Page 37 of No Time Off (Lexi Carmichael Mystery #15)

THIRTY-SEVEN

Lexi

T he sun was still more than an hour from being overhead, but we were clammy with sweat as we prepared to head to the farmhouse with Manny. Using the Ara Tapu wasn’t a viable option, obviously, so we took the two motorbikes most of the way to the farmhouse, following the escape route Paul and I had taken in reverse.

When we passed by the boulder where our pursuer had crashed, the bike was gone, but we could still see shards of broken glass and part of a light. I told Slash about the crash, and he got a grim expression on his face. Since we weren’t being pursued, he was able to drive carefully on the paths and deftly avoided the muddy spots.

Slash didn’t let his guard down for a second, continually scanning the jungle for any unusual movement or a possible attack. It was his normal modus operandi, but I also felt an itch between my shoulder blades—like someone was watching us—so it was kind of weird.

We finally stopped at the edge of the pineapple field behind the house and could see the structure in the distance. We crouched down behind some bushes and surveyed the farmhouse.

Manny pulled out a pair of binoculars from his pack and went about checking out the house. I could smell a fresh piece of the mint gum he’d been stress-chewing since sunrise, and that was somehow comforting. From my vantage spot, the farmhouse looked just as we’d left it: weathered shutters, one of them hanging crooked, and a tin roof reflecting the late-morning sun. No movement. No vehicles. No ambush, unless someone had mastered the art of invisibility, which—given the week we were having—felt entirely plausible.

“Looks safe so far,” Manny said. “How about I go ahead and check it out? After all, I’m just an ordinary guy on a motorbike, not a shoot-on-sight international terrorist.”

I rolled my eyes as Slash nodded. Manny climbed on his bike and headed off down the path around the field. The house remained quiet as he approached. Manny got off his bike and began exploring the backyard before circling the house to the front.

Fifteen minutes elapsed before my phone rang. “Hello?” I answered, punching it on speaker so Slash could hear.

“The place looks clear,” Manny said. “I checked inside, and everything seems to be as we left it. There are no signs of a struggle or fight.”

“Are we clear to approach?” Slash asked.

“Yes. But stay alert.”

We climbed back on the bike and Slash cautiously approached the house. I could feel his tension with my arms wrapped around him. He was on high operational alert. Manny had gone back in the house when we first got back on the bike but had now come out and was waiting for us at the edge of the yard.

He handed us cold water bottles and protein bars. We immediately dug in, both of us starving.

“Maivia’s forces clearly didn’t spend any time here,” Manny said, taking a sip from his water bottle. “The fridge is full of food, the electricity is still on, and the house wasn’t visibly ransacked. I suspect they weren’t sure this was where the prime minister was hiding.”

We mumbled incoherent responses around the chewing of the protein bars.

While we ate and drank, Manny took our bike and pushed it out of sight behind the nearby shed. When he returned, something rustled in the underbrush at the edge of the yard to our right. There was nothing professional about our response. We must have looked like a dysfunctional gymnastics team. Slash and Manny went for their weapons, while I jerked and tossed a water bottle in the air that nearly clipped Slash.

The rustling abruptly stopped. A second later, a coconut rolled into the yard, bumping and bouncing along like it had somewhere to be.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. “Wow. An assassin dressed as a coconut. Bold strategy.”

Manny didn’t laugh. Neither did Slash.

I sighed. “Come on, guys. I’m trying to lighten the mood. I thought we decided no one would figure us for being dumb enough to come back to the farmhouse. Are we not going with that anymore?”

“We’re being prudent,” Slash said shortly. “I’m going to do one more sweep of the perimeter and house just to be extra safe. Manny, you wait here with Lexi and take cover in those bushes over there until I give the final all clear.” He jogged off across the field and disappeared.

“Your man is in a good mood,” Manny quipped.

I sighed. He was cranky, not that I blamed him. Just hours before he’d been beaten up, tied up, threatened, and locked in a closet. He’d earned that crankiness fair and square.

We waited for ten minutes, then twenty. Finally, Slash came back, sweat dripping from his temples and beading on his neck.

“I’ve checked the entire perimeter, and it’s quiet,” he said. “No one is here, and the house looks clear. Inside, everything seems to be as we left it. You’re right, Manny. No signs of a struggle or fight, so I wonder what happened to Rangi and the security guys we left behind.”

No one had the answer.

“Can we go inside?” I finally asked. I was hot, sweaty, and needed to go to the bathroom.

“Yes,” Slash said. “It’s safe to go in.”

I went to the bathroom and then joined the men in the kitchen. Slash handed me another water bottle from the fridge, and I drank it almost as quickly as the first.

I checked my phone to see if the Wi-Fi was still operational, and indeed, it had connected. I headed directly to the office to begin setting up our equipment while Slash and Manny did a more thorough room-by-room check looking for bugs, cameras, or any surprise parting gifts that might have been left by the police.

They found nothing.

“I guess they really didn’t think the prime minister was here, or that, if she was, we’d come back,” Manny commented. “Or maybe they just want us to get comfortable.”

“Too late for that,” I said. “I haven’t been comfortable on the island since my last glass of banana-infused wine. One of the best parts of the honeymoon to this point.”

“I didn’t see any alcohol in the house,” Manny said. “But seriously, a glass of wine right now sounds pretty good to me.”

“We have to keep our wits sharp,” Slash said. “And let’s keep the house dark—except for a little light in this room or the kitchen—so it appears uninhabited. The curtains will remain tightly closed and all doors locked.”

“Party pooper,” I quipped, and that at least elicited a small smile from him. “Guess we should call and let the prime minister know our situation here.”

Manny pulled out his phone and called her, putting her on speaker so we could all hear. “Petra, we’ve made it and did a thorough check of the farmhouse and immediate area. It’s empty. It looks like Maivia’s forces left in a hurry—the place is mostly untouched. If your security agrees, I feel like it’s safe for you to return.”

“Okay,” she replied. “Let me talk to Henry and security, and we’ll call you back.”

Manny hung up and slid the phone in his pocket.

“Do you think she’ll come?” I asked him.

“I do. They’re getting tired and cramped on the boat, and you’re right, it’s too exposed. Her security team saw it as a place to escape to, not a place to hide for long.”

Slash headed off to the kitchen to brew some coffee. While he was gone, Manny’s phone rang. I overheard Manny say he’d return to coordinate the move with her security team.

After he hung up, he turned to me. “That was Petra. They’re planning to move her now. Her security wanted to wait until dark, but she overrode them. My instructions are to assist with the transition. Will you two be okay here by yourselves?”

“Sure, as long as we have Wi-Fi and some quiet time.

“Computers are set up,” I said just as Slash walked into the room carrying two mugs of coffee. He handed one to me and another to Manny, who declined. I noticed immediately that Slash had added my usual half cup of milk, and I appreciated him for that.

“Would love to have a cup, mate, but off I go to get the minister,” he said.

Slash drank the coffee instead. “Get her here safely, Manny.”

“You’ve got my word on that,” Manny said, heading for the door. “See you soon.”

After he left, the first thing we did was plug in Slash’s phone to charge. Slash surveyed the arrangement of the laptops and cables and nodded. It wasn’t exactly a state-of-the-art field setup, but it would get the job done as long as nobody shot us or blew up the farmhouse. Two distinct possibilities.

Slash started by downloading the audio file from the recorder we’d risked our necks to get. Once the file was on Slash’s computer, he hit send. While the file started crawling its way to Candace, I sent an email to Elvis to update them on what was happening on our end and get them on board for our plan this evening. Elvis answered within two minutes. They were on high alert.

“Please tell me Slash is alive. And that you guys are safe.”

“Slash is alive, thank God,” I responded. “We’ll have a story to tell you about how that happened. But for now, at least, we’re safe. Unfortunately, we’ve graduated to the police’s ‘shoot-to-kill list’ and are being identified as dangerous American terrorists. It’s making things a bit dicey here. However, the good news is—even after all that—Slash and I are still married.”

There was a long pause before a response came back, and this time Elvis added an emoji with its mouth wide-open.

“Wow, that IS shocking. Not the terrorist thing, the still married thing. It must be true love.”

I laughed, feeling the tension ease a bit. They were reacting with humor, which was just what I needed.

“So, what’s next?” he typed. “What do you need us to do?”

I quickly relayed our initial plan, with Slash occasionally chiming in. We carefully refined and outlined everyone’s exact role in it. After answering several questions and engaging in a bit more discussion to fine-tune the details and ensure everyone was on the same page, we wrapped it up. Elvis confirmed they were ready.

“It’s a good plan, so good luck, you two,” he said. “I mean it.”

“Thanks, Elvis and team,” I replied. “As always, we appreciate your support and assistance.”

“Hey, we’re always in to save the day. Now, let’s get this done.”

Slash and I logged out, leaned back in our chairs, and looked at each other. We were spent, exhausted, hungry, and extremely close to the end of our ropes.

“Has the file made it to Candace yet?” I asked, sipping my coffee.

“It just finished,” he said. “Took forever. But now, it’s time to get something to eat other than protein bars. I’m famished.”

“I could use some real food.” I stretched my arms over my head. “Like, seriously, could life get any crazier?”

He started to answer when we heard a man’s voice speak from the doorway to the office. “Well, look who we have here.”