agreed without qualm. Deliberately, he studied the horizon where the blue sky merged with the deeper blue of the ocean. “It is a beautiful day today.”
“Somehow, I do not think it is the weather that has put Cristo in a good mood,” Stravos commented, wheezing, but from his excitement or his girth, Solaris wasn’t sure. “We have made a good deal.”
Solaris did not correct the captain. It was a good deal. The transportation of thirty tons of cocaine to the United States—a street value of millions—with the promise of more if all went well.
The risks were high, but that was the nature of their business. Solaris didn’t agree with Delgado’s plans for freighting the merchandise over the Caribbean Sea when smaller boats, while less profitable, were easier to keep under the DEA’s radar.
But Solaris kept his opinion to himself. He had no stake in that side of Cristo’s business, so the risk was not his.
Captain Stravos met Cristo at the top of the gangway. The latter ordered his men to stand guard by the rail several feet away.
“Good day, Damien.”
“Yes, yes. A good day.” The captain glanced at Solaris. “Were we not just talking about that?”
After Solaris shrugged, the men shook hands. “You are ready to finalize our plans?” Cristo asked.
“Yes, yes,” Stravos responded once again, his voice more eager.
Something Solaris had thought impossible.
“How is your lovely wife, Cristo?”
“She is doing well. In fact, she insists on your dining with us the day after tomorrow.”
“Fine, fine,” he said, barely masking his joy.
Cristo Delgado bit back the irritation and widened his smile. It was no secret that Stravos lusted after his wife. But Cristo chose to ignore the fact. For now.
Stravos was annoying certainly, but he was an excellent captain. And he asked very few questions. Besides, it wasn’t Stravos that sparked Cristo’s impatience, it was the Cutting woman. And now, Calvin West.
“Allow me a moment with my man, here.” Cristo nodded toward Solaris. “Then I will join you, Damien. For some brandy, maybe?”
“Of course.” Stravos tipped his hat briefly, and then made his way to the bridge of the ship. “I will have someone return and escort you to my quarters.”
Cristo waited a moment, his gaze settled on the sky just beyond Solaris’s left shoulder. “You have the opportunity to take care of some unfinished business for me.”
“What business?”
Cristo handed him the business card. “Calvin West has returned.”
“West?” Solaris glanced at the card, surprised. His mind processed the implications. “Here?”
“He accompanied the Cutting woman.”
“So your inside source was right.” Solaris nodded, satisfied. “She came. Did she bring the MONGREL prototype?”
“We’ll see soon enough.”
“West was MI6 until last year. Now, I believe, he is some sort of diplomatic liaison between London and Washington, D.C. Why is he involved?”
“It does not matter. He is an unexpected opportunity,” Cristo answered. “You’ve been given another chance at West. Don’t screw it up again. Understand?”
“I will take care of it,” Solaris replied, pleased. “What about Jason Marsh?”
“Marsh is not your concern,” Delgado retorted. “Find West. When you’re done, bring the woman to me. If she’s
decided to visit her ex-husband, I will find out why, and how
I can use her presence to my advantage. Then I’ll dispose of her. You can do what you please to West. Just make sure of the impact. On both of them.”
“I will.” Solaris pocketed the card. “But if West let you know he was here, there’s a good chance he has already set a plan in motion.”
“You act as if I should care,” Cristo said arrogantly, then walked away with a wave of his hand. “Just do your job this time, Solaris. I won’t tolerate another failure.”
Chapter Six
Shacks rose above the city of Caracas. Some burrowed into the hillsides while most balanced precariously on toothpick stilts. Painted in a rainbow of dingy pastels, they turned the slant of land into an eerie chessboard of light and shadows.
“Your sense of fashion and mine are quite different, Cal. But I’m learning to appreciate your style.”
Julia stepped from the rented Jeep. She wore a black Lycra top and matching pants. Both fit like a second skin and were surprisingly comfortable.
Flecks of broken glass and torn papers flashed dimly in the spattering of yellow streetlights.
“Just stay focused. This isn’t a place where you want to get distracted.” Cal cast a sideways glance, his eyes resting a few moments on her freshly scrubbed features, the short ponytail, before skimming over the soft curve of her backside. “Or be distracting.”
“Dutifully noted.” Ignoring the flash of heat in her belly, she sidestepped the path of one particularly erratic rat that scampered across the narrow dirt road. A scurry of shadows burst from a nearby garbage pile. Revulsion slid up her back, worked the knot between her shoulders. “Who are we meeting?”
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