Hotel Coral by the Sea was not beside any sea Jason could ascertain. The fourth-floor room did, however, have a narrow view of the beach some three blocks distant. Other amenities were a remarkable similarity to a 1960s Holiday Inn, including, as Jason had insisted, a small kitchenette. Refrigerator, sink, and two-eyed electric range. That the place was neat, clean, and inexpensive was the most benign description Jason could think of. It was also probably not in the first tier of hotels whose registers would be hacked by someone trying to find him.
Jason and Judith were unpacking for the third time in as many days. “What makes you sure it will rain tonight?” she asked as she folded a pair of jeans and put them in a dresser drawer.
Jason had a pair of folded polo shirts in his hand. “The fact it has rained the last two. At almost exactly the same time. Say, can you save at least one drawer for me?”
She noted the bed where he had dumped the small number of clothes from his suitcase: two T-shirts, two polo shirts, two pair of underwear, one swimsuit, one pair of jeans, two pair of socks. Nothing that could not be washed in a bathroom sink. “You don’t need a whole drawer. All you brought, you could store them in the medicine cabinet in the bath.”
Jason nodded toward the closet, where she had hung up two dresses, rayon that easily dropped the wrinkles of being rolled up in a suitcase. “You didn’t bring a whole lot more.”
“You were pretty insistent on the point. ‘If it doesn’t go in the overhead, it doesn’t go,’ you said. ‘We’re not going to have time to spend packing and unpacking,’ you said. ‘Certainly no time to chase lost baggage.’ Well, OK, I did as I was told.”
“It’s the military training for you.”
“Maybe, Captain, you’re forgetting your rank.” She smiled as she brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes.
Jason put the two polo shirts in a bureau drawer. “My operation, my command. You’re the one who wanted to come.”
She sat down on the bed. “Truth is, I’d have invited myself along if you’d been going to the North Pole. Time for a break in the routine.”
“I thought you liked the travel, the lack of hassle.”
“The travel’s OK as long as you like Air Force bases. But it’s not thrilling, either. Then, along you come with your good looks, mysterious past, just reeking of excitement and adventure. No chance I was going to let all that slip away without a try.”
Jason turned from the bureau. “Candor is among your more endearing traits.”
“Candor gets what I want; feminine shyness doesn’t. Look, I’m an MD, not some bimbo who flirts with every man she sees. I’m not getting any younger and I don’t see much future with the career military types who, up until you came along, were pretty much all the men I met. I’m not looking to get married again anytime soon; I’m not even looking for a ‘committed relationship,’ whatever the hell that is. I didn’t invite myself along to be Robin to your Batman or Wonder Woman on my own. All I want, when it’s time to cash in my chips, when it’s time to retire someplace, is to have done something besides treat the common cold.”
“And VD.”
“And VD,” she echoed. “So much for what I want. What about you?”
“I want to accomplish what I came here to do, and for both of us to leave in at least as good a shape as when we arrived.”
She shook her head. “There must be something in your life besides whatever mission you’re on. What happens when it’s over? Where do you go, what do you want?”
For the first time, Jason asked himself just that: Where would he go? Not back to Ischia, where Moustaph’s men had found him. And what did he want, just to be left alone to paint? Obviously not, since he had accepted this job. And what about Maria? He realized he had intentionally, if unconsciously, postponed making some very hard decisions.
“What do I want? I haven’t planned that far ahead. There’ll be time for that when we’re finished here.”
Judith took a step back to allow Jason to toss the polo shirts into another open drawer. “And if it does not rain?”
It took a second for Jason to understand that she had switched back to the original conversation. “I guess we get a rain check.”
She turned toward him, holding a pair of bras. “Suppose it doesn’t?”
Jason finished putting away the last of his clothes. “I’d say we change hotels and wait for the next rainy night.”
“Why is the rain so important?”
“Those people on the roofs of adjoining houses. What I have in mind doesn’t play well before an audience.”
“And exactly what is it you have in mind, blowing up the house? That’s the sort of thing Delta Force does, isn’t it?”
“No. We aren’t going to get rid of this bunch by destroying bricks and mortar. Or, for that matter, the people in it. What will put a finish to them is exposure. But we will use a bomb of a sort, though.”
He explained.
“And you want me to … ?”
He explained that, too.
“I’ll need incentive,” she said, unbuttoning her blouse.
An hour later, incentive provided, they were in a garden store. Jason was mesmerized by the varieties and colors of tropical flowers. Frangipani, hibiscus, and bougainvillea were among the few he recognized. Potted citrus, avocado, and mango waited to grace someone’s yard and dining table. He wished he had both his art supplies and the time to use them. This garden of tropical delights would be beautiful in acrylic.
“We came for the fertilizer and some pots,” Judith reminded him.
“Er, yeah.” He was examining the lists of contents on several bags while a bemused salesman watched. “Potassium nitrate is what I need.”
“We have a number of products that contain varying amounts,” the salesman offered.
Jason shook his head. “Won’t do. I mix my own fertilizer. Surely you have pure saltpeter.”
A smile cracked the man’s face, showing dazzling teeth. “Ah! Saltpeter! You should have said so. Yes, we have it. How much do you need?”
“A couple of pounds.”
The man’s face fell. “But it only comes in fifty-pound bags.”
“I’ll take one.”
Back at the hotel, Judith watched Jason fill a dented frying pan with a combination of sugar and saltpeter. “It matters how they are mixed?”
Jason nodded as he added just enough water to give the blend a claylike substance before turning on the stove’s eye. “About five parts to three.” He stirred with a wooden spoon. “We want to caramelize the sugar, not melt it.”
Fifteen minutes later, he was putting the frying pan into the small oven.
Judith watched skeptically. “It won’t ignite from the heat?”
Jason shook his head. “It will ignite only from direct contact with fire. The oven will only dry it out.”
“Now what do we do?”
“We go shopping for the rest of what we’ll need. By that time, the stuff in the oven should be ready.”
“Incentivize me again.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “I’m beginning to think it wasn’t the chance of excitement that made you want to come along.”
“Depends on how you define ‘excitement.’”
On their backs an hour later, both stared at the featureless ceiling.
“And now?” she asked.
“We make fuses.”