Pursuit of Honor

CHAPTER 63

NASSAU, BAHAMAS

THE transfer in Miami was easy. Hakim got in line at the gate and was given his seat assignment for the flight over to the island. He didn’t get first class this time because there was no first class. The plane was a turboprop operated by American Eagle. The only real moment of stress came on the other end when they landed at Lynden Pindling International Airport. When clearing customs he lied on his form and said that he would be staying at the megaresort Atlantis. He planned on going nowhere near the place and grew worried as the customs agent punched in his name and allowed his eyes to linger on his computer screen for what seemed an unusual amount of time. He had used the passport on other occasions, but this would be his last. When Michael Andros didn’t show up for his return flight on Monday morning the passport would be flagged, but by then Hakim planned on being at least a few hundred miles south of the current location.

The man gave him the proper stamps, and he went out front to catch a taxi. He was hyperalert now. Too alert. Behind every pair of sunglasses he saw a potential spy watching his every move. He decided he needed a good long sleep in a warm bed. Hakim directed the driver to take him to Princess Margaret Hospital. The drive through town was uneventful, but then again he couldn’t turn around to see if anyone was following them. The driver asked him if he wanted to go to the emergency room or the main entrance. Hakim told him the main door.

He paid the man in American dollars and gave him a five-dollar tip. He spent five minutes walking through the hospital, his suitcase trailing behind him. At the first garbage can he found he ditched the cotton balls. When he got to the emergency area he leaned his cane against a chair and exited the building. Across the street he found a string of cabs. He carefully slid into the backseat of the first one and asked the driver to take him to the Towne Hotel. Hakim had stayed there before. It was nothing special, in fact it was pretty down-market, but it would do for one afternoon. The drive took just a few minutes. When Hakim got out he looked across the street and laughed at the irony. The entire block was dominated by the American Embassy.

The clerk behind the desk was a young man. Hakim pulled out a wad of cash and said, “A room for one night, please.”

“Just you, Mr. . . . ? ”

“Smith,” Hakim said pleasantly as he slid a hundred-dollar bill across the counter.

The clerk glanced toward the restaurant to see if anyone was watching and then casually pulled the bill toward him and placed a stack of envelopes on top of it. “Will you be paying cash, Mr. Smith?”

“Yes.”

The clerk quoted him the rate and then added the taxes. All told it came to a little less than ninety dollars per night. Hakim gave him another hundred and told him to keep it. He took the key and moved down the hall toward his room, smiling to himself. He couldn’t wait to feel the sand on his feet, but first he had to make a phone call and ask for a favor. When he reached the room he left the suitcase by the door and sat on the edge of the bed. He stared at the phone for a second and made sure he remembered the number. His eyes danced over the keys and then he picked up the handset and dialed his friend’s number.

“Hello,” the male voice on the other end said.

“Christian,” Hakim said in a happy voice that concealed his nerves. “It’s Adam. How are you?” He listened intently for even the slightest sign of nerves from the other man.

“Adam! I was wondering when you would pop up. I received some very nice deposits for your account this week. Quite a bit more than you told me.”

“Yes,” Hakim said, thinking of the two pallets of drugs. “My importer decided to double their order at the last minute.”

“That’s a lot of coffee.”

“Yes.” Hakim thought he sounded normal and was apparently still buying his story that he was a coffee bean importer. “Even during a recession people need their caffeine.”

“I know. I couldn’t live without it. At any rate, I must thank you. My boss is very happy with your deposits. You are making me look very good. Now I suppose you will want to move it.”

“Not before I give you the chance to try to sell me some investments.”

“Good. Are you free for dinner?”

“Possibly . . .” Hakim honestly wasn’t sure. He needed to put something on the table so he didn’t surprise Christian too much when they met. “I was in a car accident and am not feeling 100 percent.”

“Oh, my gosh . . . I’m sorry to hear that. How serious?”

“Some broken ribs, but mostly bruises.”

“Can I help? Are you on the island? Do you need to stay at my place?”

“I am. I just arrived. I planned on getting here yesterday, but wasn’t well enough to travel.”

“What can I do to help?”

“Well . . . I need to get something out of my safety deposit box. I’m leaving tomorrow, and I remember when I purchased the box you told me that for special clients access to the box could be arranged on weekends as well.”

“Absolutely! You are one of my best clients. When would you like to access your deposit box?”

“Would an hour from now work?”

“Absolutely! And I hope you will allow me to buy you a drink. And we need to get our fishing trip planned. Remember . . . you promised me.”

“We will,” Hakim said with a laugh. “Don’t worry. I will see you in an hour.” Hakim hung up the phone with the confidence that his cover was secure. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV. He flipped through the channels until he found CNN and then he froze. Plastered across the screen were two passport photos that Hakim instantly recognized. They were headshots that he had had Karim take while he was training the men in the jungle near Ciudad del Este. Karim then emailed him the photos and Hakim used them to purchase two fake passports, one for Karim and the other for Ahmed. They were the passports that he had placed in the backpacks and had stashed in the barn back in Iowa. The same barn that Karim was convinced had been burned to the ground.