No Remorse Part 17

"Yes, the Scorpion Owl. A magnificent bird. But I have only seen a dead one-stuffed, unfortunately."

"Can you land at Khalid's hotel, Olivier?"

"But you cannot be serious, monsieur? One is not permitted in the resort except by invitation. I have been warned by Colonel Boroni. Do not fly over, he tells me. Ha! But it is near our approach to Andaran Airport, you see? So stupid! I fly over regularly before the Yubani Resort is built."

"Let's fly over it," Mac persisted.

"Mac," Tally said, tapping him on the shoulder. "Maybe we shouldn't."

That sealed the deal. The smile of an old warrior broke out on Maurin's face. "Very well, I do it. But do not be surprised if they shoot."

A few minutes later the half crater of Khalid's property appeared ahead. Mac changed the memory card in the camera.

"We are coming to the Sheik's land. See that dhow at the long jetty?" Maurin pointed. "The Alamohamadi. It bring in supplies for the resort. The maintenance compound here is outside the extinct volcano. Built to house workers building the resort. The resort itself is on the other side of those cliffs. Inside the bay that was formed by the crater."

Mac zoomed the telephoto lens as they swooped near the compound, taking close-ups of the buildings, the equipment and the perimeter fence. The men unloading the dhow at the end of the jetty waved at them.

Closed fists.

"Construction workers lived there for two years, but it's mostly deserted now, except for the maintenance crew and when Khalid's boat is here. They bring in groups occasionally for some sort of celebrations at the resort. Weddings, I'd guess. A perfect spot for them. Sometimes funerals, too. There's a small cemetery at the back of the beach there. Some guests have been taken by sharks, the storytellers say."

"Do you believe the stories?"

"It is not wise to ask, I think. The local military patrols the perimeter. Colonel Ali Boroni is the army commander. On Khalid's payroll, I have no doubt. Not someone you want to upset."

As they flew over the compound, two men with weapons bolted from one of the huts and began firing.

"Merde!" Maurin yelled as he yawed left and right and banked sharply around the crater ridge into the bay.

Mac laughed, and turned to Tally in the back seat. "You okay?"

"I'm getting used to it with you around!" Her knuckles were white as she gripped the back of his seat.

"My apologies, mes amis," said Maurin straightening up the machine. "I should not have flown so low."

"No. That was perfect."

"Hold on! I take you."

Maurin flew parallel to the coastline between the two ridges forming the crescent-shaped bay. They were about half a mile from the resort complex, but they could see it and photograph it clearly enough. It wasn't a large complex, Mac thought, but the designers had managed to capture Arabic heritage, with sandstone arches and fort-like ramparts high enough to withstand a significant tidal surge. Here the beach was pristine, without the clutter evident on other beaches they had flown over. But he was more concerned with a.s.sessing the potential for a midnight raid than admiring the impressive backdrop of the crater, the brilliant white beach, and the blue waters of the bay. Several Asian men were lounging beside the rooftop pool. An armed figure standing by the helicopter landing pad stared up at them but didn't fire.

"Now that'd be a place for a honeymoon," Tally said.

"Except that no travel agent can make a booking," Maurin said. "I have no idea, madame, how you would get into that place."

Mac turned and smiled at Tally. That's what they were here to find out.

46.

They were in a big tin shed, although a faded sign proclaimed this was Andaran Aeroport Internationale. The tropical downpour pounded on the roof and, in the absence of gutters, water cascaded straight onto the tarmac around the perimeter of the building.

A tiny, dark-skinned Andaran girl in a patterned cotton sarong gawked at Mac as he sat on the equipment crate, waiting for the immigration official to return from prayers. The girl's mother was selling coconuts and fresh fruit, but customers were scarce. Mac winked, and the girl tried to copy him, but blinked both eyes. He poked out his tongue. That was something she could do. Tally caught his eye and smiled. She wandered over and bought three coconuts, and with a practiced dexterity the woman lopped the tops off with her machete, inserting a straw in each.

"You actually have a soft side, I see," Tally said above the clattering rain, handing a coconut to him and one to Olivier Maurin. "Mmm, this is good," she said, between sips of the coconut milk.

"It's called winning the hearts and minds of the locals. Strictly according to the manual." He winked at Tally. She poked out her tongue.

The little girl laughed. Now there were three in the game.

"You'll need to provide baksheesh for the official, to allow your equipment through. About five euros," Maurin said, and went over to arrange a rental vehicle.

After Customs and Immigration, Maurin drove up in a Land Cruiser that clearly wasn't a Hertz. Several bullet holes bore witness to the island's political instability, and it had a cracked windscreen and torn black vinyl from sun and abuse.

Mac didn't care as long as it worked. In fact it was better not to stand out.

"You'll see some soldiers," Maurin said. "They usually friendly, unless a coup in the making. The weather next few days they forecast mostly fine, but a storm coming from northeast. Might intensify into a hurricane, and if it does I text you. But otherwise, I stay here on standby."

"Thanks, Olivier. We'll call you when we need you again."

"I'm sorry I do not have weapon to give you. If soldiers find one, it would not go well for you. Bonne chance!"

47.

The island was shaped like a starfish with three arms. Mac drove west towards the Kimba Peninsula on a rutted bitumen road that took them past woven palm-leaf huts, plantations of cloves, cinnamon and bananas, and cananga trees with their curly ylang-ylang flowers. Laughing, free-spirited children ran beside the car, waving and calling to them as they slowed through villages. Barefoot workers carrying machetes ambled between farms. In Kimba village, they had their pa.s.sports checked at a military checkpoint where a half-dozen armed soldiers sheltered in the shade.

A few kilometres further on, west of Khalid's property, they turned north towards the ocean and eventually found a suitable campsite behind the sand dunes, with a freshwater stream nearby. After they'd pitched the tent, Mac lit a fire and cooked the fresh tuna and rice he'd purchased at the Kimba market, while Tally set up the satellite link.

"It's important we have an established base, in case someone asks questions," he said, as they sat on large rocks, eating. "We're going on day hikes to photograph the wildlife and scenic locations. Too bad we got lost and couldn't make it back to base. We'll get an early start to hopefully avoid Army patrols. Four a.m. Sorry."

"I'll cope. Hey, you cook a mean fish," she said, sounding surprised.

"Something of a necessity in my line of work."

"My father cooked a mean fish. We had a boat. He used to take Benita and me out on the lake. Camping too, sometimes. I loved it. Ben, not so much. She's more a home body, like my mum was. The wilderness wasn't mum's thing at all. Deliverance Country, she called it." Her face took on a faraway look, as though she was watching her childhood like it was a movie. "You know, I can see it so clearly."

"I didn't have you pegged as the family tomboy."

She gave a nervous laugh and wiped an eye. "Sorry. Just the smoke." She moved closer, away from the fume. "It's great to have a break from computers, sometimes. It's heights I can't handle. Bungee, roller coasters, abseiling, parachuting, hang gliding-uh-uh."

"You think about your parents often?"

She stared into the fire and didn't reply.

"Sorry," he said. "If you don't want to-"

"It's okay. You know, I see them every day. I can picture the last time we said goodbye, at the airport."

"The photographic memory?"

She nodded. "It was my idea. A twentieth-anniversary present. Mum and Dad ran a dairy farm in Vermont and hardly ever had a vacation. I suggested a week in New York and booked them into breakfast at the Windows on the World restaurant in the north tower that Tuesday morning. I was sixteen, at high school in Burlington at the time. Someone ran into our cla.s.sroom and the teacher turned on the television. We watched it unfold.. .they kept showing the second plane hitting the south tower. Over and over again. The explosion, the burning buildings."

She stopped, and took several deep breaths.

Mac nodded slowly, watching her, a trail of tears glistening down her cheek. "I was watching it, too. Something no one will ever forget." He'd just returned from a pre-dawn jog with his Ranger unit in Seattle when the base was put on full alert.

"Yes." Tally sniffled and wiped her nose. "I couldn't speak. Couldn't believe. Tried to convince myself that they were okay, that something might have delayed them. Then my dad called."

Mac felt his stomach turn. "Oh G.o.d," he murmured.

Tears were dripping from her chin. "Yeah, so anyway, I'm standing there with this awful ache in my gut. On the phone I can hear this horrible roar-the fire I guess. The whoop, whoop of the fire alarm and...people screaming, and..." She paused to wipe her eyes. "...And Dad's calmly saying how much he and Mum love me and Ben. That we should remember the good times and have a wonderful life. That I should never blame myself..." She choked on the words. "Oh c.r.a.p. Sorry..."

He moved to put his arm around her but she shook her head. "I'm okay."

"Your father was right. It wasn't your fault," he said.

"But don't you see? They'd be alive today if it wasn't for me."

"He knew you'd blame yourself. He didn't want you to."

They ate in silence for a time. He thought maybe it'd be best to change the subject.

"We may have to do some rock climbing tomorrow. Will you be okay with that? It'd be a good way to get over your fear of heights, you know."

"Ha!" She sniffled and wiped her nose. "You've got to be kidding me. For a million dollars maybe..."

She leaned back to get away from the smoke and overbalanced. He reached out and grabbed her arm.

"d.a.m.ned smoke." Tally sat up and turned to face him.

She looked like a ballerina; so fragile, so vulnerable, but possessing an inner strength as powerful and impa.s.sioned as any hardened soldier. Not that she'd want him to tell her that. In the flickering flames her lips were turned up slightly in what appeared to be a grateful smile. What was she thinking, he wondered?

"Thanks," she said.

It was as if they were in another place and time, and Mac felt a sudden urge to kiss her. He leaned across and touched her cheek with his fingers. It wasn't impossible to imagine the two of them...

Christ, where did that come from? What was he thinking? He quickly took his hand away, turning his face to the fire. It was getting uncomfortably hot.

"Maybe we should walk along the beach? It might be cooler down there." He tried to defuse the feelings threatening to overwhelm him.

"Okay." She laughed softly, a little nervously, he thought, and went over to collect her laptop. A thin line of cloud veiled the top half of the full moon as they strolled through the dunes to the beach, where the tide was high and the water was warm. They waded along, allowing the waves to crash around bare ankles and the gritty sand to squeeze in between their toes.

He was tempted to tell her his latest plans, but after the last confrontation with Wisebaum, he needed to be careful what he told her. He had spoken with Jog about kidnapping Khalid. Not only would they demand Sophia and Danni be released, but they would demand a substantial ransom that would help their families rebuild their lives and help them to search for other kids Khalid might have trafficked. Fifty million. They would destroy Khalid and Ziad and their slavery business in the process.

"A beautiful moon," she said, putting her hand through his arm. "Do you mind? My mother had a French heritage."

He didn't mind at all. "So long as you don't try to take advantage."

"Touche. You know, after that first dinner in Nice, I didn't expect us to be working together for long."

"I think Derek saw through us both." He chuckled. Her hand brushed against his forearm, tickling the hairs.

"By the way, there was an email from Derek. Khalid's flown to Paris. That's where we're headed after this. Derek's sent Rosco from Dubai to Paris with the gear, because the Princess Aliya has left port and there's nothing for him to do."

Perfect. As soon as he could get a call out, he'd get Jog started on planning Khalid's kidnapping. He smiled at the thought. "I love Paris."

"Me too. I holidayed there after college."

The moon emerged from behind the clouds and he could see the light reflecting off her teeth as she opened her lips to smile.

"Want to head back? We've got a long hike in the morning."

"Already? I...I thought seeing as I told you about my parents that you might tell me about your sister, Cynthia."

"I..."

He dug his toes into the sand. His throat went suddenly dry. He rarely told anyone about what had happened that day with Cyn. He stayed silent for a while, hoping she would let him off the hook. But Tally just walked beside him, saying nothing. And after a time, he realised that he wanted her to know. For better or worse. When he finally came to that realization, it poured out of him like floodwater over a spillway.

48.

It was hard not to laugh at his sister's innocent antics. She could get away with most anything, especially with her oldest brother. Lee tossed his school bag onto the gra.s.s and stood with his hands on his hips, calling to his sister to hurry. She ignored him as usual, her nine-year-old mind captivated with the joys of racing maple leaves down a little stream leading to a run-off drain in Seattle's Interlaken Park. The place was a vibrant array of colour and texture that seemed to symbolise the change in moving to their father's hometown after a lifetime spent in their mother's. Their father had gotten a job at Boeing, as an aircraft technician. Nick, his outgoing younger brother, had settled in best, making lots of new friends at school. He would have been walking home with them today, except he broke his arm and was at the hospital with their mother.

"Come on, Red!" she screamed, her bright eyes captivated as the yellow leaf flashed past the red one, which was doing circles in a backwater. Red was Cyn's favourite colour. Her long ponytail bounced freely as she trampolined her skinny legs, bouncing up and down trying to dislodge the red leaf.

"Watch out, Cyn. The bank's going to crumble."