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The Haitian gaped at his partners slouched in the SUV. His prior confidence evaporated.
“No,” he said, panicked, “you cannot take me. They will kill my whole family if they think I am helping you.”
“Who?” MacD said over the rumble of an approaching truck. “Who do you work for?”
“Please kill me now!”
MacD shook his head in bewilderment. Someone had total control over these men.
“He wants us to kill him,” he said to Hali and Trono.
The two of them responded simultaneously, both incredulous.
“What?”
“You’re kidding.”
Before MacD could explain, the Haitian tore his hand away, breaking two fingers in the process, and darted out into the street directly into the path of the oncoming truck. He was crushed by the truck’s grille and fell under its wheels. Several women screamed. Two men rushed to his aid but drew back when they saw the condition of the body.
They were all shocked by the man’s willingness to kill himself rather than be captured.
“Let’s get out of here,” MacD said.
While they hoofed it to the next street to find a taxi, MacD called the Oregon. Linda answered.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“We’re on our way back.”
“Everyone okay?”
“We’re all fine. I’ll report when we’re there.”
“Get back as soon as you can. We’re getting ready to set sail.”
“Is everyone else back aboard?”
“No. That’s the problem. We can’t reach Max and the Chairman.”
Juan couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a day off. He wouldn’t have today, either, if Max hadn’t insisted, but now that he was on the fifty-two-foot custom Carolina deep-sea fishing boat called the Cast Away with a Red Stripe in his hand and four monster yellowfin tunas already in the cooler, he didn’t know why he’d ever resisted.
The boat was trolling ten miles off the coast, four poles stuck in the rotating pedestal fishing chair, the well-used leather fighting belt hanging from its armrest. Juan and Max were the sole passengers on the luxurious charter. Captain Craig Reed, a garrulous Boston firefighter who’d retired to Montego Bay to start his fishing business, manned the conn and served as the boat’s only crew member. Juan and Max had nothing to do but savor the fine weather and beer until the next bite.
“You know, Reed’s got the right idea,” Max said, and took another swig from his bottle.
“The right idea about what?”
“About how to retire in style.”
Juan tilted his head at Max. “Thinking about leaving the Corporation?”
Max shrugged. “Maybe not tomorrow, but someday. I’ve been on the water since I was assigned to that Swift Boat in Vietnam.”
“And you love it.”
“I do. That’s why buying my own fishing charter has its appeal.”
“The Corporation doesn’t provide enough excitement for you?”
