The Schliemann Legacy (27 page)

"He may find us."

"We're going to have to show ourselves eventually." She noticed David's faraway gaze. "What's the matter?"

David shrugged and tore off a piece of bread. "Homesick. I wanted to come out on this mission so much and yet I miss home. I miss Israel. I always did - no matter what mission I was on. But I think it's worse this time." He took her hand in his. "Worse because I have someone I want to show my country to."

Katrina gently kissed his knuckles. "Tell me again what I'll see," she said.

While they ate, David talked about Israel. He thought he had told her everything before. But now, as he traveled the country in his mind, he remembered more and more. The beauty and the danger. The contrasts of the geography and the people came alive in his words. He spoke with bursting pride of the ancient times of the Bible and the modern technology of the
Sabras
, the second generation Israelis.

When he had finished, both were surprised to see it had grown dark outside. David cleared away the dishes. As she lounged against the thick pillows, Katrina realized she would follow David to Israel - if he was allowed to return.

"In my country, a man would not do that," she said, pointing to the dishes. "That's woman's work."

David moved across the room and lay down beside her. "In my country," he said, "equality has advanced. Except among the more religious sects, of course. In the early days, when the country was young, able bodied men were scarce. Even with women enlisting, the Arabs severely outnumbered us. The women still serve in the forces and we respect their abilities. Golda Meir was not an exception for Israel. You know how it is with us Jews; we hate to waste anything. Equality was a necessity, at first. We eventually learned it was an asset."

"And what about in bed?" Katrina asked with a slow smile. "Is equality an asset there as well?"

"Dominance is inconsequential. The most important goal is satisfying your partner."

Katrina parted her robe to reveal her round breasts and hard nipples. "An admirable goal," she said. "Tell me if I succeed."

They kissed deeply. David moved his mouth down her neck and between her breasts, losing himself in her warm perfume. She surrendered to his touch, allowing small shudders to shake her body. Slipping her hands under his robe, she caressed his tight muscles, scratching his back lightly with her nails. Mouths and hands tenderly explored each other's body. With infinite patience, they brought the other to the edge, only to retreat and begin rebuilding the passion. Wax pooled around the candles, yet they continued to express their love.

Neither noticed the slight noise outside their bungalow door.

* * * * *

The man crouched in front of Bungalow Number Eight, the bright moon glinting off his gray temples. He could hear the muffled sounds of lovemaking. He smiled. This would be their last opportunity, he thought. As he remembered the exciting figure he had seen through the binoculars, a spark of jealousy flared and quickly winked out. Soon, he told himself. Soon he would have his revenge for that missed shot and for the interference at the compound. He had wanted to see them die, to make them suffer, but he'd grown weary of the pair. He would swat them out of existence as he would an annoying fly.

The man opened a small case beside him. He removed a
Do Not Disturb
sign, three brass screws, a screwdriver, wire, and a small detonator. Then he went to work.

When finished, he replaced his tools in the bag and walked back down the path, turning back to admire his creation. He squinted in the half-light at the bungalow beside Number Eight and the sign on its door. He glanced back at Number Eight. Nothing could be more natural than the tiny sign, he thought and smiled again. The thin wire would be invisible, even in bright sunshine. In the morning, the two inside would open the door and the detonator would trigger.

After that, the Greek and the Jew would not be around to bother him any longer.

Chapter 32 - DEADLY ILLITERACY

A sunbeam streamed into the room, bathing Katrina and David in its warmth as they lay entwined in each other's arms. Though both had been awake for half an hour, neither wanted to stir from the rumpled sheets. David toyed with Katrina's hair. Katrina looked up at him. "Don't tell me about any gray ones," she murmured.

"I thought that was why you had it highlighted, to cover up all this gray."

"Bastard, I'm only thirty-four. I'm not old yet!"

"That's what I keep telling everyone," David laughed. "The difference is, I know I'm lying."

Katrina rolled onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows. "Could have fooled me last night. I would have put you around eighteen."

David kissed her forehead. "I would have put you around that age, too."

"God, no. Don't you know that women reach their peak at forty and beyond? I'm just beginning to come into my own."

David rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. That would work out about right. Give you twenty years in your prime and then I'll be dead. Actually, you'll probably have killed me. I could go out the way every guy dreams."

Katrina made a move to hit him, but David was already up and out of bed. "I'm going to shave and shower," he said. "We'd better get going. I think we've used up too much of our lead time."

"You have your shower," Katrina said. "I'm going out to see about getting us some breakfast."

* * * * *

After shaving, David turned on the shower and stepped under the spray. As he pulled the curtain closed, he heard the bathroom door open. He stuck his head out. "I thought you were going to get us breakfast."

Katrina dropped her robe to the floor. "I'll join you and we'll go out for breakfast together. It'll be faster in the end."

David looked at her standing naked in front of him and smiled. "I doubt it."

After a long shower, they dressed quickly and checked their guns. As enjoyable and restful as the past twelve hours had been, neither of them could forget Duman was waiting for them somewhere on the island. Now that he had accepted the need to leave the bungalow, David wanted to get on with their plans. He could almost see Israel slipping through his grasp.

Katrina sensed his impatience and kept pace with him. She, too, had her visions. All she could see was Alex bleeding on the carpet.

* * * * *

Asabi pushed her cleaning cart along the gravel, cursing when the wheels caught in the loose stone. She waved at her friend Chi, the maid who looked after the other ten bungalows. Chi had told her about the job and talked the boss into hiring her. And Chi had taught Asabi everything she knew.

Asabi looked at the door of each bungalow as she passed, watching for the signs that told her when to make up a room. Not that she could read the words. She couldn't read a single word, not like Chi. One day, Chi had promised, Asabi would know how to read. Chi would teach her.

For now, Asabi watched the colors. Blue, like the sky, meant the people did not want to be disturbed. "Never go in the rooms with blue signs," Chi had told her.

Green was the sign she watched for. Green meant she could go into the bungalow. She made up the beds, cleaned the bathroom, and left fresh towels. Dirty work, but Asabi loved going into the rooms.

The rooms held promise for Asabi. Chi had told her about the last maid at the resort. That maid had done such excellent work, one of the guests had hired her. She had moved away from the island and now lived in luxury in the United States.

That was Asabi's dream.

Asabi stopped and squinted at the door of Bungalow Eight. The sign hanging from the doorknob was wrong. It was not blue and it was not green. It was gold.

She looked back at Bungalow Seven. A blue sign. She looked ahead at Bungalow Nine. A green sign.

Asabi leaned back and looked down the row of bungalows. Chi's cart sat outside one of the doors. Asabi could go down and bring Chi, but the boss did not like the women gabbing. If Chi came here, the boss might think that she, Asabi, couldn't do her work alone. She might get fired.

Don't bring Chi here, Asabi thought, bring the sign to Chi. She crept up to the door of Bungalow Eight, bent down, and grabbed the sign.

The explosion was deafening. Blood and debris flew through the air for forty feet. The blast flattened the miniature palm beside the walk and toppled Asabi's cart, scattering towels and cleanser. Several bungalows away, Chi began to scream.

The echo of the explosion faded.

There was no sound from within the remains of Bungalow Eight.

Chapter 33 - CONTACT

David heard someone screaming as he regained consciousness. His head was pounding and his ears were ringing. He squinted to bring his blurred vision into focus. Everything looked dim, as though a shroud hung across his eyes. It must be evening, he thought. The screaming continued, sounding far away and muffled.

Suddenly, he became aware of the weight on top of him. "Katrina?"

He barely recognized his own voice. It sounded like the voice of a stranger calling out from deep within a tunnel. He gently rolled Katrina on her back and rose up to his knees. The movement made him dizzy and he grabbed the closest means of support. The room completed one more spin and settled. He realized he was on the bed and holding onto the headboard.

David felt for Katrina's pulse. It was faint, but steady. He checked her nose and ears and found no blood. He said a silent prayer of thanks.

The screams came from outside, he realized. And it wasn't really evening. Clouds of dust floated in the air, creating a thick haze. His memory returned.

He had been heading for the door of the bungalow when Katrina had stopped him. She had put her fingers to her lips and motioned to the door. Someone was coming up the front walk, very quietly. They both had stepped around the corner formed by the bathroom. There had been a bright flash followed by total darkness.

Katrina's body must have shielded him, absorbing the worst of the explosion. The shape of the front hall had directed the force of the blast past the foot of the bed. David's eyes followed the path of destruction. The patio doors were gone. The curtains hung in shreds with bits of wood caught in the material.

He looked down at Katrina and slapped her face lightly. Her eyes flickered open. She immediately squeezed them shut and moaned. David smoothed her hair and tried to shield her from the light. "Katrina," he said softly, "can you hear me?"

"Barely." Her voice was husky and deep. "God, my head. What the hell happened?"

"An explosion." David's hearing was returning and his voice began to sound normal. "A bomb left at the front door. You have to get up. We can't stay here."

She tried to sit up, but fell back on the bed, grabbing her head. "I don't want to."

"The hell you don't," David said sharply. "Get up, you stupid bitch! Some partner you turned out to be. I knew I should have had a man for a partner. Stand up before I leave you here."

Katrina's eyes sprang open and David could see them flash with anger before she looked away. She sat up and he could almost feel the pain that shot through her body. When he tried to help her, she slapped his hand away and struggled to the side of the bed. He watched her delicately check her body for injury. Finding no serious damage, she looked at him again and grinned weakly. "Mr. Pop Psychologist," she said. "All right, it worked. I'm up. Now help me or I won't stay that way."

David took her arm and helped her to the patio, pausing to let their eyes adjust to the outside light. "I didn't expect this of Duman," he said. "I thought his ego would demand he confront us in person. My mistake almost got us killed."

"Our mistake," Katrina said, softly.

David looked back through the destroyed front door. He saw the blood sprayed on the gravel walk outside. Someone had been at the door, he thought. Not Duman. That was too much to hope for. Whoever it was, they had been blown apart. "We have to get out of here before we're seen," he told Katrina. "Maybe we can get you off the island."

"Not likely," she said.

"Bokman's plane should still be here."

"I mean, not likely that I would go. Don't you still want him?"

Katrina felt a measure of strength returning as she stared at David. His jaw was set and he was breathing rapidly. She searched his cold, gray eyes and then nodded. "I want him too," she said firmly. "I'm not leaving. You want him so you can return to Israel. I want him to return what he took from me three years ago."

David smiled, relieved she was staying. He glanced again at the front door. "It's only a matter of time before somebody comes to investigate. We'll have to disappear for awhile," he said. "We need time to regroup."

As they crunched through the broken glass of the patio doors, they could hear voices nearing the front.

But everyone was too excited about the explosion to notice one more dust covered couple. As they slipped away and walked casually along the marina, they could hear the rapid exchange of the Jamaicans surveying the damage from the bomb. Katrina stopped for a moment to view the scene. A maid had screamed herself hoarse, but otherwise suffered no apparent injuries. Someone else had not been so lucky. The remaining pieces of that other person would be blotted up and taken away in a small plastic bag.

Having seen enough, Katrina allowed David to pull her away from the resort and onto the hot street. They stepped into the first available alley and brushed plaster dust off their clothes. They started to leave the alley but Katrina put her hand on David's arm.

"Duman."

"Of course," David replied.

"No, Duman!" Katrina pointed down the street at a tall man leaning against a car. Although trying to appear casual, he was obviously watching the activity around the explosion. David thought back to the photos and descriptions he had seen of Duman. Always cautious about having his photo taken, not many clear shots of Duman existed. However, four years ago, a forger had offered pictures for sale. He claimed they were taken of Duman for passports that the terrorist had requested. The forger's rather painful and spectacular death lent some credulity to his story. David mentally compared those pictures to the man leaning against the car. Ignoring the obvious changes that scissors and hair dye can achieve, David was forced to agree.