she thought. He doesn't even get to have part of a normal childhood. No first girlfriend, no gentle, easy segue into an adult relationship. Will he ever have anyone? she wondered. Will he ever get to rest?
"Here he comes," John said.
Dieter entered the restaurant a moment later.
"What time does this place close?" he asked as he sat down and picked up the menu.
Sarah shrugged. The waitress came to take their order and then left them.
"The last flight is at ten," Dieter said. It was eight-thirty now. "So, if this place stays open we can have a nice leisurely meal."
"What time will we get there?" Sarah asked.
"By the time we get through customs, it will be well after midnight eastern standard," he said. "All the better for getting cooperation from my 'friend.' "
"It'll be good to stop traveling," John said. "I've got this weird feeling that I'm still moving."
GEORGETOWN, GRAND CAYMAN: THE PRESENT
Maybe it was the lateness of the hour, maybe it was the easy island way, or it might have been Gilberto's excellent workmanship, but they were waved through customs with only a few cursory questions. There were still a few cabs waiting outside despite the lateness of the hour, the cabbies leaning against their vehicles and talking in the soft Island patois beneath the dry rubbing of the palms.
Their driver dropped them off in front of a darkened modern-style house outside of Georgetown. There was a wrought-iron gate, but no lock. As he drove off, Sarah asked, "What if he's not home?"
"Then we break in," Dieter said. He hoisted his bag and headed for the house.
Sarah and John shared a look, shrugged as one, and followed him.
"Hold on, hold on! I'm coming already!"
Jackson Skye thundered down the stairs in his underwear, yanking on a silk bathrobe that had twisted itself into some kind of knot. It never crossed his mind that it might not be safe to pull open his front door at this time of night.
Georgetown was one of the safest towns in the world. Criminals came to the Cayman Islands, but they came to do banking business, not to burgle homes in
the middle of the night. In fact, they tended to be ferociously intolerant of ordinary crime. The native islanders felt the same way.
What did occur to him was that" he was going to clobber the asshole who was holding down his doorbell like that.
"WHAT?" he bellowed, and then almost swallowed his tongue. "Von Rossbach,"
Skye said, eyeing the big man nervously. Still the same old slab of beef, no fat blurring the outline of the hard muscles. "W-what are you doing here?"
Dieter gave him an affable smile. "I've come to stay for a few days," he said, moving slowly into the foyer, and moving Jackson back, step-by-step. "I have some research to do and I can use your help."
Skye's mouth dropped open. "Naw," he said desperately. "I can't, man!"
"Shhh." Dieter raised a calming hand.
"No, seriously! Y'know how volatile the market's been lately—"
"Shhh," von Rossbach continued, smiling.
"But, Dieter, if you take me off-line to do your research I could lose millions."
"Jackson"—Dieter put his hand on the man's shoulder—"you know that you can always do what you have to do. And you have to do this. We had a deal, remember?"
Skye remembered. And a deal with the devil it was turning out to be.
"It's just lousy timing is all," he said sullenly.
"Hey," von Rossbach said, patting him gently, "we might find out what we want to know in the first hour. You never know. So don't have such a long face, okay?"
Jackson smiled a blatantly false smile and started to close the front door.
"Hi," John said, blocking him. He came in lugging his small suitcase and looked up at the spiral staircase, the pale tile floor with scattered Moroccan rugs, the white-painted louvered doors looking out on pool and garden. "Cool," he said, reaching out and shaking Skye's hand enthusiastically. "Nice place, man.
Thanks!"
"Hi," Jackson said, looking him over and closing the door again.
"Excuse me," Sarah said, stopping the door with a firm hand.
Jackson blinked and then hastily tied his robe shut as Sarah looked him over. He glanced at von Rossbach.
"Friends of mine," Dieter said unnecessarily.
"Where's the washroom?" Sarah asked.
"Down that way, second door on the left," Skye said automatically.
"We can all have our own rooms, yes?" von Rossbach said.
"Yuh," their host agreed, somewhat bemused.
"Good. We'll turn in now, since we're all pretty tired," Dieter said. "When Sarah comes back you can show us to our rooms."
"Sure," Skye said.
"I would appreciate it if you would stay home tomorrow morning to answer any questions we might have regarding your equipment," von Rossbach said easily.
Jackson's shoulders slumped.
"Of course," he said with mock graciousness. "What kind of a host would I be if I considered my own welfare before your convenience?"
"A bad one," Dieter said, still smiling. "And I know that you would never do anything that might upset your guests. That might lead to your being off-line for more than a few days. Yes?"
"Yes," Jackson bit off.
Sarah returned, and paused, frowning at his tone of voice.
"Sorry," Skye said. He was a man who had always found it hard to be surly to an attractive woman. "It's just late and all like that."
"It is," she agreed. "And I'm sorry to have wakened you." She held out her hand and he took it. "I assure you, we wouldn't inconvenience you like this if it wasn't important."
Jackson stood a little straighter at that. "Thank you," he said, sounding honestly grateful. "I won't ask any questions, I know you can't tell me anything. But I
appreciate someone" —he glared at von Rossbach—"taking my feelings into consideration." With a smile he gestured toward the stairs. "The rooms are already made up, so all you need to do is crash. Every room has its own bath. If there's anything that you need or want, Sarah"—he raised her hand to his lips
—"my room is the last one at the end of the hall. Here, let me get that," he said as she bent to pick up her case.
She smiled at him and followed him up the stairs, making polite replies to his small talk. John raised an eyebrow and gave Dieter a she'll-do-anything-for-the-mission look. Dieter just smiled and waved him onward.
"Hey, cool setup," John Connor said. "Nice. Two-gig Pents, virtual keys, mondo bandwidth… seriously rad, my man. I love these thin-film displays, too."
"How come you never look at girls that way?" Sarah said.
"I do, Mom; just not in front of you."
Dieter snorted; even if it did make him seem like an old fart, he couldn't regard computers as anything but tools.
"Anything I can get you?" Skye said, a faint touch of sarcasm in his tone.
"Sure," John said, with a charming smile, slipping a headset on and adjusting the mike. "A couple of cans of Jolt and some cookies would be cool. Thanks."
Skye turned to the stairs, muttering. This end of his house was open-plan, all pale wood and minimalist furniture looking out onto a veranda that surrounded it on three sides; the visitors had moved in chairs to give each a seat behind one of
the thin-screen displays. Warm air blew in, smelling of sea salt and the dry olive scrub that covered the land beyond the pink-stuccoed garden wall, and faintly of the jasmine in pots beside the pool.
"Ah," John said, popping the top of a can of Jolt and taking a noisy sip.