by Tom Clancy
“Everything you asked for is already stocked and on board. You’re moored at number fifty-three. It’s the 1978 fifty-two-foot Irwin ketch you picked from the rental photos.”
“Excellent,” Adara said, and she tipped the man $200 for his quick work.
The man looked Adara and John over for a second. She was in her mid-thirties and he in his mid-sixties, and John caught the inference by the look—he clearly thought John and Adara were a couple. Clark felt a twinge of anger that this stranger took him for a geezer with a trophy wife or—because Adara wasn’t wearing a ring and Clark was—perhaps the marina employee assumed Clark was taking his girlfriend down to the islands for some frivolity away from his wife back home.
Clark didn’t like it, but he did nothing to dissuade the man’s assumptions. He figured he wasn’t the first rich old philandering bastard renting a sailboat in the marina here.
It was a good cover story.
As John sat at the helm of the dinghy and pulled out into the marina with Adara next to him, he leaned closer to her. “I hope you didn’t have him stock this boat with too many things. With a little luck we’ll only need it for one night.”
“Not too much. There’s enough for a few days, because I thought it might look fishy if we went to all this trouble just for a twenty-four-hour cruise.”
“Good thinking.”
Adara added, “I think that guy back there was rendering judgment on us both.”
Clark nodded. “Yeah, but he sure took our money, didn’t he?”
Adara laughed. “Yes, he did. Maybe I should have dressed differently, played into my cover story a little.” Sherman wore khakis and a white polo. Her short blond hair was pulled back in a small ponytail. She was young and attractive, but hardly the image of a gold digger on a Caribbean vacation with her sugar daddy.
“And maybe I should wear more rings on my fingers and a fat chain around my neck,” Clark said. “I could get some Botox, too.”
Adara laughed at the thought.
They piloted out into a field of mooring balls, most of which had sailboats or catamarans attached to them. Quickly they found mooring ball number 53, and they motored slowly around the white monohull sailboat attached to it.
Clark liked what he saw. It was big enough to be comfortable, but not too big to be difficult to captain. It wasn’t new and flashy. Adara had told him on the plane it was nearly forty years old, but it looked like it had been lovingly maintained.
They tied the dinghy off on a cleat on the Irwin’s gunwale and climbed up onto the deck. Another dinghy, this one a little smaller, was tied off on the back of the boat.
Together they walked around the deck, then went through the cockpit and stood at the helm. Adara said, “She’ll do twelve knots on her engines. More under sail, depending on the conditions.” She raised a finger as she thought of something else. “These Irwins heel over pretty dramatically in the wind, though, so don’t forget to hold on.”
Clark just smiled. He told himself no thirty-five-year-old was going to teach him anything about boating, but he caught himself. She wasn’t patronizing him, she was looking out for him, and he knew he should appreciate it.
After a walk around belowdecks and a quick survey of the navigation area, the radios, engines, and emergency pumps, Clark rendered his judgment on the boat. “You’ve done well, Ms. Sherman.”
“Good. Ready to head out?”
Clark looked at his watch. It was just after five p.m. He figured the cruise from East End Bay in Tortola to Tarpon Island would take four hours under engine power. Once there, he’d wait a few hours more to head to shore, timing his arrival to avoid anyone else on the water in the bay or walking along the sand.
“Let’s do it.”
• • •
It was a beautiful afternoon on Tarpon Island, but that was no surprise to anyone. This was paradise; even when it rained it was beautiful here.
Today there was no rain; the weather was characteristically perfect, the sky a deeper blue than usual, the ocean clear as glass in the foreground and perfectly aquamarine in the distance.
Seven-year-old Noah Walker splashed as he swam in the shallow surf. His mother, Kate, watched him from her beach chair, looking over the top of her book at him from time to time, just to assure herself he hadn’t wandered too far out in the deep. His snorkel, his tuft of jet-black hair, and the backside of his red swim trunks were the only things sticking out of the water anywhere in the bay.
Kate knew she was in heaven here, and she hoped Noah was able to appreciate it. She’d come from a lower-middle-class family; she’d worked for everything she’d ever had in life. It was hard for her to get her head around her son’s utterly different childhood experience, but she did her best to keep him as grounded as possible.
That was hard here in paradise, of course, with the maids and cooks and other attendants. With the seaplanes and fine dining, and daily celebrity sightings at the dining pavilion.
Noah knew nothing different from this life; even in London and Sydney they’d had it extremely good since he was three or so, but Kate still had a hard time accepting it all as part of her own existence.
She was no trophy wife, and nothing on earth infuriated her more than when she felt someone treated her as such. She’d worked as a waitress in Sydney while she went through school, then she’d met Terry when they were both programmers at a small software company.
When they were first married, neither of them owned their own car, and within a year they were parents, which made their financial situation even more precarious. Kate left work to take care of Noah, and soon after that Terry, much to Kate’s consternation, quit his job to spend his time developing new software products for the new virtual-currency exchanges cropping up on the Internet. They moved to London, where prices were even higher than in Sydney.
It had taken him years to bring his first piece of software to market, and he’d made a lot of money off it, and five years after that his masterpiece was finished and live—BlackHole.
For the first years of BlackHole they’d been rich beyond her wildest imagination, but then Terry explained to her that he needed to relocate from London, move to the Caribbean, and there he could truly realize the dream of making BlackHole the biggest and best virtual-currency exchange on earth. She agreed, provided he put a time limit on their relocation, and the next thing she knew, they were here and her husband was making $2 million a month.
The Walkers’ lives had changed dramatically, to put it mildly, but Kate often caught herself feeling wistful about those days in London when they were scrounging coins in the sofa cushions to pay for Noah’s diapers. At least they were together. These days, in order to keep Terry’s system up and running he had to work seven days a week; he had a never-ending array of clients to meet and trades to execute, and there was nothing but promises from him of when he would take a break, when they would get to enjoy their lives, when they would finally get a vacation from paradise.
Six more months was his promise, and it was a promise she planned on holding him to.
The beach here was nearly empty this afternoon, but that was usually the case. She came out here with Noah most every day around this time, after the worst of the sun’s rays, and she read while her son swam around, hunting shells in the shallow water of the bay.
She was just thinking about how boring paradise could be when a woman’s voice startled her. “Oh, hello there. Mind if I join you?”
She turned to find an attractive smiling woman sitting down in the next beach chair, a piña colada in her hand. She wore a conservative bikini with a wrap around her waist, and a wide-brimmed hat on her head. The woman’s European accent was noticeable, but Kate couldn’t place it.
“Hi,” Kate said. “Of course not. You must be new.”
“Just in today. We’re on the other side, in the little cottages. I hope it�
�s okay for me to be here.”
Usually this stretch of beach was reserved for the three villas up on the hill above them, and the cottages on the far end of the bay had their own, less exclusive stretch of sand. But it was not Kate’s job to enforce the rules of the resort, so she wasn’t about to send this lady packing. Plus, she realized she was happy for the adult company. She extended a hand. “Of course you can be here. Kate Walker.”
“I’m Julia.”
Kate thought the woman was beautiful, and she assumed she was someone famous. Most of the vacationers here on Tarpon Island were not rock stars or actors, but a significant portion were, and this lady sure had the looks, bearing, and confidence of a celebrity. The fact she’d given only her first name also contributed to Kate’s suspicion that Julia fully expected to be recognized.
Not wanting to appear to be a typical starstruck civilian, Kate didn’t ask her anything else. There was an unspoken rule here on the island: You didn’t question anyone about what they did for a living. At a place where many people went in order to get away from attention, it was seen as improper to peer into private lives.
Julia looked out to the water at Noah. “He’s got so much energy. All I want to do is lie around and sun.”
Kate smiled. “Same here.” She raised her own glass. “With a drink in hand.”
Julia tapped her glass to Kate’s. “You’re here on vacation?”
Kate could have answered simply “Yes” and shut down further inquiry, but she didn’t have many opportunities to talk about her life. “Not really. My husband is in the BVIs on business, and I homeschool Noah, so we are living here, for the time being.” She realized the tone she’d affected, and quickly added, “Not that I’m complaining. We’re living in a villa. This place is wonderful.”
Julia said, “It’s wonderful enough in the cottages.” She looked over her shoulder. “But I suspect that villa is exquisite.”
Kate nodded. “Sure is. We’ve been here quite a while, though, so I am looking forward to returning to Sydney.” She motioned to Noah. “He could stay right here forever.”
The two ladies were the same age, give or take a couple years, and it was bothering Kate that she couldn’t place Julia. She tried to picture her on a stage with a microphone in her hand, or in an ad in a glossy magazine, or even in a movie.
Nothing. She didn’t look familiar at all.
She decided she’d break Tarpon Island protocol. “How about you, Julia? What brings you here?”
“I’m here for work as well.”
“I see,” Kate said, but she didn’t. That Julia added nothing, just sipped her piña colada and looked out at the water, kept Kate from making any further inquiries.
It was quiet for several seconds, only the breeze and the squawks of a few grackles in the distance.
Finally, Julia broke the stillness. “My boyfriend and I are thinking about getting a tour of one of the villas before we leave. He has a big family, he’s Italian, Catholic, you know what I mean.”
“Sure,” Kate said. Now she was trying to picture the woman’s boyfriend. Maybe he was the famous one.
“Anyway, we thought on our next visit to the BVIs we might try to bring everyone down for a family reunion.”
Kate knew all three villas were occupied at the moment. A well-known film producer was in one; from the rumors Terry had picked up at the pavilion cigar bar, he was spending his days with a constant rotation of starlets.. And a French winemaker was with his family in the other. The management here at Tarpon wouldn’t dream of giving a tour through the occupied villas, not even for other guests staying on the island.
Kate held her tongue for a minute, but as she weighed the situation, she decided she could just take Julia up the hill herself and give her a quick tour. Hell, she was bored, and it would be fun to show her around.
“Would you like to come up and take a look at our place? Noah and I were just about to leave. My husband usually gets home by seven, and the cook will be here to make dinner by six-thirty. I have to run up anyway.”
Julia’s eyes widened dramatically. “That would be wonderful, but I don’t mean to intrude.”
“Not at all. I’ll show you around and we can have a glass of wine. You’ll love the view of the bay from up there.”
Julia stood with her drink in her hand. “Well, then, lead the way.”
Twenty minutes later, the tour of the villa complete, Kate poured two glasses of Chardonnay in the kitchen and took them out to Julia, who sat in the living room on a sofa by the window overlooking the bay. Noah lay on the floor in front of the television, playing Xbox on the large-screen TV on the wall.
Julia took a glass from Kate with a smile and then took a sip.
“Very nice.”
Kate sat down next to her, looked out into the bay, and noticed a large slate-gray sailing catamaran at anchor a few hundred yards from shore. She couldn’t see anyone topside.
She motioned with her wineglass to the boat and said, “That’s interesting. You don’t usually see anyone anchored over here. The staff at Tarpon Island doesn’t like boats mooring in the bay. When the island security boat comes back by here they will run them off.”
Julia looked out at the boat herself now and took another sip of wine. “The island security boat only makes one pass an hour. The last one was twenty minutes ago. Otherwise it’s perfectly secluded over here.”
Kate was surprised Julia knew anything about the security here, since she said she’d just arrived that day.
Julia continued, “For an island with so many wealthy and influential people staying on it, I have to say I am rather surprised there isn’t more in the way of protection.”
Kate chuckled at this. “This is the most peaceful place I’ve ever been, to tell you the truth. I do worry about Terry, a little. He is in international finance and offshore banking, which brings in its share of shady characters. But nothing has ever happened to him.”
Julia took another sip of her Chardonnay, then placed her glass on the end table next to her. She leaned closer to Kate.
The Australian woman cocked her head, confused by her proximity.
Julia whispered, “I am a little concerned.”
“About what?”
“About Noah.”
Now Kate was really confused. An unease grew in the pit of her stomach. “What about Noah?”
“Children can be a problem. I will ask your help to keep him calm throughout all this.”
Kate felt the foreboding growing from within. “I don’t understand, Julia. What on earth are you talking about?”
Julia smiled a little, pointed toward the entrance to the villa. Kate looked around and saw a tall, broad man with auburn hair. He wore a linen shirt, cargo shorts, and boat shoes, along with sunglasses and a baseball cap. His hands were empty, but he moved with purpose.
Kate launched off the sofa, dropping her glass of wine to the floor. It shattered on the tile. “What’s going on?”
Julia stood with her and took her by the arm roughly. A knife appeared in her hand, and she touched it to Kate’s ribs. Kate stared down at the knife while Julia spoke softly in her ear. “Listen carefully, bitch. We are going outside, and then down to the water. We will take a skiff out to that boat. You will not cry out, and you will keep that little brat of yours quiet. You understand?”
Just then, Kate heard Noah call out, “Hey!”
She turned and saw that the big man had taken the Xbox controller out of her son’s hand and tossed it to the side. Now he grabbed Noah by the shoulder and lifted him to his feet like he was a rag doll. He turned him around and pushed him toward the door.
“Get your hands off of him!” Kate screamed out, and she tried to move to the aid of her son.
Julia yanked her back around to face her, and the knife moved up to her left cheek. The two stood with their fa
ces inches apart. Kate saw nothing but cold in the other woman’s brown eyes. Julia said, “They don’t want me to kill you, but I will cut your pretty face. Make Noah afraid to look at his mother. Make Terry disgusted to be in your presence.”
Kate’s voice went hoarse. “Who the fuck are you?”
Julia just said, “To the boat. Quietly, or I will drain your blood across the sand.”
Kate Walker was crying now, but she nodded, turned to her son. “It’s okay, Noah. Do what they say.” She turned back to Julia. “We will go with you. Just, please, don’t hurt us.”
Julia said, “I thought you might come around.”
• • •
Ten minutes later Kate and Noah Walker were helped out of the dinghy and onto the deck of the big gray catamaran. Julia followed them up onto the deck. The huge man in the linen shirt had been at the wheel of the dinghy. He tied it off and climbed on board the catamaran as well.
On the deck Kate saw four big men standing around, all wearing T-shirts and shorts, muscles rippling on their arms, tattoos of different colors and shapes on every one of them. They said nothing, just kept their eyes on the newcomers.
Kate turned to the woman who called herself Julia and asked, “Who are these men?”
“These are your babysitters, darling.”
“Why are you doing this to us?”
“Your husband has something my employer wants. When my employer gets it, you will go home. If my employer doesn’t get it . . .” Julia smiled. “You know? Why don’t we just stay optimistic?”
The Walkers were led down the stairs from the cockpit and into the saloon, and then from there into a large master cabin. Julia was close on their heels. She said, “You have a bed and a bathroom. Food will be brought to you three times a day. They will not tie you, unless you give them a reason to.” She looked at Noah. “My advice, Kate, is to watch this kid of yours. He’s just about reaching the age where he thinks he is invincible. Don’t make the men on board prove to him he is not.”
