The Devil's Triangle (A Brit in the FBI 4)

He studied her face. Her hair was in a straggly ponytail, she wore no makeup, there was a bruise on her jaw and stitches in her forehead, and she looked beautiful. He leaned in, kissed her, then, when she opened her eyes, he crossed his finger over his chest. “I solemnly swear I will never again drive a motorcycle through a wall and fly out of a tunnel over a lake.” He paused. He wanted to simply say the words, but his voice shook. “I tried to grab you, but I was jerked away.”

She saw the fear in his eyes, saw his hands clenching. Mike leaned into him, breathed him in. She said against his neck, “You know what? I’m grateful the lake was there, and not the ground. I don’t think either of us would have survived that. We were lucky.”

“That’s one way of looking at it. I’m getting you more orange juice.”

She’d made light of it, let him off the hook. He didn’t come back until he had himself in control again. “Here, you need this, drink it down.”

“You’re right, I don’t want to get a cold.” She grinned as she drank the juice, wiped her hand over her mouth, and that made him smile. She said, “I think you and Ben are right. This frigging weather machine and Jason Kohath—they’re

both somewhere in or near Cuba, it only makes sense. Now, when do we land?”

“Soon, an hour at the most. What are you doing?”

“Texting Ben to tell him he’s a genius.”

When she’d finished, he took her hand, sat back, looked out the window. Then he looked over at Adam’s laptop, saw Kitsune’s tracker hadn’t moved, the storm still hovered. Then he couldn’t believe it.

“It’s gotten stronger, Mike.”

Mike said, “But it hasn’t turned toward Washington yet. Nicholas, we have time, we’ll stop it.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

The Caribbean, off of Cuba

After disembarking their plane at the Preston airfield, Alfredo, an airport maintenance worker, drove Cassandra, Ajax, and their prisoners the short distance to the dock to board the Atlantis, a sixty-six-foot motor yacht originally owned by Jason Kohath’s father, Alexander, now used primarily for ferrying larger supplies to and from the island.

Old Ramos, called that since before the twins had been born, was captain of the Atlantis. Weather-beaten and gnarly, he was the patriarch of a huge family, and completely immoral. He welcomed them with a bow and a gap-toothed grin, nodded to three young men. “These three are family, of course, my brother’s sons, and each is as tough as leather. As ordered, they will attend to your two prisoners.”

Cassandra turned to the three young men, none of them more than twenty years old, all trying their best to look vicious. She pointed to Kitsune and Grant, both unmoving, both silent, both, she knew, assessing their situation, planning how to escape. She said, “They might not look like much right now, but they are dangerous. Put them down in the salon, and keep a sharp eye on them.”

She turned back to Ramos. “An hour to the island?”

Old Ramos patted the Atlantis’s wheel. “She’s in top-flight shape, as always, señorita. One of my sons now oversees her maintenance, so no more than an hour.”

Ajax nodded to Old Ramos’s sailors, two of his own sons. This was a family enterprise as well as a family secret. One they were paid an enormous sum each year to keep.

Five minutes later, Old Ramos eased the Atlantis away from the dock and headed north.

Ramos steered, as was his wont. “It is better I take you to the island today, and not Rafael. His floatplane is too small for all of you and the supplies. I believe he flew to Havana, but he will be back soon, and available, if he is needed.”

Cassandra didn’t mind the extra time it took to go by boat to the island. Both she and her brother loved this lovely old yacht her great-grandfather had originally had built in Holland. She also loved the sea wind on her face.

Today the ocean was slate gray and cold, unusual for this area and this time of year. She breathed in, turned to her brother. “You said you managed to intensify the storm even more?”

“Yes, I told you. I hacked into grandfather’s precious computer to intensify the storm, but who cares? I tell you, Cassandra, I’ve tried everything I know to make it move on Washington, but I still can’t figure out how to make it go where I want it to go. Once I have Grandfather’s directionality instructions, then it will be over very fast.”

Cassandra said, “I can imagine how it will be when it lands—hurricane-force winds slamming into the Potomac. I can see the whole city underwater. Then we’ll be home free, Ajax.”

“Yes, home free.” Ajax raised his face into the wind. He loved the feel of it, the power of it, as much as his twin. Soon now he would know exactly how the Coil worked from storm inception to devastation. He would be a god. He looked at his sister, standing beside him, the wind blowing her hair. She was smiling.

“With all the intensity I’ve added, the storm surge is going to be historic. Cassandra, the winds should reach one hundred fifty miles per hour. They’ll never have a storm like it.” He pumped his fist. “My first storm.”

Old Ramos said, “I can have one of my nephews bring you some coffee if you’re chilled. The weather is not nice today. We may hit some waves as we get closer, though your grandfather will do his best to keep them controlled. We’re coming the southerly route. It won’t be too bad but I’d feel better if you and the prisoners below put on life vests.”

“Why? You’re not going to capsize us, are you, Ramos, in this magnificent yacht?”

“Oh no, señor, never that, I just do not wish either of you to get tossed about.”