Sharks by Matt Rogers (best book series to read TXT) 📕

on the phone to the one man in U.S. black operations she was still in discreet contact with.

Alonzo answered the phone on the first ring. ‘Been a while.’

She said, ‘We’re planning a trip.’

‘Where?’

‘Grand Bahama.’

‘Must be nice.’

‘I just wanted to check that we’re not going to get flagged.’

Alonzo paused, then said, ‘You don’t trust the cover I gave you?’

‘If we all go together…’ She trailed off. ‘Better safe than sorry, you know? I don’t want any alarms going off in the system.’

He said, ‘Do you want me to go into specifics?’

‘Layman’s terms, please.’

‘Your photos don’t exist in the system. I’ve put a blanket over everything, and it’s airtight. You’ll pass through security and your new identities will disappear like they never existed at all.’

‘Seems too good to be true. That’s why I’m checking.’

‘And that’s why this country pays me top dollar. Because I can do things like that to make our operations invisible. What this country doesn’t know is I can do that for anyone. I can pull the wool over their eyes just as effectively as I can pull the wool over their enemies’. .’

‘You don’t need to do this for us,’ she said. ‘You’re risking your life.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘But here I am doing it anyway. Helps me convince myself I still have a soul. Enjoy your holiday.’

17

The civilian flight touched down on Bahamian soil early in the morning.

Coming in on the Bahamasair flight to land, Slater couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen water so blue. He’d read snippets about Hurricane Dorian in the news, and sure enough he spotted a sea of bright blue tarps protecting missing roofs across the east coast where most of the destruction was condensed, but the beaches were still white and Freeport bustled with activity, alive with the spirit of a resilient and determined people.

After disembarking and moving through the terminal, Slater realised travelling felt too easy now.

He didn’t like anything easy, but this was the next phase of his life, and it was always going to be different. He had to place trust in others like he never had before, even if all that meant was giving Violetta the reins to organise their trip. They’d strolled through McCarran International Airport in Vegas without anyone giving them so much as a second glance, then they’d stopped briefly in Nassau, and now they were moving through the terminal of Grand Bahama International Airport in the same fashion.

When they stepped out of the building wheeling their bags, he shook off a giddy sensation.

Could this be true?

Are our days of being hunted over?

Alexis echoed his sentiment. ‘That was weird.’

She was no stranger to being hunted, despite her civilian life being close in the rear view mirror.

You live with King and Slater, you catch on quick.

King said, ‘How so?’ but he knew exactly how so.

Violetta said, ‘If it means anything, it threw me off too. I had to stop myself from calling Alonzo seventeen times at the airport.’

King breathed the air. ‘We should do this more often.’

‘Find someone like Walcott in the Maldives next,’ Slater said. ‘I like the idea of an exotic world tour.’

They piled into a cab and the Walcott talk ceased.

They never knew who might be listening.

The Caucasian driver took them from the top of Grand Bahama to the bottom, first taking the highway east before turning onto Coral Road, which ran through Freeport’s core. They passed residential suburbs — Sunrise Park and Seahorse Village — broken up by primary schools and a staggering number of churches. There was little evidence of the devastation Slater was sure had razed houses and businesses alike less than a year earlier.

The driver, making small talk, confirmed as much. ‘Floodwaters rose twenty feet, and that’s no exaggeration. Here we got spared most of it. The east copped a beating — there’s talk that Deep Water Cay may never reopen for tours. And across the ocean the Abacos are still in ruins. That darn storm blew the whole tourist centre away at Marsh Harbour over yonder. But here on this soil, we’re getting back to normal. Eighty percent of the hotels and restaurants are back up and running. And Lord knows we need it. Thank y’all for coming. Tourist support is vital right now. If y’all would be interested in a fishing tour at any point, my brother has a—’

Slater tuned out, but he appreciated the hustle and the accompanying verbal dossier of information.

Coral Road deposited them on Royal Palm Way, running parallel to the south shore of the island, before they finally arrived at a private complex with what they assumed were unimpeded views of the water. It was hard to tell with the ten-foot perimeter wall obscuring the grounds from street view, but Violetta had promised them something spectacular after booking the place online.

They piled out and waited for the cab to drive off before they went inside. Precautions were vital when they knew next to nothing about what they’d be going up against.

Isn’t that always the case? King thought.

No, a voice told him. Not like this. This is whimsical.

He didn’t like whimsical.

He liked careful, painstaking research — knowing exactly what they were here for. Not floating around looking for clues. It fit with the overall laidback nature of the Bahamas, but they weren’t here to kick their feet up. Maybe Slater was indifferent, but Slater was Slater. He had a little more recklessness in every facet of his life than King.

Violetta followed instructions from the owner on her phone and found three sets of keys in a lockbox buried in the garden around the wall. She handed one set to King and one to Slater, then used her own set to unlock the gate in the brushwood fencing.

Empty-handed, Alexis said, ‘What about me?’

Violetta looked back like she hadn’t even considered it. ‘You can borrow one of ours if you need to go anywhere.’

Alexis didn’t respond.

There was a blank look on her face.

King understood. Alexis had popped her cherry weeks prior. She’d done something