The Warrior (35 page)

She frowned. Here they went again. “The Old Ones?”

“Never mind,” he said.

It sounded like a good idea to her. “Right. I'm going to pack. When can we leave?”

“I need to refuel the chopper. In the morning we'll fly into Sedona, refuel there and then head east, okay?”

“Definitely okay,” she said, and then she lifted her arms above her head and did a little victory dance before heading back into the house.

John watched her go, the long black plait flying out
behind her, just like it used to do when she'd been small and brown and worn a bluebird feather in her hair.

 

Richard was standing at baggage claim in the Nassau airport, wearing white shorts and a blue polo shirt tucked in at the waist. For shade to protect his bald head and nearly healed face, he'd chosen a wide-brimmed Panama hat and aviator sunglasses. He looked like a well-to-do businessman on holiday.

He checked his watch, as he had every few moments since his arrival. This was where he and Dieter were to meet. Dieter's plane had been on time, which was good. He hated waiting.

Richard had arrived yesterday, giving him time to settle in. He had yet to recover his full physical stamina, so the extra time had been a good idea. He hadn't wanted to fly with his precious metal box, so he'd shipped it earlier to the Nassau hotel, with a fresh supply of dry ice to keep the contents safe and instructions that it was to be held there until his arrival. He'd had a few nervous moments after he'd arrived, while the hotel staff searched their mail room before it was finally located. After that, Richard tipped them handsomely, carried it to his room and secreted it at the back of the closet.

Tomorrow, or maybe the day after, Richard Ponte's death would become a fact. He would make sure it hit the worldwide news. It was important that the authorities have access to whatever it took in the way of DNA for them to believe his death was real. He thought himself a genius for having come up with the plan, and wished he had someone besides Dieter with whom he
could share it. Unfortunately for his ego, this was one coup that would have to stay secret.

As he waited, a flurry of travelers began coming into baggage claim. Finally, he thought, and quickly turned his attention to the newcomers' faces. He didn't have long to wait and recognized Dieter within seconds of his appearance.

Dieter had dyed his hair to match his new identity papers, and he'd grown a mustache, which looked a bit affected, but it didn't matter. As long as their identities passed muster, he didn't give a damn if the man opted to dress in drag.

Richard started to wave, then decided to wait until Dieter retrieved his luggage and see if he could recognize Richard on his own before he made himself known.

 

Dieter was travel-weary and dealing with a two-hour headache when he reached baggage claim. He quickly located the correct carousel and looked around for a place to sit. As usual, there was none. He swiped a hand across his forehead, quietly wishing he'd chosen different clothing. It was hotter than he'd expected, and he wanted something cold to drink.

He looked around to see if he could spot Richard, then realized he would also be in disguise. Still, he should be able to recognize him. He'd worked for him for almost fifteen years. He knew the coldhearted bastard as well as he knew himself, but after a couple of minutes of searching, decided he had yet to arrive.

“Carry your bags, sir?”

Dieter turned at the question to find a dark-skinned
porter in a starched white shirt and shorts pushing a small empty cart, obviously hoping for a few quick bucks.

“No, I only have one bag, but thank you,” he said, and smiled to soften the blow.

The man nodded cordially and moved along to the next passenger.

Dieter glanced at his watch, then scanned the crowd again. Still no one in sight who fit the bill, and when the carousel started to move, he began weaving his way through the crowd to retrieve his bag.

To his disgust, it was the next to last one to appear. He pulled it off the conveyor with a grunt, then popped up the handle and began wheeling it toward the exit, hoping Richard was waiting for him outside with a taxi.

“Aren't you going to say hello?”

Dieter stared at the man who'd stepped in front of him. The voice was familiar, but that was all.

“Boss?”

Richard grinned. If he could fool Dieter, who'd known him longer than anyone except for Jacob and Alicia, he was home free. He dipped his head slightly.

“Anton Schloss. I believe you've been expecting me.”

Dieter's mouth was agape, and he kept staring at the man in disbelief.

“Boss? Is that really you?”

Richard laughed out loud.

Dieter shuddered. He knew that laugh, but God in heaven, what had happened to the rest of him?

“Are you, uh…?”

“Oh, for the love of God, Lars, get hold of yourself and follow me. I have a taxi waiting outside.”

Dieter stumbled, then shifted his bag from one hand to the other and hurried after the stranger in the Panama hat.

Once inside the cab, Richard put a finger to his lips, indicating that they needed to maintain their deception in front of the driver, then began to point out places of interest as they rode to their destination.

The hotel was five-star, which Dieter expected. Richard Ponte might be in disguise, but there were some spots that a leopard never changed, and first-rate food and accommodations would have been where Richard drew the line.

They strode through the lobby, mingling with the tourists coming and going, and then straight to the elevators. Once on, Richard swiped a card that took them to an executive level of suites, then handed it to Dieter.

“Put that in your pocket,” he said. “We're in Suite 812. I have one just like it.”

Dieter did as he was told, then followed Richard off the elevator and down the short hall to their door. Richard swiped a card through the keyless entry box, then opened the door.

“Home sweet home,” he said, and walked in first, once again leaving his errand boy to follow behind.

The moment the door closed behind them, Dieter dropped his bag and opened his mouth.

“What happened to you?”

“A nip here, a tuck there, some enhancement procedures and…
voila,
you have Anton Schloss, East German businessman on holiday in the Bahamas.”

“You had plastic surgery? On your face?”

“On my whole body,” Richard said, then took off the hat and sunglasses. “How do I look?”

“Scary…I mean…scary good. Honestly, boss, you look so different it takes my breath away.”

Richard couldn't have been more pleased. “Good. Good. So, I'm sure you're tired. Why don't you rest a bit, say for an hour or so? Then we'll have some dinner and scout out a few local businesses down by the shore.”

“Why? Are you looking to do some deep-sea fishing?”

Richard grinned. “Why, Lars, how astute of you. I want a shark. Doesn't have to be a huge one, but I need one that's a good size.”

“You want a shark?”

Richard's smile slipped. “Do stop repeating everything I say,” he grumbled. “It's annoying.”

“Sorry, boss, but I don't understand.”

Richard sighed. “Of course you don't. Okay. Here's the deal. I need a shark, but I want it to be one that's freshly caught. Hopefully you can procure one tomorrow. If not, you'll just have to wait for one to show up on the docks.”

“They're not very good for eating,” Dieter offered.

Richard grinned. “Oh, I don't want to eat the shark. I want the
shark
to eat
me.
”

 

It was nearing sunset as John circled above the helipad outside his cliffside home. The water was dark and choppy, typical of the Atlantic, but just the sight of it after so much mountain and sand lifted his spirits.

“We're here,” he said, although the announcement was unnecessary.

As before, Alicia had not enjoyed the flight as much as she would have liked and had been counting off the minutes until their arrival, although she had not suffered
from motion sickness this time, thanks to a good dose of Dramamine.

“Does everything look safe?” she asked.

John gave her a quick glance, realizing that she was afraid someone was lying in wait.

“Everything looks fine. I have more security around this place than I did at Sedona. Believe me, if it had been breeched, I would have been notified. The local police department in Justice knows about my alarm system, as does the county sheriff.”

“Why don't you have staff who live at your different residences year-round? It would make keeping everything safe a lot easier.”

“I do have someone who stays in Sedona when I'm not there, but I don't want anyone here, and I don't need to be taken care of.”

“But who cleans?”

He grinned. “Don't worry. That job isn't going to fall to you. I manage to pick up after myself just fine, and I get help in when I need it.”

She grinned. “Oh. Well…good. I mean…I would be glad to do my part, but I'm just getting the hang of learning how to cook.”

He refrained from mentioning that making sandwiches and pouring milk on cereal wasn't really cooking, although there was that one effort she'd made, though he hadn't quite recovered from that yet. The truth was, he was so grateful for her presence, he didn't care if she never lifted her hand to cook again.

Then he turned his attention to landing, and within a few minutes of sighting the house, they were on the ground.

“Wait here until the rotors have stopped turning,” he said. “I'm going to tie her down, and then we'll go into the house together.”

“Her?”

He grinned. “All ships and planes are female. You know that.”

“I wonder why,” she said.

His grin widened. “I would venture to guess it's because men were always the ones at the helm, so they liked the idea of a woman being subservient.”

“Humph. I wonder how in control they felt when the engine quit running or the ship sprang a leak?”

“Probably blamed it on the woman for being too weak to hold up.”

“That's sick,” Alicia objected.

“Naw…that's just the fragile male ego afraid to admit any fault.”

She laughed. “So go tie down this broad. Nothing personal, but I'm anxious to get out of her.”

John was still smiling as he exited the chopper. He made short work of stabilizing the metal bird, then went back to get Alicia. He opened the door and held up his arms. She leaned out and down, letting him brace her until her feet were on firm ground.

“I have never been so glad to stand in dirt.”

He started to get their bags, then paused, took her in his arms and kissed her instead.

“Welcome home, baby,” he said softly, then reached in again to get the luggage.

A strong gust slapped her hair across her face, but she just laughed and turned to face the wind. The view across the water was never-ending. She remembered
what the sunrise would be like and couldn't wait to witness it again.

“Are you ready?” John asked.

She turned, about to answer, then her thoughts momentarily turned to mud. He was standing beside the chopper. The wind was whipping at his clothes, flirting with the collar of his red polo, delineating every muscle on his upper body, while the tight fit of his Levi's did the same for his backside and legs. He was, in her opinion, magnificent, but she also accepted that she was strongly prejudiced in John Nightwalker's favor.

“I'm ready,” she said.

Together they crossed the short distance from the helipad to the back of the house. John set down the bags long enough to get out his keys, then unlocked the door. He stepped inside to disarm the security system, then came back out to get her.

“Come in out of the wind,” he urged, tugging her by the hand.

“It feels good,” she said. “Different from the wind in Arizona.”

She paused in the doorway, then turned toward the ocean once more and inhaled deeply. “I've always loved the smell of sea air. I guess that's why I always stayed in Miami when Daddy chose to stay away for such long periods of time. I didn't want to get so far from home.”

“You're pretty far from Miami here,” John said.

She frowned. “I guess, but it doesn't feel like it. For some odd reason, this has the same feel.”

John was struck by the innocence of her answer. It occurred to him that she might never know she'd been with him before, and if she didn't come to that conclu
sion on her own, he wasn't going to shove it down her throat. It was enough that
he
knew. He picked up the bags and carried them inside as she closed the door behind them.