Page 148 of The 9th Man

Fox News, MSNBC, CNN all running chyrons with hashtags. AP and Reuters putting out feelers. CIA press office declining to make comment. Google searches for Thomas Henry Rowland up by 900%

He turned on the TV and flipped between news stations until he heard a CNN anchor reporting what he had so far and saying, “Our sources are confirming that a Thomas Henry Rowland was at one time an employee of the Central Intelligence Agency, but in what capacity we don’t know. We have contacted the CIA’s Office of Public Affairs but have not yet received a response.”

He switched to Fox News, then MSNBC and the network’s streaming services. All were mentioning the information and showing the photographs. Nothing major. Just more content to fill in the twenty-four hours they broadcasted each day. He continued monitoring things through the evening, taking in Marcia’s increasingly frequent updates, switching between TV stations, checking news websites, and spot-checking social media for trends. Around 3:00P.M.the courier had arrived and they switched parcels. Near midnight, he called it quits and went to bed only to be woken three hours later by a call from Fancy.

“She’s preppin’ to leave.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m directly across from the marina. They’re untying those big ropes at the front and back. I see smoke coming from the exhaust and the crew’s scrambling around like they’ve got firecrackers in their drawers.”

“Pull up stakes and go—”

“Wait, hold on. A SUV just pulled up to the dock. Two guys gettin’ out. One of ’em’s holding open the back door. Now an old dude is gettin’ out. That your guy?”

“That’s him. Anybody else?”

“Yep.”

He listened to the full report, then said, “Fancy, your job’s done. I owe you one. Now get outta there and back to your family.”

“You got it, brother.”

He hung up and started another countdown in his head. Five to six hours, depending on speed. The timeBreakAwaywould take to reach Compass Cay. Rowland was using the cover of darkness to slip away, thinking himself safe.

Not this time.

72

George Town, Bahamas

Sunday — April 5 — 9:20A.M.

LUKE HAD NEVER VISITED THE BAHAMAS BEFORE. SO HE’D ASSUMEDreaching its largest city, Nassau, ahead of Rowland was his biggest hurdle. When in truth, George Town, the nearest settlement to Compass Cay, lay 120 miles to the south.

He’d flown commercial out of Dulles and already settled on a plan before leaving the States, using Airbnb to find a shabby beach bungalow called Pine’s Rest nestled in a palm grove just south of George Town. The reviews for the bungalow were horrible and it had apparently gone a year without a renter. Pulling up on his rented scooter he could see why. The roof was missing a quarter of its shingles, the plank walls were warped, and the front porch had a twenty-degree slant.

Perfect.

Pine’s Rest met his two primary requirements. One, it had an unobstructed view of Compass Cay, about half a mile offshore, and two, it was a short walk from Jester’s Pub, which, according to the intel Stephanie had provided, was where Lewis Peters,BreakAway’s chief engineer and former 10th Mountain Division soldier, liked to drink Red Bull gins and talk Seattle Mariners baseball with anyone who’d listen. In height, weight, and hair color Peters was a fair match for Luke’s own features. Not perfect, but close enough he hoped.

He’d also learned from the Coast Guard thatBreakAwaywas cruising straight for him at a leisurely pace.

No hurry at all.

Double perfect.

He drove south through George Town to Michelson a few miles down the coast then meandered the mostly signless streets before heading to Manny’s Fandango on Old Airport Road beside a soccer field overtaken by weeds. He sauntered inside, took a stool, and ordered a beer. When the bartender returned with it he said, “I’m looking for Lionel.”

The bartender pointed toward a pool table in the back where a tall, rangy Black man was lazily ricocheting a cue ball across the green baize surface. He walked over and smacked a $100 bill on the table.

Lionel stared at the bill then squinted at Luke.

“Do you want the money or not?”

“Depends. What’s it for?”

“A gun.”

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