Tortured Spirits (7 page)

Miriam looked at Jake. “Yours won't be the only white face on the island. The US government may not approve of
Malvado, but plenty of US companies have factories there. Cheap labor trumps other concerns, even when the workers are tortured.”

“What happens when we land?” Jake said.

Fernando pointed at an airstrip near the coast. “There's only one airport for civilian and military personnel.”

“You'll stay at the island's only resort,” Miriam said. “Malvado developed the beach for tourists, but they never came. Only one resort hotel remains. One is a number you'll find significant: one television station, one news radio network, one newspaper, one monthly magazine, one voice: Malvado's. But books, magazines, and DVDs from abroad are permitted, and pirate radio stations have begun to pop up. The island residents have limited Internet access; it's an intranet, like some companies have. Forget about cell phone service.

“On day one, you relax on the grounds. On day two, you play tourists, which will give you a chance to see parts of the island. You'll visit Pavot City for dinner. Go to a restaurant called Coucher du Soleil. Whoever your contact is will reach out to you there.”

“You don't know who that is?” Jake said.

“As a precautionary measure, no. Tell him what you need, and he'll arrange it. We've dug a tunnel that leads beneath the prison. Most likely you'll use that to get in and out. Once you've met your contact, you have five days to carry out your plan. Since the resort will know you're booked for seven days, Malvado's secret police will know that, too. The sooner you move, the better.”

“Once we have your husband—”

“You'll travel to the northeast tip of the island. French pirates smuggled rum there once. We'll have a boat waiting to bring you back to the US, but it can leave only at night.”

“And if we're caught?”

“You'll be tortured and killed in El Miedo. No one but us will ever know you were there.”

“Just how helpful will our support be?”

“Any of the men or women who join you will lay down their lives for my husband. They're fighting for Pavot's freedom.”

“Then why haven't any of them tried this on their own?”

“There have been previous attempts. Twenty years ago … ten … five. Each incident resulted in new security procedures, with Andre relocated to a different cell. If you fail, it will upset our intelligence again.”

“If we fail, we'll be killed.”

“If you fail, you'll pray for death.”

Jake followed Maria to the same car rental agency where he'd gotten his Ford Fusion. He couldn't believe she had tailed him to New Orleans and then Florida and that she had figured out so much about Katrina and her zonbies. He had underestimated her threats to watch him. He laughed at the thought of her disarming Fernando and his men. She was a tough cookie. Good NYPD. He had to keep his eye on her.

Maria exited the rental agency office and opened
the passenger door, then eyed Edgar in his cage. “Am I supposed to ride in back so he has a good view of the glove compartment?”

“Put him back there. He's used to it.”

Maria unbuckled the seat belt around the cage, which she lifted in two hands. “Sorry, partner.”

Edgar croaked as Maria positioned the cage in the middle of the backseat and secured it with a seat belt and shoulder strap. Then she sat up front and closed the door. “Now I really feel naked. First no gun, now no car.”

Jake pulled into the street. “I know what you mean. I hate to travel without a piece.”

She turned in his direction. He could not see her eyes behind the dark sunglasses. “You're not traveling naked. You fired off that shot in the alley next to your hotel in New Orleans.”

“I drove from New York. I had no trouble transporting my gun.”

“Is that why you drove from New York?”

“No. I drove because I won't let Edgar out of my sight.”

Maria shook her head. “I'm still not sold that's him.”

“Yes, you are, or you wouldn't be going with me.”

“Maybe I just don't want to let you out of my sight. Maybe I'm afraid that if anything happens to you, I'll never get to the bottom of this.”

“I'm risking my life to save my friend. You're risking yours for the same reason, not to solve a mystery.”

“Mysteries,
plural. I've got more than one file on you.”

“I don't know if I should be flattered or worried.”

“What happened in that alley?”

“Three clowns jumped me. They thought they could hold Edgar for ransom.”

“You needed to fire your weapon at birdnappers?”

“It was a warning shot. There were three of them.”

“So? I turned the tables on Miriam's boys, and there were three of them.”

“Your guys were shorter.”

“I'm
shorter.”

“What can I say? I have a bad habit of getting jammed up.”

“How'd you get out of there without being seen?”

Jake didn't feel like telling Maria about Jasmine. “Sometimes I'm as lucky as I am unlucky.”

“I've read transcripts of your interviews with Geoghegan. You're good at being evasive.”

“I have a strong sense of self-preservation.” He pulled into the motel parking lot. “I assume you're staying within view of my room?”

“You know it.”

“It's not smart to stay at the same location as your stakeout subject, you know.”

“It's not like I have backup. It isn't easy watching someone 24/7.”

“I could have seen you.”

“You saw me plenty of times. I guess I never made much of an impression on you before.”

“I never saw your legs or that tan before, and eyes are a person's most identifiable feature.” He parked, switched off the ignition, and faced her. “Do you want to have dinner?”

“Sure, why not? We've still got plenty to discuss. As long as it's on you. I'm tapped out, and I've already charged more than I can afford.”

Jake didn't want to answer any more questions, but he saw no point in avoiding Maria since they were going to be traveling together anyway. “Just don't expect anything fancy. We have to go somewhere with a patio, so I can bring Edgar.”

“I approve of your chaperone.”

They got out at the same time, and Jake took Edgar out of the backseat. “How about we meet down here in an hour?”

“Make it an hour and a half. I want to shower.”

Jake showered too and shaved. Then he picked up his phone and struck a number in his contacts. The phone on the other end rang two and a half times.

“Hello?” The boy's voice was so much deeper than it had been the last time they had seen each other.

“Hey, Martin.”

At the mention of Martin's name, Edgar hopped around in his cage.

That's a good sign,
Jake thought. Sheryl had told him Edgar was losing a little more of his humanity each day.

“Jake! Do you have any news?”

Jake felt a weight on his shoulders whenever Martin asked him that question. “I don't want to get your hopes up, but I think I'm onto something.”

“You serious?”

Jake heard the restrained excitement in the boy's voice. “I'm serious that it may be nothing. I won't know for another week or so. I wouldn't even tell you this, except I'm going to be incommunicado at least that long, and I don't want you to worry.”

“Okay.”

“You listening to your mother?”

“Yes.”

“Tell her I said hello, and keep your fingers crossed.”

Maria stepped out of the shower and toweled herself dry. She blow-dried her hair, put on a bra and panties, then picked up her phone and touched a number.

“Speak of the
diabla,”
Bernie Reinhardt said in his customary monotone. “I was just thinking of you. How goes the Sunshine State? Do you look like Malibu Barbie yet?”

“I could star in a Coppertone commercial,” Maria said.

“When are you coming home? I get lonely poking at these stiffs without you. I keep catching myself talking to them.”

Maria lathered cream on her legs. “Maybe another week.”

“That's a long time. What gives?”

She drew a disposable razor along one leg. “I followed Jake to a meeting in a nightclub. One thing led to another, and I ended up walking three hombres into the meeting at gunpoint.”

“Apparently you lived to tell the tale.”

“Jake and I are flying to Pavot Island. Before you ask,
that's in the Caribbean.”

“Please tell me you aren't eloping. It will break your mother's heart.”

“I'm almost thirty. My mother wants grandkids.”

“Your mother's already got a dozen grandkids.”

“Four.”

“What's on Pavot Island?”

“A dictator, a prison, and hopefully some answers.”

“And Helman.”

“Don't worry about Jake. I can handle him.”

“That's what I'm worried about: keep your hands off him. I don't care if he's Genghis Khan or just misunderstood. He's trouble from the first bite to the last.”

“We've had this conversation before. I don't care about Jake. I want to find out what happened to Edgar.”

“And you expect to find the key to that particular mystery on Pavot Island?”

Maria considered the question as she shaved her other leg. “I expect to find the answer or accept there is no answer and move on.”

“You always know the right thing to say to me. When do you leave?”

“In the morning. I'll be out of reach. Cell phones are contraband over there.”

“Good luck, partner.”

“Thanks. I really hope to see you again soon.” Maria shut her phone down.

Jake leaned against the car door, dressed in jeans and a black V-neck T-shirt, with Edgar parked in the backseat and the engine running for air-conditioning.

He heard a door open and close on the upper level and almost failed to recognize Maria when she approached. She wore a green summer dress that left her arms and legs exposed and matching strap-on sandals with heels. Her curly hair hung loose around her shoulders, lighter than he remembered it thanks to the sun, and she wore makeup. The last time he had seen her looking so attractive was on the night he had dinner with Edgar and Katrina, and Edgar had surprised him by inviting Maria as his date.

Maria stood before him with an expectant look on her face, the dry breeze blowing her hair. “Is something wrong?”

“Hm? No, I was just thinking about tomorrow.” He
opened the passenger door for her and studied her legs as she sat down and hissed at the hot upholstery. Closing the door, he walked around the car and got in beside her. “The front desk clerk recommended a place not far from here.”

“Thank God,” she said as he pulled into the street. “I was sick of eating fast food while you checked out every Cajun joint in New Orleans.”

“Stakeout's a bitch.”