Twice Dead - Catherine Coulter [228]
“I’m very sorry it happened. You know she’s gotten ahold of a boat. By now she’s probably long gone from Tortola, to another island.”
“It’s hard to believe that no one’s reported a boat stolen.”
“It’s late,” Sherlock said. “E-mail all the other islands, then let it go for a while. Let’s go home, play with Sean, then head over to the gym. You need a really hard workout, Dillon.”
He rose slowly. “Okay, first I’ve got to talk to all the local cops down there, make sure they know what’s happened on Tortola, tell them again how dangerous she is.” He kissed her, hugged her tightly, and said against her temple, “Go home and start playing with Sean. I’ll be there in a while. Have him gum some graham crackers for me.”
Quantico, Virginia
FBI Academy
Special Agent Virginia Cosgrove cocked her head to one side and said, “Marilyn, it’s for you. A woman, says she’s with Dillon Savich’s unit at headquarters. I’ll be listening on the other line, okay?”
Marilyn Warluski, who was folding the last of her new clothes into the suitcase provided by the FBI, nodded, a puzzled look on her face. She was staying in the Jefferson dorm with two women agents, just starting to get used to things. What did Mr. Savich want from her now? She took the phone from Agent Cosgrove and said, “Hello?”
“Hi, sweet chops. It’s Timmy. You hot for me, baby?”
Marilyn closed her eyes tight against the shock, against the disbelief. “Tammy,” she whispered. “Is it really you?”
“No, it’s Timmy. Listen up, sweetie, I need to see you. I want you to fly down here, to Antigua, tomorrow; that’s when I’ll be there. I’ll be at the Reed Airport, waiting for you. Don’t disappoint me, baby, okay?”
Marilyn looked frantically over at Virginia.
Virginia quickly wrote on a pad of paper, then handed it to Marilyn. “Okay, I can do it, but it’ll be late.”
“They treating you all right at that cop academy? Do you want me to come up with the Ghouls and level the place?”
“No, no, Tammy, don’t do that. I’ll fly down late tomorrow. Are you all right?”
“Sure. Had to get me some more medicine on Tortola. Lousy place, dry and boring, no action at all. Can’t wait to get out of here. See you tomorrow evening, baby. Bye.”
Marilyn slowly placed the phone in its cradle. She looked blankly at Virginia Cosgrove. “How did she know where I was? I need to call Dillon Savich, but it’s really late.”
Assistant Director Jimmy Maitland called Dillon Savich to mobilize the necessary agents. He got it done in two hours and set himself up to coordinate the group leaving for Antigua.
Maitland called in the SWAT team at the Washington, D.C., field office because they were bringing this all down very possibly in an airport, and there could always be trouble. He told Savich, “Yeah, I threw them some meat and they agreed to come out and play. We got one team, six really good guys.”
Vincent Arbus, point man for the team, built like a bull, bald as a Q-tip, and many times too smart for his own good, looked at Savich, then at Sherlock, who was standing at his side, and said in his rough, low voice, “Call me Vinny, guys. I have a feeling that we’re going to be getting tight before this is all over.
“Now, how did this crazy one-armed woman know that Marilyn Warluski was holed up in Jefferson dorm at Quantico? How did she get her number?”
“Well,” Savich said slowly, not looking at Sherlock, “I sort of let it be known. Actually, I set the whole thing up.”
EIGHTEEN
Eureka, California
Mr. Monk was gone, his office left looking