Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90099 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90099 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Tim had to remind himself Ann and Billy were watching. He glanced at the woman’s back one last time and continued to the bar.
“Manuel,” he said, reading the barman’s nametag, “I ordered three scotches more than fifteen minutes ago.”
Manuel took three glasses from under the counter. He took his time pouring the drinks. “A babe, that one.” His eyes moved to the door the woman had used to leave.
“Who is she?”
Manuel grinned. “How much is it worth to you?”
Tim studied the barman with new interest. Manuel was a clever observer. He’d do well in the diplomatic service. Tim took a bill from his pocket and left it on the counter. One way or another, he’d be able to find out. This was quicker, and, for some reason, he didn’t feel like wasting time. Manuel pushed a business card toward him. He picked it up and read the print.
Maya Martin, Tree House Lodge, Puerto Viejo, PADI Divemaster.
“She left this, why?” Tim asked. He was sure the beautiful woman had just thrown him a bone, and he already knew he was going to run like a tail-wagging puppy.
The barman pointed with his thumb to the wooden beam above where hundreds of business cards were pinned. “To put on the notice board.”
Tim pocketed the card and motioned to the drinks. “Get our waiter to bring this.”
Back in his seat, Ann’s tight smile confronted him. The waiter followed with their scotch, and he immediately swallowed a mouthful.
“So,” Tim leaned back in his chair, “back to business.” But his mind was elsewhere.
In her room at the Marriot, Maya flipped through the photos in the folder. Timothy Fardel’s handsome features stared back at her from different angles. His messy, golden curls gave his square jaw and pronounced cheekbones a softer edge. His lips were full for a man and his eyes too brown for his light hair, but somehow those contrasts only added to his aesthetic appeal. Some women, those who liked the blond surfer types, would say his features were perfect. The photos didn’t do him justice though. He’d impressed her with his sales skills and how he’d handled the horny wife. Mrs. Malloy was a woman few men would deny. Maya appreciated that Tim had shown enough respect for Malloy to reject his wife’s explicit advances.
She studied Tim’s many expressions one last time before setting them alight in an ashtray. She watched as each of his appealing faces caught fire and melted away. When the lot was done, she flushed the charred remains down the toilet. She turned on her smartphone, connected to the secure satellite communication link, and hit the green button. Her boss, Cain Jones, answered on the first ring.
“All set?” he asked in his smooth, American accent.
“Target identified.” She smiled. “And engaged.”
“Good. When are you leaving for Puerto Viejo?”
“Tomorrow. There’s no point in wasting time hanging around San José.”
“Another shipment left yesterday. That, I’m afraid, is all I know. My source dried up.”
Maya tapped her nails on the desktop. Dried up meant Cain’s spy had been killed. “How?”
“Torture. Bled to death. Twenty-five cuts on his torso. His body was found in a motel room, set up to look like a drug deal gone wrong.”
“Fardel?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. In any event, whatever you do, don’t blow your cover. I’m not comfortable with you alone out there and no backup nearby.”
Maya went to the bar fridge and took out a bottle of water. “Cain, we’ve been over this. I’ll be fine.” With Clelia eight months pregnant and Lann a new daddy, her colleagues were unavailable for this mission.
“I know. As long as you stick to the plan.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She unscrewed the cap and took a sip. “Get the info. Wait for instructions.”
“Find out what you can, but don’t risk your life. If things get hot, pull out.” He paused. “And it may get hot. Just as I suspected, this is connected to Godfrey.”
Cain’s elusive archenemy, Godfrey, was such a mystery, they didn’t even know his last name. “You got the proof?”
“The money that funded the experiments performed on Kat when she was held prisoner came from an offshore account in the Cayman Islands. A big transfer was made from that one to Timothy Fardel’s account.”
“No way.”
Katherine White, Lann Dréan’s wife, had been held captive while pregnant so her baby could be stolen once she gave birth, but Lann managed to save Kat and his son in a secret rescue mission. Maya could only imagine how Kat would feel when she learned the research that saved her from dying in childbirth—as mothers of the seven forbidden arts babies had always done—was funded by black market arms deals.
“I received the intel from a hacker today,” Cain said. “I’ve sent you the details encrypted on the secure feed. We need to know how Fardel fits into the puzzle.”