Rome and Paris were also popular destinations. Then there were the Caribbean Islands, exotic, yet still close to home. Among these, The School Board had chosen Grand Cayman.
Tsernyakov closed the e-mail and thought about Cavanaugh. On the one hand, it would be a shame to lose him. They’d known each other for a long time and he had just taken over for Alexeev. On the other hand, they had known each other for a long time. The virus could present an opportunity to get rid of a man who maybe knew too much about him. Tell him to get out in time—or not? These were the kind of decisions that he was expected to make as a leader. He had a good week to think about it.
ANITA RAN between a row of machines, yellow behemoths that stood like postmodern statues silhouetted against the moonlight. Their presence made her feel comforted. Construction machinery, she knew. She’d been surrounded by them all her life. Would it be too much to hope that someone left a key in one?
She climbed an excavator. The ignition was empty. And she didn’t have time to search all of them on the off chance that she succeeded. She slipped from the seat and began running again.
The music of the steel drums floated over on the evening breeze. Was it enough to cover the small sound her bare feet made on the sand?
The party had been on the other side of the property. She hadn’t paid much attention to this cordoned-off area before, but she remembered that there was a rock wall somewhere to the left, separating Paradise from the next resort. At her back, toward the sea, lay open sand. Nothing to cover her on the right, either. A couple of palm trees edged two kid pools there—abandoned tonight. Beyond those spread one of the bigger pools with the swim-up bar that was full of people. Could she reach it?
Probably not. Too much open ground between here and there. Her pursuer would have a clean shot.
She needed to get behind the woman and launch her own attack, get the gun away from her somehow. She cut to the right and tried to figure out a way. A few minutes passed before she realized she couldn’t circle around unseen. The gaps between the machines were too large. She would have been without cover too much of the time. And her footprints left a clear track in the sand, perfectly visible in the moonlight. She wasn’t going to surprise anyone like that. She had to keep moving forward and hope for a better opportunity.
She kept low, listening for the smallest noise, glancing around every few seconds. She spotte
d a few smaller buildings ahead. Were they close enough to the construction machines to reach without making herself much of a target?
A bullet pinged off the front fender of the machine behind her. Anita threw herself to the sand and crawled under the vehicle. A second bullet came, missing her by an even bigger margin than the first, making just as little noise. The woman was using a silencer.
Anita crawled backward as fast as she could move. When she was all the way out on the other end, she could see the boarded-up side of what had been a small shop. A sign still proclaimed a bikini blowout sale over one window. Ten feet or so of sand separated the last machine from the store. She stopped, looked around then made a dash for it, half expecting gunshots to ring out, relieved when she made it to the other side unnoticed and unattacked.
She needed her own gun from the beach, but she had to keep in cover. A straight, flat-out run for it was out of the question. She had to get back to the rest of her team. She rounded the building and found another one close behind it—an empty, thatch-roofed bar. She vaulted over the counter and got down, searched it for anything that she could use for a weapon, but the place had been stripped empty in anticipation of the demolition.
She heard a small noise from the direction of the shop. Whoever was after her was getting closer. She had to keep moving.
The band stopped playing and somebody was talking into the microphone, the words unintelligible from the distance. The guests cheered the announcement. Anita slipped from the bar and ran to the one-story building behind it that was attached to the hotel itself.
There was tape all over it, but she had no place else to go. To run out into the open would bring bullets. She dragged the yellow plastic ribbons aside and grabbed at the doorknob. Locked.
Diosmio.
Don’t stop. Keep going. She rounded the building, breathing hard now, her heart beating wild with fear. The windows were missing from their places everywhere, but all the gaps in the wall were carefully boarded up. The air-conditioner units. She caught a glance of the rusty giants. She pulled herself up on the first and reached for the one above it, using the units as stepping stones to the roof. The metal made a hollow noise as she struggled. Noise that would be heard by someone nearby.
When she made it to the roof, she vaulted over the edge, picking her feet up again immediately. The tar had retained the day’s heat and burned her bare soles. But what other choice did she have? She put her feet back gingerly and swallowed the pain as she hobbled to the other side.
A sheer drop yawned below to a rock garden and the out-of-service fountain in the middle. And she couldn’t come back the way she’d come. Some crazy woman with a gun was waiting for her there. Her only choice was entering the hotel itself.
The holes where the windows had been weren’t blocked off here, they had probably been considered high enough to be safe from curious guests. She slipped in just as the sound of metal banging came from below. Whoever was after her was climbing the air-conditioner units.
Anita glanced around for anything she could use for a weapon, but like the bar, the room had been stripped bare. She ran out of the room into the hallway. Where was the staircase that led down?
Another loud cheer rose outside, coming from the party. Had the winner of the raffle been drawn? How long before the red button was pushed?
“Stop.” The shout rang out behind her.
She froze for a split second. Then she turned.
The woman stood at the end of the hall, her feet apart, both hands on her gun.
“Who are you?”
“What did you do to William?”
She recognized the voice, at last, and stared dumbfounded at her ex-secretary. “Dee?”
“What did you do to William?” This time the words were said with slow emphasis. “What did you tell him to get him on your side? Where is he?”
“Dee, listen. This is not a good idea. They are blowing up the building.”
“If William doesn’t love me, do you think I care? He won’t have you, either.”
“William is dead,” Anita bit out in desperation.
The gun wavered. “You lie.” Dee dragged her mask off. She looked drawn and stressed to the limit. “The truth!” she shouted.
“He was caught. He killed himself.”
Dee’s face twisted in the silence that stretched between them. And, for a moment, Anita was sure she would shoot and this would be the end of it. “William is dead,” she whispered.
“Because of you!” Dee shouted, and moved closer. “You broke his heart. He lost his business because of it. You made him lose everything.”
“He lost his business because he gambled.”
“You took the heart out of him. I put it back.”
“Dee, listen to me. We have to get out of here.”
“You are not going anywhere. Always high and mighty. Always getting everything you want, getting what everyone else wants, too, and never appreciating it, never thinking twice before throwing it away.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were in love with William.”
“No, you didn’t. Who was I to you? Nobody. Who was he to you? A toy.”
“It wasn’t like that.” She glanced to the left, then to the right. Two more hallways. The right was a dead end.
She fixed her gaze behind Dee and nodded, not really expecting the trick to work, but Dee did turn and took the gun off her for a second. Anita used the opportunity and lunged to the side. Two bullets came in succession right behind her, but she was already in the cover of the wall.
She ran to the end of the hall, to the staircase, opened the door and nearly fell into the gaping hole below. There were no stairs.
What happened here? Then she remember her conversation with Michael. Maybe the stairs were made of steel like in her apartment building and had been removed for recycling.
She took the corridor to the right. She had to hide then get behind Dee so she could make it back to the roof of the outbuilding.
Anita opened a door to a room that was bare of furniture like the one she’d first come through. Even the bathroom was visible at a glance. She backed out, tried another room. This one had a balcony.
She closed the door behind her and crossed the room, went outside. Could she survive a jump to the hard surface of the parking lot below? She teetered back. Too far. She crouched under the window, next to the wall, hoping that if Dee came into the room, she would just glance in from the door and move on. There was still a chance that she could get out of here.
Or maybe not.
People were chanting at the party, together, loudly. “Forty-nine. Forty-eight…”
The countdown had begun.
“SO WHAT’S GOING ON with you and Carly?” Brant asked after he’d turned his mike off.
Nick reached for his and did the same. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Are you telling me you’re not attracted to each other?” He really didn’t think he’d read them wrong.
“I’m telling you I wouldn’t do anything that would jeopardize the mission.” Nick’s voice was hard.
He obviously resented the interference. Tough.
“I suppose it wouldn’t be surprising if you were attracted to her. You were the one who chose her for the mission.”
“You chose Anita.”
“Right,” he said, and let the air out of his lungs. “Right.”
Understanding dawned on Nick’s face as he flashed him an amused smile.
“I’m not going to talk about it.”
“I’m not asking any questions.”
“It’s so damn unprofessional it’s making me sick.”
“This mission will be over one of these days.”
“You think?” He shook his head. He was getting confused about a number of things. What was happening to him?
“So,” Nick said, “David Moretti picked Samantha.”
Right. Sam had been the lawyer’s choice, supposedly for her cat-burglary skills.
“At least David is married and nowhere near the women.”
“Yeah, he has that going for him,” Nick agreed.
“Who picked Gina?” Brant asked, not quite remembering.
“We picked her together. Ex-cop with plenty of training already.”
He nodded. That was the way it had been.
Neither of them said anything for a while.
“I’m just saying, be careful,” he told Nick.
“You, too,” he responded as they turned their mikes back on.
“Gina?” He started checking in with the women.
“Nothing here,” came Gina’s response from the receiver.
“Sam?”
“Having fun. Nothing to report,” Sam came in.
“Carly?”
“A hundred feet behind you.”
“Anita?”
No response came.
“Anita?”
Nothing but silence on the line.
“Anybody seen Anita?” he asked the others.
“Not in a while,” Carly said.
Where was she? “Let’s walk through this party and see if we can get a visual on her. It could just be that her equipment is malfunctioning.” He didn’t want to alarm anyone.
“Let’s go,” Nick said, and started toward the dance floor.
Brant headed to the beach.
Two minutes later, he was looking at the heap her clothes made on the sand and reached down. Where was her gun? Not in the water with her, he hoped. What would he have done? He ran his fingers through the sand and sure enough, felt something. Cloth and metal. Her earpiece was there, too. That would explain why she wasn’t answering. He glanced around and when he was certain nobody was watching, he took the gun and tucked it into his waistband under his pirate coat, out of sight.
A dozen or so people were in the water around the buoys.
“Anita?” he called out over the water.
No response came.
“Anita?” he called again.
A male voice answered from the group. “Not here.”
