Halfway out the door, the captain turned back. “And your destination, Mr. Wallace?”
“Oh, we’re following our noses,” Doug claimed. “Cathy and I are graduate students. Botany. So far we’ve found your country fascinating.”
“Peter, the water’s getting cold.”
Doug glanced over his shoulder, looked back, and grinned. “It’s our honeymoon, you understand.”
“Naturally. May I congratulate you on your taste? Good afternoon.”
“Yeah, see you.”
Doug closed the door, leaned back against it, and swore. “I don’t like it.”
Wrapped in a towel, Whitney came out from behind the screen. “What do you think that was all about?”
“I wish I knew. But one thing, when cops start nosing around, I look for other accommodations.”
Whitney took a long look at the gaily covered bed. “But, Doug.”
“Sorry, sugar. Get yourself dressed.” He began to strip off his own dripping clothes. “We’re catching a boat, a little ahead of schedule.”
“You have something new?” After fondling a glass chess piece, Dimitri moved bishop’s pawn.
“We think they headed toward the coast.”
“Think?” At the snap of Dimitri’s fingers a dark-suited man placed a crystal goblet in his hand.
“There was a little settlement in the hills.” Remo watched Dimitri drink and swallowed on his own dry throat. He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in a week. “When we checked it out, the family was in an uproar. Somebody’d ripped them off while they were in the fields.”
“I see.” The wine was excellent, but, of course, he’d brought his own stock with him. Dimitri enjoyed traveling, but not inconvenience. “And what precisely was acquired from these people?”
“A couple hats, some clothes, baskets…” He hesitated.
“And?” Dimitri prompted, too gently for comfort.
“A pig.”
“A pig,” Dimitri repeated and chuckled. Remo nearly let his shoulders relax. “How ingenious. I begin to regret Lord must be disposed of. I could put a man like him to good use. Go on, Remo. The rest.”
“A couple kids saw a peddler in a truck pick up a man and woman—and a pig—late this morning. They headed east.”
There was a long silence. Remo wouldn’t have broken it if there’d been a knife in his back. Dimitri studied the wine in his goblet then sipped, drawing the moment out. He could hear Remo’s nerves stretching, stretching. His gaze came up.
“I suggest you also head east, Remo. I, in the meantime, will move on.” He ran his fingers over another chess piece, admiring the craftsmanship, the detail. “I’ve calculated the area our quarries are headed for. While you track them, I shall wait.” He brought the goblet to his lips again, breathing deeply of the bouquet of the wine. “I grow weary of hotels, though the service here is quite excellent. When I entertain our guest, I’d like to do so with more privacy.”
Setting down the wine, he picked up the white knight and its queen. “Yes, I do love to entertain.” In a quick move, he smashed the pieces together. The shards tinkled lightly as they fell onto the table.
C H A P T E R
10
“We didn’t eat.”
“We’ll eat later.”
“You’re always saying that. And another thing,” Whitney said, “I still don’t understand why we have to check out this way.” She gave a quick grimace to the pile of “borrowed” clothes in a heap on the floor. Whitney wasn’t accustomed to seeing anyone move quite so fast as Doug had in the last five minutes.
“Ever heard of an ounce of prevention, sugar?”
“With a little salt, I’d eat an ounce of prevention at the moment.” Whitney scowled down at his fingertips on the window ledge. In a flash they were gone and she held her breath as she watched him drop to the ground below.
Doug felt his legs sing briefly. A quick glance around showed him that no one had seen his leap but a fat, battle-scarred cat dozing in a patch of sunshine. Looking up, he signaled to Whitney. “Toss down the packs.” She did, with an enthusiasm that nearly knocked him off his feet. “Take it easy,” he said between his teeth. Setting them aside, Doug braced himself beneath the window. “Okay, now you.”
“Me?”
“You’re all that’s left, lover. Come on, I’ll catch you.”
It wasn’t that she doubted him. After all, she’d taken the precaution of slipping her wallet out of her pack— and making certain he saw her—before he’d climbed through the window. In the same way, she remembered that he’d switched the envelope to the pocket of his jeans. Trust among thieves was obviously the same sort of myth as honor.