Aground on St. Thomas - Couverture souple

Hale, Rebecca M.

Couverture souple

ISBN 10 : 0425252515 ISBN 13 : 9780425252512

Editeur : Berkley, 2014

A propos du livre

Extrait :

Cats and Curios Mysteries

Mysteries in the Islands

Government House

Charlotte Amalie

St. Thomas, US Virgin Islands

~ 1 ~

THE GOVERNOR STOOD on the balcony outside his office, surveying the city spread across the hillside below. A breeze brushed against his cheeks, the up-flow of the trade winds kissing off the sea.

This was his frequent perch. The three-story neoclassical building that housed the territory’s executive branch provided an expansive view of Charlotte Amalie and the island’s busy south shore.

For centuries, the rulers of St. Thomas had monitored their realm from this elevated location. The Government House balconies offered vantage points of ships sailing in and out of the harbor—and of citizens scheming on land.

The Governor rubbed his round chin, pondering the view.

At first glance, the town presented a typical Caribbean setting, a colorful mix of wood, brick, and mortar, overlaid with the humid layer of grit that accumulated between rainstorms. Tropical greenery laced its leafy fingers around doorways and windows, an insidious landscaping that without constant pruning rapidly engulfed entire buildings.

Down along the waterfront, street vendors plied the sidewalks, hawking T-shirts and kitschy trinkets to a few meandering tourists. Inside the air-conditioned alley shops, jewelers and watchmakers waited for the surge of day-trippers from the cruise ship docked at the nearby deepwater port. Drawn like sharks to fresh chum, gangs of pickpockets circled both areas with ease.

On the east end of the shopping district, old men set up backgammon boards on shaded picnic tables inside Emancipation Park. Dice began to warm in shaking cups as checkers were lined up across their proper points. With the first sips of coffee, grayed heads bent to discuss the latest news.

Beyond the regular bustle of gossip, commerce, and graft, however, historic events were about to unfold.

The scene that morning was anything but ordinary.

The Governor shifted his gaze to a flagpole whose mast trimmings waved a few feet above his balcony.

Over the ages, the posted symbols had reflected various shifts in control over this region of the West Indies, the change of colors an age-old measure of which country’s influence was in ascendancy and which was on the wane.

With a grimace at the Stars and Stripes fluttering near his head, the Governor let out a rueful grunt.

Considering the size of the US Navy vessel that had pulled into the cruise ship terminal, the odds were stacked against his regime’s future longevity.

·

THE GOVERNOR PLACED a hand over his brow, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun as he once more focused his attention on the city streets below.

A number of black-clad federal agents skulked along the harbor’s curving edge, rapidly closing in on the Legislature Building. Armed with arrest warrants for all fifteen of the US Virgin Islands’ sitting senators, the team aimed to sweep through the meeting chambers and apprehend as many of the indicted suspects as possible. It was a deft plan of attack, one designed to shut down the government in a single blow, without casualty or bloodshed.

Despite their attempted stealth, the invaders were easy to pick out. Their dark uniforms made a stark contrast against the harbor’s sunny water and the sidewalk’s flowering bougainvillea.

No amount of subterfuge could mask the swiftness of their movements. Not even the arrival of a mega cruise ship loaded with cash-bloated tourists inspired such energetic activity among the island’s long-term residents.

The Governor squinted at a second group of agents advancing toward Emancipation Park, about five hundred yards south of his balcony.

These were the men who had been charged with infiltrating Government House—the men who were coming to arrest him and several members of his cabinet.

He had sent the other targets home to their families. The dispersal of the administration officials would delay their incarceration by a few hours and, he hoped, spare them the humiliation of a public capture.

He had afforded himself no such luxury.

Sucking in his breath, the Governor straightened his posture, bracing for the coming raid.

Inside Government House’s white-painted brick-and-wood structure, the remaining staff had been briefed on what to expect next. The First Lady, ensconced in the Governor’s Mansion on an adjacent hill, was prepared for the worst.

Any minute now, all transport on or off the island would temporarily halt. Air traffic control would be ordered to close the runways. Navy personnel would board the ferryboats that connected St. Thomas to its neighboring islands and prohibit the vessels from completing their routes.

Cell phone communications would be interrupted, landlines would fall silent, and traffic would grind to a halt.

The cruise ship passengers would be blocked from disembarking their ship, much to the dismay of the diamond dealers, the watch salesmen, and the sharp-eyed pickpockets.

If needed, the initial swarm of federal agents would be followed by a squadron of National Guard troops. Before long, the main government structures in downtown Charlotte Amalie would be seized by the US authorities.

The Governor had anticipated the operation’s basic structure. The only question had been when the invasion would occur—and now the timing had been revealed.

He had done everything in his power to prevent today’s action. He’d spent hours with the head of the local US attorney general’s office. He’d granted interviews with the federal investigators assigned to the case. He’d flown to Washington to speak in person with the justice department officials overseeing the matter. He’d tried desperately to convince them to drop their meritless claims, to no avail.

The heady wheels of opportunism and advancement had gained too much momentum. An unseen force had pushed the judicial process past the point of no return. No one within the president’s administration had the will or the political clout to stop it.

In recent days, a grand jury sitting in the district court for the US Virgin Islands had received the results of the attorney general’s bribery investigation. The jury’s decision to indict had triggered a court order granting the US federal government direct control over the Caribbean territory until the charges could be adjudicated, the alleged corruption flushed out of the islands’ local institutions, and new elections held.

The Governor released the pent-up air from his lungs. His shoulders curved forward, bowed by the magnitude of the occasion.

It was a takeover of epic proportions, and he was helpless to stop it.

WHILE THE GOVERNOR remained on the balcony, solemnly tracking the developments in the harbor, his closest aide paced back and forth inside the office.

The typically unflappable young man had worked himself into an agitated state. Muttering under his breath, he scanned the top sheet of a clipboard, as if searching for some tidbit of new information or a pending task with which to busy himself, but he had already read every piece of writing at least a dozen times. He had only one duty to complete that morning—the interminable wait.

He glanced down at his watch, cursing the second hand’s slow movement.

A ringer sang out, and the aide pounced on the desk phone. A colored button on the handset indicated the call emanated from a secure line in Washington, DC.

Fresh beads of sweat broke out across his forehead as he spoke into the receiver.

“This is Cedric.”

He listened to the voice on the opposite end. Then he pressed the mute button and turned toward the balcony.

“Sir,” he called out tensely. “It’s the attorney general for you.”

Silently, the Governor shook his head, declining the call. The communication was a false courtesy, a last-minute request that he voluntarily relinquish his leadership position before it was forcefully taken away.

He would not give Washington that satisfaction.

The Governor’s sturdy hand gripped the balcony railing. Despite the dire situation, he remained calm. He was ready.

With a gulp, Cedric set the receiver on the cradle, terminating the connection.

Almost immediately, there was a sharp knock at the door. The sound ricocheted through the office, causing the aide to jump like a nervous rabbit.

The Governor looked over his shoulder and nodded.

“Let them in.”

Ashen-faced, Cedric straightened his tie. He tugged on his suit jacket lapels, smoothing the tailored seams. Then he grabbed the handle, turned it, and swung open the door.

The lone individual standing in the hallway bore no resemblance to the federal agents storming the city from the harbor.

He was a thin man in a golf shirt and khakis. His clothing hung loosely from his frame, as if the garments were two or three sizes too big for his body. His narrow face was flushed pink from exertion, and circular wet marks soaked the armpits of his shirt.

A visitor’s pass hanging from his neck identified him by a single name: FOWLER.

It took Cedric a moment to recognize the unexpected visitor. The last time they’d met, the man had been about two hundred pounds heavier—and his name certainly hadn’t been Fowler.

Throughout the Caribbean, when powerful figures ran into trouble, be it financial, criminal, governmental, or otherwise, they called on a nebulous figure known only by the service he provided: the Fixer.

Today’s mission had required a less obvious pseudonym.

Cedric frowned, puzzling over the man’s presence. He had been with the Governor practically every waking minute for the past two weeks as they strategized, fruitlessly, on how to avoid the looming crisis. There was no way his boss could have contacted the Fixer—or Fowler, as the case may be—without Cedric’s knowledge.

The Fixer was a recourse of last resort, one that the aide had argued strenuously against on the grounds that his involvement would negate the Governor’s asserted claims of innocence.

Not waiting to be invited in, Fowler pushed his way through the entrance and crossed to the balcony.

“Let’s go, Governor. There’s not much time.”

~ 2 ~

THE GOVERNOR TURNED away from the balcony railing, relief on his face.

He didn’t seem the least bit surprised by the Fixer’s arrival, Cedric noted, his own concern deepening by the second.

The aide watched, perplexed, as his boss bounded into the office.

Given the sedentary nature of his leadership position and the frequency of job-related eating engagements, the Governor wasn’t in great physical condition. The combination of inactivity and constant eating had widened his already bulky form. He suffered from innumerable aches in his joints and muscles and saw a chiropractor, acupuncturist, and a masseuse with regularity.

None of these oft-cited infirmities appeared to hamper his mobility on this occasion. Cedric had never seen the big man cross a room with such vigor.

“Thank you for coming.” The Governor glanced at the name tag and added with a smile, “Fowler.” He clasped the newcomer’s shoulders and gave him a firm hug. “I’d almost given up hope.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Fowler replied with a glance toward the harbor. “You’re not out of the woods. Not by a long shot.”

“Let’s get going, then.” The Governor reached for a hanger attached to a hook on the back of the door.

Fowler stopped him before he could slip on his suit coat.

“You won’t be needing that, Guv.” He lifted a tote bag from his shoulder, reached inside, and pulled out a T-shirt, shorts, and a pair of worn tennis shoes. “Better change into these. You need to be less conspicuous, and, uh . . .” He looked skeptically at the Governor’s wide girth. “We might have some hiking to do.”

As the Governor loosened his collar and unfastened his cuff links, Cedric resumed his worried pace around the office. The aide was unnerved by the sudden change in circumstances. The situation was spinning out of control—and he wasn’t referring to the incoming feds.

Fowler folded up the Governor’s shirt and slacks and tucked the clothing, along with his loafers, into the tote. As the Governor stood from tying his shoelaces, Fowler handed over a white visor printed with the logo from a New York–based tennis tournament.

It wasn’t much of a disguise, Cedric thought, surveying the improvised outfit. The Governor’s chubby figure was well known throughout the territory, particularly in Charlotte Amalie. He wouldn’t get more than a block or two from the building without being identified and called out.

Fowler was far more confident in the costume’s chances of facilitating evasion. With an approving nod, he cracked open the door and peeked down the hallway. The Governor leaned forward, anxiously peering over the other man’s shoulder.

Cedric stopped his pacing and stared at the pair crowded by the doorway. He shook his head, stunned by the rapid turn of events.

For the past six years, he had run the Governor’s schedule, overseen his legislative obligations, and managed almost every aspect of his daily life. He’d been invited to family events and had dined regularly at the Governor’s Mansion. He had been the only aide trusted to babysit the First Lady’s beloved Chihuahuas. He’d been an essential part of the politician’s very existence.

But if he didn’t act fast, his services were about to come to an abrupt end.

With difficulty, Cedric swallowed his pride. He would have to set aside his qualms about the Governor’s accomplice—no matter how much he disliked the thought of involving the Fixer.

“How can I help?” he asked meekly.

The Governor turned his head back toward the office and shifted the visor so he could see out. The tone of his voice matched the incredulous expression on his face.

“Aren’t you coming with us?”

·

THE TRIO CREPT down the hallway, with Fowler taking the lead, the Governor following cautiously in the thin man’s footsteps, and a bewildered Cedric bringing up the rear.

The group hugged the corridor’s right-hand side so they wouldn’t be visible through the opposite wall, which opened to the floor below.

A quiet hush rose through the building’s empty center space, the collected bated breath of the Government House employees waiting for the raid to commence. Cedric veered left to peek down through the slats in the hallway’s side railing.

Like most offices, theirs was a fractious workplace, particularly behind closed doors and turned backs. Feuds were often fueled by jealous speculations about who was in favor and who had fallen out.

As the Governor’s trusted aide, Cedric discreetly monitored the building’s verbal traffic. He could usually squelch the most damaging rumors before they reached the newspapers.

Over the years, he had overheard countless disgruntled discussions from hidden positions on back stairwells, inside bathroom stalls, and behind copy room doors. The complaints ranged the gamut, from perceived inequities in pay and workload to suspicions about the administration’s ethical policies a...

Revue de presse :

Praise for New York Times bestselling author Rebecca M. Hale’s Mystery in the Islands series:

Afoot on St. Croix

“Hale's novels are elaborate puzzle pieces where plots at first seem scattered and unrelated, but ultimately weave together into one surprisingly unified storyline. Complex, funny and with darker tones that share more elements with the black-comedy mysteries written by Tim Dorsey than any cozy, Afoot on St. Croix entertains with its many self-centered characters that are flawed, but all too human.”—Kings River Life Magazine

“Readers will be enchanted by the setting, intrigued by the characters and amazed by the writing in this island cozy...a wonderful blend of the Caribbean in every chapter.”—Debbie's Book Bag

Adrift on St. John

“Intriguing...fans who want something different will enjoy being Adrift on St. John.”—Genre Go Round Reviews

“A perfect story to escape into...just when you think you have everything figured out, you don't! Enjoy!!" —Escape with Dollycas

“This was an easy-flowing, narrative tale that took a different path in its storytelling...an intriguing and adventurous jaunt on a tropical island.” —Dru's Book Musings
 

À propos de cette édition

• Éditeur: Berkley
• Date d'édition: 2014
• ISBN 10: 0425252515
• ISBN 13: 9780425252512
• Reliure: Poche
• Nombre de pages: 400