DeliciousDanger (36 page)

“At the risk of getting my head chopped off,” Dan
interjected, “can I also point out that Xena has unusual skills that you just
may need?”

Rick threw up his hands. “All right, all right. Let’s not
waste any more time arguing. What we need are satellite photos of Camellia Cay
and the surrounding area and every single fact we can dredge up about it. And I
need them yesterday.”

* * * * *

Al-Dulami was having his own problems. He had not been able
to get in touch with his son for several hours, nor had anyone located the
elusive Mr. Latrobe. And while the continued strikes he’d made were successful,
they were taking too much time. Far more than he’d expected. He just didn’t
have the manpower he’d counted on to hit a number of places all at once. The
coalition forces were massing and preparing for a heavy assault on ground he’d
already gained.

He’d planned this for so long, paying attention to every
single detail. But Allah had not smiled on him. One of his idiot soldiers had
left the incriminating gun behind, the man who held all the pieces of the puzzle
in his head was still alive and his own son had disappeared.

This evening he would go to the mosque in town and pray for
guidance. He was so close to success. He wondered if he had somehow offended
Allah, or he was in some way being tested. Surely Allah would not take it all
away from him now.

Would he?

* * * * *

Andy and the Dragon hadn’t progressed much further either
with Greg Jordan’s financial sources or the guests of Camellia Cay. But Andy
did email them a full range of satellite photos of the Cay and the surrounding
islands, along with a topographical map of the area. Rick had no idea how he’d
managed to get them and he wasn’t asking any questions. He just spread
everything out on the dining room table so they could study it.

Dan had left long ago to head back to the office and Mike
had just finished talking to him.

“He’s had another visit from the feds,” he reported.
“They’re getting even more testy. And they’ve set up permanent surveillance on
the airfield, the office building and your house. Probably everyone’s houses,
even Mark’s and Dan’s in San Antonio.”

Rick lifted his eyes from where he was studying photos.
“They think I’m going to Texas?”

“They think you’re running away from your crimes. And we’re
helping you.”

Something ugly flashed in Rick’s eyes, something Kelly had
never seen there before. “How bad is it for the agency? And don’t soft-soap me,
okay?”

Mike lifted a shoulder. “We’ll weather it. And not by
throwing you to the wolves, either. What we have to focus on now is getting you
to Camellia Cay because I don’t see any other lead to follow.”

“I’m certainly not going back to Iraq to hunt down some
revenge-bent tribesman to see if he’ll answer my questions. Okay, then. Let’s
get back to work here.”

An hour later Rick pushed back from the table and stretched
his arms, wincing slightly at the residual soreness in his chest that still
plagued him. Kelly tried to hide the concern she was feeling but he obviously
caught a flash of it.

“I fought wars with worse injuries than this,” he assured
her. “I’ll be fine.”

“From what we see here,” Mike said, “the best way in is to
land on one of these uninhabited islands here,” he pointed to a spot on the
satellite map, “and go in at night by boat.” He looked at Xena. “It’s going to
be a rough crossing because we can’t land on an island too near the Cay. How
will Xena take to rough seas, if you run into them and a long trip by boat?”

“She’ll be just fine,” Kelly assured him. “I’ll explain to
her what it’s all about. She’ll understand.”

Mike couldn’t help the grin that turned up the corners of
his mouth. “I still can’t believe you actually have conversations with this
dog. And more than that, she understands you.”

“And answers me. Xena has incredible powers. Trust me.
She’ll know what’s at stake here. If she understands that her actions could
bring harm to Rick or me, she’ll do whatever we tell her to.”

Mike tossed his pencil onto the table. “Okay, then. Let’s
put this down on paper.”

* * * * *

Kelly thought for a moment she’d fallen into a spy movie as
the partners set up the plan to get the three of them out of town without
raising any flags. Rick assured her every bit of it was necessary to make sure
neither the feds nor the media caught wind of where he was.

Dan had gone to Rick’s house, lit inside by the timer and
let himself in, calling to tell them that a car and a van were parked across
the street. Leaving Mark with the prisoners, Troy had gone to the office,
making sure his tail saw him talking on his cell phone. He’d parked his car in
its usual spot in the underground parking lot, turned on the lights in the
office and settled in for a long night, knowing whoever was tailing him would
be camped beside his car.

“We should keep a lot of people busy for a long night,” Dan
chuckled when he called Rick to check on their departure time.

In the condo where they were holed up, Kelly had Rick go
through the memory exercises twice more. The second time he was sure he’d
gotten the niggling fact unstuck but when he reached for it, it eluded him
again.

“It will come,” Kelly assured him, gathering up the pictures
and symbols they’d been using. “Probably when you least expect it.”

When they were sure no one had accidentally stumbled onto
the location of the condo, Mike drove Kelly, Rick and Xena to the spot where
he’d hidden the helicopter, yet another country airstrip. Xena, by now a
seasoned traveler, had hopped into her usual seat and waited for someone to
buckle her in. Ed was waiting for them at the hidden helipad with the supplies
they’d requested and they quickly loaded them into the chopper’s cargo area.

Then they were off and unexpectedly Kelly felt butterflies
in her stomach and the first tendrils of fear. She was heading into a totally
unknown area in a situation which she hoped she wouldn’t screw up. Despite the
fact that she had both the H&K and the rifle with her, she knew her best
weapon was Xena, so she’d have to make the best possible use of her.

Rick and Mike were busy studying the satellite images and
other information, going over the details again and again as the chopper
carried them southward over vast reaches of water. Kelly put her arm around
Xena’s body and leaned against the dog, whispering to her, stroking her.
Exhausted by tension and the long day she dozed off and the dream surrounded
her.

She was standing in the thickness of tropical foliage,
strange birds chattering overhead, the heat so oppressive she could barely
catch her breath. Xena was beside her, tugging at the fabric of her shorts,
pulling her away from the clearing in which she stood. When she didn’t move the
dog turned her head to look at her and in her eyes she could see the image of a
man with a gun. She tried to move but her feet seemed glued to the ground.

Suddenly Rick was beside the man and they were shaking
hands. Chatting, as if they were old friends. But as Rick started toward her,
the man raised his rifle again, pointing it straight at Rick. Xena launched
himself through the air just as the rifle fired.

Kelly awoke, startled, the dream shattered by the crack of
the rifle.

She looked at Xena, the dog’s eyes sending her messages.

I got it, girl, but I’m not sure what it is. What’s the
message I’m supposed to decipher?

She leaned forward and tapped Rick on the shoulder. He
handed her a set of headphones to put on so they could talk.

“Someone you know is going to kill you,” she told him. “Or
try to.”

“Another dream message from Xena?”

“I pick up her thoughts, like in the other dreams. She wants
you to know that someone you think is your friend wants you dead.”

He nodded. “Greg Jordan. We’re already aware of that. He’s
tried to kill me twice, remember?”

“No, I don’t think this is about him. It’s someone else.”

Rick frowned. “Someone else? I can’t imagine who that could
be. The only person I know down here is Greg. And I’m sure he won’t be happy to
see me.”

“Just…be careful. Extra careful.”

He grinned. “You have my word, Red, I’ll pay strict
attention to everything.” He reached for her hand, lifted it to his lips and
kissed her knuckles. “Besides, I’ve got Xena to watch my back, right?”

“Xena’s the one sending the warning.”

The grin disappeared. “In that case I’m hoping she’ll really
be on the alert. I can’t imagine who she means but I promise not to take any
chances.”

The radio crackled to life in the cockpit and Mike pressed a
switch so they could all listen.

“Hey, guys. It’s the Dragonslayer.”

Rick turned to Kelly and mouthed, “Andy.”

She nodded, swallowing a grin at the nickname.

“You got something for us?” Mike asked.

“Yeah, something important.” They waited for him to
continue. “Okay, I got more satellite imagery that I was able to enlarge. Shots
of the surrounding islands. You guys need to know something.”

“Then you’d better go ahead and tell us.” Mike’s voice was a
combination of tolerance and impatience.

“Okay. Yeah, yeah. Well, remember I told you this Matthias
Grant guy bought some islands around Camellia Cay and built houses on them? I
guess for even more privacy. Like if Interpol or someone was after him or his
guests.”

“Andy,” Rick prompted, his tone sharp.

“Okay, okay. Well, I can tell you Greg Jordan is definitely
there, only not on the Cay itself. I got clear shots showing him on one of
those other islands, not the main one. I enlarged the face and matched it to
the head shot we have of him, just to make sure. He’s on the island marked
Number Three on the topographical map I sent you.”

Rick shuffled through the papers on his lap and pulled out
the photo he wanted. “I’ve got it. So that’s where we should be heading.”

“You got it. You can still land where you were planning to,
just on the opposite side of the island. There’s a wide beach there that should
be fine for you.”

The Caribbean islands, made of coral and covered with thick,
tropical foliage, were arranged in three arcs. The ones they wanted were in the
center arc, where the sands were actually black rather than white. On some of
them, dormant volcanoes slumbered, waiting to breathe themselves to life again.
Not always the easiest places to breach, which Rick assumed was why Matthias
Grant had chosen them for his hideaway.

“I’m sending you another picture to the laptop,” Andy told
them. “It’s a more definitive picture of the island where Jordan’s living. I
marked three lagoons on the far side that you can bring the boat into and hide
in the mangroves. But be careful, you guys. I can’t tell if there are guards on
that island or what.”

“No problem,” Rick assured him. “We’ve got thermal imagers
with us that can see through anything.”

“All right. Here goes the picture. Take care.”

Rick opened the laptop he’d been balancing on his knees and
accessed Andy’s email.

“We’ll study this when we get down,” he told Mike. Then he
turned back to Kelly again. “It’s almost daylight. We’ll have to camp out where
we land until it gets dark. I don’t want to cross the water and approach the island
until then.”

“Okay. Xena and I are good.”

Along with provisions for the humans, Ed had loaded a sack
of dog food for Xena. Kelly hoped they wouldn’t be there long enough to use it
all up.

* * * * *

Greg Jordan found that old habits were hard to break.
Despite the fact that he had no schedule to keep, no deadlines to hit, he still
rose at six every morning. The problem was, after doing his daily exercise
routine, going for his run along the beach and eating the breakfast the
houseman prepared for him, there wasn’t much else to do.

He’d never gotten the knack of fishing, he already had as
much tan as he wanted and he didn’t have any hobbies. At least none that he
could pursue in such isolation.

This morning he was up before dawn, restless, agitated about…he
didn’t know what. Rather than wake the houseman he brewed a pot of coffee
himself. He was sitting on the terrace drinking his first cup and trying to
figure out what to do with the rest of his life when the normal chattering of
birds was broken by a familiar sound that drew his gaze to the sky. A
helicopter, night lights winking, passed overhead. Probably another “guest”
arriving at Camellia Cay to drop from sight until it was safe to return home.
Or head for someplace else. At least once a week a helicopter brought someone
in. Or took someone out.

Somehow none of this had turned out the way he’d expected.
Years ago when he first met Matthias Grant, he was still a Ranger on a mission
that Grant had somehow gotten in the middle of. He’d saved the man’s skinny ass
in a dicey extraction in Africa and Grant had promised to take care of him.
When he’d left the Rangers he went to work for Grant on his obnoxiously lavish
island, providing security for the very high-level criminals who used it to
drop out of sight when necessary.

But working for Grant, even at the exorbitant salary he was
paid, only whetted his appetite for the bigger bucks. Grant was the one who had
turned him onto the Grainger Caldwell gig, told him to make himself noticed so
his old friend Mike D’Antoni would look him up and the payday in the end would
be worth it.

Yeah, right!

It turned out to be the biggest disaster in the world. And
somehow his gut was telling him this wasn’t a safe place to be anymore. He
didn’t know why but he’d learned to trust his instincts. The man surely
wouldn’t turn on him and no one could find him here. But just the same,
something was telling him to move on.

He just had to figure out where to.