symmetry of classical composers that Jason found restful. Contemporary pop, rock, orâworseârap seemed to focus on the vocal, usually repetitive, and banal, with sharp elbows, rhythm without meaning. Or, in Jasonâs very private opinion, mere noise. He could endure the big band sound, the tunes of preâ and postâWorld War II, mostly long forgotten, but the classics of centuries past entertained him, setting a mood without the effort of trying to understand any particular lyrics.
He called it music to think by.
The heaviness of his eyelids told him it was well past his usual bedtime.
Pangloss had added a low growl to his persistent scratching. Putting down a shoe, Jason opened the door. Hackles raised, Pangloss had his lips pulled back, exposing long teeth. As if to make his point, the dog gave two sharp barks.
Then Jason heard it over the dancing violins: a low series of beeps coming from the system he had rigged in every room except the bath. The sound was what had so disturbed the dog, sound from wireless transmitters in the weight detectors he had buried at random intervals along the beach. Each device gave off a sound slightly louder than the previous one the closer someone got to the house.
Jason was not expecting visitors.
The sportfisherman he had seen that morning popped into his mind. What had made him notice it? There was no bone in its teeth, no white wake as it cut through the water. It hadnât been moving. The flash heâd seen had come from a telescope or binoculars. Instead of trolling for marlin yet to arrive, it had been observing him. Oversight like that could get a fellow killed.
But how . . . ?
The keys to the sailboat he had rented in St. Maartenâs to sail to St. Bartâs. The keys Paco had when he was captured. The float had the name of the rental company, and the rental company had . . . what?
Jason had used his employerâs credit card, which matched his false passport, to rent the sailboat. Someone in Alazarâs organization knew his face and recognized the fuzzy copy the rental company had made of his passport. The thought was less than comforting, but not as immediate as his present intruders.
In a single motion Jason removed something resembling a television remote and a pair of strangely configured binoculars from a dresser drawer and stooped to retrieve from under the bed a large wooden box clasped shut by a combination lock. Quickly touching a series of numbers, Jason opened the lid to reveal three fully assembled weapons with a loaded clip for each.
âClose,â he said aloud, as though addressing Pangloss. âTheyâre gonna get real close.â
Letting the potential proximity of the intruders dictate his choice, he passed over a Chinese version of an AK-47 assault rifle and a stubby Heckler & Koch MP5A2 machine gun, a weapon designed to fill very small spaces with a maximum number of nine-millimeter Parabellum bullets, to select the bulkiest of the three, the military model Remington twelve-gauge fully automatic shotgun. The weapon had been designed for urban riot control, hence the name âStreet Sweeper.â At twenty-five yards or less it could fill an area fifty by fifty with painful but relativelyharmless rubber projectiles or, using the loads in Jasonâs clip, deadly lead shot.
Outside, the moonless sky was black silk paved with diamond chips. Ducking below the railing of the deck to prevent presenting his silhouette against the stars, Jason scooted back to the other building, followed closely by Pangloss. Once inside, Jason went to the kitchen and out what served as the back door and down steps to a room originally designed as a garage. From there, man and dog went outside and circled the house to face the front.
Straining his ears, Jason could detect only the soft lapping of the tide at the beach and the windâs sigh through the few scrubby trees. He put one reassuring arm around Pangloss, using the
He called it music to think by.
The heaviness of his eyelids told him it was well past his usual bedtime.
Pangloss had added a low growl to his persistent scratching. Putting down a shoe, Jason opened the door. Hackles raised, Pangloss had his lips pulled back, exposing long teeth. As if to make his point, the dog gave two sharp barks.
Then Jason heard it over the dancing violins: a low series of beeps coming from the system he had rigged in every room except the bath. The sound was what had so disturbed the dog, sound from wireless transmitters in the weight detectors he had buried at random intervals along the beach. Each device gave off a sound slightly louder than the previous one the closer someone got to the house.
Jason was not expecting visitors.
The sportfisherman he had seen that morning popped into his mind. What had made him notice it? There was no bone in its teeth, no white wake as it cut through the water. It hadnât been moving. The flash heâd seen had come from a telescope or binoculars. Instead of trolling for marlin yet to arrive, it had been observing him. Oversight like that could get a fellow killed.
But how . . . ?
The keys to the sailboat he had rented in St. Maartenâs to sail to St. Bartâs. The keys Paco had when he was captured. The float had the name of the rental company, and the rental company had . . . what?
Jason had used his employerâs credit card, which matched his false passport, to rent the sailboat. Someone in Alazarâs organization knew his face and recognized the fuzzy copy the rental company had made of his passport. The thought was less than comforting, but not as immediate as his present intruders.
In a single motion Jason removed something resembling a television remote and a pair of strangely configured binoculars from a dresser drawer and stooped to retrieve from under the bed a large wooden box clasped shut by a combination lock. Quickly touching a series of numbers, Jason opened the lid to reveal three fully assembled weapons with a loaded clip for each.
âClose,â he said aloud, as though addressing Pangloss. âTheyâre gonna get real close.â
Letting the potential proximity of the intruders dictate his choice, he passed over a Chinese version of an AK-47 assault rifle and a stubby Heckler & Koch MP5A2 machine gun, a weapon designed to fill very small spaces with a maximum number of nine-millimeter Parabellum bullets, to select the bulkiest of the three, the military model Remington twelve-gauge fully automatic shotgun. The weapon had been designed for urban riot control, hence the name âStreet Sweeper.â At twenty-five yards or less it could fill an area fifty by fifty with painful but relativelyharmless rubber projectiles or, using the loads in Jasonâs clip, deadly lead shot.
Outside, the moonless sky was black silk paved with diamond chips. Ducking below the railing of the deck to prevent presenting his silhouette against the stars, Jason scooted back to the other building, followed closely by Pangloss. Once inside, Jason went to the kitchen and out what served as the back door and down steps to a room originally designed as a garage. From there, man and dog went outside and circled the house to face the front.
Straining his ears, Jason could detect only the soft lapping of the tide at the beach and the windâs sigh through the few scrubby trees. He put one reassuring arm around Pangloss, using the
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