Mistress of the Game

Lieutenant John Carey closed his eyes and watched his retirement condo on Kaanapali Beach crumble into dust. He glared at his sergeant.

"No. This stays within the department. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"She must still be on the island."

I'm gonna find that conniving little bitch if it's the last thing I do.

The flight attendant smiled at Gabe.

"I'll show you to your seat, sir. Right this way. My name's Catherine."

"Thanks, Catherine." He followed her to the front of the plane. Max had woken up a few minutes earlier and was now gurgling contentedly in his arms. The flight attendant thought: How cute to see such a hands-on dad. Most fathers would give the baby to the nanny for the whole flight and open a newspaper.

"Congratulations by the way, sir."

Gabe looked blank.

"It was today, wasn't it?"

"Oh! Yes. Thank you." The wedding. It felt like a lifetime ago already.

"Mrs. McGregor's not flying with us today?"

"No." He didn't elaborate. The flight attendant hoped she hadn't inadvertently put her foot in it.

"Well, anyway. I hope you'll both be very happy."

Gabe didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

So do I, Catherine. So do I.

It was so dark Lexi could barely see her hand in front of her face. She heard the lapping of the waves. Holding her brother's hand tightly, she inched along the dirt track toward the water.

"Danny!" Robbie hissed through the blackness. "You there?"

"Right here."

Illuminated by a handheld gas lamp, a familiar face jumped out of the gloom. "Hey, Lex. Long time."

"Oh my God. Danny French?" Lexi hugged him. "I don't believe it."

Lexi had known Daniel French since she was a little girl. They used to play together during summer vacations at Dark Harbor. Once, when Lexi was thirteen, they'd even kissed under the nets of his dad's trawler. She hadn't seen him in decades.

"Robbie told you?"

"He told me you were in trouble. That's good enough for me. Hop aboard."

Taking Lexi's arm, Danny walked her to the rotting jetty at the end of the track and helped her onto a small fishing boat. There was a makeshift hiding place beneath some nets and tarpaulin. It reeked of fish. Lexi couldn't have been more grateful if Danny had been showing her to her suite at the Ritz.

"Thank you." Her voice was choked with emotion. She'd never done anything for Danny French to deserve this kind of loyalty. Danny should have been at my wedding, not a bunch of stupid senators. When will I learn?

"You're welcome. I figured if anyone can work her way out of a jam, it's Lexi. When this is all over and you're stinking rich again, you can pay off my mortgage. Deal?"

Lexi grinned. "Deal."

Danny started the boat's engine.

Robbie Templeton watched from the shore until the darkness swallowed his sister completely. He had no idea when, or if, he would see her again.

Chapter Thirty-Two

"CAN I GET YOU ANYTHING ELSE BEFORE WE LAND, madam? A hot towel perhaps? Something to drink?"

Greta Sorensen shook her head. She gestured toward the tiny pink bundle strapped to her chest. "I don't want to disturb her."

"She's been good as gold, hasn't she?" The flight attendant smiled. "I don't think we've ever had an infant as quiet as that."

"She likes her sleep. Takes after her father."

Across the aisle, a pile of blankets heaved rhythmically up and down. The only sign that there was a human being underneath them was the tuft of white hair sticking out of the top.

"Bless him," said the flight attendant.

Lieutenant Carey was on the phone.

"What do you have for me?"

"They're booked into the honeymoon suite at the Amanyara. Turks and Caicos."

Detective Antonio Sanchez spoke quickly.

"Flights?"

"They were both booked on the nine-fifteen P.M. flight to Providenciales. But Gabe McGregor changed the reservation this afternoon, right after we came up to the house. He canceled his wife's reservation and had new tickets issued for the nanny and the little girl. He kept his own seat."

"He went on the honeymoon on his own? With his wife in the slammer?"

"Yes, sir. It would appear that way. He should be in the air right now."

"Hmm." Lieutenant Carey thought for a moment. "Anything else?"

"Yes, sir." A note of excitement crept into Detective Sanchez's voice. "Right after he changed the first reservation, he booked a third ticket. Also to Providenciales, on a private charter. That plane is due to leave Bangor at midnight tonight with twelve passengers."

Lieutenant Carey's heart skipped a beat.

"What name did he book it under?"

"That's the best part. The passenger name is Wilson. Jennifer Wilson."

Lieutenant Carey closed his eyes. The name rang a bell, but he couldn't quite place it...Finally, it came to him.

Of course! Jennifer Wilson. President of Cedar International. Chairman of DH Holdings. Lexi Templeton's trading alias.

Had Lexi honestly believed it would be that easy? That she could use a false name and join her husband on their honeymoon, as if nothing had happened? Perhaps she'd gotten away with so much for so long she believed she was untouchable. Well, not this time, sweetheart. I've got your number.

Lieutenant Carey hung up and looked at his watch.

He had to get to the airport.

The blond woman with the oversize sunglasses handed her passport to security.

"Would you please remove your sunglasses, ma'am. I need to see your face."

She did as she was asked. For a few tense moments, the man in the booth looked at her in silence. Then he smiled.

"Have a good flight, Ms. Wilson. Enjoy Turks and Caicos."

"Thank you. I will."

Gabe stared out of the plane window. The carpet of clouds below him looked soft and welcoming. Peaceful.

He thought about Lexi. Where was she right now? He hated not knowing. Gabe had played his part. But had Lexi played hers? Was she safe? Even if she was - even if, by some miracle, her plan had worked - what then? He wondered what the future would hold for them? What kind of life would it be for little Max, growing up as the daughter of a criminal on the run?

Make that two criminals. I'm up to my neck in this now. Too late to turn back.

Gabe thought about Eve Blackwell. How her hatred and bitterness had destroyed so many lives. Would his be one of them? Would his daughter's?

He heard his father's voice ringing in his ears, that familiar Scottish brogue: The Blackwells ruined this family. Thieves, the lot of them, nothing but stinking thieves!

"Are you all right, sir? Can I get you anything?"

Lexi's a thief. But I love her. I can't help it.

"No thanks. I'm fine."

Lieutenant Carey felt his blood pressure start to soar.

"What the hell is with this traffic? Put the sirens on."

His driver hesitated. "I thought you said we were doing this hush-hush, Chief?"

"Just put the damn sirens on and go already!"

Lieutenant Carey had decided to go to the airport himself. This was too important a job to trust to some minion. If word got out that Lexi Templeton had escaped from police custody - his custody - he'd be a laughingstock. He had to keep her from getting on that plane.

At last they arrived. Lieutenant Carey jumped out of the car before it had even stopped.

"It's gate sixty-two, boss." Detective Sanchez's voice crackled through his earpiece.

Lieutenant Carey was running. His cheeks burned, his crumpled suit pants chafed at the waist and his white shirt was soaked with sweat.

Midnight exactly. Had the plane gone already?

The screens were still flashing: GATE 62, CLOSING. A few late-night travelers were milling around. Lieutenant Carey elbowed them out of the way. Hurry!

He increased his speed, sprinting down the corridor.

Gate 46...52...58...Gasping for breath, he turned a corner. There it was. Gate 62.

Shit.

Gate 62 was completely deserted.

Chapter Thirty-Three

THE BLOND WOMAN WITH THE BIG SUNGLASSES FELT THE rumble of the plane's engine as it prepared for takeoff. She gripped the side of her seat.

"Nervous flier?" asked the man sitting next to her.

"Not usually. I'm a little stressed tonight."

"Don't be. Just think, tomorrow you'll be lying on a beach under a palm tree without a care in the world."

The blond woman thought: Without a care in the world? Wouldn't that be nice.

A male steward appeared behind the desk. Lieutenant Carey flashed his badge. He was so breathless he could barely speak.

"I...Police...I need to get on that plane."

"I'm sorry, sir," the steward began. "I'm afraid it's impossible. The cabin crew has closed the doors."

"Don't give me that shit, Nancy Drew. Now you listen to me. You radio down there and you tell them to open the goddamn doors right now, or I'm personally gonna see to it that you spend the rest of your life wearing your balls as earrings."

The steward loved a macho man, especially a cop. Unfortunately this cop was old enough to be his dad, was fatter than Santa Claus and stank like an overripe Stilton cheese. Not that it would have mattered if he was George Clooney's twin brother. There was nothing he could do.

"I'm sorry, sir. It really is out of my hands."

He turned and looked out the window. Lieutenant Carey followed his gaze.

The twelve-seater jet was already speeding along the runway. Seconds later, its wings shuddered as it soared into the air.

Bad news travels fast. It took Lieutenant Carey a full minute to wave good-bye to his Hawaiian retirement fantasy. About the same amount of time it took the jet to disappear from sight, its taillights swallowed up by the blackness.

Then he was on the phone.

One hour later, a group of senior Interpol officers was being briefed across the West Indies. A deputation would be sent to meet first Gabe's flight, then Lexi's, at Providenciales Airport. Both of them would be arrested on landing and immediately repatriated to the United States. After that, they were the FBI's problem.

Lieutenant Carey felt the bitterness well up in his chest.

Happy honeymoon, Mrs. McGregor.

I hope they throw away the key.

Chapter Thirty-Four

THE PASSENGERS OF US AIR FLIGHT 28 STREAMED INTO THE arrivals hall at Providenciales Airport in Turks and Caicos looking exhausted. It was almost two-thirty in the morning local time. Mothers with bags under their eyes as big as their suitcases cuddled fractious babies while their husbands struggled with the luggage. The Interpol officer studied them all. He was looking for one baby in particular.

"There they are."

Emerging through the double doors, the trio was instantly recognizable, despite the silk cravat that the man wore over his nose and mouth. The Interpol officer remembered his brief.

Swedish female, thirty-one, blond, with newborn infant. White-haired male, six foot one. (Someone had fucked up on that one. This guy couldn't have been more than five nine on a good day.) Minimal luggage.

Flanked by three colleagues, the officer stepped forward. He put a hand on Greta Sorensen's shoulder. Two other officers seized her companion, while a policewoman reached for the baby.

"Excuse me, miss. Sir. We'd like a word."

The man lowered his cravat to reveal a face crisscrossed with deep wrinkles. The guy must have been in his seventies at least. When he spoke, it was with a pronounced European accent.

"Is something the matter, Officer?"

"You're not Gabriel McGregor!"

Paolo Cozmici smiled. "Indeed I'm not. Didn't the airline tell you?"

"Tell us what?"

"That I'd be flying in Mr. McGregor's stead. It's quite aboveboard, I can assure you, Officer. It's the blasted paparazzi, you see. They follow Gabe and Lexi everywhere. It got so bad with the wedding that they decided to leak false honeymoon details to the press, to throw them off the scent."

"To throw the press off the scent?" The Interpol officer rolled his eyes. Was this guy for real?

"That's right. US Air was most helpful about it all." Paolo looked pleased with himself. "Greta and I are decoys! Isn't it fabulous?"