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“That would be my first guess, but it’s just a hunch. Let me get the entire text translated and I’ll run it through some of my programs and see what I can spot. I’m hoping to have it done by late tonight.”
“Keep us informed.”
“As always. Enjoy the swaying palms and tropical breeze.”
“Thanks. We’ll try.”
Remi eyed Sam expectantly when he returned from the terrace. “Well?”
“Lazlo’s hard at work. Thinks there might be a code. Or th
ere might not.”
“That sounds promising. Or not.”
Sam grinned. “If it were easy, everyone would be doing it.” He checked the time. “You want to go for a ride?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I want to pay Rubo another visit. Probe him for more info and see if his story stays the same—if his buddy told him more than he let on, he might slip up now that it’s been a few days.”
When they pulled up to the shack, two vehicles blocked the way: a police truck and an ambulance. Sam and Remi exchanged a worried glance and stepped out of the Pathfinder, only to find themselves facing a burly island policeman, hands on his hips, his eyes inscrutable behind aviator sunglasses.
“What happened? Is Rubo all right?” Remi asked as they approached.
“I’m afraid this is as far as you go,” the officer said.
“We’re here to see him. What happened?” Sam explained.
“Accident. Looks like he slipped and hit his head.”
They were interrupted by two paramedics pushing a gurney onto Rubo’s porch from inside the house. A sheet pulled over Rubo’s slight frame, provided all the explanation necessary. The policeman glanced over at the body as the men carted the gurney across the uneven muddy terrain to the ambulance and then turned to Sam and Remi. “Was there anything else?” he asked.
“No. Poor man. I hope he didn’t suffer,” Remi said.
“No way of knowing for sure, but the techs say he probably didn’t,” the cop said.
Sam and Remi walked slowly back to the car. Sam slid behind the wheel and glanced over at Remi as he started the engine. “Old Rubo managed to live to be nearly a hundred without any issues, and right after he goes with us to ask about the past, he has a fatal accident. Am I being paranoid or is the timing suspicious?”
“You’re asking the woman you were in the river with, dodging gunmen after being run off the road, whether you’re paranoid?”
Sam’s grin was humorless. “Good point.”
CHAPTER 37
The next morning, Selma called as Sam and Remi sat on the oceanfront veranda, enjoying their coffee, the fishing fleet rocking at anchor in the harbor as the sun rose out of the sea. Sam lifted the handset to his ear and punched it to life.
“Selma! Tell me you have good news. We could use some.”
“Why? What happened?”
Sam told her about Rubo’s demise.
Selma’s voice quieted. “I’m sorry to hear about it. Definitely sounds fishy. Although you did say he was old . . . Still, I hope you and Remi are watching your backs.”
“There isn’t a lot else to do here, Selma. Now, how about your news?”
“I have Lazlo with me. He wants to tell you.”
