“There,” he said, pointing at a tiny dot. It was so insignificant compared to everything else on the map that it didn’t even have a name. “Bengal Island.”
“Bengal Island?”
“It’s actually two islands. Grand Bengal and Little Bengal. The one that shows up on the map is Grand Bengal, but there’s a smaller companion island—”
“Let me guess. Little Bengal?”
“That third-year medical school education is finally paying off.”
She snorted.
“Here,” he said, putting his finger over an empty spot on the map.
“I don’t see anything.”
“It’s a good-size island, about 160 kilometers—”
“I still get my kilometers and miles mixed up. What’s that in miles?”
“About 100, give or take.”
“Okay. Go on…”
“It’s about 100 miles—”
“Give or take.”
“Can I finish?”
She smiled. “Sorry.”
“I was saying, it’s about 100 miles from its big brother, Grand Bengal, and is about ten kilometers in length and one-point-six in width, though the middle is more like two-point-four.”
“So, about six miles long?”
“Yeah, about ten times the length of Song Island. Big enough for an airfield on the east section and a hotel resort on the west, with the two sides linked by roads. There’s a strand of white beaches in front of the hotels where the rich and infamous bunk. The water is blue and everything is expensive, but depending on the state of the island, you may or may not have to fight for a spot in one of those suites.”
“You’ve been there before.”
“I almost died there.”
“Which Bengal?”
“Both.”
“Hunh.”
“Yeah. Anyway, the place used to be a notorious pirate den until the British Empire took it over in the seventeenth century. You know the Brits. Law and order and Queen and Country, and all that good stuff. These days, it’s treated as a British Overseas Territory.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It’s technically a part of the old British Empire, because apparently they enjoy the prestige of being linked to an old carcass, but for all intents and purposes, it’s entirely self-governed.”
“I’ve never even heard of it.”
“You wouldn’t have, because you’re a normal, decent person. The main island is only fifty square miles with about 5,000 locals, and the rest are all tourists and criminals.”
“You mean tourists or criminals?”
“No, I mean tourists and criminals. Bengal Island is where you put your money if you want to hide it from Uncle Sam or some other government body. As long as you pay for the privilege, the government there will hold pretty much an unlimited amount of funds for you. That includes your own private villa to live out the rest of your miserable, criminal life.”
She gave him a curious look.
“What?” he said.
“You really know a lot about this place.”
“I’ve had occasions to go there in my old job. The point is, Little Bengal is a perfect replacement for Song Island. You wouldn’t necessarily have to deal with the main island, and the closest countries are Cuba to the east and Jamaica to the southeast. Both are well over 300 kilometers away with nothing but open Caribbean sea in the middle.”
“Around 200 miles?”
“Close enough. But you understand where I’m going with this?”
“It’s isolated.”
“Yes. It’s very isolated. Both physically and internationally. That’s what makes it so attractive to the criminal element. You’ll be able to see anyone coming for, literally, miles away.”
“And all that water…”
“There’s that, too.”
Lara pulled out a marker and circled Little Bengal, then drew a line from it to the channel that connected Beaufont Lake with the Gulf of Mexico.
“How far?” she asked.
Keo did the numbers in his head. “Less than 2,000 kilometers and more than 1,000 miles?”
“Can you be more specific?”
He grunted. “You know there’s a bridge on this boat? In it, there are all kinds of neat computer doodads that you can program to tell you the exact distance of places and such. Just sayin’.”
She ignored him and continued looking at the map. “I like it.”
“You should. It’s exactly what you’re looking for. The only thing you have to worry about are the criminal elements that may or may not still be there.”
“Guys with guns?”
“Without a doubt.”
“Well, then,” she said, “if we actually do go there, it’s a good thing we have plenty of guns of our own.”
CHAPTER 14
GABY
As much as she longed for the white beaches and blue waters of Song Island, she dreaded finally reaching it after being away for so long. It was less about the island and more about who would be waiting for her there.
Lara. She would be there.
What am I going to tell her? How am I going to explain Will not being with us?
“You should smile more,” Nate was saying from across the back of the moving truck.
She snatched hair out of her face with one hand, the other holding the M4 in her lap. “What did you say?”
“You don’t smile enough,” he said, shouting a bit to be heard over the roar of the wind. “You should smile more. It brings out the cut on the bridge of your noise.”
She smirked. “Funny guy.”
“I try.”
“Well, stop. This isn’t the time.”
“So when is the time?”
“I don’t know. But this isn’t it.”
“Relax, Gaby. You’re almost home. Look around you. There’s nothing but road and grass and fields out here. I haven’t seen a building in…ten minutes? Twenty?”
Nate had a point. There was nothing out here except large acres of sun-bleached and overgrown grass to one side and the clear, calm waters of Beaufont Lake on the other. She couldn’t see Song Island yet because they were still too far north, but it wouldn’t be long now. An hour, maybe less, and the first signs of home would appear in the distance. She found herself getting more anxious and at the same time more alert as they got closer.
How many days and nights now had she been waiting for this moment? It had been too long, and the prospect of finally getting there was overwhelming, both exhilarating and terrifying.
What am I going to tell Lara?
“Maybe it won’t be that bad,” Nate said.
“What’s that?”
“At the island. Tonight.”
She looked at him curiously for a moment. Did he actually believe that, or was he trying to make her feel better? Or maybe he was trying to convince himself. Looking at him, she felt guilty all over again. She had to remind herself of all the troubles he had gone through just to find her, and now having done so, she was dragging him straight into another hellish gunfight. Somehow, the fact that he was coming willingly — even anxiously — made it just that little bit worse.
“Do you really believe that?” she asked.
“Why not?”
Because you didn’t see them. Back at the farmhouse. The blue-eyed creatures. This is their world now, Nate. We’re the trespassers. And they might be coming for us tonight. Are you ready for that, because I’m not.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He gave her a confused look. “For what?”
“Bringing you here.”
“I don’t understand…”
“They’re going to attack tonight, Nate. Will is certain of it. And he’s rarely wrong.”