“Iceland?” Maria asked, her excitement obvious.
“What’s with Iceland?” Jason asked.
Momma looked at him. “I thought I said that: It’s where Boris is now. In a hospital, not talking to police.”
“Perfect!”
They both tuned to Maria.
“It’s perfect,” she said again. “About one hundred and thirty volcanoes, including Eyjafjallajökull, its monster eruptions shut down European air travel for nearly two months in 2010.”
She made it sound like an accomplishment.
“Thermal volcanoes, too, like Yellowstone in the United States. I haven’t been there in years.” Her enthusiasm ebbed as she turned to face Jason. Why can’t we go?”
Both Jason and Momma were staring at her.
Jason noted Momma’s eyes narrow slightly, a sure sign something devious was going on behind them. “Excellent! If you and I can persuade Jason to manage to find out what happened to Boris, your expertise will be very helpful. Maybe my company might sponsor a trip down inside this, er, big volcano. How many people would that involve?”
Jason was instantly suspicious. “How?”
“Well,” Momma said sweetly, “you know I can’t divulge a confidence, but I can say Boris was in Iceland on a matter related to the geology of the place.”
Jason was having a hard time seeing anyone getting shot over the study of rocks, plus Momma’s penchant for scheme and intrigue was as indigenous to her nature as heat and rain to her native Haiti.
“Exactly what would you expect Jason to do?” Maria wanted to know, obviously enticed by the prospect of a funded expedition.
Momma studied thin air for a theatrical moment. “Well, honey, he’s already indicated he doesn’t want to be directly involved in anything risky. All I’m asking him to do is find out what happened to an old friend, come back, and tell me.”
“You wouldn’t expect him to participate in anything if there’s trouble, anything violent?”
Momma gave her head a slight shake. “He’s far too valuable to risk.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
Jason felt like a goat being haggled over in some Middle Eastern bazaar.
“You’re sure?”
“Of course, sweetie.” Momma had on her most innocent face, a sure sign of deception.
“No violence, no killing?”
Momma shrugged, a human earthquake. “Just information gathering.”
Momma’s voice had taken on that musical lilt of Haiti’s patois again, an indication she was pleased with the way things were going.
“But you don’t intend to initiate violent action, and if it does happen, Jason won’t be involved.” A statement, not a question.
“Of course not.”
Was Maria’s objection to violence personal rather than generic, practical rather than altruistic? Or was the possibility of being able to fully explore a recent volcanic eruption too inviting to pass up?
Maria was silent, thinking.
Momma rose again, this time motioning to Semedi. “It’s been wonderful to meet you, Maria. I hope you can find a safe place. I know you and Jason will be happy together there. But I’ve got a crisis to handle.”
The ploy worked.
Maria also stood. “No, wait! If you can fund an exploration of the volcanic activity and you are sure Jason will only be involved in gathering facts …”
A fish that had swallowed the bait whole could be less securely hooked.
Narcom’s operations had as much chance of being nonviolent as an NHL hockey game did.
Jason started to remind both women that it was, after all, his decision, then stopped. He could protest, decline to participate. And then? He was still going to have to move, disrupt his life again to escape his enemies, having to look over his shoulder again here in the Bay of Naples or somewhere else. Going to Iceland wasn’t going to put an end to that, but it would be better than the running and hiding. Besides, his whole life had been a series of actions until three years ago. The brief encounter in Africa had reminded him how much he missed the excitement, the rush of life-and-death decisions.
In any event, he and Maria could not stay here, not with today’s attack. It would be followed by others.
He kept his mouth shut and listened before asking questions.