Better Off Dead by Meryl Sawyer

Author:Meryl Sawyer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HQN Books
Published: 2013-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

WHENEVER POSSIBLE, face-to-face contact was the best way to ensure the operative totally understood the mission and would carry out orders, but Brock had always taken extreme measures to remain anonymous. His handle was “Numero Uno” but none of his field operatives ever saw his face. If they didn’t see him, he could never be identified.

He’d sent the operatives to Santa Fe without meeting with them in person. Now he realized what a big mistake he’d made. Had he met them, Brock felt confident he would have realized what a loose cannon the woman was. He wouldn’t have been forced to spend all these months searching for Samantha Robbins.

Brock flew from Miami to Belize with a group of scuba divers. He pretended to be just another diver interested in diving the Blue Hole. Eons ago a huge underwater sinkhole almost five hundred feet deep had formed off the coast of what for years had been British Honduras but was now Belize.

The Blue Hole ranked right up there on a diver’s must-see list. The Great Barrier Reef. The Molikini Crater. The Puerto Rican Trench—the deepest spot in the Atlantic Ocean. The Blue Hole.

Brock could talk the talk. He’d done the Great Barrier Reef, and he’d boned up on the others. It always paid to blend in with the crowd.

He took Mayan Air from Belize City to Caye Caulker. 251 was staying on the larger and more popular Ambergis Caye. Brock had decided it was better to have one quick assessment meeting with the guy and leave. He didn’t need to hang around the same town with him.

He checked in to a B & B on Caye Caulker. The whole frigging island was a throwback to the seventies when Caye Caulker had been a haven for drop-out dopers. Belize had cleaned up the place a bit, but Brock would bet his life that a little money would buy you any controlled substance you wanted.

The Blue Fin B & B was painted a soft coral with lime-green shutters. It reminded Brock of Key West. All twelve rooms had been booked by the scuba diving group he’d flown in with from Miami. Brock’s room had a view of the Caribbean blue water and the waves crashing on the barrier reef a quarter of a mile away. Palms swayed in a refreshing breeze. Miles of white beach with very few people. It was picturesque—if you went for the tropics.

Give him a Gull Wing any day.

BROCK WAITED under the palms just a few feet from the water at Lilly’s Restaurant next to the Mayan Princess Hotel. Ambergis Caye was more happening than Caye Caulker. More people. More hotels. More night life.

Not that Brock gave a fuck. He’d been forced to come here a day early so he could dive the Blue Hole. One rule of going undercover was to play the part. It would look suspicious if he hadn’t gone diving.

He had to admit it, the underwater sinkhole made famous by Jacques Cousteau had been fascinating.

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