09.Deep Black: Death Wave by Stephen Coonts

Author:Stephen Coonts
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Quercus
Published: 2011-02-03T00:00:00+00:00

HOTEL SOL

PUERTO NAOS

LA PALMA, CANARY ISLANDS

FRIDAY, 1615 HOURS LOCAL TIME

Lia DeFrancesca looked up as the tall, slender man entered the hotel lobby. She checked the photograph currently being displayed on her BlackBerry but already knew that it was Vincent Carlylse—pale and wispy hair, glasses, jutting nose.

And he wasn’t alone.

“Target acquired,” she murmured, putting away the BlackBerry. The Art Room had sent her the image—from the dust jacket of a recent book—earlier that morning. The woman with him, though, was going to be a complication. “He’s with someone, a younger woman.”

“A prostitute?” Rockman’s voice shot back.

“Now how the hell am I supposed to know that?”

“I don’t know. Prostitutes carry big, shiny purses, right? How’s she dressed?”

“She looks like another tourist. Slacks, blouse, sunglasses …”

“They used a prostitute to get to Pender in his hotel room,” Rockman told her. “They might be using the same plot here.”

“Wait one. I’m going to make contact.”

As Carlylse and the woman crossed the lobby, the desk clerk called out. “Ah! Señor Carlylse! Hay un mensaje …”

Lia emerged from behind one of the tropical plants. The clerk saw her and bowed. “This lady,” he said in English, “wished to speak with you.”

“Mr. Carlylse?” she said, extending a hand. “I’m Diane Lau. It is important that I talk to you.”

“I see,” the writer said, looking her up and down. “Are you a reporter?”

“Not … exactly.” She smiled at the woman. “Is this your wife?”

“Why … uh, yes. Yes, she is.” She looked Spanish, with black hair and olive skin. She might have been a tourist from the mainland, or she could have been a native islander.

“This concerns your books,” Lia told him, “and your collaborator, Jack Pender.”

“Jack? I haven’t seen him in over two months. How is the old son of a bitch?”

“Mr. Carlylse, I need to speak with you alone. Please. It’s important.”

He pulled a keycard from his shirt pocket and handed it to the woman. “Why don’t you go on up to our room, my dear? Room 312. I’ll be along in a moment.”

Without saying a word, the woman took the key, gave Lia a dark look, then walked away, her heeled sandals clicking across the marble floor. She was young, no older than her midtwenties, while Carlylse was easily fifty. She might be his wife … but Lia was willing to bet she wasn’t. She glanced around the lobby. There were other people there—a man reading a Spanish newspaper, a young couple watching a television monitor. It was just a little too public here.

“Let’s step outside,” she said.

They stepped onto the outside pool area a moment later. There were several hotel guests here as well, sunbathing on the lounge chairs around the pool, but the wind and the crashing surf would make certain that their conversation remained private. Lia pulled out her wallet and flashed an ID at the man.

“Just what is it you want to tell me, Miss, um, Ms. Lau?” he asked as they walked past the pool toward the safety railing above the cliff.

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