The Kill Zone (14 page)

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Authors: David Hagberg

BOOK: The Kill Zone
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“
IT'S LIKE BEING STRANDED ON A DESERT ISLAND … ALMOST OVERWHELMING, IF YOU THINK ABOUT IT.”
VIRGIN ISLANDS
T
hey were up with the rising sun a few minutes after 6:00 A.M. Yemm had already started breakfast. While Kathleen was taking a shower, McGarvey got a cup of coffee and went out to the swimming pool. The morning was gorgeous. The pool, held against the side of the hill by a concrete retaining wall, was filled to the brim. Swimming in it seemed as if you were flying over the hills and the sea below.
“What would you and Mrs. M. like to do this morning?” Yemm asked from the open patio doors.
“Let's see if we can round up some horses. I'd like to go riding on the beach.”
“No problem. The chopper won't be here until eleven.”
“In the meantime, I'm coming in for a swim,” Kathleen said from the open bedroom doors at the other end of the house.
McGarvey looked up. She stood, one knee cocked, one hand on
the doorjamb, completely naked, a big grin on her pretty face.
“I think that it's a good time to get back to the kitchen, I smell something burning,” Yemm said, and he disappeared back into the house.
Kathleen came around to the deep end of the pool, walking on the balls of her feet, her narrow back arched, her movements like those of a runway model's.
She gave her husband a lascivious look, then dived cleanly into the water, surfacing a few seconds later right in front of him. “Last night was nice,” she said in his ear as she pressed her body against his. “How about an encore before breakfast?”
“If you're going to act this way when we're on vacation, we're going to leave town a lot more often,” McGarvey said.
“Making up for lost time,” she murmured.
 
 
Their ride took them almost as far as East End, about six miles from the compound. Their horses were dove gray Arabians, gentle and very well trained, with a good turn of speed if they were left to it. Yemm had never sat on a horse in his life, but within fifteen minutes he could at least keep up with McGarvey, though not with Kathleen, who'd competed in equestrian events as a young girl and well into her college years at Vassar.
She was a superb horsewoman, and McGarvey was content to let her run circles around him without rising to the challenge. She was a pleasure to watch. He admired competence above almost everything else.
With the sun on his bare shoulders, his face shaded by a straw hat, the powder white sand, the aqua blue sea framed by the dense, intensely green jungle growth that rose into the hills, this was paradise.
McGarvey pulled up to let Kathleen ride on ahead. She was in her own world, just then, oblivious to the fact he had stopped.
“Mrs. M. knows how to ride,” Yemm said at his side.
“Yes, she does. But I don't think she's been on a horse for twenty years.”
“Some things you don't forget how to do,” Yemm commented.
“How are we doing on time?” McGarvey asked. He refused to wear a watch today.
Yemm glanced at his. “We should start back.”
“What about the horses?”
“I'll call the stable to come pick them up.”
Kathleen looked around, realizing that she was alone, and pulled up short, wheeling her horse around.
McGarvey gave her a wave, turned his horse sharply back the way they had come, and jammed his heels into the animal's flanks. He took off down the beach as if he'd been shot from a cannon. He'd been raised on a ranch, and learned to ride about the same time he'd learned to walk. The horse was an extension of his own body; instead of two legs, he had four.
He leaned forward, giving the horse its head, and he flew along the hard-packed sand at the water's edge. It had been a long time since he had ridden like this, but Yemm was right; there were some skills that you never forgot.
Yemm shouted something from down the beach. McGarvey looked over his shoulder as Kathleen came up next to him.
He was leaned forward, riding flat-out, but Kathleen sat very high, her back straight, one hand on the reins as if she were on a leisurely trail ride.
She smiled sweetly, blew him a kiss with her free hand, and barely nudged her horse's flanks with her bare knees. The animal took off as if it had switched gears. The sound of her laughter drifted back to Mac, and he shook his head.
He reined his horse back to a slow canter, allowing Yemm to catch up with him. Kathleen looked back, then slowed her horse to a walk.
“Nice race, boss,” Yemm said.
 
 
The Island Tours Bell Ranger helicopter touched down in the compound precisely at eleven. It was the same pilot as last night. His name was Thomas Afraans, and he was a native West Indian of Dutch ancestry. His English was British of the last century; but he seemed very knowledgeable and competent about flying.
The picnic lunch was caviar with toast points and lemon wedges, a good champagne, fried chicken and cold lobster, potato salad, French baguettes, an assortment of sliced cheeses and pickles, and, for dessert, strong black coffee in a large thermos, Napoleon brandy and petits fours.
They flew northwest across the jungle interior of St. John, coming out at Cinnamon Bay, where they crossed the Windward Passage between the islands.
Afraans kept up a running commentary about the fantastic scenery passing beneath them. There were dozens of islands between the north coasts of St. John and St. Thomas. Almost all of them were uninhabited. Lovango and Congo Cays, Mingo and Grass Cays, then Middle Passage across to Thatch Cay.
All of the islands were within sight of each other, many of them seemingly
within swimming distance. Boats of all sizes and descriptions were everywhere; everything from tiny outboard motor boats to husky interisland cargo ships.
“The U.S. Navy comes here, too,” Afraans told them. “To St. Croix. Mostly nuclear submarines. Now, my Lord, that is a sight to behold.”
Hans Lollick Island, less than three miles off the north coast of St. Thomas, was the largest of the smaller unihabited islands. There were only a couple of places to land along its oblong shoreline. For the most part the island quickly rose from the water in a series of cliffs and densely overgrown hills to the interior summit almost seven hundred feet above sea level. But the beach that Afraans touched down on was broad and white, and was protected by headlands northeast and southwest that formed a perfect cove about eight hundred yards across.
Yemm jumped out first and helped Kathleen down. She immediately walked down to the water's edge. There was almost no wave action, and the water was so perfectly clear that they could see fish swimming and their shadows on the white sand bottom.
They unloaded the picnic baskets and coolers and took them up to the edge of the wide beach in the shade of the trees.
“I will be back at two o'clock to pick you up, if that is agreeable, sir,” Afraans told McGarvey.
“Two is fine,” McGarvey said.
“If there is trouble, you may simply call our dispatcher. Your cell phone will easily reach from here.” Afraan's smile widened. “But, please, sirs. You will experience a most enjoyable time today. Guaranteed.”
Yemm went to set up their picnic after the helicopter left. McGarvey went to Kathleen and took her hand. She seemed a little subdued, almost withdrawn. Her moods were volatile.
“You okay?” he asked.
“It's like being stranded on a desert island,” she replied dreamily. “Almost overwhelming, if you think about it.” The helicopter was rapidly disappearing in the distance. “There's no noise here.”
“Would you like to go back?”
She looked up at him and shook her head. Then she smiled, coming out of her mood. “This is fine here, so long as I'm with you.”
“Go for a walk?”
“Sure,” she said.
They headed northeast along the beach, up to their ankles in the warm water. Kathleen was right, he decided. There were no sounds except for the
splashing of their feet in the water. No people talking or laughing, no steel drum bands, no jet aircraft for the moment, no birds. The weather, the scenery and now the silence; it was a total contrast to Washington.
“You rode really well, this morning,” McGarvey told her.
“Thanks,” she said softly.
“Impressed the hell out of Dick. There's no way we could have kept up with you.”
“I picked the best horse.”
McGarvey had to laugh. “That's clever. But I think that you would have beat us if you'd ridden a donkey.” He put an arm around her narrow shoulders, and they walked for a time in silence.
There was a jumble of large black boulders blocking the end of the beach. Beyond them, the sea came to the edge of a sheer cliff that rose a hundred feet or more into the jungle. They had to turn back.
She stopped. “I don't know what's wrong with me, Kirk.”
He gave her a critical look. Except for her long face she seemed perfectly fine. Her old self, with a little color already from the sun this morning.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“One minute I'm so happy I could burst. But then I get so sad I want to cry. Half the time I'm frightened out of my mind for you, for us, for Elizabeth and the baby.”
“Stress. Overwork. You've been running off in all directions lately, trying to make everybody happy all the time. That's one of the reasons we're here this weekend. Maybe take the edge off the pressure for both of us.”
“I hope so,” she said. She didn't sound very sure.
“Combine that with worrying about the Senate hearings, my job, and some of the bad things that have happened to us in the last few years, it's a wonder we're not both in a loony bin somewhere.”
She clutched at his arm. “It's like somebody's sneaking up on us again. In the night I think I can hear them.”
McGarvey felt instant goose bumps on the back of his neck. “Nobody is coming after us, Katy,” he told her with more conviction than he felt.
She looked back to where Yemm had finished setting up their picnic. “I want to get off this island, Kirk,” she said. “Right now. I mean it.”
“Katy, there's nothing wrong—”
“Goddammit, I want to get out of here!” she shrieked. She was at the edge of hysteria; her eyes were wild, her face screwed up in fear.
“It's okay, sweetheart. We'll call for the helicopter. We can have our picnic back at the house by the pool. Nothing's going to happen.”
Yemm had heard the scream and he headed up the beach at a dead run, his pistol in hand.
“I don't know,” she said. “It's like I'm going crazy. I'm hearing voices inside my head. Warning me. Telling me someone's coming.” She gave her husband a plaintive look; as if she were drowning and she wanted him to hurry up and rescue her. “I don't like it here. I'm afraid.”
It was possible that someone could be watching them from up in the hills. But McGarvey doubted it. If they made a hit here, the assassins would have trouble getting away. Boats were slow, there were very few airstrips, and everyone on the islands knew everyone else. This was a very closed community, despite the tourists.
“What's going on?” Yemm demanded when he reached them. His eyes flitted from the dense jungles above the cliffs, the rocks at the end of the beach, and the few boats in the distance.
“Nothing,” McGarvey said. “But we're getting out of here. Call the helicopter. The picnic was a bad idea.”
They headed down the beach toward the picnic area. Yemm put away his gun and used his cell phone to call the Island Tours dispatcher. He kept his eyes in constant motion, scanning the beach, the ocean and the hills.
“They'll be here in under ten minutes,” Yemm informed them.
By the time they reached the spot where Yemm had set up their lunch on blankets, Kathleen was shivering and starting to cry. She tried to hold it back. “I'm sorry I'm such a pain,” she apologized.
“You're not alone, Mrs. M., it's been a tough week for everyone,” Yemm tried to console her. “The Washington grind gets to all of us sooner or later.”
He set about packing up the picnic things, and McGarvey helped him.
“Even you?” Kathleen asked. She stood in the shade, hugging herself as if she were cold.
“Especially me, sometimes,” Yemm told her. “My solution is to go down to the pistol range and shoot off a box of ammunition. All the noise does the trick. Usually.”
She managed a tentative smile. “How about your wife?”
Yemm shook his head. “She died about ten years ago. Car accident. A drunk broadsided her over in Alexandria.”
“I'm sorry,” Kathleen said, and her eyes started to fill again.

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