Gone Tropical (9 page)

“I’m not into spilling blood, Stuart, if that’s what you’re in a twist about,” Col said coldly. “You don’t like what I’m doing here…you don’t trust me…I’ll buy you out.”

Stuart lowered his voice. “It’s not about trust. It’s just this whole thing has gotten too big. All of these bodyguards, the whole Indonesian influence. I don’t understand the culture…”

“These blokes know what they’re doing. They’re loyal. We have to lie low for another year or two. Do nothing to draw attention to us, our partnership, or this island. Then we’ll find a location on the mainland and we’ll be bigger than even I could imagine.”

Stuart nodded. “No killing.”

It sounded like a good plan. He’d have everything he wanted in a year or two. Meg, Bungumby Lodge, money that could easily be freed up from the Dubai accounts, respect from Col. Then he’d make his big move. His final move. He might even stay married to Meg. She was easy on the eyes. Thinking of Meg made him feel better. He’d give her a call tonight, talk to her parents and begin the whole charm thing, even if it was from a distance.

“Go, get breakfast,” Col said. “Relax. Come back on over to the island after you’ve gone up to Bungumby and checked it out. Don’t go near your woman. Just check out the lay of the land, see who is there, who isn’t.”

“Okay.” He didn’t want to go up there with Hadi, but didn’t want to create any more trouble. He listened to Col discuss something with someone in his office.

“Ring me later, Stuart. I’ll put another man on the job in Cairns.”

How many “men” did Col have? A slight chill coursed through Stuart’s body, and he reminded himself to rethink his plan about fucking over his partner.

Chapter Seven

Jake reached for his old leather duffle bag eager to start tracking Amy. He patted his shorts pocket to make sure his wallet was there, and fished out the keys to Sarge’s Jeep.

“You about done in there, Sarge?” he yelled toward the closed bathroom door. He heard the toilet flush and figured the answer was yes.

A loud banging on the motel room door sounded and the telephone rang. Jake dropped his bag. Who the hell knew they were here? Helen knew to call Sarge on his mobile phone and only in an emergency. Old man Helm only called on his cell. Could it be Amy?

“Get the phone will you?” he yelled back to Sarge, who hurried through the bathroom door buttoning his shorts at the waistband.

“Got it,” Sarge said.

Jake peered through the peephole at a strange distorted male figure. He pulled down one of the slats on the blind, feeling vaguely disappointed. A man in a motel staff t-shirt and neatly pressed tan slacks stood outside on the concrete walkway. The man wrung his hands, a worried look on his face, and he kept glancing over his shoulder and down to the parking lot below. A spiral of dark smoke curled upward and sirens sounded in the distance. Something cold and slimy coiled through Jake’s stomach. He slid the safety lock off the door just as he heard Sarge slam down the phone and say, “Shit.”

They jogged down the stairs to the motel parking lot, yelling to each other what they’d learned of the disaster. Jake surveyed the group of interested onlookers and appraised the damage done to the new Toyota Prado.

“Glad you had this bloody thing,” Sarge said holding up the fire extinguisher he’d emptied. The hotel manager nodded. “I’d have lost the entire jeep.”

“It could have blown up half of the motel.” Jake walked around the vehicle shaking his head. Who the hell was tracking them? Firth was not into this type of criminal act. As far as he knew the man’s objective was to be as unnoticeable as possible. Never could tell what an animal would do when cornered though.

One of the firemen walked over to chat with Sarge. Someone had called triple-0. Police and fire had responded. Jake didn’t want the local cops knowing what he was up to, not yet anyway. Even though Sarge was Australian Federal Police out of Townsville, he was undercover on this case. The Prado wasn’t even registered to him. The firemen jumped back into the truck, pulled out of the parking lot, and headed to the highway.

A gasoline-soaked rag had been stuffed up the exhaust of the jeep, and then set on fire. The wires from the engine management system had been ripped out. It would take close to a week before it could be repaired.

“Obviously this was done to slow us down,” Jake said to Sarge. “The gas soaked rag in the exhaust was done for fun, just to screw with us, to make the whole incident more dramatic.”

“Yeah, it was a message. Something of a warning, like we won’t kill you, yet.” Sarge shook his head. “We’ll get the bastards.”

Jake nodded. Fortunately an early riser had seen smoke shooting out of the vehicle and run to the manager’s office to awaken the night crew.

They could rent another four-wheel drive and use Sarge’s personal credit card, but it was risky. Jake frowned. Maybe he should suck it up and use his own card. Whoever was tailing them obviously knew who he was. It was best to keep Sarge’s identity unknown for as long as possible. It seemed Firth had people watching their backs everywhere they went. Who the hell were these people and what was Firth involved in? This reeked of something bigger than embezzling funds from little old men who owned coffin companies. Jake rubbed at his whiskers and glanced over at Sarge who was giving a report to the young police officer.

“No sir, no enemies,” Sarge said, and then chuckled. “I’m here with me mate from America. Going to show him some of the world’s greatest wonders.”

Jake walked over and slung an arm around Sarge’s shoulder.

“You’re visiting from the States?” the officer asked without raising his eyes.

Jake nodded. “Yeah…two weeks of vacation.”

“Can I see your passport?”

“I’ll need to zip upstairs and get it.” He didn’t want to, but if the cop was including him in the report, even though he didn’t own the vehicle, he’d better not resist.

The cop nodded and continued to fill out his report. Jake took the steps two at a time and grabbed his passport out of his duffle bag.

“You got any enemies?” the cop called out loudly, as Jake jogged back downstairs.

“Sarge is the only Australian I know,” he said, his voice calm as he joined the two men. “I’m thinking this might be a case of mistaken identity.”

“You fellas out partying last night, hit on someone’s woman?”

“We went to a bar at a hotel, but we didn’t speak to anyone except a barman,” Sarge said.

“We were there for a couple of hours.” Jake stepped closer. “It was a pretty slow night. We had a few beers and left. Our motel manager saw us come in. You can check with him.”

The cop pursed his lips and snapped his book shut after looking at the passport. “Okay, you blokes take it easy. I doubt we’ll find out who did this, hard to trace this type of crime.” He glanced at Sarge. “I’ve got your home address and telephone number, and I’ll be in contact if anything comes up. We don’t get much of this stuff up here, don’t want it either. Keep your noses clean,” he said, and climbed into the patrol car.

Jake stood beside Sarge. The car pulled out of the parking lot and eased into the early morning traffic. He slipped the passport into his shorts’ pocket. The sun was up and the day promised to be spectacular. Pity it had to have started out so shitty. “Come on. We can call a tow truck and get the jeep in for service. It’ll probably be ready for us when we get back from Bungumby.”

“Best ‘company’ car I ever had. Yeah, we’ll leave the luggage in the room, grab a cab, and go get us another vehicle. Your I.D. or mine?”

“Mine.”

“Sounds wise,” Sarge said and called for a taxi on his mobile. “Hang on a sec. I’ll slip the manager a twenty, get him to call a tow truck while we’re gone. Should buy us extra time.”

Jake scanned the back parking lot, and the alley behind the motels that lined this small back street. It was perfect for someone to slip in and out unnoticed. Along the edge of the alley was an unfenced area of rainforest, thick foliage, and huge tree trunks created a perfect place to hide. He shook his head in disgust. They’d been acting like a couple of rookie cops. Damn, they’d never even swept the perimeter, never checked the vehicles in the lot. Whoever had done this was long gone.

****

Two hours later Jake had a new car rental and a few grocery bags of supplies for their journey. Determined to act like a P.I. and do the job he was being paid to do, he also bought bleach for Sarge’s hair. He’d cut it, spike it, and make it blond, what little there was of it. His own hair he’d dye black, and although amateur disguises, anything to change both of their appearances might help. And he’d shave. He’d dye his eyebrows too. He and Sarge were about the same body size so they’d switch clothes.

Sarge would be the uptight dresser and he’d go casual. “Catch.” He tossed the package from the chemist shop in through the front passenger window.

Sarge raised one hand without looking up and caught the small package mid-air. “What color will I be?”

“Blonde.” Jake snapped his seat-buckle into place. “Let’s go.”

Sarge drove the short distance back to the motel and pulled into the same spot where his jeep had been parked earlier. Charred remains of foam from the extinguishers and the dark tire tracks stained the concrete.

“I’ll have a word with the manager,” Sarge said and headed for the office.

Jake climbed the stairs. The door to their room was ajar. Could be housekeeping, but there was no cart parked outside the room. He heard footsteps hurrying up the stairs and turned, waved Sarge back, and put a finger to his lips. He wished he had his gun, but that wouldn’t have made it through customs. Besides he’d made a vow after leaving the force not to ever pack again. A good P.I. didn’t need a gun.

Sarge packed. Damn, the gun was in his duffle, inside the room. Sarge stood still a few feet behind him, and Jake slid down below the window level and inched along the terrace. He rose at the side of the doorway and peered around it. They couldn’t get a break today. He shook his head slowly and beckoned Sarge.

“What is it?” Sarge asked as he drew level.

Jake shoved the door wide open with his foot and pressed his lips tight in anger.

“Jeeezuz,” Sarge said. Their clothing was dumped all over the beds, drawers hung open, pillows were removed from pillowcases, mattresses were slid half off the beds.

“Lucky we weren’t here,” Sarge said.

“Yeah, ten minutes earlier and we’d probably have had a gun at our heads.” Jake did a sweep of the room looking for bugs. He picked up the telephone and listened for a moment. “Speaking of guns, where’s yours?”

“I had your back.” Sarge slapped his waistband. “It’s why I wear loose Hawaiian shirts.”

“You’re packing all the time?”

“Just had a feelin’ yesterday arvo when we were pulling in here. Then I figured we might need it going to the hotel.”

“Arvo?” He thought about it a minute. Snapped his fingers and nodded. “Yesterday afternoon. Good. At least we still have your gun. I thought it was in the duffle. Do we report this?”

“Nah, they won’t find any evidence. You’re ex-LAPD, remember how it works? They waste a day making reports and farting around and nothing ever gets accomplished.”

Jake stared at Sarge for a moment and stroked his chin. “How would Helen like you with your head shaved?”

“Dunno. It’d be cool though.”

“Yeah, you’ve got a good shaped head, me I’d look stupid. This way, we’ll be out of here sooner. I’ll bleach mine. It’ll be faster than doing the dark dye job.”

Sarge started to fold clothes and re-pack. “I’ve got an electric razor somewhere, I’m gonna look like Vin Diesel in that movie, forgot the damn name of it. It was good though.”

Jake nodded and patted his shorts pocket. Thank God the cop had asked for his passport. If it had been in the room, his cover would have been blown for sure. There was nothing in the room to identify either of them. Just two once packed duffle bags. They’d been lucky this time.

“Listen, let’s clean up the room and get the hell out of here. We can pull up at a truck stop along the road and I’ll change my hair color. And let’s swing by the car rental and trade this one in for something else, just in case.”

“This is your gig, but how about I call my AFP buddy here in Cairns? He’ll get me another undercover vehicle. It’s probably time to alert him we’re in the area, anyway.”

“We could leave the rental car here. Screw with our tail if he’s still watching.”

Jake figured he wouldn’t mention it yet, but if they found Amy they could link up. Join forces. Maybe even do the honeymoon thing Sarge had suggested back in Sydney. It would be a perfect cover for anyone looking for two guys traveling together.

Sarge could chauffeur, and he and Amy could travel in the back seat, honeymooners, rich American tourists, on vacation. Firth’s men wouldn’t know about Amy being up here. It would be perfect. He whistled as he repacked. A flash of the heat from Amy’s eyes danced through his memory, and this time he didn’t snuff it. He half-heard the murmur of Sarge’s conversation with the AFP going on in the background.

By the time he was sliding the mattresses back on the beds, he’d broken into song.

****

Amy felt a pang of jealousy as Brian performed magic on Meg Thompson. The two were in the first meet, highly sexually charged, fascination stage. She on the other hand was all alone. Jake’s face and those green hazel eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled, danced before her. She pushed the memory away.

Meg was almost eating out of Brian’s hand. They sat on the verandah of the lodge, enjoying a glass of wine, and she smiled up into his face then laughed out loud at something he said. Amy was in the sitting room, her low strength magnifying glasses propped on the end of her nose, pretending to read a book. The moment Brian had seen Meg he’d been enthused about talking to her, and why not
?
The woman was gorgeous, tall, willowy, long curly auburn hair, mid-twenties, and she had an infectious laugh. This was the woman her ex-husband had charmed into bed.
Why didn’t it hurt
? Maybe there was something in what Diana had told her, and Meg was yet another victim of Firth’s?