“He’s my husband,” Karen said. She slid down next to him. “I’m sorry, Ty, I have to go.”

CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

Forty miles away Phil Dietz sipped a black cactus margarita in the Black Hat Bar in Tortola. There was a band playing Jimmy Buffett and Wyclef Jean, a throng of young people dancing, spilling beers, their carefree brains buzzing with rum. Dietz noticed a pretty gal in a low-cut halter sitting at the other end of the bar and thought, what the hell, he might just make a move as the evening developed, even if, by the looks, he had to pay. He’d earned it. He’d charge it off on Lennick’s account, he decided. Sort of a celebration, because tomorrow the fun was over. It was going to get native again.

He’d found his man.

It had been a breeze to track the itinerary of Karen Friedman. Lennick had alerted him. He knew that the fish had caught the line. If she was heading to the BVIs, it was likely she’d pass through San Juan, so he called with a question about the reservation. Airlines still gave out shit like that. Made his job easy. So he had Lenz, who had driven the hit car in Greenwich, but whose face was unknown to them, watching out for her in Tortola. He tracked the Island Air single-engine to St. Hubert ’s. There was only one place they could go there.

What he hadn’t planned on was the cop. Dietz knew this wasn’t exactly a lovers’ getaway. Charles wouldn’t be far behind.

He had led them there.

Whatever would happen next, that part was right up Dietz’s alley. Charles would show himself soon. He had Lenz installed at the club, keeping a watchful eye on them. Dietz had a small plane rented. The rest was routine. What they paid him for. The kinds of skills he’d honed his whole life.

Dietz took another sip of his drink. The girl with the boobs in the halter smiled his way. He grew aroused.

He knew he wasn’t exactly handsome. He was short and stocky and had military tattoos up and down his thick arms. But women always managed to notice him, and they were drawn to him in a hard-edged way.

He thought of the cop. He complicated things. If they knew about Dolphin, they might have found the old geezer in Pensacola. And if they had, coupled with Lauer, maybe it wasn’t as much of a fishing expedition down at his house as he’d thought.

Charles knew things. More than they could let him divulge. He had been sloppy, but the sloppiness was going to have to end.

Dietz scratched his mustache and pushed out his cigar. Time to pay up, Charles.

But in the meantime he had this little diversion. He took another look at the girl and finished off his drink. He flipped open his cell phone. One last call.

He dialed the number that was in his memory. A gravelly, accented voice picked up. Always play both ends against the middle, Dietz thought. He’d been told to give a progress report, stay in touch.

“Good news,” Dietz said, keeping an eye on the girl. “I think we’ve found him.”

“Excellent,” the voice replied. “Was it through the accounts?” The banks, the electronic transfers. The diamond merchant they had painstakingly tracked.

“No need,” Dietz said. “Ultimately, I found another way. His wife led us right to him.”

Dietz stood up and tossed a twenty on the bar. Tomorrow…tomorrow it was back to business. He’d take care of Hodges, too. But tonight…The girl was talking to a tall, blond surfer dude. He passed by a group of bone fishermen, bragging about their catch. When he got in front of her, she looked up.

“Where are you?” Dietz asked into the phone.

“Don’t you worry,” the brusque voice replied. “I’m around.”

CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO

The morning broke hazy and warm.

Karen woke early and ate a light breakfast in her room. She sat out on the balcony and sipped her coffee, watching the sun rise over the calm sea. Trying to settle her nerves. A flock of birds circled out by the reef, honking and diving for an early meal.

Around seven-thirty she saw a white launch pull up at the St. James’s dock. A captain jumped off. She stood and tried to relax her restless stomach. Here goes…

She put on a print sundress and a pair of espadrilles. She clipped her hair up off her neck and applied a touch of blush to her cheeks and gloss to her lips, just to make herself look pretty. Then she packed her bag, sun cream, lip balm, a couple of bottles of water. She took along some pictures of the kids she’d brought with her.

Downstairs, Ty was waiting on the walkway to the beach. He gave her a supportive wink. What else was there really to say?

“I have something for you,” he said, taking her under the loggia to a private spot where he sat her down in a wooden beach chair. He pressed a small disk into her palm. “It’s a high-powered GPS receiver. Hide it in your purse. That way I can find you. I want you to call me on the hour. Every hour. Just so I know you’re safe. You promise you’ll do that for me, Karen?”

“Ty, I’ll be fine. It’s Charles.”

“I want you to promise,” he said, not a question this time, more of a command.

“Okay.” She relented and smiled at him. “I promise.”

From his pocket Hauck took out something else-a dark, metal object, small enough to fit into the palm of his hand-that made her shudder. “I want you to take this along, too, Karen.”

“No.”

“I mean it, Karen.” He pressed it into her hand. “Just in case something happens. It’s a Beretta.22. The safety’s off. It may be nothing. But you don’t know what you’re walking into. You said it yourself-people have died. So take it. Please. Just in case.”

Karen gazed at the gun, her heart quickening. She tried to push it back. “Ty, please, it’s Charles…”

“It’s Charles,” he said, “and you have no idea what else you’re walking into. Take it, Karen. It’s not a request, it’s an order. You can give it back to me this afternoon.”

She stared at the gun, and it reminded her that no matter how she tried to play this, he was right-she was a little scared.

“I’m reluctant to bring it, ’cause I just might use it on him,” she chortled. But she tucked it into her bag.

“Karen, listen.” Ty lifted his shades. “I do love you. I think I have from that first day I came to your house. You know that. I don’t know what happens after this, between you and me. We’ll work that out. But now it’s my turn, and I want you to hear me clearly. You be careful, Karen. I want you to stay as public as you can. You don’t go anywhere with him-after. You don’t take any risks, you understand?”

“Yessir.” Karen nodded, a small smile creeping through the nerves.

“What the hell would you want me to say, Karen? I’m a cop.”

The captain of the boat, a black man of about thirty in surf shorts and a baseball cap, jumped off the launch. It was called the Sea Angel. He seemed to be checking his watch.

Karen said, “I think I have to go.”

She leaned close to him, and he hugged her. She gave him a kiss on his cheek and squeezed him tightly. “Don’t worry about me, Ty.” She stood up and did her best to smile. “It’s Charlie. We’ll probably be drinking a beer in some café by ten.”

She hurried toward the dock, turning once and waving, her heart pounding all the same. Ty came out and followed her a few steps over the sand, a wave back. Then she ran up the dock to the Sea Angel’s captain, an affable-looking man. “You’re Neville?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. He took her bag from her. “We should be heading out.” He noticed Ty, taking a step or two toward them. “He said just you, ma’am. Just you or we don’t go.”

Karen took his hand and jumped aboard. “It is just me. Go where?”

Neville stepped aboard, tossing the bowline back onto the dock. “He said you would know.”