Target Lock (The U.S.S. Cunningham Book 4) by James H. Cobb

Author:James H. Cobb [Cobb, James H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Silvertail Books
Published: 2021-05-07T12:00:00+00:00

Palau Piri Island

1233 Hours, Zone Time: August 16, 2008

Luncheon was served al fresco in the mansion’s central garden, the palm shade and Amanda’s air-light clothing nullifying the tropical warmth of the day. The meal itself was superb. Simple yet subtle, prawns in a butter and garlic sauce, sate, savory barbecued meat impaled on skewers of sugarcane served with a fiery sambal peanut sauce made with chilies, peanuts, and coconut cream. Steamed white rice served to mellow the spices and, oddly enough, the solid Dutch-style Anker lager served with the meal perfectly counterpointed the food.

Amanda noted that on this occasion Harconan drank and enjoyed the beer as much as she. Not a Muslim, then, or maybe more just his own man. She had ten thousand questions about this individual, born out of what Tran had told her about him. But she dared not ask too many. She could only catch the scraps of information he offered.

The Chinese server who bore in the dessert tray offered the chance for one such insight.

“I notice that most of your staff here are Chinese,” she commented. “Is there a reason or is it just coincidence?”

“A reason,” Harconan replied. “I suppose you could say it’s for security’s sake. Most of the Chinese here in Indonesia are . . . apart from the main flow of the island culture. They are overlaid on top of it, as it were—hardworking, successful, and prosperous for the most part, but envied and held in suspicion and distrust by many Indonesians. One could call them the Jews of Southeast Asia, I suppose.”

Harconan took a sip of his beer. “Here in House Harconan, as part of my staff, they receive a good salary and are treated with the respect due good employees. Thus their allegiance is to me, without my having to worry about an excessive number of outside entanglements.”

“You make it sound almost like a feudal society.”

He flashed her a grin and lightly brushed his mustache with a knuckle. “There is no almost about it, Amanda. That’s exactly what it is and I’m quite content with it. That’s what being wealthy can do for a person. It not only permits you to live where you wish, but when as well.”

Over dessert, he introduced her to the local fruits, insisting upon personally wielding the silver fruit knife and skewers himself. She found herself sampling things she’d never even heard of before. The tuih and the zirzak, the blimbing and the honey-flavored sawo, the snake fruit that by Indonesian legend was the true apple in the Garden of Eden, and the durian that smells like an open cesspit and tastes like a blend of onion and caramel and, once sampled, is strangely addictive. Harconan let her consume half a dozen slices before casually mentioning that the durian is also supposedly an extremely potent natural aphrodisiac.

Superb chilled champagne was served with the fruit, and Amanda found the laughter and relaxed conversation flowing easily. Bit by bit her guard came down as Harconan seemed to

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