Page 191 of Storm over the Caribbean
“Then who is above you? You must have gotten your instructions from somewhere!” Raising his cutlass, Mr Ambrose placed it at the man’s neck. “Who gives you your orders?”
The Frenchman shrugged, or at least did the best approximation he could manage while tied to a mast with a blade at his throat. “Some straw man. Forgettable face, even more forgettable name.”
Mr Ambrose stared at him for a moment, searching his face for any sign of deceit—something which I had no doubt he would be able to spot instantly. Finally, he seemed to spot what he was looking for, and nodded.
“Pity. Then we’ll just have to rely on our own intelligence to hunt down this straw man and squeeze the information out of him.” He turned away—until he froze abruptly at the burst of ragged laughter from Lachance. Slowly, Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s head swivelled back to face the Frenchman
“Something amusing?”
“Too late!” Lachance rasped, his lips twitching spasmodically in a poor excuse for a smile. “You’re too late!”
Mr Ambrose went very,verystill. “You did not mention that earlier.”
The smarmy bastard smirked. “You didn’t ask,mon ami.”
“I am askingnow!”
“As am I!” My patience was at an end. We were so close! So close to the bastard who wanted to hurt my baby! And this son of a bachelor wanted to play games with us? Not on my watch! “What do you mean, we’re too late? What are you talking about?”
“The middle man…the one who knows my employer’s name? I sent him a message the moment I found out about your betrayal. Told him to find a safe place and lay low. With luck, he’s halfway across the Atlantic by now.”
Exercise was good for pregnant women, right?
Well, time to exercise!
I hauled back and punched the smug bastard in the face as hard as I could. His head slammed back against the mast and lolled limply to the side.
“I think our questioning is over,” I told my husband.
“Agreed.”
“Shall we…?”
“Yes.” Turning around, he strode to where the sailors were standing, waiting for commands. “Let’s go hunt.”
***
A man who had many names sat on the balcony of his hotel suite, sipping his coffee and enjoying the view of the Caribbean coastline below him. It was good to be a tourist. So relaxing. So enjoyable. And, most importantly, so harmless. Very beneficial for his real job. Maybe he should take a stroll through towntoday, eat at a café, talk to a few pretty ladies. Yes, that would be just right to—
A sudden knock from the door interrupted his thoughts.
“Yes?” he called. “Enter!”
The door opened and a maid entered the room, bearing something on a silver platter. “Pardon the interruption, Sir. A letter for you just arrived at the receptionist’s desk, from a Mister Lachance.”
“Very well. Leave it on the table, will you? I will see what my dear cousin wants later.”
The man took another sip of coffee, waiting till the door was closed and the maid’s footsteps had receded into the distance. He knew only one man named Lachance, and that man most certainly wasnothis cousin.
Once he was sure the maid was far away, he grabbed the letter and tore it open.
My dear cousin,
This is just to let you know that our jolly seafaring friend has decided to rather abruptly end our business relationship. I do not know why this is, but it may be due to the fact that he has developed a sudden interest in our shipments. He may also develop an interest in you.
Yours Truly
Joël Perrin Lachance
