accidental paparazzi,” Viktor translated.
“Exactly.” Viktor had no need to know the deeper details of their mission yet, so Anatoly decided not to explain to him how given Baker Sinise’s other business, the last thing the old man wanted was photographic evidence.
“Do what you can to find out who Mr. Terrell and Ms. Crosby are. I’d like their photographs at the very least. And something about their backgrounds. Let’s find out how a couple from Norman, Oklahoma, become talented knife slingers. I give that to you, Vik—” He blushed. “I mean, Delta.”
“We need to go out and find them,” Viktor said. “Punish them.”
“Not at night,” Anatoly said. “We have too much else to do.”
“But they killed—”
“They will pay for the killing,” Anatoly snapped. “I promise you that. But first we need to get the prisoners secured. As long as they are gathered out in the open, it’s too easy for them to wander off. I’m sure that we’ve lost a few already. Once the bulk of them are secured, we’ll have the manpower to go searching. But not until daylight. It’s not as though they can go far. This is an island, after all.”
“How long until they are ready to segregate the prisoners?” Gerasim asked. He hadn’t been down at the pool deck for quite some time.
“Within the hour,” Anatoly replied.
“That’s going to be a risky time,” Viktor said. “It only takes one or two to panic, and we’ll have a revolt. We’ll have to shoot half of them.”
“It’s always a possibility,” Anatoly said. “Surely, we have proven by now that we mean what we say, and that the price of disobedience is very high. I guess we will soon see.”
“The chances of panic would drop significantly if we kept families together,” Gerasim said. “You know that I’ve never believed in that part of the plan. Husbands and wives should remain together.”
“This is the third time you’ve mentioned it since last night,” Anatoly said. “Your objections are noted.” He turned to Viktor. “You owe me information on Mr. Terrell and Ms. Crosby.”
Anatoly turned back to Gerasim as Viktor left the room. “How did we miss that Sinise would not be here?”
Gerasim shook his head gravely. “I have no idea.” Then he smiled and picked up another piece of paper from the table. “But we know where he is.”
CHAPTER 6
“WAIT. STOP,” JONATHAN SAID. HE RAISED HIS HAND TO BRING them to a halt. The moonlight lit their trek well enough to keep them from running into trees or falling off a cliff. “Is that a motor?” They’d been following a rough trail, and since their first steps on it, he’d been worried about encountering vehicles.
The others stopped. “Is what a motor?” Hunter asked.
“Shh.” In the distance, beyond their field of view, Jonathan could make out the whine of an electric motor.
“I know that sound,” Gail whispered. “It sounds like a golf cart.”
“One of those golf cart taxis they used to take us to our room on the first day.” It was nice to hear Lori speaking for the Edwards family now.
“They’re coming to get us,” Hunter said. He headed for the jungle to the left. “We need to get out of sight.”
“Okay, Gunslinger, what say you?” Jonathan used the alias that Gail had disliked for years, but couldn’t shake because it was such an apt description of her talents.
“I think it might be nice to have wheels,” she said.
“See?” Jonathan said, flashing a smile. “I knew this trip would bring us closer together.”
The sound of the motor was getting closer. From around the curve, a brief flash of white light illuminated the path, and then went out. Whoever the driver was, he didn’t want to use his headlights.
“How do you want to do this?” Gail asked.
“We’ll flank the road and hit him with white light as soon as we see him. Frankly, I think it’s one of us—an escaping good guy.”
“If you’re wrong?”
“We’ll have a shoot-out.”
This was one of very few times that Jonathan had performed anything close to a hot operation without his lethal friend and fellow operator, Brian Van de Muelebroecke, aka Boxers. He would have liked the shoot-out line. As it was, Gail just took her place on the opposite side of the path without saying anything.
There was nothing special about the SureFire light clamped to the muzzle of his M4—just a white light with about a bajillion lumens. To get nailed in the eyes with bright white—
The cart turned the corner into view.
Jonathan brought his M4 to his shoulder and his thumb found the rubber button on the back end of the light. Both his and Gail’s lights erupted at the same time, and night became day times two. In the initial two seconds, Jonathan noticed two things. One, the driver wasn’t armed. Two, the driver was a kid. A teenager.
The driver let out a startled yelp and steered the golf cart into the ferns and bushes that lined the path. “Don’t shoot!” he yelled. “Please don’t shoot!”
Jonathan killed his light, and Gail redirected hers so it was no longer in the kid’s eyes.
The driver hopped off the cart and started to run into the jungle when his feet tangled and he face-planted. “Please don’t shoot. Please!”
“Hush!” Jonathan snapped. “We’re good guys. We’re escaping, too.” He spoke more loudly than he wanted to, but he had to break through the kid’s panic. He thought he actually recognized him. “Your name’s Taylor, right?”
The kid rose to his feet, but he didn’t approach. “Tyler,” he said. “Stratton. Tyler Stratton.”
“Your father works here, doesn’t he?” Gail asked.
Tyler’s head whipped around to Gail. Apparently, he hadn’t realized she was standing there. “Works here? Yeah, sort of, I suppose.”
“Owns the place, right?” Jonathan prompted.
Tyler cocked his head. “How did you know?”
“It’s not like you keep it a secret,” Jonathan said. “Is there any female between the ages of eighteen and thirty that you haven’t hit on with that as your lead-in?”
A smile bloomed on the kid’s face. “It works.” He pointed at their weapons gear. “Where did those come from?”
“Their former owners,” Jonathan said. “Where were you going in the cart?”
Tyler said nothing. He was gauging them.
“It’s
