bag. He dug a hole in the last quadrant and
poured in olive oil and seawater, and sprinkled a mixture of herbs in the
liquid, then he lit the candles and sat beside the circle meditating and
chanting. It was well after dark when Carlos made it back to the villa and
joined Niki and Jason on the veranda.
“What’d you
find?” Jason asked.
“It was a
diver that planted the bomb. That’s why there was nothing on the camera and
why none of the alarms were tripped. There were two men, but only one came
ashore. And it definitely has to do with Stacy, but I don’t know if our client
was behind it or not.”
Niki could
tell there was more. “What else?”
“We’ve got a
rat,” Carlos said. “And I’m almost positive it’s one of our supply guys.”
“Any chance
it could be Consuela?” Jason asked.
“No. It’s
definitely a man,” Carlos said.
“We’ve got
some house cleaning to do,” Niki said.
“I’ll take
care of it,” Jason volunteered.
Chapter 11
The sun had
been up for hours when Stacy finally woke up. She rolled over in bed and tried
to stretch but she was too sore. Every muscle in her body ached. She got up
and brushed her teeth and went out in the hall.
“Finally!”
said Eli.
“Good morning
to you too,” said Stacy.
“I’m
surprised you could go that long without eating,” Eli said sarcastically.
“Why are you
so grumpy this morning?”
“Oh, is it
still morning?” he said, looking at his watch.
“You’re just
grumpy because you’re hungry,” she said, rumpling his hair.
Eli batted
her hand away and dragged himself out of the chair and they made their way
downstairs.
“What’s the
matter with you? You’re walking like my grandmother,” Eli said.
“I’m sore all
over,” Stacy told him.
Niki, Jason
and Carlos were gathered around a television set, watching the morning news.
There has
been a major development in Thursday’s bank robbery and shooting in San Antonio, Texas that left one man wounded and a young woman taken hostage, said the
perfectly groomed anchorman.
“Quiet!”
Carlos said, and they all stopped talking to hear the story.
The
suburban that the gunmen used in the getaway was found wrecked and burned,
after colliding with a freight train approximately 30 miles south of San Antonio earlier this morning. The gunmen and their hostage, Stacy Trent, are all
presumed dead. The wreckage and charred remains of the casualties were
scattered hundreds of feet from the point of impact. Some jewelry and personal
belongings taken from bank customers in Thursday’s robbery were found among the
wreckage.
“What the
hell?” said Niki, getting to his feet. He turned to Carlos with an uneasy
look.
“I don’t
know,” said Carlos, shaking his head, still concentrating on the screen.
Stacy and Eli
walked into the room just as the news of their death was being broadcast.
Stacy’s mouth dropped as she stood fixed in place, watching as the report
continued.
Ms. Trent had
recently taken over as President of the family-owned multi-million dollar
marketing and advertising company, after her mother was killed in a boating
accident in May, said the anchor.
The camera
cut to a shot of a distraught man with gray hair and glasses: It’s just so
hard to believe, the man said, the caption on the screen identifying him as
Stacy Trent’s father. We just spoke on the phone Thursday morning. We were
very close, especially after her mother’s tragic accident, he said,
breaking down . The camera remained fixed on the man for a few seconds,
before cutting back to the anchor in the studio.
Ms. Trent would have been 29 years old
tomorrow. Funeral services are pending.
“Why is he saying
that?” Stacy said to herself. Niki, Carlos and Jason spun around. Stacy
looked dazed, her eyes fixed on the television. She felt for the chair behind
her and sat down. The anchor had gone on to the next
poured in olive oil and seawater, and sprinkled a mixture of herbs in the
liquid, then he lit the candles and sat beside the circle meditating and
chanting. It was well after dark when Carlos made it back to the villa and
joined Niki and Jason on the veranda.
“What’d you
find?” Jason asked.
“It was a
diver that planted the bomb. That’s why there was nothing on the camera and
why none of the alarms were tripped. There were two men, but only one came
ashore. And it definitely has to do with Stacy, but I don’t know if our client
was behind it or not.”
Niki could
tell there was more. “What else?”
“We’ve got a
rat,” Carlos said. “And I’m almost positive it’s one of our supply guys.”
“Any chance
it could be Consuela?” Jason asked.
“No. It’s
definitely a man,” Carlos said.
“We’ve got
some house cleaning to do,” Niki said.
“I’ll take
care of it,” Jason volunteered.
Chapter 11
The sun had
been up for hours when Stacy finally woke up. She rolled over in bed and tried
to stretch but she was too sore. Every muscle in her body ached. She got up
and brushed her teeth and went out in the hall.
“Finally!”
said Eli.
“Good morning
to you too,” said Stacy.
“I’m
surprised you could go that long without eating,” Eli said sarcastically.
“Why are you
so grumpy this morning?”
“Oh, is it
still morning?” he said, looking at his watch.
“You’re just
grumpy because you’re hungry,” she said, rumpling his hair.
Eli batted
her hand away and dragged himself out of the chair and they made their way
downstairs.
“What’s the
matter with you? You’re walking like my grandmother,” Eli said.
“I’m sore all
over,” Stacy told him.
Niki, Jason
and Carlos were gathered around a television set, watching the morning news.
There has
been a major development in Thursday’s bank robbery and shooting in San Antonio, Texas that left one man wounded and a young woman taken hostage, said the
perfectly groomed anchorman.
“Quiet!”
Carlos said, and they all stopped talking to hear the story.
The
suburban that the gunmen used in the getaway was found wrecked and burned,
after colliding with a freight train approximately 30 miles south of San Antonio earlier this morning. The gunmen and their hostage, Stacy Trent, are all
presumed dead. The wreckage and charred remains of the casualties were
scattered hundreds of feet from the point of impact. Some jewelry and personal
belongings taken from bank customers in Thursday’s robbery were found among the
wreckage.
“What the
hell?” said Niki, getting to his feet. He turned to Carlos with an uneasy
look.
“I don’t
know,” said Carlos, shaking his head, still concentrating on the screen.
Stacy and Eli
walked into the room just as the news of their death was being broadcast.
Stacy’s mouth dropped as she stood fixed in place, watching as the report
continued.
Ms. Trent had
recently taken over as President of the family-owned multi-million dollar
marketing and advertising company, after her mother was killed in a boating
accident in May, said the anchor.
The camera
cut to a shot of a distraught man with gray hair and glasses: It’s just so
hard to believe, the man said, the caption on the screen identifying him as
Stacy Trent’s father. We just spoke on the phone Thursday morning. We were
very close, especially after her mother’s tragic accident, he said,
breaking down . The camera remained fixed on the man for a few seconds,
before cutting back to the anchor in the studio.
Ms. Trent would have been 29 years old
tomorrow. Funeral services are pending.
“Why is he saying
that?” Stacy said to herself. Niki, Carlos and Jason spun around. Stacy
looked dazed, her eyes fixed on the television. She felt for the chair behind
her and sat down. The anchor had gone on to the next
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