Page 91 of Fierce Seas


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“I mean, I appreciate how you feel. I’ve been there,” he continued as he drove the Jeep down the hill. “In Afghanistan I’d been leading a team trying to nab an important target for months. We finally had him trapped. Or so we thought. While we were hunkered down watching a shit hole, he was being picked up about ten miles away. I was relieved he’d been caught, but I was pissed my team and I had been denied the honor, especially after everything we’d suffered through.”

“So… what are you saying?”

“You can be there, but you can’t go in. Conchello would know you in a heartbeat. If he spotted you before we were ready to make our move it would blow the whole thing sky high, and before you suggest it, I’m not trusting your life or the operation to a blonde wig.”

Glancing across at her, he saw her disappointment.

“Don’t forget, he’s been hunting for you,” Scott added. “He’s probably got your picture out all over the place, and I’ll lay odds it’s not that crappy image Dan Miller showed me.”

“Now that you mention it, I wonder where Dan got that picture and why he’s using it. The way you described how I look, it sounds really old. Mind you, if anyone was caught taking a photograph at the mansion, God have mercy on their soul. Conchello is really paranoid.”

“The point is, Elizabeth, you can’t go inside the estate.”

“I guess not,” she mumbled with a resigned sigh.

“But we’ll have a surveillance vehicle outside. I’ll make sure you’re in it.”

“That would be fantastic, thank you.”

“We need to be very careful when we arrive in St. John. I’m sure Conchello will have eyes everywhere. That’s when the blonde wig might come in handy.”

“Don’t you get annoyed having to travel from island to island all the time?”

He laughed. “It’s just like getting on a freeway in L.A. But I travel on the water and enjoy the trip, instead of being on a concrete highway with crazy drivers zipping in and out of lanes, or worse, getting stuck in a traffic jam.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way. I guess you’re right.”

“I usually am.”

“I’m glad you said usually.”

“There’s the marina,” he remarked, pointing toward the bay.

“Do you see the boat?”

“There will be two. One will be taking back the guy delivering ours. Elizabeth, Dan couldn’t have made it here before we did, but we have to consider the possibility Conchello will have people down there looking for you, maybe even for the two of us together. Remember, this is where I was docked when you found me.”

“Shit. What should we do?”

“There’s a baseball cap and sunglasses in the glove compartment. Tuck your hair up. That will help, and you need to smile a lot, like you don’t have a care in the world. Body language and facial expressions give off subliminal messages.”

Leaning across the console, she kissed him on the cheek. “You’re amazing, Captain Scott.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he replied with a grin, “though your manners could use a little work. But we’ll talk about that later.”

“Of course we will,” she quipped, rolling her eyes. “Look, I see two speedboats coming in. Is that them?”

Slowing the Jeep, he could see the navy hulled vessels cruising toward the marina.

“Yep, that’s them,” he replied, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Get that cap on. I’ll let them know we’re almost there.”

When Dan Miller had escaped from the van, he’d been smart enough to run up the hill, not down into the area near the township. But as his long legs had carried him at a fast clip through the tropical forest, he’d been startled to hear a vehicle coming up behind him. Darting behind a tree, he’d spied a Jeep driving through the foliage on a cleared, narrow track. Crouching behind the lush vegetation as it passed, he’d been shocked to see Elizabeth in the passenger seat.

Using the plants and ferns for cover, he’d hurriedly followed its track, reaching a clearing just in time to see Scott Specter and Elizabeth walking into a small house. He’d wanted to chase after them, but fought the temptation. Scott Specter was one tough guy, and if the house was where the van had picked up Jim Parker, it probably had high-tech security.

Out of the ether, an idea had popped into his head.

Creeping up to the Jeep and peering through the rear window, he spied a custom made cover hiding the cargo area. The rear door had been unlocked, and he’d discovered the shelf wasn’t fixed, but sat snugly in place. Twisting his body into the confined space, he’d reached out his gangly arm and pulled the tailgate closed.

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