New Orleans, LA Sunday, July 11, 2021
THEY WAITED NERVOUSLY IN THE LINE OF PASSENGERS PREPARING TO board The Emerald Lady. He had bent and unbent the top of the boarding pass protruding from his passport so many times that the corner was a withered mess. Meghan reached over and gently pulled his hand away to stop his fidgeting. There were only a few things his level of anxiety could relay: He was nervous about climbing onto a cruise ship for fear of it sinking. Or he was apprehensive about tropical storm Bartholomew, which was swirling in the eastern Caribbean, and which meteorologists were predicting would twist its way into the Gulf of Mexico. It was too early in the season for hurricane concerns, but the storm promised a deluge of rain and rough waters. Either supposition was better than the truth—that he was uneasy because he was fleeing the country under an alias, and if caught was facing years in prison.
He stemmed the fidgeting just in time to come face to face with the pretty, young deckhand dressed in a crisp white uniform that sported gold stripes on the shoulders as if she carried some level of military rank. She smiled warmly at them, expecting the same in return. After all, every passenger she encountered this morning was about to embark on an epic vacation cruising the open waters of the Caribbean and visiting its fabulous islands, which included Grand Cayman, Jamaica, Cozumel, Belize, and Roatán in Central America. What was there not to be happy and excited about? He and Meghan smiled back at her.
“Passport and boarding pass, please,” the woman said.
Meghan took the lead, handing over her information. Her papers were real, and there was no worry as she confidently waited while the deckhand scanned the document. The woman smiled a moment later and handed the passport back to Meghan.
“Ms. Cobb, welcome aboard The Emerald Lady.”
“Thank you,” Meghan said.
With a subtle tremor to his grip, the man handed over his documents. If things were going to fall apart, the scanning of his doctored passport would be the start of it. But all that happened after the woman placed the document facedown on the scanning machine was that a pleasant ring sounded and a green light brightened on the podium.
“Mr. Holland, welcome aboard The Emerald Lady.”
“Thank you,” Aaron Holland responded with a barely audible stutter in his throat.
“You’re in cabin thirty-three-eighteen. How many bags will each of you be carrying?”
“Just one for each of us,” Meghan said.
“Very good,” the woman said, looping an Emerald Lady tag around the handle of each suitcase.
“You can leave your bags here.” She pointed to the growing collection of luggage that was organized off to the side. “It will be delivered to your cabin shortly.”
Aaron Holland and Meghan Cobb smiled and deposited their bags with the others.
“Carlos will escort you to your quarters. Enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Holland said in a considerably more relaxed tone than just a few minutes earlier.
They followed Carlos to cabin 3318. The first obstacle had been cleared. Many more waited. So far, Claire was batting a thousand.
CHAPTER 67
Lake Placid, NY Sunday, July 11, 2021
THE NO-KNOCK WARRANT AUTHORIZED FEDERAL AGENTS TO STORM THE cabin without warning. The motorcade consisted of two Humvees and three black Suburbans with tinted windows. The caravan looked so out of place in the quiet mountains that even without sirens blaring or lights flashing, other cars pulled to the shoulder to allow them to pass. Eight agents clad in riot gear occupied the Humvees. Ten more agents, including Jim Oliver, road in the Suburbans and were dressed in SWAT gear with FBI windbreakers over their Kevlar vests. Firearms were strapped under their arms. And each of them, per the terms Claire Montgomery had negotiated that made this raid possible, had been fitted with body cameras and microphones that would capture every move and every word.
The small brigade pulled down the shaded street until the two surveillance officers who had been watching the cabin came into view. They pointed at the canopied drive and the caravan screeched forward. Before the Humvees came to a full stop, the doors opened and agents poured out. They were armed with submachine guns across their chests and Glocks strapped to their sides. They hid beneath Kevlar helmets and shatterproof face shields. The two lead agents hurled themselves up the front steps and used a battering ram to splinter the front door. They slid to the side to allow the stream of heavily clad federal agents to storm the cabin.
CHAPTER 68
New Orleans, LA Sunday, July 11, 2021
A ARON HOLLAND PLANNED TO STAY IN THE ROOM FOR MOST OF THE cruise. It was small and cramped and there wouldn’t be much to do besides watch television and worry. He’d much prefer to lounge out by the pool, or maybe grab a drink from the bar. But that would expose him to other passengers, and every venture out of the cabin presented an opportunity for some memorable incident to occur. Whether it be a casual conversation that someone later recalled, or a minor mishap like spilling his drink, there was no way to know what another passenger might remember. The fewer people he saw, the better the chance that Aaron Holland could exist for only a short few days before disappearing from the world.