Rafferty's Wife (17 page)

“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.

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 rebellion 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.