man happy.
If he located Firth, Sarge would apprehend him. But first he had to find Amy.
Chapter Five
Stuart sat in the jeep next to stinky, sweaty Hadi Salim. He blew out a huge gust of air as he stared up at the dark motel room. The American woman—Col had said her name was Amy—was still in there. They thought it was his ex-wife. He’d seen the grainy photograph. I should have been so lucky.
“So you took that photo on your cell, I mean your mobile, and forwarded it to Col?”
Hadi nodded and took a swig from a water bottle.
“She was staying at the Wellington Hotel?” Stuart asked.
Hadi nodded again.
Stuart could hardly believe his damn bad luck. He’d arrived on Braxton Island, showered, unpacked, and was sipping his first cocktail when Col burst into his suite, enraged, shaking his mobile phone at him. A photo of an orange-haired bitch with short spiky hair, that looked vaguely like Amy Helm, grinned back at them.
Col had screamed at him like a hysterical woman. “She’s your bloody problem,” he’d said. “I don’t want her on this island. You’ll have the friggin’ Aussie Federal Police following her and within a week my business will be in the crapper. Or we’ll both be dead.”
Stuart had finally calmed Col down, realizing his old friend had sunk deeper and deeper into his cocaine habit. An hour or two later, they’d drawn up a plan together. Hadi would fly to Cairns. Stuart would go back to the mainland, and the two would join forces. They’d have access to one of Col’s cars. They’d find out where the woman was staying and figure out if it was his ex-wife, or some good looking skinny bitch with the same name. Then they’d take it from there.
“You sure she’s inside?” Stuart asked.
“Praises be to Allah…she’s in there.”
Stuart frowned. “I mean she could have slipped out.”
“Hardly likely, old chap.” Hadi shook his head, lit up a cigarette and blew the smoke out the open window. “I know for certain that is her jeep. I pulled some strings at the car rental agency. It was rented to Amy Helm, an American tourist.”
It was well past eight and not quite dark yet, still hot, and Stuart was tired. Amy would never drive a bright yellow jeep. He was sure of that. But then again she wouldn’t have spiky orange hair either. He needed a hamburger, and the aromas from the beer garden next door wreaked havoc with his senses. His belly grumbled. “Want to take turns, get a bite to eat?”
Hadi scratched at his chin. “That would be risky. Col said you have to I.D. her. I wouldn’t cross him. I’m assigned here until at least ten o’clock.”
“Then what?”
“Well, that would mean she was in for the night. We’d start again early in the morning. I doubt a young lady of her background would go out on the town alone.”
“What do you do at ten?”
Hadi took a drag on the cigarette and leaned out the window, puffing the offending, smelly smoke into the night air. “Col wants me to go down the strip a mile or so and stake out a couple of men in another motel. We believe they’re connected in some way.”
“You’ll sleep all night in the car?” Stuart asked.
Hadi nodded.
“What do I do?”
A light came on upstairs and Stuart sat forward. Hadi ground out the cigarette, and indicated Stuart should slide down in the seat, and he did the same.
“Okay, bird, what have we got?” Hadi raised a scope. “This is an Owl Night Aero. I call it ‘bird.’ Praises be to Allah…and the rich men who can afford such things. At least it is a starry night with little cloud cover and I’ll get a good look.”
There were shadowy movements behind the drapes.
“Come on, baby,” Hadi murmured. “You’ve slept all afternoon. You know you’re hungry. There’s a ton of places along the strip. Ooooh, yes, praises be to Allah…come out and play.”
Stuart bunched his fist. One more “Praises be” and Hadi was getting it. Then he remembered the Glock in the glove
If he located Firth, Sarge would apprehend him. But first he had to find Amy.
Chapter Five
Stuart sat in the jeep next to stinky, sweaty Hadi Salim. He blew out a huge gust of air as he stared up at the dark motel room. The American woman—Col had said her name was Amy—was still in there. They thought it was his ex-wife. He’d seen the grainy photograph. I should have been so lucky.
“So you took that photo on your cell, I mean your mobile, and forwarded it to Col?”
Hadi nodded and took a swig from a water bottle.
“She was staying at the Wellington Hotel?” Stuart asked.
Hadi nodded again.
Stuart could hardly believe his damn bad luck. He’d arrived on Braxton Island, showered, unpacked, and was sipping his first cocktail when Col burst into his suite, enraged, shaking his mobile phone at him. A photo of an orange-haired bitch with short spiky hair, that looked vaguely like Amy Helm, grinned back at them.
Col had screamed at him like a hysterical woman. “She’s your bloody problem,” he’d said. “I don’t want her on this island. You’ll have the friggin’ Aussie Federal Police following her and within a week my business will be in the crapper. Or we’ll both be dead.”
Stuart had finally calmed Col down, realizing his old friend had sunk deeper and deeper into his cocaine habit. An hour or two later, they’d drawn up a plan together. Hadi would fly to Cairns. Stuart would go back to the mainland, and the two would join forces. They’d have access to one of Col’s cars. They’d find out where the woman was staying and figure out if it was his ex-wife, or some good looking skinny bitch with the same name. Then they’d take it from there.
“You sure she’s inside?” Stuart asked.
“Praises be to Allah…she’s in there.”
Stuart frowned. “I mean she could have slipped out.”
“Hardly likely, old chap.” Hadi shook his head, lit up a cigarette and blew the smoke out the open window. “I know for certain that is her jeep. I pulled some strings at the car rental agency. It was rented to Amy Helm, an American tourist.”
It was well past eight and not quite dark yet, still hot, and Stuart was tired. Amy would never drive a bright yellow jeep. He was sure of that. But then again she wouldn’t have spiky orange hair either. He needed a hamburger, and the aromas from the beer garden next door wreaked havoc with his senses. His belly grumbled. “Want to take turns, get a bite to eat?”
Hadi scratched at his chin. “That would be risky. Col said you have to I.D. her. I wouldn’t cross him. I’m assigned here until at least ten o’clock.”
“Then what?”
“Well, that would mean she was in for the night. We’d start again early in the morning. I doubt a young lady of her background would go out on the town alone.”
“What do you do at ten?”
Hadi took a drag on the cigarette and leaned out the window, puffing the offending, smelly smoke into the night air. “Col wants me to go down the strip a mile or so and stake out a couple of men in another motel. We believe they’re connected in some way.”
“You’ll sleep all night in the car?” Stuart asked.
Hadi nodded.
“What do I do?”
A light came on upstairs and Stuart sat forward. Hadi ground out the cigarette, and indicated Stuart should slide down in the seat, and he did the same.
“Okay, bird, what have we got?” Hadi raised a scope. “This is an Owl Night Aero. I call it ‘bird.’ Praises be to Allah…and the rich men who can afford such things. At least it is a starry night with little cloud cover and I’ll get a good look.”
There were shadowy movements behind the drapes.
“Come on, baby,” Hadi murmured. “You’ve slept all afternoon. You know you’re hungry. There’s a ton of places along the strip. Ooooh, yes, praises be to Allah…come out and play.”
Stuart bunched his fist. One more “Praises be” and Hadi was getting it. Then he remembered the Glock in the glove
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