Jolly Harbor Marina, Lignum Vitae Bay, Antigua.
Police Lieutenant Jack Pence got the call at around 8:00 p.m. He was at home.
“This is Pence,” he said into his phone.
“L. T., this is Detective Okoro. Sorry to bother you at home, sir, but I’ve got a uni that says he’s got one of your subjects in play.”
“Tell him to stay on it. Send him some backup and grab the little prick. Then call me and I’ll meet you at the station.”
“Roger that, sir.”
About thirty minutes later, Lieutenant Pence’s phone rang again. He picked it up and listened, then said, “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Good work. No, let’s let him sit in the tank a while.”
At around 10 p.m., Pence walked into the interrogation room at the precinct. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my good friend from the NSA. How are we today, Mr. Williams?”
“What time is it? I’ve been sitting in this shithole for hours. I’ve got to get out of here, right now! I’m on official US government business. What gives you the right to hold me?”
“The right? It’s my island, Mr. Williams. You’re not on US soil. But why so impatient? Can I call you Cade? Sure, why not. After all, we’re friends, right?”
Cade glared at him. “Answer the question. What am I charged with?”
“I’d watch your tone, Mr. Williams. But let’s talk about that, shall we? You know what I don’t like?”
“When you step on gum and it sticks to your shoe? I have to get out of here!”
“Ah,” the lieutenant said, “a smart ass.” He leaned over the table. “You want to know why you’re here? I don’t like being lied to, that’s why.”
“Look, Lieutenant, you need to call the US embassy. They’ll call the State Department and then probably your interior minister, who I’d venture to say, is going to be pretty pissed off.”
“I did call the US embassy. And they did call the US State Department. And you know what? They don’t know why you’re here. You’re sure as hell not on official business. I should have never released Jana Baker to you. I want to know where she is, and you’re going to tell me.”
“That’s impossible,” Cade said. Then he thought, CIA! The damned CIA screwed me. “I never lied to you,” he said.
“Oh no? You know who else I called? The US attorney’s office.”
Cade’s face went pale.
“Yeah, the assistant US attorney was never on his way to Antigua, was he?” Pence grinned. “That was a good one, by the way.” He lunged forward and slammed his fist onto the table. “Where is Jana Baker? Her little incident is looking more and more like assault with a deadly weapon, and probably worse.”
“She was attacked!”
“That, my friend, is crap. Did you think I was an idiot? Her story is more than a little flawed. For example, in her statement, she said she was walking home from the club when, allegedly, the attempted assault occurred. But she went a little out of her way. Six blocks out of her way, in fact.”
“What are you accusing her of?”
“You should be more concerned with what we’re accusing you of. But as for Miss Baker, attempted murder, for starters. She wasn’t attacked. She lured her victim down that darkened back alley and shot him twice, not to mention all the compound fractures. Left him there to bleed out. I’m charging her, and it’s going to stick. So let me ask you this. Did your little asset go out of control, or was she on assignment?”
“I’m not saying a word. You let me out of here right now.”
The door opened and a uniformed officer walked in. He handed the lieutenant a clear plastic evidence bag. Inside was a firearm.
“And the weapon she used,” Pence continued as he dropped the bag onto the desk with a thud, “did you supply it to her? You know what I find interesting about this weapon?”
Cade laid his head on the desk. “No, and I don’t care!” he yelled.
“I find it interesting that when one runs the serial numbers, nothing comes back.”
“So what?” Cade said. “So the hell what?”
“This is a Glock 43. A highly customized Glock 43, to be exact. Note how the handle has been cut down. It requires a handmade magazine to fit it. And the silencer. That’s a nice touch. But let’s talk about the serial numbers. All the parts are stamped with matching serial numbers, just like we’d expect. And the manufacturer registers every weapon it produces. Funny how this one doesn’t show up on the registry. It apparently was never manufactured.”
“Let me out of here.”
“That’s a pretty good trick, isn’t it?” Pence continued. “For a gun to disappear from the national database? I’d say it would take a government to pull off something like that.” He circled behind Cade. “I don’t just want to know where Jana Baker is, I want to know what she’s doing pulling a US-government-sanctioned hit on my island.”
“She’s not an assassin.”
“She sure as hell isn’t a kindergarten teacher, is she?” Pence walked to the door. “I tell you what. Why don’t you sit in your cell a while longer? Maybe by morning your memory will come back to you.” The door slammed behind him.
Shit, Cade thought. How am I going to be in a boat underneath Stone’s bungalow later tonight if I’m stuck here?