28

 

Inside her room, Kristin marveled at Sledge’s unexpected gentleness. There were more facets to his character than she’d thought possible. Earlier, when they’d been caught in the firefight, she’d welcomed the bulk and strength of his body as a shield. She’d felt so awed by his willing self-sacrifice that she hadn’t wondered why her panic reaction to big men didn’t rise up. Then she’d realized she cared very much what happened to Sledge, and as the bullets flew around them she found herself clinging close to him.

Did that mean she was cured of her panic, or had it only been neutralized by the extraordinary circumstances? She’d worried about that, knowing the critical moment would come when they said good night at her door. But his gentleness and understanding had carried them through the crisis. Now she was certain she would never fear him again. For the first time in years, she felt like a normal person.

Sleep came quickly but remained shallow. She woke repeatedly, at times to confidence in her newfound emotional health, at others to frustration at the lack of further leads for Roger Brinkman. As glimmers of daylight seeped through her windows, she woke with the sense time was running out on them.

Relishing her tourism plans with Sledge, she dressed in slacks and low-heeled shoes. But the itch of uneasiness remained. She checked her watch. She had a free hour before breakfast with Sledge. Maybe a walk in the freshness of the morning would banish the uneasiness.

She picked up her wide-brimmed sun hat more out of habit than necessity at that time of day. Then her purse. Her cell phone was beeping its low-battery signal, for in last night’s euphoria she’d forgotten to recharge it. She plugged it in so it would be ready when she went down to breakfast.

She saw no one in the hotel lobby as she passed through. Too early for most tourists, she guessed, feeling a bit smug at being up before the others. She stepped outside, surprised again at the tropics’ burgeoning fertility, a presence so fierce it seemed the air itself might be alive. Not just alive. Perhaps enchanted. So different from the barren chill of the Andes and the ordered productivity of her native Minnesota. She breathed deeply and followed the street in front of the hotel.

She walked quickly, awed by the number of plants and flowers whose names she didn’t know and saddened by her certainty she’d never know them. The fate of every tourist, she guessed. But she could enjoy them without names. Like those bright yellow ones on the bush in front of the hotel she was passing. It wasn’t a bad hotel, but certainly not as luxurious as the one she’d just left. It was busy, though, as indicated by the row of taxis standing at its doors.

A man emerged from the hotel and hailed the first taxi in line. He was a huge man, corded muscles threatening to burst through his colorful sport shirt, so strong that he handled his traveling bag as if it were light as paper. A big man with a blond head…

Kristin felt suddenly chilled in spite of the tropical warmth.

It was the man she’d searched for yesterday, one of the two she’d seen at the factory and the one she’d seen again in the Bogotá air terminal. Last night she and Sledge had felt frustrated at the lack of leads to the criminal organization behind the weapons factory. Well, here was a possible reason there were none. This man had probably been sent here to make sure there were none. But he himself was another lead dropped right in her lap. Even as she watched, the man climbed into a taxi and drove away.

She mustn’t lose this lead. She raced to the next taxi in line, embarrassed as she spoke the line made trite by a hundred B-grade movies, “Follow that cab.”

The driver, an elderly man with chocolate-colored skin and ash-gray hair, eyed her shrewdly but complied without asking questions.

“Keep them in sight,” she said. “We mustn’t lose them.”

“Can’t lose them, mum,” the driver said. “I heard them say they going to the airport.”

His information proved true, though he kept the other cab in sight. As they slowed at their destination, Kristin paid her fare and added a healthy tip for the driver’s helpfulness.

Her quarry strode directly to the airport ticket counter. When he left, she went quickly to the same counter.

“That man who just bought a ticket. Where is he going?”

The ticket agent gave her a suspicious look. “Is he some kind of criminal?”

Kristin returned the haughtiest stare she could manage. “It’s a divorce case. He has a wife in Florida. She retained us to keep track of him.”

The suspicion turned to cynicism. “If she’s in Florida, she’ll have a long wait. He bought a one-way ticket to Spokane, Washington.”

Kristin dropped her credit card on the counter, hoping it wasn’t maxed out. “Then sell me one, too.”

“First class, like his?”

Pleasant memories of her luxurious travel with Jocelyn flashed through her mind, but she knew that wouldn’t do. Not only too expensive, but she couldn’t get too close to the man she was following.

“Just coach,” she said with a sigh. “His wife said she wouldn’t pay for anything fancy.”

The agent returned her credit card with the ticket that showed one plane change in San Juan, Puerto Rico, and another in Chicago. The length of the journey and the magnitude of her task brought a wave of depression. The least she could do was tell Sledge what she was attempting.

“Where’s the nearest telephone?” she asked.

The agent frowned. “You don’t have time. They’ve already given last call for your flight.”

Kristin ran for the gate, one hand holding the floppy hat on her head, the other clutching ticket and purse. For once, nothing beeped as she went through security screening. Breathless, she reached the airplane just before the flight attendant secured the door. Inside, she paused to compose herself before proceeding down the aisle. A quick glance showed the blond hulk reading a magazine in a seat near the front of the aircraft. How could she get past him without being noticed? She turned her face away as she walked the aisle, using the wide-brimmed hat to shield her face. She was glad she did, for every male on the other side of the aircraft got his eyes full. Being an attractive blonde could be inconvenient at times.

Quite a few seats toward the rear of the aircraft were empty, so Kristin took one where she could see her quarry if he left his seat.

She chided herself for not recharging her cell phone the night before. If she had, it would be handy in her purse instead of useless on the bed table in her room. Well, she’d find a phone somewhere. Meanwhile, what should she do? Her only plan was to follow the blond thug wherever he went and try not to get noticed while she was doing it.

The great turbines whined into life, sending their characteristic vibration through the aircraft—so different from the vibration-free ride of a jetliner. The engines growled during taxiing, then roared as the aircraft raced down the runway and became airborne. After liftoff, they subsided into a dull, constant mutter as the pilot throttled back to climbing power. Takeoff usually gave Kristin a thrill of anticipation, but today she only felt a hard sphere of tension in the pit of her stomach.

She was on her own in the same aircraft with a man she knew to be an international criminal.