Fugitive

The makeshift runway was about 2,000 feet long and the plane bounced along the ground when it hit the dirt. As soon as it reached the end of the strip it made a U-turn.

Headlights appeared from the direction of the main road and De

“Move,” Evers barked. De

Two black Mercedes burst onto the runway and followed the plane down the dirt strip. A gun poked out of the rear window of the lead car and De

“Up!” Evers shouted.

The nose of the plane jerked skyward and they began a steep climb. De

“Thank you, thank you,” he hollered, “and God bless America.”

CHAPTER 7

At the height of her agony, Rebecca cried out to Jesus. Jean-Claude Baptiste nodded his approval. In addition to practicing an animistic tribal religion, the president of the republic hedged his bets by attending Roman Catholic mass regularly, and he approved of a woman who kept her faith under trying circumstances. The interrogator asked the bartender from the Mauna Loa another question. When he found her answer unsatisfactory he did something that caused her to scream again.

There was a knock on the door to his office and Baptiste turned down the intercom that was transmitting the interrogation from the basement. Baptiste liked to conduct his own question-and-answer sessions in person when he could, but his position as president didn’t leave him much free time, so he’d learned to delegate and made do with listening to important interrogations over the intercom.

The door opened and Nathan Tuazama entered. He was dressed in a tan business suit, a light blue silk shirt, and a forest green tie. Most men trembled in Baptiste’s presence but Tuazama was a man whom Baptiste feared. This was due to a dream Baptiste had had many years ago that featured him and Tuazama. In it, both men were being menaced by a lion in a clearing in the jungle, but the lion appeared to be unable to choose between them. Every time the lion headed toward Baptiste he grew confused, changed direction, and headed for Tuazama. Then, just as he was about to pounce on Nathan, he would again grow confused and start toward the president. In the dream, the lion was never able to make a decision about which Batangan would be his di

Baptiste had told Nathan about the dream. Then he had consulted an old man in his village, who was a magician. The day before the consultation, Tuazama paid the old man twenty dollars. The Juju man listened intently as the president recounted his dream. Then he read the entrails of a goat and revealed that the fates of Baptiste and Tuazama were inextricably entwined. Since then Baptiste had been very solicitous of Tuazama’s well-being and Tuazama had done everything he could to encourage Baptiste in the belief that he would stay alive as long as the chief of his secret police was well cared for.

“Sit down and listen for a few moments, Nathan.”

There was another scream followed by another plea to Jesus for mercy.

“She is strong,” Baptiste said.

Tuazama shrugged. “That’s true, but she’ll tell us what we want to know eventually. In any event, this interrogation may be u

Baptiste leaned forward, eager for the information.

“The night of the banquet at the mansion, Charlie sent an e-mail to World News, an American magazine, offering to give an interview. A few days later, a mercenary named Chauncey Evers met with Charlie in the Mauna Loa, where the bartender works. The man who saw this thought that Evers was a harmless drunk and didn’t bother to report the meeting. He has been dealt with.

“Yesterday, Charlie picked up an American journalist named De

“But Charlie’s a wanted man in America.”

“He’s not stupid, Mr. President. He had to know you’d figured out that he was Bernadette’s lover. He knows what would have happened to him if you decided to punish his transgression. I’m guessing he chose American justice over yours. And then, of course, there is the matter of the diamonds. A child went to Marsh’s apartment yesterday. I suspect Rebecca will eventually confess that she sent the child to Charlie with the diamonds.”

“Where does this Levy fit in?”

“Charlie is ru

Baptiste stared straight ahead and Tuazama waited patiently.

“I underestimated Charlie,” the president said. “I should have given him to you sooner. I want you to handle this matter personally. Go to America and bring back the diamonds.”

“And Charlie?”

“Charlie’s not important. He’s nothing to me anymore. It’s the principle of the thing now, Nathan. If I let Charlie get away with this everyone will think I am weak. So, find what he’s taken then make an example of him that will grab the attention of the next traitor who thinks about crossing me.”

CHAPTER 8

Amanda Jaffe’s phone woke her out of a deep sleep. She groped for it after the third ring.

“Hello,” she mumbled groggily as soon as she located the receiver.

“Is this Amanda Jaffe?”

“Who is this?”

“My name is Martha Brice. I’m the editor in chief of World News.”

Shit, a reporter, Amanda thought as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and brushed her long black hair away from her face. Amanda’s boyfriend, Mike Greene, the chief criminal deputy at the Multnomah County District Attorney’s office, had spent the night with her at her condo because neither of them had a meeting or court appearance until noon. Amanda had been looking forward to sleeping in, for a change.

“Do you know what time it is, Ms. Brice?”

“That’s Mrs. Brice, and since its seven a.m. in New York, it must be four where you are,” the woman answered calmly.

“Is there some reason you couldn’t call me at my office at a civilized hour?”

“Actually, there is. I’m in my corporate jet headed for Oregon. I should be at the airport in four hours. I want to meet with you as soon as I land.”

Brice’s imperious tone acted like a double shot of espresso.

“Look, Mrs. Brice,” Amanda snapped, “I don’t try my cases in the press, and if you think the best way to get an interview with me is to wake me up in the middle of the night, you should take a refresher course at whatever journalism school you attended.”

“You must not have understood me, Ms. Jaffe. I’ll chalk that up to my waking you. I’m not a reporter. I am the editor in chief of World News. I run the magazine. I don’t conduct interviews. I’m flying to Portland to hire you to work on a case; one that I’m certain you’ll want to handle.”

“What case?”

“I don’t wish to discuss the particulars over the phone.”

Amanda was quiet for a moment. She didn’t like Brice’s attitude, but she was intrigued.

“I’ll be in my office by the time you land,” she said.

“I won’t have time to drive into town. I have an important meeting in New York, later today. I’d like you to meet me at my plane. There’s a conference area on board. There’s also a galley, so I can provide breakfast. Am I correct that you’re partial to blueberry pancakes?”