"Hey, mon, I fight you!" cried the youngster, writhing, freeing his right hand and smashing a fist into Bourne's left cheek. "We don't want no bad mon here! Our boss-mon the best! You don't scare me!" The steward crashed his knee into Jason's groin.

"You young son of a bitch!" cried Le Chameleon, slapping the youngster's face back and forth while grabbing his aching testicles with his left hand. "I'm his friend, his brother! Will you cut it out? ... Johnny Saint Jay's my brother! In-law, if it makes any goddamned difference!"

"Oh?" said the large, youthful, obviously athletic steward, a touch of resentment in his wide, embarrassed brown eyes. "You are the mon with Boss Saint Jay's sister?"

"I'm her husband. Who the fuck are you?"

"I am first head steward of the second floor, sir! Soon I will be on the first floor because I am very good. I am also a very fine fighter-my father taught me, although he is old now, like you. Do you wish to fight more? I think I can beat you! You have gray in your hair-"

"Shut up! ... What's the beeper all about?" asked Jason, holding up the small brown plastic instrument as he crawled off the young waiter.

"I don't know, mon-sir! Bad things have happened. We are told that if we see men running on the staircases we should press the buttons."

"Why?"

"The lifts, sir. Our very fast elevators. Why would guests use the stairs?"

"What's your name?" asked Bourne, replacing his hat and, sunglasses.

"Ishmael, sir."

"Like in Moby Dick?"

"I do not know such a person, sir."

"Maybe you will."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure. You're a very good fighter."

"I see no connection, mon-sir."

"Neither do I." Jason got to his feet. "I want you to help me, Ishmael. Will you?"

"Only if your brother permits it."

"He will. He is my brother."

"I must hear it from him, sir."

"Very good. You doubt me."

"Yes, I do, sir," said Ishmael, getting to his knees and reassembling the tray, separating the broken dishes from the whole ones. "Would you take the word of a strong man with gray in his hair who runs down the stairs and attacks you and says things anyone could say? ... If you wish to fight, the loser must speak the truth. Do you wish to fight?"

"No, I do not wish to fight and don't you press it. I'm not that old and you're not that good, young man. Leave the tray and come with me. I'll explain to Mr. St. Jacques, who, I remind you, is my brother-my wife's brother. To hell with it, come on!"

"What do you want me to do, sir?" asked the steward, getting to his feet and following Jason.

"Listen to me," said Bourne, stopping and turning on the steps above the first-floor landing. "Go ahead of me into the lobby and walk to the front door. Empty ashtrays or something and look busy, but keep glancing around. I'll come out in a few moments and you'll see me go over and talk to Saint Jay and four priests, who'll be with him-"

"Priests?" interrupted the astonished Ishmael. "Men of the cloth, sir? Four of them? What they doing here, mon? More bad things happen? The obeah?"

"They came here to pray so the bad things will stop-no more obeah. But what's important to me is that I must speak to one of them alone. When they leave the lobby, this priest I have to see may break away from the others to be by himself ... or possibly to meet someone else. Do you think you could follow him without his seeing you?"

"Would Mr. Saint Jay tell me to do that?"

"Suppose I have him look over at you and nod his head."

"Then I can do it. I am faster than the mongoose and, like the mongoose, I know every foot trail on Tranquility. He goes one way, I know where he's going and will be there first. ... But how will I know which priest? More than one may go off by himself."

"I'll talk to all four separately. He'll be the last one."

"Then I will know."

"That's pretty fast thinking," said Bourne. "You're right; they could separate."

"I think good, mon. I am fifth in my class at 'Serrat's Technical Academy. The four ahead of me are all girls, so they don't have to work."

"That's an interesting observation-"

"In five or six years I'll have the money to attend the university in Barbados!"

"Maybe sooner. Go on now. Walk into the lobby and head for the door. Later, after the priests leave, I'll come out looking for you, but I won't be in this uniform, from any distance you won't know me. If I don't find you, meet me in an hour– Where? Where's a quiet place?"

"Tranquility Chapel, sir. The path in the woods above the east beach. No one ever goes there, even on the Sabbath."

"I remember it. Good idea."

"There is a remaining subject, sir-"

"Fifty dollars, American."

"Thank you, sir!"

Jason waited by the door for ninety seconds, then opened it barely an inch. Ishmael was in place by the entrance, and he could see John St. Jacques talking with the four priests several feet to the right of the front desk. Bourne tugged at his jacket, squared his shoulders in military fashion, and walked out into the lobby toward the priests and the owner of Tranquility Inn.

"It's an honor and a privilege, Fathers," he said to the four black clerics as a surprised and curious St. Jacques watched him. "I'm new here in the islands and I must say I'm very impressed. The government is particularly pleased that you saw fit to help calm our troubled waters," continued Jason, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. "For your efforts, the Crown governor has authorized Mr. St. Jacques here to issue you a check in the amount of one hundred pounds for your church-to be reimbursed by the treasury, of course."

"It is such a magnificent gesture, I hardly know what to say," intoned the vicar, his high lilting voice sincere.

"You could tell me whose idea it was," said the Chameleon. "Most touching, most touching, indeed."

"Oh, I cannot take the credit, sir," replied the vicar, looking, as the two others did, at the fourth man. "It was Samuel's. Such a good and decent leader of our flock."

"Good show, Samuel." Bourne stared briefly, his eyes penetrating, at the fourth man. "But I should like to thank each of you personally. And know your names." Jason went down the line shaking the three hands and quietly exchanging pleasantries. He came to the last priest, whose eyes kept straying away from his. "Of course I know your name, Samuel," he said, his voice even lower, barely audible. "And I should like to know whose idea it was before you took the credit."

"I don't understand you," whispered Samuel.

"Certainly you do-such a good and decent man-you must have received another very generous contribution."

"You mistake me for someone else, sir," mumbled the fourth priest, his dark eyes for an instant betraying deep fear.

"I don't make mistakes, your friend knows that. I'll find you, Samuel. Maybe not today, but surely tomorrow or the day after that." Bourne raised his voice as he released the cleric's hand. "Again, the government's profound thanks, Fathers. The Crown is most grateful. And now I must be on my way; a dozen telephone calls should be answered. ... Your office, St. Jacques?"

"Yes, of course, General."

Inside the office, Jason took out his automatic and tore off the uniform as he separated the pile of clothing Marie's brother had brought for him. He slipped on a pair of knee-length gray Bermuda walking shorts, chose a red-and-white-striped guayabera jacket, and the widest-brimmed straw hat. He removed his socks and shoes, put on the sandals, stood up and swore. "Goddamn it!" He kicked off the sandals and shoved his bare feet back into his heavy rubber-soled shoes. He studied the various cameras and their accessories, choosing the lightest but most complicated, and crossed the straps over his chest. John St. Jacques walked into the room carrying a small hand-held radio.