Faceless by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down Island Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Deek’s foot tapped like a courthouse stenographer’s fingers as the Boeing 737 MAX touched down at Owen Roberts International Airport, turned around on the runway, and taxied back to the terminal. He impatiently hopped from one foot to the other in the immigration line, running through all the scenarios and obstacles before him. He had the name of a bank, the possibility that the man he’d been following had flown the seaplane to the island, and just about nothing else. Well, nothing else. There was no just about involved.

The immigration officer raised an eyebrow as Deek nervously fidgeted before him.

“Where you staying, sir?” the officer asked in the musical accent of the island.

“I’m not sure yet,” he replied honestly. “I’m only here for one night. Do you have hostels?”

The officer stared at Deek. “No, we don’t. What’s the purpose of your visit?”

“I’m…” Deek began then quickly reeled himself in. He took a business card from his wallet and handed it over. “I’m here on business.”

“Maritime Administration. Economic Analyst,” the officer read aloud. “You’re here on business for one night, according to your return ticket, wit nowhere to stay? Who’s da business wit?”

“Cayman International Bank and Trust,” Deek replied. “I’m investigating an individual’s connection to a potential threat on US soil,” he added with confidence that surprised himself.

He nodded to the man, one national official to another, proud of the line he’d rehearsed on the plane for a moment such as this.

“Do you have da authority and permission to conduct an investigation in da Cayman Islands, sir?” the officer asked, and all Deek’s confidence blew away like a feather in the wind.

“I’m really here to ask a few questions at the bank,” he stammered. “Investigation is probably a stronger term than I should have used.”

The officer looked him over once more, adjusted the date on his stamp, found an empty page in Deek’s passport—which was the first page as he’d never travelled anywhere of consequence in his life—and smacked the stamp down, making Deek jump.

“You’re approved to stay for forty-eight hours. Try da Sunshine Suites, dey sometimes have last-minute rooms, if not Eldemire Guest House. Welcome to da Cayman Islands, Mr. Morrison.”

Deek snatched his passport from the man, scurried through to the baggage claim area where he had nothing to collect, and on to customs where another officer took his entry form from him.

On the other side of customs, Deek was greeted by a dizzying array of signs held by an assortment of people from a variety of tour companies and resorts.

“Taxi, my friend?” another asked.

Deek was about to accept, until he remembered his perpetual state of poverty. The pawn shop had given him $1,100 for his $4,000 watch, and American Airlines had relieved him of $860 for his middle seat air ticket. He had $240 left which he needed to cover a roof over his head, food, plus the airport parking fee on his return to Miami.

“Is there public transportation here?” he asked the man.

“Sure ting. Take a taxi into town, den da buses run up and down, George Town to West Bay.

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