Christopher Moore - Island of the Sequined Love Nun

“Don’t worry,” he said, “Nomura is on his way back with the Lear. We’ll be long gone before anyone can get here.”

“How did he do it?” Beth’s voice was weak now, trailing off at the end.

“I don’t know. I’m surprised he’s even alive. We’ll be fine. We have plenty of money. Not as much as we’d hoped, but if we’re careful…”

“He turned them against me,” she said. “My people…” She didn’t finish.

Sebastian stroked her hair. The clinic door opened and Mato came inside carrying his Uzi. “Phone,” he said.

“No,” Sebastian said. “I’ve already called Japan. The Lear is on its way. Now give us some privacy.”

Mato threw the bolt on the Uzi and said something in Japanese. Sebastian didn’t move. Mato dug the barrel of the gun into the doctor’s ribs. “Phone,” he said.

Sebastian picked up the receiver that was connected to the satellite and handed it over.

“Out,” Mato said.

Sebastian helped Beth to her feet. “Come on. We have to do as he says.”

Beth let him lift her to her feet, then she pointed a finger at Mato. “You can kiss your Christmas bonus good-bye, ninja boy. That’s it.”

Sebastian dragged her through the door and helped her across the com-pound to her bungalow. Inside he lay her on the bed. Getting her out of the surgical greens was like trying to undress a rag doll. She babbled inco-herently the whole time, but did not fight him. When he turned to leave the room, two of the guards were standing in the doorway grinning. One of them motioned for him to leave the room. The other stared hungrily at Beth.

“No,” Sebastian said. He stepped into the doorway and pushed aside the barrels of their weapons. They stepped back in unison and raised the Uzis. Sebastian stepped toward them. They took another step back. He was a full foot taller than either of them.

“Get out,” he said and he took another step. They stepped back. “Out. Get out. Or do you want to lose all your fingers?” He’d found the magic words. The people they worked for were notorious for taking the finger joints of those who disobeyed. The guards looked at each other, then backed out the door that led into the compound. One of them hurled a curse in Japanese as he went. Behind them Sebastian saw Mato coming out of the clinic. He marched right for Beth’s bungalow, almost stomping the ground as he walked, his jaw clenched and his weapon held before him. Sebastian closed the door, locked it, and ran to the bedroom.

“Come on, Beth. Get up. We’ve got to get out of here.” She was still conscious, but had no coordination. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, then went out the french doors onto the lanai and down the steps to the beach.

The warm water seemed to revive her somewhat and he managed to get her to kick as together they made the swim around the minefield.

The fighters veered off after an hour and the 747 was picked up by a B-52 that stayed on them until they were in fighter range of the Americas, where they were joined by two F-16s. Out of Panama, Tuck guessed. What exactly did they think they were going to accomplish? A 747 wasn’t the kind of plane you ditch in the jungle and make your escape. In fact, Tuck didn’t think that any plane was that kind of plane. He certainly wasn’t going to ditch in the jungle or in the water for that matter. Despite his misgivings, they were going to make it to Costa Rica with plenty of fuel. They were well below the plane’s passenger capacity and they carried almost no baggage and no commissary supplies. The only worry he had now was what would happen to him when they got on the ground. It was true, Costa Rica had no extradition treaty with the United States, but what he had done was an act of international terrorism. He might have done better to head back to Hawaii and take his chances with the FBI rather than risk rotting away in a Central American jail. Still, something told him that this was where he should be going. He didn’t know why, really, he had picked Costa Rica, any more than he knew why he had stolen a plane and gone back to Alualu in the first place.

As he started his descent for Palmar Airport on the coast, the B-52 veered off to the north and was soon out of sight. Tuck had turned the radio off hours ago, tired of hearing the same threats and commands from the milit-ary pilots. As much as he hated the idea of giving the authorities a warning, however, he turned on the radio to advise the tower at Palmar that he was coming in. A midair collision might be even worse than a Costa Rican jail. Especially with three hundred and thirty-two lives riding his soul to hell.

He called to the tower, then took off the headset and sat back and relaxed, convinced that for once in his life he had done the right thing. Somehow he would see to it that Sepie got half the money from the Swiss bank ac-counts. He envisioned her in a big house with one bedroom and seventy-two bathrooms with a television in every one. She’d be fine.

Malink, who had gone to the back to reassure his people, came up the steps and climbed into the flight officer’s chair. “We are going down?” he said.

“You’ll like it,” Tuck said. “The weather here is the same as Alualu. There are beaches and jungles just like home.”

They could see the coast now, extending into the distance to the north and south, the rainforest running from beaches to mountains. “This island much bigger than Alualu.”

“It’s not an island.” Tuck realized that Malink had never walked more than a mile without having to turn. “Your people will be fine.”

“Are there sharks here?”

“A lot of sharks,” Tuck said.

Malink nodded “My people will be fine.” He was quiet for a minute, then said, “Will you come with us?”

“I don’t think so, Chief. I’m going to be in a lot of trouble when we land.”

“But didn’t Vincent tell you to do this?”

“Sort of. Why?”

Malink sat back with a self-satisfied smile. “You’ll be fine.”

An alarm went off in the cockpit and Tuck scanned the instruments to see what had gone wrong. The red air collision warning lights were flashing. Tuck scanned the sky for another plane, then, seeing nothing, put on the headset to see if the Palmar tower could tell him what was going on.

Before he could key the mike someone said, “Darlin’, I’ll be whitewashed if stink don’t follow you like a manure wagon in summer.” A familiar, melodic Texas drawl, probably the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

“Mary Jean,” Tuck said. “Where are you?”

“Out your window at eleven o’clock.”

Tuck looked up and saw a brand-new pink Gulfstream running parallel to them.

“If you’d a been wearing your headset, you would have known I was here fifteen minutes ago.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Jake called me from Hawaii and told me what you was doing. We cooked up a little plan. I’m gonna get your tail out of the fire one last time, Tucker Case, but you owe me.”

“Boy, have I heard that before.”

“Do you remember the corporate address in Houston? The number?”

“Sure.”

“Well, you dial that up as a frequency and I’ll give you the skinny. It’s unladylike to broadcast your personal matters over the same frequency the tower’s using.”

They were lying in the jungle near the runway when the Learjet landed. Sebastian left Beth sleeping under some banana leaves and crawled to where he could see. The jet taxied to the gate and stopped with the engines still running. The guards came out of different buildings and converged on the plane. They’d stacked duffel bags near the gate.

“What’s going on?” Beth crawled up behind him. The effects of the Valium were obviously wearing off.