by Kay Hooper
He crossed the room to a tall bookcase. Grasping one shelf, he pulled the entire structure away from the wall. Behind it was a hidden cavity, filled to capacity with electronic equipment.
He set several dials and switches and then placed a radio call, confident that it would be impossible for anyone other than his contact to hear the conversation, even if the correct frequency was stumbled upon.
Before his contact came on the line he thought of Adrian, the terrorist leader whose camp lay only a few miles inland. It was an odd alias for one who claimed Middle Eastern ties, but Sereno had heard stranger things. He had not, however, met a stranger man. Or a more dangerous one. Adrian was a pit viper with lethal venom, and Sereno didn’t know how much longer he could hold the man at bay, away from his American prisoner.
The American prisoner was either a blessing or a curse, depending on how long Sereno could maneuver the dangerous pawns on his chessboard, and how quickly he could bring the game to a satisfactory conclusion.
“Go,” a voice whispered from his receiver.
Depressing the call button, Sereno relayed his terse message.
EIGHT
THAT DAY AND the next, Rafferty and Sarah remained at Sereno’s home. They made no attempt to explore the city spread out below. Their host kept them company at times, and at others excused himself to disappear into his office with one or more of his men to do the work of running a country.
The two visitors had agreed privately that certain questions couldn’t be asked of their host, but they also discovered that the island president willingly volunteered occasional information about his goals and even his methods. He made no apologies and no attempts to justify his actions; he merely explained the rationale behind them and left his listeners to make up their own minds.
And that became increasingly difficult.
“Now I know why Josh had trouble turning the man down,” Rafferty said late the second night, as they lay close together in their bed. “He doesn’t pull his punches or make any excuses at all for his behavior, and yet he’s damned persuasive without trying to be. I almost could call those news stories about him and his government sheer propaganda.”
Sarah moved closer to his side, frowning into the darkness. “I talked to his housekeeper while you were playing chess with him tonight. Her English was good, thank heaven, and she was the housekeeper to the former president as well as Sereno. She’s not at all the type to worship blindly, but she adores him. And she says that things are much better now, in comparison to the state of the country under the last regime, I mean.
“She got very indignant when I told her the tales we’ve heard about the torture of political prisoners and the conscription of children for the military. For the first, she claims that political dissidents and revolutionaries are exiled, not imprisoned or tortured; she says the only political prisoner being held now is the American. For the second, she says Sereno would never conscript citizens, especially children, because he was taken into the revolutionary army himself as a teenager, totally against his will.”
“Does she defend the lack of freedoms here?” Rafferty asked a bit dryly.
“In a way, yes. She says the newspaper and radio station were infiltrated by the rebels, and that both were inciting the citizens to murder. Not just overthrow Sereno, but actually to murder innocents. The president stopped that. He declared martial law because stores were being looted and public utilities sabotaged by the rebels.”
Rafferty wasn’t disbelieving of what she was telling him, just curious. “Then why’d we get hit with the vegetable salad on the drive up here?”
“Well, the one thing Sereno and his government simply can’t do is get the economy back on its feet. Since the island hasn’t been politically stable for more than fifty years, no foreign business will invest here, and the country has no industry. The farmers can’t work because the rebels wreck their fields. The fishermen are able to feed the people, but that’s it. And Sereno can’t stabilize the mess long enough to get anything accomplished. Once in a blue moon he manages to get goods in for the shops, but the amount of money changing hands is pathetic.
“According to Maria, Sereno’s feeding his people with the last few coins in the treasury. Or was, before the terrorists came here.”
“Don’t tell me they’re helping the economy?”
“Indirectly, I suppose. They’re paying money to Sereno to use the island as a base. If we believe Maria, he’s using that money to try and get the country on its feet. And don’t ask me how she knows all this.”
“Servants always know.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Rafferty sighed. “If all this is true, and we’ll assume it is, it explains why Sereno doesn’t want to alienate the terrorists. But why hasn’t he turned Kelsey over to them? He can’t be protecting him.”
“Why not? Kelsey’s cover is solid as far as the American press is concerned, and they’ll raise hell if an innocent American citizen is handed over to terrorists. Sereno can’t want that; if the American government comes down on him, and they’d have to unless they admit Kelsey was spying, he’d have a large, very powerful and angry country as an active enemy.”
Rafferty chuckled suddenly. “It’s a pity we can’t tell him we’re about to solve his problem for him. Assuming we can, of course.”
“It has worked out well for him, hasn’t it? If we get Kelsey out and off the island, Sereno can’t be blamed for it. Except, of course, the terrorists can accuse him of negligence, or being too gullible in welcoming his houseguests. Sereno loses a dangerous prisoner, the terrorists lose a victim, and America gets back its ‘innocent’ citizen and information on the terrorist group—”
“And we get back to a normal life. Which I will definitely enjoy. Lord, this whole thing is insane. I feel like I’m in the middle of a nightmare.”
“Well, thank you very much.”
“You’re the beautiful princess in the nightmare. It’s the dragons and dungeons and wizards and enigmatic island presidents that are driving me nuts.”
“I don’t drive you nuts?” she asked innocently. “Why, just last night, you were saying—”
“Tonight too. Sarah!”
“That is the most amazing physiological response. And to such a simple action too. I really think—”
What she thought was lost in the growl of a physiological response of no mean order.
The next few days were more of a strain on them than they realized at first. They were new lovers, totally committed to one another and involved in that ongoing process, and they were a team entirely responsible for the success or failure of a delicate and dangerous mission. They could not be one or the other, they had to be both.
It was a fragile high-wire balancing act, demanding enormous equilibrium and a frightening amount of nerve. At times they could put the assignment out of their minds for a little while and think only of each other, but never for long. And they were, by necessity, guarded in what they said except when they were alone together.
Rafferty held up fairly well under the strain, automatically harnessing his analytical mind to observe and ponder. Stress had never bothered him much; he dealt with it well. And patience was an inherent trait strengthened by his chosen profession, so their enforced wait for action was no more than a mild irritant.
For Sarah, it was more difficult. Her life had not prepared her for this. She had not been trained for it. The first detachment had worn off quickly, leaving behind it uncertainty and anxiety. And compounding that was her ambivalence about Sereno. With every hour spent in his company, she found him more complex. And it touched her soft heart to realize that he was just the slightest bit ill at ease in her presence, as though looking at her was a constant reminder of something painful.
But even more, now that she and Rafferty were here and awaiting the signal to move, she found old doubts creeping back. The fear that she would not measure up, that she would somehow make a mistake and get both of them killed, haunted her.
&nb
sp; And she worried about Kelsey, particularly since she’d found out that Rafferty knew him; before, he hadn’t quite been real to her. She worried that he might be hurt, possibly tortured or deprived of food or water, even though Hagen had assured her that that would not be the case. It wasn’t entirely wise to believe everything Hagen said, after all.
There was strength in Rafferty’s love, and she held on to it fiercely, but she refused to burden him with her own uncertainties. It was important to her that she come to terms with this herself, that she work her way through it.
But it wasn’t easy.
Zach and Lucas, in the cramped interior of the fishing boat’s cockpit, watched as storm clouds seemed to roll across the water toward them.
Glancing down at the instruments, Zach said, “Barometer’s near bottom. It’s going to be a hell of a storm.”
“Can we ride it out?”
“Sure.” Zach glanced at his friend. “If I were the commander of Sereno’s fleet, I’d take my ships farther out to sea. There are reefs all around the island. It’d be dangerous to stay in close during a storm.”
Lucas was silent for a moment, and then he smiled. “Sound strategy, I’d say. Lovely, isn’t it?”
“Convenient, anyway.” He pulled out a map of the island, spreading it across the instruments and frowning down at it. Pointing with one finger, he said, “Here looks good. It’s not so close to the bay, but there’s an inlet. And it’s close to both Sereno’s house and the prison.”
Lucas nodded agreement, then looked at Zach curiously. “What made you think there was more to this than an exchange of information?”
“Not sure. The feeling that Sarah was holding something back, I suppose. And just a general sense of caution when it comes to Hagen’s elaborate plans. It was enough to want to ask some pointed questions. I figure Josh could reach Hagen easier than we could.” He chuckled suddenly. “Did you get the feeling when Josh called us back that he’d surprised our federal friend?”
“I got that feeling. D’you suppose it was the first time anyone managed to find Hagen when he didn’t want to be found? I’ll bet he has a healthy respect now for Josh’s intelligence connections. Anyway, he must have been rattled, since he spilled the beans so quickly.”
Zach glanced back up at the approaching storm. “Well, at least now we know. Think those rebels in the hills would use a storm for cover in attacking the town?”
“I think,” Lucas said solemnly, “it’d be a crying shame to waste a good storm. All it would take to galvanize Sereno’s soldiers would be some gunfire uncomfortably close to the town, and maybe blowing up an already abandoned building or two. How’s your guerrilla mentality?”
Zach was smiling, but it was a smile that would have made anyone but a close friend nervous. “Flourishing, I believe.” He cocked an eyebrow at Lucas. “Let’s tell Hagen what we’re going to do. I want to hear him sputter.”
A considerable distance away and several hundred feet beneath the surface of the Caribbean, a rotund little man with the face of a cherub and a regrettable taste in suits sat back in his chair and smiled complacently. Not his original plan. No, he thought, but the amendments were working out very well.
There was a knock at the door of the radio room of the submarine, deserted but for Hagen, and the commander poked his head in. “New orders, sir?”
Still lost in his self-congratulation, Hagen replied, “No, maintain our position, Captain. Only a few more hours now, I think.”
Left alone again, he gazed off into space and shook his head, feeling a little sad. It would be a shame, he thought, to lose the appreciable talents of Josh Long and his men. They really were quite resourceful. But he could hardly hope to draft each one more than once as a primary agent, since they seemed less prone now to trust him. Still, they had an endearing habit of spontaneously teaming up to help one another, which came in handy since Hagen’s forces were spread somewhat thin to be effective in certain situations. And he kept losing agents, dammit, particularly female ones. He’d have to come up with another plan to be sure and avoid that next time.
But for the moment, he was definitely pleased. Provided Sereno reacted as planned, Zach Steele’s silkily reported intentions should do the trick nicely. Hagen smiled as he recalled that deep, polite voice that had all but dared him to object. He had, of course, objected on cue, and had certainly been convincing about it. But Steele and Kendrick really should have understood him better.
He’d known they would be involved. And the storm, well, that was hardly a surprise. The approach of a storm could be plotted days in advance, and it was patently obvious that such an event should be used to advantage. And how better to use nature’s sound and fury than as a cover for sly rebel forces—even if they didn’t think of it.
No appreciation for genius, he thought, that was it.
Hagen looked around at the cramped room, half expecting plaudits for his brilliance. The fact that he was alone bothered him not at all.
He heard the applause.
The storm had reached full strength by morning, and Sarah watched through the French doors of the book-lined den as wind and rain lashed the trees and plants out in the garden. She was alone in the room since Rafferty had gone to the kitchen to assuage a sudden stab of midmorning hunger. He’d probably charm Maria, who was already beginning to beam when she saw him.
Sarah smiled. He was a charming man, her Rafferty.
She turned as the door opened, and tensed a little when she saw Andrés Sereno.
“Am I intruding?” he asked with a smile. “You looked very thoughtful.”
“Just enjoying the storm,” she told him, managing to keep her voice easy.
“Yes, the storms here are spectacular. This isn’t a particularly dangerous one, however.” Not a man to sit while a woman stood, he leaned against one of the bookshelves and slid his hands into his pockets, watching her. “I met Rafferty on his way to the kitchen.”
“I think he just wanted to flirt with Maria,” she said, thinking how easily the president had gotten on a first-name basis with them. Just part of the man’s appeal.
“Perhaps. He is obviously much in love with his wife.” Seeing her expression cool, he added quietly, “You must forgive the personal observation; my people treasure love.”
Sarah gazed out the window without offering a response.
“You don’t approve of me, do you, Sarah?” There was a slight hesitation before he spoke her name.
“It isn’t my place to approve or disapprove.”
“But you nonetheless consider me a ruthless dictator.”
She gestured helplessly, unwilling to be drawn into this conversation, yet unable to stop it. “I’ve heard that you allow terrorists to live here.” It was the worst she knew of him, and what bothered her more than all the rest.
“That news has spread.” His tone was remote. “Would you believe me and understand, I wonder, if I told you that I hate terrorism?”
She turned to look at him. “No, I wouldn’t.”
His black eyes were unreadable. “Of course not. Neither would they.”
Sarah frowned a little, aware that there was some undercurrent in his voice, some subtlety she was missing. There was a pattern, and her puzzle-oriented mind quite abruptly began putting pieces in place. Some pieces seemed wrong, had always seemed wrong, yet they fit neatly, if she accepted one absolutely wild supposition as fact. But it couldn’t be—could it?
Sarah looked into those waiting black eyes, and she almost felt reckless enough to ask him the question. Almost. But she didn’t ask, because as long as he didn’t deny what she now believed, much of her confusion regarding him was gone, and she preferred it that way.
Shades of gray.
She focused on what he was saying.
“I’ve found it’s useless to regret. Had your friend Joshua Long chosen to invest here, perhaps the situation would be different. Or perhaps not. I certainly don’t blame him. People don’t change, after all, and re
bellion was in the air even then. My country has been cursed with weak, ineffectual leaders for too much of its history. I don’t intend to become a part of that curse. I will be a dictator, Sarah Lewis, and ruthless until my country is whole again.”
Sarah realized she was smiling, but whatever she might have said in response to his declaration was lost as Rafferty came into the room. He was frowning, and spoke quickly to Sereno.
“There were some shots a few minutes ago. We could hear them on the other side of the house. Sounded like they came from the middle of the city.”
Before the president could respond, they all heard the explosion in the distance and felt a slight tremor. A second explosion followed quickly.
Sereno’s face was expressionless. “The rebels must be using the storm as cover. That definitely came from the city.”
Colonel Durant, who was almost constantly in the house, entered the room not five minutes later. His face was grim as he reported what had happened. “A warehouse and the old hotel were hit. Both bombed before, both deserted. Harassment.”
Sereno returned his colonel’s gaze. Softly, he said, “They wanted to catch us off guard. Colonel, order all men to form a cordon around the city. Use the harbor patrol and prison guards as well as those patrolling the city. We’ll tighten the net as we move toward the center of the city, and perhaps capture a few rebels.”
Durant saluted quickly and left.
Sereno looked at his houseguests with faint apology. “If you’ll excuse me, this is something I’m afraid I must see to personally.” His eyes focused on Sarah very intently. “You’ll be safe,” he finished abruptly, and strode from the room, closing the door behind him.
Rafferty moved to her side and looked at his watch. “Half past eleven,” he murmured. “We could be at the prison by twelve. Think this is it?”
“The prison guards are being pulled away from their posts,” she said. “And the harbor guards. There’ll never be a better time. I think—”
One of the French doors swung open suddenly, admitting a gust of wind, what seemed like a gallon of rain, and two drenched Americans. With one eye on the hall doors, Zach said softly, “Hope you’ve got a key to the cell.”
