Vacation to Die For (27 page)

When he laughs at her, she joins in. 

His smile disappears when he bends down over his cane so that they are face to face. “Hold tight to this shell. It’s very special. Someday it will whisper to you where I’ve hidden the treasure.”

“I cross my heart,” she says solemnly. 

Her hug catches him off guard. To keep his balance, he has to hold on tight. Not that he minds this. He closes his eyes. His smile expresses his bliss. 

But when he opens his eyes again, sadness is reflected in them. 

“I hope we find the treasure before we go home. If we don’t, Mommy says you can visit whenever you want and bring the treasure with you. Can I go into your cave and play?” 

He sweeps his hand toward the rock. 
“Mi casa, su casa.”

Trisha runs around the rock formation to the other side, conch shell in hand.

The pirate and I are left staring at each other.

Between his size, his age, and the missing leg below his knee, assuaging my curiosity is worth a stab in the dark. I hold out my hand. “Doctor Mandrake, I presume?”

He pauses before giving me a resigned nod. “Yes, guilty as charged. And who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I shrug. “What does matter is that your country wants you back, no questions asked—that is, if you still have the plague bacteria samples with you.” 

“Ah, I see.” His eyes open wide at the thought. “Rest assured they are in a very safe place. As for any forgiveness on the part of my employer, to what do I owe this generosity of spirit?”

“Your timing, I suppose. When it comes to covert affairs, no news is good news. With all the so-called whistle-blowing and leaking of state secrets in the news, the Department of Defense would rather let bygones be bygones, as it were.”

His mouth opens in surprise. “Uncle Sam is willing to pretend this never happened?”

“Yes—if you return the samples, and are willing to come back to work. Think of it as history repeating itself. After World War II, Germany’s scientists were forgiven even worse indiscretions, as I recall.” I let that sink in for a moment. “Pardon me, but I have to ask, why did you take the research with you in the first place?”

“Out of pride, I guess." He raises his lips into a mirthless smile. “Just when I’d successfully completed my research on a vaccine for a pneumonic plague bacteria, our government’s latest round of budget cuts were announced. It was obvious that my project was to be put on hold, despite the Department of Defense’s knowledge of the advances coming out of Russia and China in this particularly horrendous form of warfare.” 

He stares out at the ocean, as if looking for his next words in its still blue waters. Then he sighs. “A private entity offered me the world—money, power and most importantly, solace. All I had to do was give them the vaccine. The organization is well funded, and its representative talks a good game, going so far as to promise free worldwide distribution of the vaccine. Publicity regarding the vaccine would render the plague bacteria obsolete in warfare, and it would certainly have put me in contention for the Nobel Prize. Needless to say, I was tempted—but not by the money, or the professional prestige.” He turns back to face me. “I’m tired of pork barrel politics. Defense doesn’t come with the annihilation of our enemies. Such attacks only breed contempt and revenge. True defense is about the protection of our citizens. But for the right price, our so-called leaders would readily trade research that may save lives for yet another battalion of obsolete weaponry.”

No arguments there. I lean back into a sand dune. “Who is the interested party?”

“A group that goes by the name of ‘the Quorum.’”

Why am I not surprised?

“My lab was to be here, on Fantasy Island,” Mandrake continues. “But I refused to use the ‘lab rats’ they provided me.”

I nod. “That’s certainly to your credit. I’ve seen the stockyard.” I point down to his bandaged ankle. “What happened to your foot?”

 “My change of heart got me downgraded from a suite in the Hunt Club to the stockyard. Luckily, a day later I was put out in the wild. I may have eluded my hunter, but I ran into a very hungry crocodile.” He shrugs. “I owe my life to another escapee. He knew enough first aid to wrap what was left of his prison garb around the wound, along with some healing herbs.”

“Was he the pilot from your flight down here?”

“Yes! How did you guess?”

“He was a good Samaritan on my behalf, too.”

He shakes his head in wonder. “How did you find me?”

“Unbeknownst to you, your colonoscopy gave Uncle Sam a chance to tag you.” It’s my turn to laugh. “We’ve been following around the croc, thinking it was you.”

“So, my little friend didn’t lead you to me?” 

“No, not at all. She kept her word to you.” What good would it do to divulge Trisha’s indiscreet texts? I’d prefer her pirate remember her as fondly as she will remember him. 

“That’s good to know. Her pilfering on my behalf relieved me of a monotonous diet of fish and tropical fruit. Of course, I knew eventually she’d be leaving the island.”

“Now you’ll be leaving, too.”

His grin fades. “I think I owe it to my fellow prisoners to ask: can you interfere on behalf of the Hunt Club’s human targets?”

“That is my goal—but in all honesty, I’m not sure if we can pull it off.”

“Ah, I see that you are a kindred soul regarding the conundrum of protocol versus conscience. You do your daughter justice.”

“Dr. Mandrake, is Boarke your Quorum contact?”

“Boarke? No! He’s a fool—just a yes man and a property overseer—and not even that, unless he can buy out the note on the island. He let it be known that he’s talking to a money man or two.” Mandrake chuckles at the thought. “From what I can tell, the power behind the throne is—”

His sudden gasp and the appearance of a tiny bullet hole at the middle of his neck occurs just a moment before Mandrake collapses face down into the sand.

Instinctively, I duck and roll between two sand dunes. 

Oh my God! Where is Trisha? 

In the pirate’s cave.

I scramble on all fours around the rock formation, looking for some opening in the craggy cliff. Finally I find one. It’s low to the ground, just a sliver wedged between fallen boulders. 

The cave is dark, and larger than I would have imagined. I hear Trisha singing softly to herself.  

“Trisha? Where are you?” I’m trying my best not to sound frightened.

She runs over to me. “Mommy, I think I found the pirate’s treasure chest!”

Oh, no, oh God. Has she touched the plague samples?

My heart beats like a jackhammer. 
Stay calm
. “Really? Let me see, too.”

“Won’t he mind?” She looks toward the mouth of the cave.

If she runs out there, how will I keep her from seeing Mandrake’s body?

For that matter, how will I get out of this cave without getting us both killed? By now the shooter will be coming this way.

“Wait! Trisha, the pirate is gone. He had to…to go home.”

 “For good?” Her tiny brow furrows.

“Yes, honey. He is already far away.”

“Oh.” She looks around warily. “Does that mean the game is over, and I get to keep the treasure?”

“Yes. In fact, he asked that I tell you how lucky you are.”

Her eyes light up. She walks over to a stone beside the far wall. With both hands, she shoves it to one side, revealing a sealed aluminum cylinder, about six inches in radius but only two inches deep. 

I wonder how many Petri dishes it holds--two, maybe three at the most.

“I’ll carry it,” I say matter-of-factly. She hands it over, and I slip it into my beach bag. “Now Trisha, we have to go back to Janie’s villa, to get your things. We have to remember to keep our promise regarding his secret treasure, okay?”

She frowns. “Mommy, you’re so silly. I’m great at secrets! Not even Janie knows about the pirate."

I kiss her forehead. Clutching her hand, I murmur, “Okay sweetheart, here we go.”

As I start out for the cave opening, she squeezes my hand and says, “Not that way, Mommy.”

The next thing I know, Trisha is pulling me to the back of the cave—really, through another small opening. We walk through several rooms. Some are a tight fit, others are at least tall enough for me to stand upright. The glimmer of light emanating over our heads indicates that we’re walking in a beeline through the narrowest part of the cliff—

And onto a different part of the beach.

I’m tempted to run, to carry her all the way to our bungalow.

But no. Whoever took out Mandrake was a crack shot—a description fitting both Julie and Lee. 

If one of them is involved and we don’t come back, it will be too suspicious. 

We have to go back to the villa, to get Trisha’s things.

The manservant doesn’t smile as he opens the door. This alone would give me the creeps, except for the fact that I’ve been here before, so I know it’s just part of his charm.

As promised, her little suitcase and the matching little round hat bag containing her favorite stuffed animals are all in the front hall, waiting for us.

The place is silent. Both Julie and Lee are nowhere to be found.  A part of me hopes Babette is right and that they’re upstairs in the master suite, exchanging bodily fluids even as they negotiate loan terms, but I doubt that. From what I could tell, Lee could barely stomach her. 

I’m almost afraid to ask, but since it may shed light on Mandrake’s killer, I know I have to. “Excuse me, we’re leaving now. I’d like to say goodbye to Mr. Chiffray.”

“The master and Miss Julie aren’t here at the moment.”

I’m both relieved and concerned. Was one of them Mandrake’s killer?

The sooner we get out of here, the better.

I grab everything and am just about to hustle Trisha out the door when we hear Janie’s petulant plea, “No, Mrs. Stone! You can’t take Trisha away!”

Janie flies down the stairs. But when Trisha wraps her arms around her little friend’s waist, she’s rewarded with a pout. “Why do you want to leave?”

Caught between the desire to come with me and her loyalty to her bestie, Trisha turns to me and asks, “Can Janie come, too?”

“Sorry, honey, no. I don’t think her mother would want to part with her.”

“Donna? Is that you?” Babette’s voice floats down from the balcony. 

I look up to see her standing there, in a robe. Her hair is slicked back—not with whipped cream, I hope.

I stifle the urge to wave with only my middle finger. “Ah, Babette! No longer tied up, I see.”

She rewards my pun with a frown before swatting it away with the wave of her hand. “Did I hear Trisha ask if it were alright if Janie joined you on your flight home?”

“Yes…Well, no…”

“By all means, of course it’s okay! In fact, her suitcase is already packed.” Babette motions for the manservant to point it out to me.

Four tiny Louis Vuitton bags are stacked at the foot of the stairwell.

I can see it now: Janie, the Terrible Two, Aunt Phyllis, my Acme Team, and the Family Stone—

Oh, and let’s not forget a hundred or so political prisoners, if we can get them out of this Godforsaken place.

I smile up at Babette. “Sure! What’s one more?”

“Exactly! You know what they say, ‘one good turn deserves another.’ As much as we love hosting Trisha, it’s time for a little quid pro quo, don’t you think? Lee and I could certainly use some time, just the two of us.”

I’m tempted to tell her how disappointed I’m sure Dominic would be, but I think better of it. Time’s a’wasting.

"By the way, Janie has a tendency toward air sickness, so do have one of those little bags handy!” Babette throws kisses down the stairs, even as she heads back down the hall toward the master suite.

“You’re welcome,” I mutter under my breath. 

“My mommy’s kisses taste sweet, like whipped cream,” Janie says wistfully.

Good God, I hope she never finds out why.

As I take her bags, everything else slips out of my hand. I sigh as I stack everything as best as I can, then I nudge the girls out the door with me.

On the way back to the bungalow, all I can think about is how to break the news to Ryan about Mandrake's death.