Greatest Hits Mysteries Boxed Set (Books 1-4) by Langtry Leslie

Author:Langtry, Leslie [Langtry, Leslie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gemma Halliday
Published: 2013-06-12T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THREE

“Diplomacy is the art of saying ‘Nice doggie’ until you can find a rock.”

- Will Rogers

I was up early the next morning, doing my usual jog around the island. Santa Muerta’s pretty small. It usually took about an hour and a half to run the sandy beach perimeter. Jogging always helped me think. I didn’t know if it was because more oxygen was going to the brain or whether I was just jarring it into action, but I don’t question anything that works. Oh yeah, and I do it for the exercise too.

I’d never had good luck with exercise. Yoga twisted me into so many knots I spent a week at a chiropractor’s in Florida funding the doctor’s summer home in Aspen. That time I tried aerobics I ended up breaking my coccyx (the doctors still scratch their head over that one). I swam for a while. We had a pool on the island in addition to the ocean. But that backfired when I was attacked by sharks. In the pool, no less. I always suspected Jack and Monty of that one but could never prove it. Other attempts proved disastrous, from general calisthenics (I got shin splints from push-ups. Apparently I was doing them wrong), to Tai Chi (did you know that howler monkeys consider some of those movements very threatening?) but nothing seemed to work as well as jogging. It was boring as hell, but it did the job.

And speaking of jobs, this assignment had me worried. Because of the other work I do for the Council, I haven’t had a lot of fieldwork in the last five years. And my isolation on Santa Muerta had kind of turned me into a hermit. I could be social with the best of them, but really only for short periods of time. How the hell was I going to spend thirty days, 24/7, with a diverse group of Canadians? Is that an oxymoron? A diverse group of Canadians?

So, I guess I was saying I was a rusty, anti-social assassin. Neither of which would lend itself well to this particular hit.

Another thing that bothered me was the fact I didn’t know what kind of environment I’d be in. The last couple of Survivor shows took place in the Arctic Circle and Gobi Desert. And since this was the first season of the Canadian program, I wasn’t sure what they’d do. With my luck, they’d maroon us on the Bering Strait.

At least Burma was right. My being an inventor could make things easier. I had no doubt I could come up with ways to make my team’s life a little better, and that would keep me on the show longer. Making stuff a la MacGyver (damn, I miss that show) came naturally to me and I loved doing it. The only problem was, I wouldn’t have any tools with me, nor would I know where we were going until they threw us off the boat.

I was just about to the bungalows and still had no ideas, when I spotted two familiar figures sitting in the sand.

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