Page 20 of Wild Fever
She was a little frantic and all over the map. Understandable in her situation.
"How will I know who you are?”
"I'll know you.”
She ended the call, and I slipped the phone back into my pocket. I finished grilling breakfast, then dished up a few plates and rousted JD out of bed.
I figured we’d chow down on the sky deck, then zip up to Key Bean to see what this was all about. I filled JD in on the situation as we soaked up the amber rays of morning, crunching on bacon and sipping coffee.
An attractive woman with short raven hair strutted down the dock. She wore a ball cap and sunglasses, along with tight black yoga pants, a gray crop top, and sneakers. She had a nice midriff. With casual glances around, she kept a watchful eye.
Then she crossed the passerelle of theAvventura, stepped to the aft deck, and knocked on the glass door to the salon.
I exchanged a curious glance with Jack before climbing out of my seat to see what she wanted. I had a sneaking suspicion. Something told me the meeting at Key Bean was misdirection in case someone was listening to our call. It was good tradecraft.
Buddy barked at our new visitor.
I hustled down the steps and crossed the salon to pull open the sliding glass door. I held Buddy back and kept him from pouncing on her.
She looked around with caution, then slipped in uninvited.
I closed the door behind her.
The mystery woman moved to the window and peered at the parking lot, making sure she hadn’t been followed.
"So, you're dying?" I said.
She looked at me and hesitated for a moment, sizing me up. All things considered, she didn’t look too bad. Pretty good, actually. The sunglasses shielded her eyes. Her face was a little pale and thin.
She turned toward the door. “I made a mistake. I should go.”
“Hey, hold up,” I said, stepping after her. “You’ve burned half an hour just coming here. It’s your time. Spend it how you like. But if you want to make the most of the next 48, you’d better allocate your resources in an optimal way.”
She hesitated and looked me over again.
“I promise. What’s said in this room stays in this room. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”
I had some theories brewing of my own.
14
“First of all, how do you know you’ve got 48 hours to live?” I asked.
"Because I’ve seen the pattern before. Elevated blood markers. Elevated cardiac enzymes. Like I said, they wanted to admit me to the hospital. I'm not dying in that place. A colleague of mine experienced the same symptoms a month ago. He was dead in two days.”
I knew the answer, but I asked anyway. "What line of work are you in?”
"The same line of work you used to be in.”
I wasn't so sure it was exactly the same. "You’re a contractor.”
"You could say that.”
"Gun for hire might be a better term," I said.
"I don't kill people for hire.”
"So you kill for sport?”
