Chapter 23
“Are you ready for a boat ride?”
“What are you talking about?” Jet replied.
David closed the hotel room door and approached her, then set a pair of nail clippers on the table, where she was munching on some fruit. The morning sun streamed through the gauze curtains, warming her as she reached for the clippers.
“We have to be at the dock just before nightfall. At the private yacht marina in Haifa harbor. The story will be that we’re going night fishing for shark. Money may have changed hands between the patrol boats and my contact’s captain — who knows? But he’s got a fifty-foot sports fisher that can make it to Cyprus in eight hours, easy, at which point we’ll be on our own.”
“That’s great news. The sooner we’re off Israeli soil, the better. I’ve been watching the news, and all they’re talking about are the shootings. No mention of Eli.”
David nodded. “No surprise there. He didn’t exist as far as the public is concerned. Just another anonymous bureaucrat. The Mossad will cover it all up — his body probably won’t be found for weeks, and then if he’s lucky, his passing will warrant three column inches on page eighteen mourning his demise following a domestic accident. He’ll be described as a deputy director of public safety or something like that. We all know how it works when we sign up.”
“If there’s anything good to come of all this,” Jet reflected, “it’s that you’re off the radar now. Any search for you will lose steam over time. And with some plastic surgery, nobody would recognize you.”
“That reminds me. Did you get something done? You look a little different.”
“Got my nose narrowed. The effect is subtle but effective.”
“If anything, you’re more beautiful than before. If that’s even possible.”
She snipped at the hand stitches and quickly pulled them free of her skin. The scar would be barely noticeable within a week.
Jet rose and walked over to where he was standing and put her arms around his neck, then kissed him long and deep. When she pulled back, she was smiling.
“Are you angling for more lovemaking, David? Because compliments are never a bad way to go about it.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“It’s not a negative. It’s about the only thing I can read about you. Everything else, you’re the sphinx. Inscrutable.”
“You have a lot of that going on, too — the inscrutable thing.” He kissed her again.
“How’s the stomach? You sure you can handle another round?” she asked, already pulling her top over her head.
“The doctor did say to get some exercise.”
~ ~ ~
Jet’s only project for the day was to trim her hair — she needed to alter her appearance, and a short cut was the perfect way, especially since all the photos she knew about had her with a long or medium-length cut. She had bought a pair of scissors in the gift shop and set to chopping away. After half an hour, the result wasn’t encouraging. Apparently, becoming a cosmetologist wasn’t part of her calling.
She left David to his own devices in the room and went for a drive, looking for a hair salon that could fix her experiment. Near the center of town, she found two within a block of each other, and selected one based on the decor. The stylist, a pert young woman with a contemporary hairstyle, surveyed her hair with a disdainful look.
“I’m afraid I might have butchered this,” Jet confessed once she was seated in the chair.
“It’s, uh, different. So what did you have in mind?” the woman asked, preferring not to dwell on how Jet got there.
Jet studied the woman’s cut.
“I really like yours. Do you think you could do something like that?”
“It’s a lot more edgy than the bob it looks like you were shooting for. You sure you want to go that direction?”
“I like edgy. Why not?”
“I’ve found it’s a good idea to check before I start cutting. There’s nothing worse than a client who hates her cut once I’m done. That’s not the kind of advertising that builds your business.”
“Don’t worry. If I look freakish, it will be my fault, not yours.”
Forty-five minutes later, Jet examined the new her in the mirror and nodded, satisfied. It would be hard to recognize her. Amazing how much difference a hairstyle change made.
“It’s perfect,” Jet proclaimed.
The stylist smiled. “It does look good. You’re very lucky. You have a great face to frame, so almost anything would look great.”
David was impressed upon her return.
“Wow. You’re hot. I mean, seriously. That’s a great look.”
“Thanks. But the main goal was to radically change my appearance.”
“It worked. Come here. Let me play with your new hair.”
They elected to have a late lunch in the hotel restaurant, and David took the opportunity after they ordered to make a call to his American contact. When he returned, he looked troubled.
The waiter arrived with their sandwiches, and he took a bite before gazing around the dining area.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Not so good. My CIA buddy said there’s been considerable agitation over the Belize situation recently. There have been a series of suspicious deaths, including the shooting of a public figure — a vocal advocate of nationalization of the nation’s oil reserves — and the untimely death of the governor general. An accidental drowning, but given the circumstances, I wouldn’t bet money on it.”
“So the game’s afoot already. We knew it would be.”
“True, but he also says that there’s satellite evidence of a new compound being set up in the jungle down by Punta Gorda, in the southern portion of the country. Apparently, the locals are afraid to go near it, and there are rumors circulating of a cartel moving into the area. It’s extremely remote, in an uninhabited section down by the Honduran border. That sounds like something Grigenko would be behind. It has to be. Nothing else is happening in Belize. The footage shows three main buildings with a perimeter that’s been cleared, and as of this morning, several large SUVs and signs of habitation.”
“Okay. So Grigenko’s got something going on in Belize. Question is whether it can help us or not. I was more in favor of heading to Russia to deal with him,” she reminded him.
“Like I said, that could be a major problem. He’s got more security in Moscow than most heads of state. You wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“How many missions have I carried out where I didn’t stand a chance? Come on. That’s almost routine.”
“This is different.” David took another bite of his sandwich and leaned back, signaling to the waitress for another iced tea.
“Then what do we do, now that we have this new development?”
“I’m thinking that we go to Belize. Whatever is happening there is obviously critical to Grigenko. He’s spent years on it, no doubt tied to the oil reserves he discovered. If we disrupt his scheme there, we may be able to draw him out. As it sits, he’s unassailable in Moscow, so we need him to make mistakes. If we can get him to Belize…”
“So we’re doing the jungle thing? Malaria, humidity, toucans?” she asked.
“I can’t see any better options. Belize is a strong lead, and we know it’s a big deal for him. I say we throw a grenade into his little fiesta there and see what happens. Do you have any better suggestions?”
“I suppose nuking his headquarters is impractical?”
David smiled. “Always the subtle one, huh?”
“Okay, you win. Belize it is. How do we get weapons? I’m assuming we can’t stroll in with the toys we just bought.”
“It sounded like the American could help with that. I get the sense that the CIA has some feet on the ground there.”
“You sure you’re up for this?”
“No problem. I’m strong as a bull now. Healthy living and the love of a good woman…”
The joke silenced them both.
He slid his hand over the table and took hers.
“I’m glad, whatever the circumstances, that you came back.”