Page 41 of Pervade Montego Bay

We’d left The Glasshouse in the back of an ambulance that had transported him to Colchester’s Accident and Emergency Department. It was our ruse that he needed urgent medical treatment, and Captain Rawley had fallen for it.

Xavier had been ordered a CAT scan by the attending medical consultant. I’d advised Xavier’s military police detail that as a member of the RAMC, I was more than qualified to watch over him during the test. Avoiding radiation exposure had the policemen seeing the logic in that decision.

That had been our opportunity to exit left.

We’d taken a private jet from Stansted Airport to Jamaica a day ago. I’d used a couple of fake passports so there’d be no record of us leaving the country.

After our nine-hour flight, I’d brought Xavier to Cornwall Hospital to rehydrate with IV fluids and undergo the kinds of tests he’d skipped during our great escape.

A quick headcount revealed he was one of ten men on this ward. He looked deceptively well compared to some of the other patients. The only obvious injury was to his right arm, which was now in a sling. They’d strained his wrist during an interrogation. Nausea welled inside me when I thought of what they’d done to him.

Xavier gestured for me to come closer.

I stood over his hospital bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a free man.”

I smiled.

He stared at me for a beat. “You’ve been here before?”

“Yes.”

“I knew that posh British accent was hiding something.”

I gave a shrug. “I was sent to boarding school in England and lost my Jamaican accent.”

“Pity.”

“Children tend to bully you if you’re different, as you know.”

“You should have kept it. More chances of getting laid.”

He made me chuckle.

The Caribbean felt like home. It would always be a special place to return to when the world was too much for me to handle. I could be myself here.

“How does it feel to be a civilian?” I asked.

“Let’s just say that being a wanted man gave me quite the adrenaline rush—and not in a good way.”

I gave him a look of sympathy. “We’ll sort it out.”

“Forever the optimist.”

“No, I just don’t care about the fuckers.”

The smiling nurse approached us. She removed Xavier’s IV with the skill of someone who’d done it a million times before. “It’s time to get dressed, Mr. Smith.” She waved her hands to usher me out.

“He can stay.” Xavier twisted his legs around and sat on the edge of the bed. “He’s family.” Xavier whipped off the rest of the sheet. He was wearing hospital PJs.

The curtain was pulled around us and I went to step out.

“Stay.” Xavier gestured.

“I’ll wait outside.”

“James, help me find my trousers.” He lifted his sling a little to make his point.