Cold Dead Hands (A Mike Casper Thriller Book 1) by Sebastian Blunt

Author:Sebastian Blunt [Blunt, Sebastian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-07-29T22:00:00+00:00

*

Utter exhaustion grabbed ahold of Mike shortly after takeoff from Barcelona. The guy sitting beside him thought it must have been drugs; he’d never seen someone sleep so deeply on a plane. The flight attendant didn’t bother to wake Casper for the standard airline meal.

On cue, he awoke before landing. It had been a dreamless sleep for which he was grateful.

The Philip Goldson International Airport was ten miles from Belize city, but it was a stopover only. Mike went straight to the terminal to catch the tourist flight to San Pedro Island. With any luck, he would be in a hotel room soon to plan his next moves.

Since Casper had no luggage, he hustled with his backpack to check in for the commuter airline. The counter was outside of the secure area. That meant going through the gatekeepers again—this added to the building tension.

A small line formed in front of the airline cashier. The tourists were out in force, and most of them Americans. Mike stood behind a few couples who acted like friends. He winced a bit when the couple near him hugged and kissed each other like teenagers. Cassie entered his thoughts once again, which only added to his edginess.

He sensed someone approaching from behind him and felt them invading his space. Ordinarily, Mike was not so paranoid.

“Hey, Collin!” A man tapped him softly on his arm. Casper turned fully prepared for a life-and-death confrontation.

“Collin.” repeated a black man with a broad smile.

His fear was immediate, but the man’s grin was unreadable.

“Do you know me?” he asked the man softly.

“Sure I do. We’re both friends of the junkyard maven. You know, the chubby guy.”

Mike tried to process the intimation that the two of them were connected to Augustino. A pregnant pause rested between them.

The man lowered his voice. “Yes, Collin, that plump fellow you are thinking of.”

Casper didn’t show any outward emotions, but what the hell? There it was, he thought; his landlord had tentacles spread out at least to Central America. It was hard to fathom the minuscule probability that a seemingly benign, part-Italian, part-Sicilian businessman was someone to be reckoned with. Add to that the freaky impossibility that the two of them crossed paths. The odds of that were miniscule.

“Is there something I need to know?”

The exceedingly smooth voice of this intriguing and well-spoken, possibly Jamaican operative merely responded with, “You are absolutely off the radar.” He looked up at the screen listing all of the departures and then back at Mike. “Oh my gosh! I just realized I’m at the wrong counter. Well, it’s been good to see you again, Collin. Cheerio.”

Augustino’s guy turned and walked away, across the hall, around a corner, and disappeared. It was Casper’s turn to buy his ticket to San Pedro, so he pulled out a hundred-pound note and laid it down.

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