by Diane Capri
“You mean the CIA?”
He didn’t reply.
She sighed. “So. A biological weapon. Grupo Lopez is a biochemical company. So is Kelso Products.”
He nodded as if she was an apt pupil, albeit a little too slow to grasp the obvious. “And development would have to be conducted away from prying eyes.”
“But the place in Zorita isn’t set up for that kind of development,” Jess said. “That’s a chemical production facility, with a little chemical research on the side. Totally different thing from biochemical.”
Hadlow waited for her to figure things out.
“What if the sepsis wasn’t caused by a biological weapon?” Jess bit her lip. “At least not intentionally?”
Hadlow frowned. “You mean, what if some crazy person in Botswana wanted to murder all his neighbors with poison or something?”
“Not exactly.” She shook her head. “Rafa Lopez talked about mosquitoes and malaria and the need, his words, for big thinking and big experiments.”
Hadlow stared. “You’re thinking the sepsis outbreak could have been a side effect of something he’s testing to kill mosquitoes?”
“That’s what Kelso Products and Grupo Lopez have in common. And Elden is an experimental biochemist who has worked in the research departments at both companies. If she—” Jess snapped her fingers. “Let me see that picture of the helipad again.”
He brought up the picture on his phone. She flipped between the color version and the all-seeing red one. The outlines of the buildings were easy to see, but other markings weren’t as visible initially.
She zoomed in until the roof of one of the buildings filled the phone’s screen. She moved on to the next building. It had the same marks and lines in the ghostly image. So did the next building.
She counted three buildings, all the same.
But the fourth building was very different. It had a smooth flat roof. As she zoomed in and out, she thought she saw steam billowing from the side.
“What?” Hadlow said.
“It’s hot in Africa, right. So three of the buildings have air conditioning units on the roof.” She pointed. “These small rectangular shapes are probably them. But the fourth building is completely different.” She brought the building into view on the phone. “No air conditioning. And the side of the building looks to have steam coming from it.”
Hadlow slipped back and forth between the red and normal photos. “Definitely. You can see the vegetation is greener around that building, too. Probably from the extra hydration. What do you think this means?”
She explained what she’d learned while she was working on the Kelso Products bombing story. “Biosafety labs have special air filtration systems to ensure nothing nasty accidentally escapes on unfiltered air.”
He stared at the picture. “What you’re saying makes sense. But it’s hard to confirm that this building is a bio-weapons lab just because it has a different air conditioning unit.”
She poured the last of her coffee from the French Press, which was cooler and stronger. “Debora Elden worked at Kelso Products where they have BSL-3 labs with air filtration systems similar to that building.”
“I know. We made the connection, and someone stateside has been on top of Kelso Products,” Hadlow said. “Kelso stopped the bio work because of the costs months ago. They planned to start up again. But they couldn’t get the right personnel.”
“Like a guy calling himself Marco Benito,” Jess said, as that piece clicked into place for her. “The man who worked at Kelso Products wasn’t actually the biochemist Marco Benito.”
Hadlow’s face hardened. “How do you know that?”
“I can’t prove it. But it’s a solid guess. The picture on his visa application wasn’t the real Macro Benito. You could interrogate them both to confirm, but it turns out that both of them are dead.”
“Yeah. We know.” Hadlow stayed quiet a couple of beats. He cleared his throat. “Franco Olivetti was the first good lead we had that there might be more to this sepsis outbreak than a weird natural event.” He looked down. “We put a man on him. Followed him everywhere. Including Johannesburg.”
“So the man who died was a Brit. One of your team. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Jess sighed. “The police report said he was on vacation.”
“We’re all on vacation. I’m on vacation now. Foreign operations cover 101.” Hadlow took a deep breath. “From his knife wounds, there were two attackers. South African police did us a favor keeping the lid on that. The one that got away doesn’t know we’re coming after him. I’ll find him. And when I do…”
Jess put her hands together and breathed evenly to steady her fluttering nerves, which she hoped was caused by too much strong coffee. “I won’t be involved in some kind of vendetta. All I’m trying to do is prove that Alex Cole is not the man responsible for the Kelso Products bombing. I’m willing to help you nail Rafa Lopez if he’s responsible for the sepsis outbreak, whether or not the two things are related. But that’s all. I’m sorry about your friend, but going after a killer like that is way beyond my skill set. I can’t do it. And I don’t want to. I have to find my son. I can’t die out here on some kind of revenge quest you’ve got going, Hadlow.”
“Vendetta? Where’d you get that idea?” he said, eyes widening as his mouth opened. His tone hardened. “This is all business for me, Jess. I’m going to find the guy. I’ll turn him over and then he’s someone else’s problem. But I can’t promise what kind of shape he’ll be in when I do.”
Her breathing returned to normal, and her nerves settled down. “I really am sorry about your friend.”
He shook his head. “Right now we both need to have our heads in the game. No distractions.”
“Cantor,” she said. “He was killed with a knife, too. Seems very personal. Passionate.”
“Yeah.” Hadlow stood, took out his wallet, and tucked a few bills under his plate. “Like I said. Keep your head in the game.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
Jess checked the Vektor before following Hadlow out of the cafe. She found him looking toward the harbor at the end of the seafront.
“Gloriana?” she said.
“Roger that.”
“Can we get there without our passports?” she asked.
They walked, occasionally stopping, pretending to admire the view while periodically checking to confirm they weren’t being followed.
A small Toyota pickup truck buzzed past, its tiny engine working hard. Jess made eye contact with the driver and watched the vehicle go.
Hadlow said, “Keep your eyes moving. Tourists don’t stare at people in cars.”
He walked with an ease she didn’t feel, but she followed his lead. She’d finally accepted that the situation was much more complicated than even she’d believed. He was the professional here. She was feeling nervous about the whole situation, but she wouldn’t let him know that. Not on a bet.
Kitande Harbor was as limited as the rest of the city. There were docks for a half-dozen boats, but only two were in port. She didn’t know much about boats. These two looked like well-used fishing boats to her, one fairly small and one quite a bit larger. The tide was out, which placed the boats ten feet out from the stone walkway.
Two men were hunched over a trap door on the rear deck of the larger boat, which Jess guessed was the engine compartment.
The Gelukkig, according to the lettering on the front, looked about forty feet long. It had an open deck toward the front and a large wheelhouse. Thick paint testified to years of fresh layers applied in the off seasons. At the rear, an inflatable dinghy was tied down to a bench.
A man on the deck eyed their approach as he wound heavy-duty nylon thread through a tear in a fishing net.
Hadlow climbed down a rope ladder to the deck.
Jess noted the two men on the small boat were still occupied, then she glanced toward the seafront. No one seemed to be paying them any attention, which she knew by now, didn’t necessaril
y mean no one was watching.
The man on the Gelukkig stopped working and stood to face Hadlow. “You looking for fishing?”
“You speak English,” Hadlow said with a smile like any tourist would.
“We don’t get a lot of visitors. Aussies mainly. But they all speak English,” he replied. “If you’re looking for sport fishing, you’re too late. That boat’s already sailed. Be sailing again tomorrow. Leaves at seven in the morning.”
Hadlow shook his head. “What if we wanted to get to Gloriana?”
“Gloriana? That’s a long way.” The man’s interest had been snagged, and he cocked his head, the better to examine Hadlow, presumably.
“We can pay,” Hadlow said as if the man might think he’d been asking for a free ride.
“Usually visitors, rich people, they get a boat from farther up the coast. Luanda, even.”
“We’re not in Luanda, though,” Hadlow said, reasonably, as he shrugged. “We’re here, and my wife wants to go to Gloriana.”
The man glanced up at Jess, and she did her best to plead without speaking. He blew air nosily out through his nose. “Takes a long time.”
“It’s thirty miles, according to the map.”
“Ain’t the miles. Current’s bad around here.” He looked at Jess again, and she offered him a blinding smile. He shrugged. “But I’m not fishing today, so if you’ve got the money…”
Hadlow pulled out his wallet and settled on a price.
Jess took one last glance around the harbor and climbed down onto the deck. The boat stank of fish. It wasn’t just the usual smell of fresh fish in the local food store, but an odor far saltier and deeper and all-pervasive.
The fisherman held his hand out and flashed a big grin that displayed several missing teeth. “I’m Paavo.”
“Jess,” she said, shaking his hand.
Hadlow shot her a glance. Her skin tingled. Crap! “Beaumont,” she added.
Paavo nodded. “Nice to meet you.”
Paavo set about stowing his fishing net and lashing down anything loose.
Hadlow checked around the boat, beneath decks as well as the wheelhouse. He came back and gave her a nod. “We’re the only ones aboard,” he said, quietly.
She took two worn but serviceable life vests from a plastic storage container and handed one to Hadlow.
Paavo finished tidying the decks. “You ready?”
“Ready,” Jess said.
“I’ll get the lines,” Hadlow said.
Paavo stood in the wheelhouse in front of a simple dashboard arrangement. There was a traditional looking ship’s wheel, complete with handles and spokes. It looked well worn. Between several archaic looking instruments, there was a large display with the letters GPS on the bezel, which improved her confidence.
The engine started with the first push of a button and settled into a steady rumble.
Hadlow unhitched the mooring lines front and rear, and Paavo powered the boat away from the harbor side.
Jess surveyed the harbor as the boat chugged out. She saw no one watching or following, and she wanted to believe Cantor’s killer wasn’t lurking.
As they passed through the narrow gap in the harbor wall, the boat began to rock. The movement was not uncomfortable, but given that they were barely away from land, she wondered what the ride would be like once they were out on the ocean.
A breeze blew on her face, faster and stronger than the movement of the boat alone would produce. The air carried a tang to her lips and tingled her senses.
She stepped inside the shelter of the wheelhouse.
“You been out on the sea in a small boat before?” Paavo said.
“Cruise ships, a couple of times.” Jess shook her head. “Nothing this small.”
“We’re going to get some rough swells. The wind blows inland, and the currents twist and turn around here.”
“How rough will it get?”
He grinned. “Nothing that bad, but it’ll rock the boat for sure.”
Hadlow stood outside the wheelhouse, staring back at the shore. She saw nothing worrisome back there and hoped he didn’t either.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
“You said rich people go to Gloriana?” she asked Paavo.
“Well, maybe not royalty, but rich enough to afford a big boat. There’s one boat, it’s so big it don’t even pull into the harbor. They have to ferry people onto Gloriana.”
“I didn’t think there was much on the island to see.” He glanced at her, and she smiled sheepishly. “That’s why we want to see it.”
He shook his head. “There ain’t much. You’re right about that.”
“But rich people and big boats go there? Why?”
“Ain’t no accounting for taste.”
“Any businesses on Gloriana?”
“Just food and supplies and stuff.” He shrugged. “It’s an island, you know? They’re selling to each other.”
“You heard any rumors about the place? Anything unusual?”
He laughed. “Yeah, a couple of strangers just turned up and hired my boat to go out there.” He gave Jess a sideways look. “Why you so interested in Gloriana?”
Hadlow stepped into the wheelhouse and leaned against the doorframe.
“Just curious. It looks interesting on the map, and the history seems interesting, too,” Jess said.
Paavo grew quiet.
Jess changed the topic. “Have you been around the far side of the island?”
“Long time ago.”
“Can you land around there?”
Paavo shook his head. “Just the port on the east. The side closest to us.”
Jess pointed to the deflated dinghy on the back deck. “What about your dinghy?”
“Well, there’s places. But—”
“We can buy it from you. Pay you extra for it if you want. Enough to buy a better one,” Hadlow said.
Paavo shook his head. “I ain’t going back to Kitande without a dinghy. Out in the ocean, never know what might happen.”
The engine thrummed as the boat took on a steady fore/aft rocking motion.
“You could use it to drop us off,” Jess said, pointing. “Your dinghy. And then bring it back.”
Paavo stared. He looked over at Hadlow leaning against the doorframe. “You two sure don’t act like tourists.”
“It’s because we’re adventuring. Looking for something exciting,” Jess said.
Paavo shook his head as if the whims of tourists were beyond his ken. The boat rocked, and waves broke against the hull, sending fine spray over the deck.
Finally, he grunted. “Okay. I know a place. But you got to pay.”
“How much?” Jess said.
“Same as the trip out here.”
Hadlow pushed himself off the doorframe “Hiring a dinghy to go a few yards costs the same as doing thirty miles in this whole boat?”
“I don’t know what you’re doing, but you sure ain’t tourists. So yes, it costs the same.” He gave a lopsided grin. “Or I can just drop you off at the port, where everyone will see you.”
Jess dug into her bag and handed over a wad of bills.
She took a seat in the rear of the wheelhouse. An hour passed. The engine’s vibration traveled through her bones. She thought she would never stop shaking.
Paavo pointed to a coffee pot. Despite the rolling of the boat, Hadlow made three coffees and handed them out. The aroma perked up Jess’s senses.
She walked around outside with the coffee and was pleased to know she was gaining sea-legs. She was able to stand steady as the ship rocked and rolled. A fine mist doused her face, and the air helped blow away the worst of the fish smell.
As she stood on the bow, a small dot appeared dead ahead on the horizon. She stared hard. It took a good minute to confirm that it was land and not another boat.
She went inside the wheelhouse and pointed to the land. “Is that Gloriana?” she asked.
Paavo uh-huh’d his agreement as he moved the ship’
s wheel to adjust course. The island was no longer directly in the boat’s path.
“Going round the island?” she said.
Paavo nodded. “I figured you weren’t interested in announcing you’re coming. No one can see us this far out.”
They continued for another thirty minutes, the small dot of Gloriana on the horizon, working its way around from the bow to the side of the boat while it seemed to be getting neither smaller nor larger. Paavo kept checking the readings on the GPS display and making minor adjustments to the wheel before announcing he was heading for land.
Hadlow unclipped the dinghy on the foredeck. Jess helped him hold it down as they inflated it. The sea breeze battled to get under and lift it away until they had it tied down securely.
Paavo watched a sonar display as he approached close to the island. They crossed a shelf where the ocean floor raced up to a plateau that gently rose to the edge of the island. When the depth below the boat dropped to ten feet, he cut the engine. Hadlow helped drop anchor.
They were a hundred feet from the island. Paavo had brought them to a section with thick trees on either side of a narrow patch of sand.
He rigged a rope to help drop the dinghy into the water, and more importantly, help him drag it aboard when he returned alone.
He rummaged in a plastic box and pulled out two bottles of water. “You’ve got a long walk from here if you want to get into town. Better take these.”
Jess thanked him and climbed into the dinghy. She sat at the front as Hadlow and Paavo rowed. The dinghy glided onto land, riding an incoming wave.
Jess and Hadlow jumped out.
Paavo held out a strip of worn paper. “My number, if you can find a phone. I can collect you. Tomorrow. Or whenever you decide you’ve collected enough nature.”
“Aren’t there boats here we can take back?” Jess said.
“Sure. Long as you don’t mind explaining how you got onto the island in the first place,” Paavo grinned. “Have fun.”
He waded into the water, pushing the dinghy into the waves, and rowed toward his boat.