Sam entered the house behind Bear. A lady who looked to be the cook was excitedly trying to make some point in Portuguese. A soldier from Major Hamilton’s unit answered in the same language and took her arm, pointing her to the spacious living room where she would be out of the way.
Bear signaled him to the east wing. Sam nodded and headed there with Frank at his heels. They went into the rooms with weapons ready, clearing them one by one. This was the office wing of the house. There were secretary offices and file cabinets and at the end of the wing, a huge open office with a view of the grounds. No one was present, a reflection of the fact Luther had been away for several days.
Over the secure communication network he heard the men searching the grounds call off names as they identified people on the known staff list. There was general chaos at what was happening. To the staff, Luther and Renee had simply been a very wealthy European couple who loved to travel.
Sam entered what had to be Luther’s office from its size. “The east wing is secure, Bear. The house doesn’t appear to have even the security I would have expected.”
“Agreed. The staff knows Vladimir, but he stayed here only occasionally. They recognized Jerry’s photo but only saw him here twice. Have you seen any weapons so far?” his boss asked over the security loop.
“None.”
Outside came the sound of a third helicopter landing. Sam broke off his search to meet the incoming men. Wolf had insisted on coming with the second group of security officers. Sam met his partner. “You’re looking a little green.”
“You know I get airsick when these guys fly low,” Wolf replied with a grin. His arm was in a sling, and he looked like he’d lost ten pounds in two days. But he was on his feet and determined to head back to the States on his own feet. “Where do you need me?”
“Paperwork.”
“I knew I should have stayed in the hospital until morning.”
“Luther’s office is in the east wing.” Sam led Wolf to the office.
“Wow, now this is an office.”
“You can tell his priorities.” Sam opened file cabinets to get a sense of the type of records Luther had gathered. There were dossiers on individuals, DIA-type files. He pulled half a dozen names at random—politicians, soldiers, intelligence officers, local cops. They came from several countries and some files were begun recently; others had information going back a decade. On one U.S. soldier there was actually a copy of his security clearance paperwork.
“I wouldn’t want my name in Luther’s files,” Wolf remarked, reading pages.
“You can bet he has one on you if he learned something. He was Czech intelligence; this was how he worked. Luther was recreating his own intelligence service. No wonder he kept his organization to himself, Vladimir, and his wife. Knowledge is power, and controlling who knows something is how he had learned to keep his own security.”
Wolf sat at the desk and opened the bottom drawer of the credenza behind it. “Chief, you’ll want to see this drawer. Folders, several with names having red lines through them.”
Sam walked over to take a look. He read off the names, stopping at the folder with Darcy’s on it. He removed it but didn’t open it. “Several of these people have been awarded the Intelligence Star for Valor; Sergey was right on Luther’s priority in scheduling the hits.”
Sam opened the top credenza drawer and saw folder after folder with names of known terrorists. He tugged one free. “Do you think he has intel on the people we’ve been hunting over the years?” He opened one folder and found it very much like a personnel file with photo, name, aliases, addresses, and a list of events the terrorist had been part of. “We need Darcy and Gabriel here looking through this data.”
“I’ll go find Bear and let him know.”
AUGUST 21
Wednesday, 7:17 p.m.
Pirate Place Island
Sam watched Darcy circle Luther’s office, scanning files and forming an overview of what was in each file cabinet, deciding her place to start. She had arrived with Gabe shortly before seven, carrying not a briefcase and notebook but a soda and her opera cassette. “These files are extensive, and several of the terrorists in these files we’ve never heard of,” Sam commented.
She just nodded and surprised him by starting with Luther’s desk calendar. She looked back three months and forward four. “What else did you find beside files?”
He blinked at the soft question. “This isn’t enough?”
She looked up from the calendar and over at him. “It’s a great find; I’m sure it will be very useful. But the fact Luther collects information about people and uses it to his advantage is nothing new. That was his role for decades. I would have been more surprised if you hadn’t found something on this scale. So what else did you find?”
“Like what?”
“I was hoping for a journal to explain his motives.”
Sam had been focused on this discovery and what this room of data represented; he’d missed the fact Darcy wasn’t at the same place. “I’m sorry; there wasn’t something like that.” He leaned against the desk. “You’re tired, Dar.”
“No, now I’m depressed.” She ran her hand through her hair and gave him a rueful smile. “I thought I’d feel like celebrating this moment, but I don’t.”
Sam had no idea how to help her. She’d given everything she had; there was nothing left. And it added to the reasons why he loved her. “How is Gabe doing on finding the money?”
“The thing Luther valued most—it’s ironic, isn’t it, that he left it all behind? We’ve seized enough cash already to pay for the last year of our time to hunt Luther down. I suppose there’s some justice in that.”
“Not enough.”
“No, not enough.” She sighed and moved away. “What do you need to do to finish up here? I’d like to go back to the hotel.”
He crossed over to join her and wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll take you. You’ll be back in the States in a matter of days, and then you can get home to see your sister, walk away from this. You need that right now.”
“Home used to be a very safe place, my bolt-hole. No matter how hot the world got, I could always go home and be safe. Now I’m wondering what is going to follow me back there.”
He rubbed her back. “I’ll follow you home.”
She tipped her head back and smiled at him.
“I can’t say you don’t have a reason to be uneasy. This war isn’t over, but why worry about dying, Dar? There’s a verse in Romans 14 that says: ‘If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.’ Death is kind of like being born: it happens to everyone. God knows the right time, and He’ll be there.”
“I know. I’ll get over this disquiet eventually. I guess I’m more tired than I thought.”
Sam tipped her chin up and kissed her, taking his time. “I love you.”
She turned her face into his shirt. “I love you, too.” She stepped back. “Please take me to the hotel.”
He hesitated and then reached for the portfolio on the desk. “I’m sorry; there’s no easy way to do this. I’ve got some news for you that’ll probably be very hard to hear, but it can’t wait until tomorrow.”
Darcy held Sam’s gaze, the change in him warning her it was indeed going to be hard news. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “What do you have?”
“They found Sergey’s boat floundering at sea a couple hours ago.”
She blinked. “They did? Was it that cutter he bought when he moved to the British Virgin Islands?”
“Yes.”
Her gaze searched his. “Was Sergey’s body found?” She would like to give him a decent burial.
“No, the boat was empty. They’re towing it back to the harbor now. But there was a note for you.” Sam held out the envelope. “A military courier brought it to Joe.”
Darcy slipped the single sheet of paper from the envelope and saw a page of nu
mbers. “Who wrote it? Sergey? Luther after he had Sergey killed? I don’t know what he used to encrypt it.” She tapped the envelope against her palm, and then walked to the desk, picked up her briefcase, and opened it. She retrieved the book she had been reading that first night at the Florida hotel. “Sergey knew I was trying to finish this.” She opened pages, compared letters to the note, and nodded. She sat down at the desk and transcribed the note.
I hate to spoil the novel’s ending, but the butler did it. And Darcy, I am very hard to kill. The Stingers are as good as advertised. Enjoy your retirement. Samuel is a good man.
Sergey was alive.
She felt optimism return for the first time in days.
“What?”
She shook her head, refolded the note, and slipped it back into the envelope. “Sergey was playing with the open code Luther was using. He enjoyed the book I was reading. He must have intended to drop the note into the mail one day.” She owed Sergey a personal favor. This note would never make her reports. Until Sergey chose to make his presence known, he would remain missing at sea. She opened the concealed pocket in the back cover of her book, slipped in the note, and returned the book to her briefcase. “I’m ready to go.”
“Gabriel said he would arrange a flight back to Virginia.”
She slid her hand under his arm as they walked. “I’m going back long enough to rescue my new guppy and say good-bye to my favorite bomb dog, then I’m heading to North Dakota.”
“It’s a good plan, Darcy.”
“What about you?”
Sam tugged an official piece of paper from his pocket, signed by his boss. “Hawaii. SEAL Team Nine is heading for some shore duty stateside. And Wolf is using that location to smooth things over with Jill for having gotten hurt.”
She paused, thinking about that. “I need to work on my tan.”
“It’s going to be snowing soon in North Dakota,” Sam pointed out.
She laughed. “I like snow.”
“I don’t. Come, Dar. I’ll show you paradise. I can convince you to love the water as much as you do the snow. It will be a vacation you won’t regret.”
“Will you buy me the perfect pineapple ice slush?”
“I’ll even make it for you.”
SEPTEMBER 2
Monday, 10:00 a.m.
Honolulu, Hawaii
What Darcy knew about Hawaii before flying into the islands wasn’t much more than what was in the tourist guide she had skimmed. The islands were full of flowing lava fields from active volcanoes, lush tropical areas, pristine beaches, rich coral reefs, and numerous world-class hotels to visit. Having just come from the Caribbean it looked very familiar, with the exception that now she could step out of her hotel in Honolulu without worrying about who might be targeting her.
She had a room at one of those hotels, compliments of Sam, and seven days without a single commitment on her calendar. Staying longer than that didn’t feel right, not when Amy hadn’t seen her in months and there were loose ends that Gabriel had to deal with alone.
She loved the sun. It baked into her bones and quickly became a cocoon of warmth around her, taking any desire to move away and leaving her relaxed to the point of slumber. She turned over on her beach towel and rubbed on more sunscreen.
She narrowed her eyes against the glare and spotted Sam. He rode a surfboard in the swelling waves and disappeared from sight as the wave toppled over and crashed into the sand. Tom was windsurfing farther out, trying to steer and balance it with one good arm, the other strapped to his chest. He and Sam were partners. Where one was at, the other was likely close by.
Tom’s wife, Jill, was here somewhere nearby with Joe’s wife, Kelly. The two SEALs were doing their best to make up for a year of constant deployments with the best vacation they could put together for their wives. Sam had good friends; it was nice to be considered part of the group. Darcy closed her eyes and let herself drift.
Drops of water landing on her arm roused her from a light doze. Sam sat on the beach towel beside her, drying his hair. “Hi, handsome.”
“Hey, there.” Sam held his hand up to shade the sun from her eyes. Darcy smiled her thanks. “You’ve been sleeping the last hour,” he mentioned.
“Probably. It’s what a warm sunny day is for.”
“One of the things,” he agreed, dropping his towel and picking up a bottle of water. “Looking at my beautiful woman in a bathing suit isn’t half bad either.”
She pushed him, about knocking him over.
He laughed. “Careful, honey. I might retaliate with a dunking in the sea.” He set down the water bottle. “I think my goddaughter wants to move here.”
Darcy glanced to her left. Bethany was covered with sand, scooping and throwing it with glee as the waves rolled in and water crept up the sand, tickling her toes. “She thinks this entire sandbox was created just for her.” Joe was building the trench for a huge castle. “Don’t SEALs ever do anything in half measures?”
“Not Bear, which is why he’s the boss.” Sam dangled the key on his wristband over her face. “Let’s go up to the hotel. I owe you a swimming lesson, and since everyone appears to be at the beach, we’ll have the pool to ourselves.”
“I’m enjoying a chance to relax.”
“Four days is relaxing; five you are stalling; and six you’re chicken. We’re a few hours from day six.”
She snapped the wristband. “What do you say I learn to swim when Bethany does?”
He planted his hands on either side of her head, trapping her and smiling down. “I do a lot of swimming, Dar. It’s kind of important you at least know how. I won’t let your head come even close to going underwater if that’s what you want. You’ll notice I’m not asking you to jump out of an airplane. I do a lot of that too.”
“How long is this lesson going to last?”
“I can teach you to swim in ten minutes if you trust me. It will take five if you don’t.”
“What’s the technique for if I don’t trust you?”
“I throw you in over your head.”
She laughed and tugged him down and kissed him. “I’ll give you an hour because I’m a lousy student, but only if you come back to North Dakota and help me move a tree.”
“Move it where?”
“It’s big and old and has to come down. Sound too hard for you?”
“Can I bring Wolf?”
“Jill too if she wants to come.”
“You’ve got a deal.” Sam got to his feet and offered a hand. “First rule of learning to swim: you have to remember how to relax. Can you remember what right now feels like?”
She let him pull her up. “Boneless?”
“You’ll get this down in no time.”
She gathered up her towel and sunscreen and headed with him up toward the hotel. It was the best kind of vacation—one spent without any schedule.
“The second rule is equally simple: you have to learn to breathe.”
“What’s wrong with how I breathe?”
Sam paused to look from her face to her toes and back up. “Not a thing from where I’m standing. Just remember to breathe deeply when you can and not to breathe when your head is underwater.”
“I think I’ve got that second part down.”
“Seriously, why haven’t you ever learned to swim?”
“I’m a coward.”
Sam blinked and then his laughter shook his chest. “Sure, Dar. I think the correct answer is you didn’t learn when you were young, and then you got too old to admit there was something you couldn’t do. I’m going to enjoy this swimming lesson.”
She snapped her towel at him. “Just because you like to make water your second home . . .” She left him at the hotel side door and went to her room to change.
* * *
Sam sat at the poolside and tossed two inflated rings into the water. “Here are your floaties. You know we could do this in the ocean where the salt water will naturally make you more buoyant.”
Darcy stuck her right foot in the pool. “At least it’s warm enough so I won’t get pneumonia. I think we’ll start counting your ten minutes.”
“Why don’t you have a seat right where you are? And remember, the first rule is to relax.”
Darcy sat on the edge of the deserted pool and reached down to slap the water, sending up a spray toward him. “The second was to breathe when my head was out of the water. I mastered that rule some time ago.”
Sam dropped into the pool, and the water came up to his shoulders; she’d struggle to touch bottom. “The third rule is also easy. Give me your foot.”
“What?”
His hand settled around her right ankle and he tickled the bottom of her foot. Laughing, she tried to pull back and only managed to come close to kicking him as he kept tickling her. “That’s the kick you need. If you get into trouble underwater and need to get to the surface to breathe, just remember what it’s like to have your feet tickled. You’ll shoot to the top.” He reluctantly released her ankle.
“A very vivid illustration. What’s rule number four?”
“Sorry, only three easy rules. After that you just jump in and swim. Give me your hand and slide into the water. I won’t let you go under.”
She hesitated.
“This won’t be like the Florida dunking where you stepped into the deep end and had to fight everything including your shoes to get back to the side,” Sam reassured.
She dropped into the water. Sam kept a firm grip on her arm until she had a good hold of the side of the pool. He pulled over the rings. “Hold on to them and just kick. I’ll race you to the other side of the pool.”
“It won’t be much of a race; you’ll just walk across.”
Sam grinned. “True. But I won’t use my hands.”
She was competitive enough to try and make it a race. He beat her to the other side and waited for her and the inflated rings to touch the side. “You’ve got a good kick. Turn around and go back without the rings. Just remember to kick hard and use your arms like you’re parting curtains at a really elegant store’s dressing room.”