With the three-hour time difference, he figured Evangeline would still be at the office. He got through on her private line. “Who’s Edgar? And why does he want to show us where the sea turtles mate?”
“You can trust Edgar MacAllister. He’s a friend.” Evangeline’s breathy tone betrayed her excitement at the prospect of being reunited with her husband. “Have you heard from Robert yet? Have you seen him?”
“We’re still in Jamaica.”
“Right. Of course, you are.”
It was unlike Evangeline—a former FBI agent—to be so rattled. He asked, “Is there some reason why you kept Edgar a secret?”
“He contacted me this morning. The threat level on this assignment has gone from amber to bright red. Someone on Cuerva is after Robert.”
“Who?”
“I don’t have a name for you, John.”
He’d expected complications. Otherwise, Robert Prescott could have hopped on a commercial flight and come directly to Denver.
“There’s more bad news,” she continued. “We’ve uncovered information that a Denver businessman with mob connections is involved in our murder investigations. His name is Drew Kirshner, and he arrived on Cuerva yesterday.”
John put two and two together. Someone on Cuerva was after Robert. Drew Kirshner came here. “Is Kirshner the person who’s after Robert?”
“I don’t know.” She exhaled a nervous sigh. “Be careful, John. Bring my husband back to me.”
“Count on it,” he said.
After he disconnected the call, he sat for a moment, assessing this new information. There were too many unknowns on this assignment, and the potential for lethal danger. It might be wise to pick up a couple of guns on Jamaica before heading to Cuerva.
As soon as he joined Edgar and Lily, he mentioned the need for additional weaponry.
“All taken care of, mon.” Edgar pointed them toward the exit to the runways.
“Hold on,” John said. “I need to cancel our other flight and see if I can get a refund.”
The Inter-Island Transport representative was an intense brunette with a bun so tight that it lifted her eyebrows. She responded to John’s request in icy tones. Their policy was to never issue refunds.
For a moment, he considered convincing her otherwise. John was an expert negotiator who learned to haggle when he was a skinny kid on the Navajo reservation selling crafts to tourists. But that was a long time ago, and he had more pressing concerns.
Lily popped up beside him. “What’s wrong?”
“Wasting money goes against my grain.”
“But this isn’t really your money. The unused tickets can go on your company expense account.”
“It’s still a waste.”
Her eyes were wide and curious, searching for answers. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
As if he would ever discuss what it was like to grow up dirt-poor, squeezing every nickel, going without dinner so his brothers and sisters could eat.
He’d never been a man who readily shared his life secrets. The less people knew about him, the better. Besides, he’d overcome his past. He was thirty-seven years old, respected in his field and financially successful. His family would never go hungry again. “We can talk later.”
Her eyebrows pinched in a scowl. “That’s the third time you’ve said that to me.”
“And you still haven’t taken the hint.”
“Figuring you out is a challenge. And I’m very persistent.”
“Like a migraine?”
“Like a thousand stinging wasps.” Her innocent expression turned shrewd. “I already know a few things about you. You were in the Marines. You majored in physics in college, which led to your training and expertise in security systems.”
“That’s my résumé.”
“I’ll figure you out,” she teased. “You didn’t fool me at all when you pretended to be napping on the plane.”
“I was sleeping. And so were you.”
Edgar shuffled up beside them. “Let’s go, mon.”
Hoisting their luggage, he followed Lily and Edgar through the small terminal to the tarmac, where Edgar commandeered a modified golf cart and drove them to nearby hangars.
Apart from a painted picture of the glamorous redhaired Martina on the nose, the small, single-engine Cessna looked like a standard issue aircraft with a fixed undercarriage. Inside the cramped interior, John gave Lily the copilot seat and settled in behind them. As soon as they were airborne, he eased forward and took a position between the two cockpit seats.
The view was breathtaking. At the edge of sunset, the skies to the west had taken on a soft pink glow. From horizon to horizon, there was nothing but sparkling water as far as the eye could see. John soaked it all in. The beauty of Mother Earth never failed to amaze him.
He spoke loudly over the whir of the propeller. “Tell us about yourself, Edgar. How do you know Evangeline?”
Edgar’s shoulders straightened. With quick, precise movements, he removed his earphones, then he unfastened a few clips and took off his hair.
Lily laughed out loud. “Great disguise.”
“Thank you very much.” Without the dreadlocks and the easygoing Rasta manner, he had the air of a gentleman. “I met Robert Prescott while we were both employed at MI6.”
The British Secret Intelligence Service. Edgar had dropped the Bob Marley accent. He sounded British through and through.
“You’re not with MI6 anymore?” John asked.
“Quite happily retired.” His gaze fixed on the instrument panel. “I do, however, stay in touch with my former colleagues. When Robert requested my help, I was delighted to be of service.”
“You’ve spoken to Robert,” John said. “Is he well?”
“Very well, indeed. I’m not precisely certain about his plans, but I should inform you that this visit to Cuerva will be much more than a simple extrication.”
John had feared as much. No one at PPS, not even Evangeline, knew what Robert had been investigating for the past two years, but it had to be huge. “You said the weapons were taken care of.”
“In the rear empennage,” Edgar said. “Remove the panel behind the fire extinguisher.”
Hidden behind the panel was a beat-up Army-green backpack. Inside, John found two handguns and holsters. He immediately fastened on the ankle holster.
Returning to the cockpit, he handed the other weapon to Lily, who checked the clip and the balance before she tucked the gun and two extra clips into the carry-on bag at her feet. Her expertise in handling the Glock automatic reassured him. She might look like a pixie, but this lady knew how to behave in dangerous situations. He had heard that she was expert in several forms of martial arts.
“When do we meet with Robert?” she asked.
“Tonight at midnight,” Edgar said. “In a place called Pirate Cove. You are instructed to wait for only one hour. If Robert does not appear, it means he’s been detained