CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
The islands lay like brown amoeba floating on an ocean of ever-changing hues. Dark blue over trenches, light green covering the sandbars and shallows, brown where the reefs poked toward the surface. Puffy clouds dotted the horizon, cotton candy daubed on a cerulean backdrop. A kaleidoscope of pastels imprinted on a tropical canvas. This was the Bahamas from twenty thousand feet, a country of seven hundred islands and twenty-five hundred islets and cays covering a hundred thousand square miles of Atlantic Ocean.
We landed at the Marsh Harbour Airport and checked in with the customs officer stationed there. Like most things in the Bahamas, the arrival procedures are relaxed and cursory. Logan had been apprehensive about bringing our weapons to the Bahamas, but Jack had assured him that the authorities were not likely to examine our bags. They didn’t really care what we brought in as long as we paid the fees. Jock was right.
We showed the man our passports, paid the arrival fee in cash, got a signed document attesting to the fact that we’d cleared customs at a government port of entry, and were told to enjoy our stay. Our pilots were headed for a hotel they knew that catered to executive aircrews laying over while their bosses enjoyed whatever it was they did on the island.
Jock, Logan, and I retrieved our bags from the plane and took a taxi to a marina that rented boats. I’d made a reservation online before we left my house.
J.D.’s interest in the other dead children of Team Charlie members was another anomaly in our theory of what was going on. We’d only gotten the information on Team Charlie from the director that morning. How did J.D. find out about it before we did? How did she know to start making calls on Sunday? Did she have a source that she wasn’t sharing with us? The facts just kept getting fuzzier. One minute I thought we were on the right track and the next minute the fog of doubt rolled in and obscured the picture that was taking shape in our minds. It was maddening, like a jigsaw puzzle that was beginning to come into focus and suddenly some of the pieces changed shape, causing me to rethink what I’d begun to accept as truth.
Our plan wasn’t well formed. We were going to take our time surveilling Doc’s house on the island, seeing what level of security he had in place. We were going to storm the property just after dark, rescue J.D., and get back to the plane. It wasn’t much of a plan, as Jock pointed out. But we couldn’t come up with anything better.
We were anchored about three hundred yards off the little island that contained the house Desmond had built. A dock ran out from the front of the place about sixty feet. Two go-fast boats, each at least thirty-five-feet long with big twin Yamaha outboards hanging off the transoms, were moored on either side.
We were decked out for fishing, large floppy hats covering our heads and shielding our faces, trying to look like three guys spending a day doing not much of anything. Our boat was a twenty-three-foot center-console Grady-White, a fishing platform. Jock, Logan, and I sat with rods and reels, casting now and then. I had a pair of binoculars and checked for activity at the house every few minutes. It was quiet.
Our guns were stored on the floor of the boat in the duffels we’d used to transport them. We had three M4 military assault rifles and three nine-millimeter Glock 19s. The bags also held camouflage paint, black clothing, and extra rounds for the weapons.
We were waiting for dark, hoping to get a better idea of what was on the island before we launched our attack. I didn’t expect to see J.D., but I thought Doc might be roaming around, checking his security. Old habits don’t die, and an old soldier in hiding would make sure he was secure.
The sunlight was fading when my cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw that the call was from a blocked number. I answered.
“Matt,” J.D. said, “you guys come on up to the house.”
“J.D.,” I said, “are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Look at the dock, the one right in front of the house.”
Shit. I held the phone away from my mouth, said in a whisper, “They’re on to us.”
“Matt,” J.D. said, “I can hear you. I’m fine. I’m standing on the end of the dock. Bring the boat on in, and I’ll help you with the lines.”
I picked up the binoculars and looked toward the dock. J.D. was standing at the end of it. Alone. She was dressed in shorts and a golf shirt and seemed relaxed. If she was under duress, there was no sign of it. “She wants us to bring the boat to the dock.”
“I don’t think we have much choice,” said Jock. “We sure as hell didn’t surprise them.”
“She looks okay,” said Logan. “J.D. wouldn’t let a little thing like the threat of getting shot make her throw us to the wolves.”
Logan was right. J.D. would not let herself be used as bait. I put the phone to my mouth. “Okay. We’re coming in.”
I closed the phone. “Get the weapons out of the bags,” I said. “Don’t let them show above the gunwales. They’ve probably got glasses on us.”
I used the windlass to raise the anchor, cranked the engine, and moved toward the dock. J.D. waved at us as we came closer. Jock and Logan were at the bow and stern with lines. I eased the boat into the dock and J.D. caught the bowline from Logan. Jock jumped off the stern and wrapped his line around a cleat. I shut down the engine and climbed off the boat.
J.D. hugged me and then Jock and Logan. She looked at the floor-board of the boat and smiled. “You won’t need those,” she said, pointing at the guns.
“What the hell is going on, J.D.?” I asked.
“Come up to the house. Doc’s there with some other people you’ll want to meet. He’s got one heck of a story to tell you.”
“How’d you know we were here? I thought these floppy hats would hide us.”
She laughed. “I’d know you guys anywhere. Besides, Doc had a GPS beacon hidden on his plane. He could follow it on the Internet. We knew the plane had landed at the Marsh Harbour Airport, and we were pretty sure you were aboard. I thought you’d get my hints.”
“I figured them out, but why? If you’re here voluntarily, why didn’t you just tell me that?”
“Come on up to the house. Doc will tell you everything.”
I was a little steamed. She’d worried the hell out of me and now she was telling me that the hints as to her whereabouts were part of some kind of game. “I don’t find any of this very amusing,” I said.
She hugged me again, put her mouth to my ear, and whispered, “Matt, I’m so sorry to have worried you. It was necessary, and I knew you’d find me.” She kissed me on the neck, just below my ear. “Thank you.”
I was still a little pissed, but the kiss, the first one ever that was more than a friendly peck on the cheek, was quickly washing away my anger. I hugged her back. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” I said. “These have been the longest three days of my life.”
“Come on. Let’s go up to the house,” she said and led the way.