Off Kilter (30 page)

Sarah was silent, dabbing at the tears in her eyes with a tissue.

Henry reached for his wife’s hand, gave it a squeeze, and said, “How is he going to catch the bad guy and clear his name?”

“Let me just say he has some very capable people, who are very well connected with the upper echelons of law enforcement, helping him.”

“Then why is the FBI hunting him?”

“That is part of the ruse. To draw out this criminal, he has to play this cat and mouse game with the FBI and Interpol. Otherwise, the guy would be suspicious and would never come out of hiding.”

“It seems Collin’s been placed in a very dangerous situation,” Henry said.

“Yes, he has, Mr. C. By no fault of his own, he got mixed up with an offshore insurance company headed by an anti-west economic terrorist.”

Henry and Sarah looked at each other. Sarah’s face shone with righteous indignation. “What are Collin’s chances against this terrorist?”

“Collin has proven himself to be quite deft at eluding him and his group so far. He’s got an incredibly brilliant sponsor within the US government’s anti-terrorism task force and he’s got the resources he needs to live underground for as long as it takes. Besides that, he’s really mad now and refuses to let this guy win.”

“I don’t know that any of what you just told us brings me much comfort, but at least I know he’s still the same person he always was, even after the tragedy.”

Rob let out a short, amused burst. “You can say that again. Now that it’s become personal, Collin is out to win and won’t stop until he does.”

“How are you involved in this, Rob? You’re not working for the government, are you?” Henry asked.

“No. I’m involved because Collin’s my friend, and I want to help him. I also have a connection to that brilliant guy I mentioned who wants to keep him safe.”

“Have you seen him? Or talked to him?”

His hands were folded across the table in front of him. He leaned forward and spoke just above a whisper. “Not directly, but my friend has. I’ve told you this so that you know he’s alive and safe, but you can’t tell anyone, not even those two FBI agents you’ve spoken to. That would expose my friend and blow the whole operation, making it impossible for me to communicate with you in the future. You have to assume that your phones have been tapped and that your e-mails are being read. In fact, it would be safe to assume that all of your online activities are being watched.”

“Why? Don’t they think he’s dead?” asked Sarah, her brow furrowed and her face contorted.

“That’s what they published online. It’s an easier explanation. But, since they have no confirmation, they will watch and wait. They believe, since Collin is such a family man, that if he’s alive, he will, at some point, return home or make contact with you. They’re waiting for him to make a mistake and get caught.”

“Oh, dear,” gasped Sarah. “That’s unconscionable.”

“With the misinformation they are going on, it stands to reason. They think he’s complicit in a number of cyber crimes that crippled several international banks and embarrassed government agencies.”

“That couldn’t be,” said Sarah.

“You and I know that, but they have nothing else to go on except for the contrived evidence this man has left online, which implicates Collin.”

“But can’t they sort out what information is false and what is not?” asked Sarah.

“Not without more evidence. As I said, Collin is being helped by some very knowledgeable people in high places. These guys will help exonerate him when this is all over.”

“That’s good to hear, but what can we do?” asked Henry.

“Your job is to just be yourselves. Don’t change what you’re doing; just be mindful that they’re watching you, and be careful not to divulge anything about this conversation. If reporters come asking for a story, point them my way. I’ll handle media relations for the family again, like I did before.”

Henry and Sarah looked at each other again. Henry nodded and said, “Thank you, Rob. This means so much to us.”

A handsome, young waiter arrived to take their orders. Rob sat back and, from that point forward, steered the conversation to other topics.

*              *              *              *

George Town, Grand Cayman Island

June 14

Captain Sewell barked out orders, and the crew lazily responded. Every sail, every line, every pulley, and every boom had to be inspected, tested, and made ready. Every surface had to be cleaned and polished. Every detail had to be right. Each man’s skin shimmered with a coating of sweat as they worked. Rojas stopped, pulled a bandana from his pocket, and wiped his face, surveying the surrounding boats and docks as he did. A man stood far off, leaning on a rail, watching them labor from his elevated vantage point. Rojas stuffed the red cloth back in his pocket and turned back. The man was gone. Rojas shrugged and went back to his duty.

A moment later, that same man appeared, walking briskly along the dock toward the slip where the
Admiral Risty
was moored. He wore khaki trousers without a wrinkle on them, a starched, white polo shirt, a cream colored blazer, and a broad brim hat that matched his pants. Thick, black sunglasses covered his eyes. His goatee was dark brown, neatly trimmed, and gave him a hard-edged appearance. As he approached the
Admiral
, he saluted the crew and asked for their captain.

Gordon Sewell regarded the stranger without moving from his spot next to the mainmast, sensing a potential customer. “May I help you?”

“You may, indeed,” said the man in a crisp and proper tone.

Captain Sewell arched an eyebrow and took a step forward. The man removed a thick envelope from an inner pocket of his blazer and handed it to him. The Captain cocked his head and kept a cautious eye on the stranger as he opened the envelope and peered inside. There was a handwritten note on a white index card. It read:

I’d like to rejoin the crew if there’s room onboard. I’ll even return your dinghy.

The Captain stared at the note, his face tightened in confusion. Behind the note, a thick stack of hundred dollar bills. He eyed the stranger again, squinting at him until recognition dawned. Collin Cook had returned. Then he couldn’t contain the smile that enveloped his face. Captain Sewell burst out with a hearty chuckle. His baritone voice boomed as he thrust forth his hand and grasped the stranger’s. “We always have room for you, wanderer.”