“There’s no reason to be frightened,” Bo lied. “Just stay where you are for the moment. Posey? You can come in now.”
Posey arrived moments later. He’d been chosen for his ability to play a part, but more than that, because he was about Owen’s age and had a similar build. Posey removed a digital camera from a cargo pocket and began to snap pictures. Owen blinked as the flash went off. Later on, when the time came, the photos would help Posey to apply his makeup. “There,” the actor said as he took a final shot. “That should do it.”
“Good,” Bo said. “Okay, Mr. Owen, stand up. You’re about to take us on a tour. During the tour, you will tell Mr. Posey everything he needs to know about how to do your job. That includes the routine maintenance chores that you perform each day, the kind of problems that might crop up, and everything you know about the island’s history. If you do that, and do it well, I will allow you to live. Agreed?” Owen was terrified. His head bobbed up and down.
The tour lasted for more than three hours. Posey recorded everything Owen said so he could review it later. The sky had just begun to lighten in the east as Gatlin escorted Owen down the ramp and onto the yacht. The duffel bags had been transferred onto the dock by then, and the boat’s engines were running.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Gatlin said, and pointed. “Look at that!”
Owen turned to look, and Sims shot him in the back of the head. There was a thump as the body landed on the deck. “Okay,” Gatlin said, “let’s haul him below. You know what to do after that.”
Sims nodded. “Take the boat out, drill lots of holes in the hull, and row the dinghy back.”
“Exactamundo,” Gatlin said cheerfully. “We’ll hump the duffel bags up the ramp while you’re away.”
Sims took the yacht out and returned forty-five minutes later. The rest of the team was waiting at the top of the ramp. “Okay,” Bo said. “Stage one is complete. Stage two begins now. Mr. Posey, or should I say Mr. Owen, will start to play his part now. That includes showing the members of the Secret Service advance team around the island when they arrive.
“The rest of us will spend the next couple of days camping in the ruins on island one. There’s a basement under what’s left of the lighthouse, and that’s where we’ll stay. Are there any questions? No? All right then… The hard part is over. The rest will be easy. We’d better get going before the tide comes in over the sandbar.”
ABOARD MARINE ONE
Even though Mac had been on Marine One before, it felt strange to ride on a helicopter that didn’t have door gunners. That was another reminder that the war was over, and the killing had ended. But the country faced a different kind of challenge now. After suffering multiple meteor hits, and the extensive damage resulting from a civil war, the reconstituted United States of America faced a rebuilding project so immense that it boggled Mac’s mind. And that was why President Samuel T. Sloan continued to work twelve-hour days. He was on a phone call and winked as their eyes met.
That was emblematic of the way in which things had changed. As the war came to an end, their relationship blossomed. Sloan wanted to get married. And, after giving the matter an hour’s worth of thought, Mac realized that she did, too. So they were engaged. Even if it seemed to confirm past rumors and gave the president’s critics something to carp about.
But for the most part, Sloan was quite popular, in the North at least, and why not? He was the Fighting President. The man who had won the war. But could he win the peace? That remained to be seen since millions of Southerners hated him and resented the troops who patrolled their streets.
Sloan was determined to ignore that, however… And to earn the Southerners’ trust, if not their affection, by convincing Congress to enact the sort of even-handed initiatives that would help the entire country to recover. Sloan’s decision to reintegrate the military was a good example. Mac thought the measure was risky, but brilliant, too, since the only thing worse than having a quarter million ex–Confederate soldiers in the military—was to have them sitting around with nothing to do.
As for Mac, she couldn’t remain in the army while engaged to the commander in chief. So she had requested a transfer to the inactive reserves. And that was likely to be helpful in another way as well… In spite of her impressive war record, there were those who sought to link Mac, and therefore Sloan, with her fugitive father. Where was he? Mac wondered. In Africa? Like some people said? Or down in South America? Not that it made much difference. The authorities would find Bo Macintyre and put him on trial for war crimes. And, once that day came, it would be best if Mac was back in civilian life.
Mac looked out the window as a layer of wispy clouds dissipated, and an island was revealed. Two islands, really, which when taken together and viewed from above, looked like a bowtie. Three days. That’s what Sloan had promised her. With very few phone calls to interrupt their time together. “A penny for your thoughts,” Sloan said.
Mac turned to discover that the phone call was over. “Only a penny?”
He laughed. “All that I have then.”
Mac smiled. “I guess that will have to do.”
Marine One swooped in for a perfect landing. Secret Service agents were present, but only one person came forward to meet the helicopter. He was the island’s sixtysomething caretaker. “Mr. President… Major Macintyre… This is an honor. My name is George Owen. Welcome to Bowtie Island! My job is to make sure that you enjoy your stay. Did you bring any staff?”
“No,” Sloan replied, as the two men shook hands. “We’re going to do our own cooking.”
“Which means he’s going to cook,” Mac interjected. “I don’t know how.”
Owen chuckled. “Let me know if you change your minds. I can bring a cook and a maid in from Bar Harbor if you want me to. Please follow me. I’ll give you the tour.”
Mac had seen the four bedrooms, three bathrooms, and chef’s kitchen online. So she knew what to expect. Fortunately, they didn’t have to share the house with the Secret Service. Three shifts consisting of eight agents each were going to commute in from Bar Harbor.
Once the tour was over, Owen left them alone. Groceries had been brought in the previous day, and Sloan made good on his promise to prepare what he called, “A great American lunch.” It consisted of grilled cheese sandwiches, Campbell’s tomato soup, and a veggie plate—all of which was delicious. “You’re a master chef,” Mac assured him. “What can I expect for dinner? A Totino’s pizza?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Sloan said as he swept Mac off her feet and carried her away. The master bedroom was large, and beautifully furnished. Mac landed on the white bedspread first—immediately followed by Sloan. They kissed.
“You have soup breath,” Mac noted.
“And you are delicious,” Sloan countered.
What followed wasn’t the first, but it was the best, and deeply satisfying. A nap came next. Mac awoke first and was drinking a cup of coffee in the living room when Sloan appeared. He made the white tee and jeans look good as he padded over to give her a kiss. “You let me sleep.”
“You needed it.”
“I guess I did. Would you like to go for a walk?”
“Absolutely.”
A narrow path circled the island, and they followed it. The sky was gray, gulls rode the incoming wind, and waves crashed below. Sloan’s hand felt warm. Here, Mac thought, with him. This is where I want to be. And for the first time in her life, Mac knew what it was to feel complete.
After the walk, some drinks, and a long conversation about their future plans—it was time to eat dinner. Sloan rose to the occasion. Much to Mac’s amazement, he served Parmesan-crusted halibut, along with broccoli and wild rice. Dessert consisted of a scoop of coconut ice cream accompanied by a vanilla wafer. Coffee followed. “That was amazing,” Mac told him. “You’re hired.”