Lone Wolf by David Archer Page A

endless hot water run over him. When he felt that it was actually raising his body temperature slightly, he turned the temperature down and let it cool him, then got out and toweled off. He walked naked out of the bathroom, and wasn't surprised to find Sarah already in his bed, sound asleep. He slid under the covers as quietly as he could, and rolled onto his side. A moment later, he felt her spoon herself against him, and then he relaxed and let himself drift off.

FOUR
     
    M oose, Neil and Decker were already seated in the restaurant when Noah and Sarah arrived, both of them freshly showered. Neil stifled a grin, but wiggled his eyebrows at Sarah, who flipped him the bird.
    “Don't start with me, Neil,” she said, picking up a menu. “Anybody got any clue what's edible here?”
    “They got a rotisserie chicken with vegetables, that's what I'm going for,” Moose said. He leaned over and pointed at a line on her menu. “It's this one, Yassa poulet . Hopefully, they can't do any harm to chicken.”
    “I'm with you,” she said. “Chicken for me. Oh, look, they got Coke!”
    “We've all decided on the chicken,” Decker said, grinning at Noah. “Are you gonna be the odd man out?”
    “Not me, chicken sounds great.” He looked around. “Do we have a waitress?”
    “Waiter,” Neil said. “Apparently, women don't work in restaurants here. All I've seen are men.”
    “Okay, then where's the waiter?” Noah asked. Almost as if his question had signaled it, a waiter appeared and approached the table. The orders were taken, and they were surprised at how quickly the food arrived.
    “Talk about fast food,” Neil said. “They must have a lot of this cooking back there. And did any of you know we were each getting a whole chicken? I figured it would be, you know, shredded or something.”
    “You're complaining?” Sarah asked. “You forget, Neil, I've seen how you eat.”
    “Complaining? I'm not complaining. But if any of you can't finish your chicken, just let me know. And I don't know what these vegetables are, but they're delicious.”
    They ate casually, without rushing, and were finished well before eight o'clock. They each went to their rooms to get their bags, and met again in the lobby a few moments later. Two taxis took them to the airport, and they entered the private flight area to find a man standing there holding a sign that read “Alexander Colson.”
    Noah stepped up to him. “I'm Colson,” he said.
    The man was wearing what looked like a pilot's uniform, and he broke into a smile. “Good on yer, mate,” he said, in an obviously Australian accent. “We're all set to fly, soon's we get you all on board!”
    “Then just lead the way,” Noah said. The man tossed his cardboard sign into the nearest trashcan as he led them through the building and out onto the tarmac. A Gulfstream IV sat awaiting them, and they all climbed aboard while another man took their bags and stowed them in the luggage compartment.
    The airplane had only a dozen seats, each of which was as big as a comfortable easy chair and reclined so that the passengers could lie back and go to sleep. Everyone settled in as the pilot closed the doors, and then they heard the engines start up. The plane turned around and began to taxi toward the runway, and only a few moments later, they were in the air and on the way to England.
    The flight was easy, the seats comfortable. Decker and Neil actually took naps, but Moose, Sarah and Noah were wide awake. Sarah's seat faced backward, just in front of Noah's, while Moose was in the seat across the aisle. It made it easy for the three of them to talk.
    “So, is there any particular plan when we get to England?” Moose asked.
    “I'll have to improvise a bit, but the basic plan is simple. We're going to grab Mister Pendergrast and shake him the way a dog would shake a snake, until he tells us everything he possibly can. If he makes me happy, he might even live through it.” Noah winked at