The southern end of the island featured a steep volcanic peak, covered with trees and thick green foliage. From the air, the island looked like a misshapen boot with the mountain forming the toe. Halfway up the east side of the boot, a small bay with a long wooden pier extended out into the water. A medium-sized fishing boat was docked next to the pier. At the top of the boot a large, square house with white walls and a red tile roof sat on a high promontory that looked out over the water. Beyond the house, the land fell away in a sheer cliff hundreds of feet high. Waves crashed against black rocks below. A second house, smaller than the first, sat away from the main building at the edge of the uncleared jungle.
A single runway of concrete formed the airstrip. A hangar was situated at one end of the runway. They circled the island once and landed. The Gulfstream taxied toward the hangar.
They stepped from the plane into the warm, humid air of the Windward Islands. The air smelled of salt and an explosion of green things growing.
"Welcome to St. Jeanne Island," Selena said.
Nick saw a white SUV coming toward them. "That will be Emile," Selena said. "He's been the caretaker here since before I was born. Let me take care of the plane and then we'll all go up to the house."
They walked over to the shade of the hanger. Selena had a brief conversation with the pilot and came over to join them. The pilot got back into the Gulfstream. In a moment the engines came alive and the plane turned to face the far end of the runway. They watched the Gulfstream accelerate down the strip and lift into the air.
Nick turned to Selena. "Just what I'd always dreamed of," he said. "Stranded on a tropical island with you. Only I didn't imagine we'd be here with anyone else."
She laughed. It broke the tension.
The SUV pulled up next to them. The man who got out of the vehicle was weathered with a lifetime under the Caribbean sun. It was impossible to tell how old he was. He looked like a man who had worked every day of his life. He wore a khaki colored, short sleeved shirt and trousers cut off below the knees. Well-worn brown boots protected his feet. His skin was walnut brown. He was about five feet nine inches tall, wiry and taut. The muscles on his arms and legs stood out like knotted cords under the skin.
His face broke into a grin. "Miss Selena," he said, "it has been too long since you have visited."
"Hello, Emile. It's good to see you."
"But now you are here. Things in the big house are ready for your stay. You will be here long?"
"I'm not sure. Emile, these are my friends. We all work together."
Selena made the introductions.
"Let's go up to the house," she said.
They piled into Emile's truck and followed a gravel drive from the airstrip to the top of the promontory and the house. The house was built of whitewashed stone, two stories high. A wide, shaded veranda with a sloping, tiled roof ran around the bottom of the structure. Wicker furniture with flowered cushions offered places to sit. Tall windows with wooden storm shutters painted green lined the front of the building. The view from the veranda took in the entire island and the Caribbean beyond.
Inside, the house was cool and quiet. Wooden ceiling fans turned slowly overhead. A gentle breeze coming through the open windows brought the sweet perfume of tropical flowers and honeysuckle. The floors were made of dark, polished wood, cut in wide boards. A wide, wooden staircase led up to a balcony and the second floor.
"There are six rooms on the second floor," Selena said. "Mine is the one in the front on the left. Take any of the others you like."
"Get settled in and we'll meet down here in 30 minutes," Elizabeth said. "We need to do some serious planning."
"Director," Selena said, "I need to talk with you about something."
Elizabeth was about to ask if it could wait until later. Then she saw the stress in Selena's face.
"What is it, Selena?"
"Let's sit outside."
They moved onto the porch and sat down.
"Adam gave Nick a file," Selena said. "You need to know what was in it. I was going to tell you when we got back from London but there hasn't been a good opportunity until now. "
Elizabeth gave her a curious look. "What file?"
Selena told Elizabeth about the CIA file and the accusations against her father. When she was done, Elizabeth sat without saying anything for what seemed like a long time.
"Why didn't you tell me before?" she said.
Selena took a deep breath. "I was afraid you'd throw me off the team. If my father was a traitor, you might think I was a security risk."
"Selena, you're not your father."
"That's what Nick said."
"You don't think the file is true." It was a statement, not a question.
"No, I don't. My father was an honorable man. He would never have betrayed his country. I think it was a CIA op that went wrong and somebody covered it up."
"You should've come to me sooner," Elizabeth said.
"I know. I'm sorry." Selena's eyes glistened. Elizabeth reached out and took her hand.
"There's nothing to be sorry about. It can't have been easy for you to find that out. How can I help?"
"Knowing that the people who killed my family may still be out there keeps me awake at night. I want to get into the KGB files and track down who it was. Stephanie can do that, but I need your permission."
"A lot of those files are available for anyone to study," Elizabeth said. "The really sensitive stuff has all been transferred to computers. If we hack into those, we're risking a major incident."
"I know that." Selena waited.
"What will you do if you find out the assassin is still alive?"
"I don't know. I just know that it's important to find out what happened."
Elizabeth looked out over the Caribbean. In the distance, the white sail of a private yacht cut across the deep blue of the sea.
"Let me think about it," Elizabeth said.
CHAPTER 36
The next day General Westlake and Senator Martinez were having drinks in the Senator's club in Washington. The club was designed for private conversations, with discrete groupings of high-back chairs and low tables. The politicians, lobbyists and money men all needed a place that was private and convenient to the Capitol building. If you had the money, the power and the connections, you might be invited to join.
"What the hell happened?" Martinez said. "How did they get away?"
"Someone tipped them off," Westlake said. "The place was locked down and no one was there. They chartered a plane to a private island in the Caribbean," Westlake picked up a glass of single malt and took a long drink. "I had the pilot taken into custody."
"Those people are a real pain in the ass. They know too much."
"I've arranged for a team to eliminate them. They'll go in tomorrow night."
"Good."
Westlake said, "Edmonds is an idiot."
"It wasn't Edmonds' fault," Martinez said. "He's been a good boy. He's doing exactly what we want him to do."
"And he'd better continue to do it, if he knows what's good for him."
"He wants to be President."
"He can be President," Westlake said. "We need a figurehead."
"There's still Rice," Martinez said. "Still alive."
"That is one tough son of a bitch," Westlake said. "He'll have an unfortunate relapse when it's time to make Edmonds official. Which will be soon."
Martinez said, "What is your assessment of cooperation from local commanders once we begin?"
Westlake toyed with his drink. "I've thought about that a lot. In the beginning it won't be a problem. They'll be responding to tactical situations on the ground, not thinking about national implications. That's not their job. They're trained to follow orders, and they will. Morgan is with us."