Shoot Him If He Runs

32

The phone rang half a dozen times before someone picked up. “United States Embassy,” a sleepy male voice said.

“May I speak to the duty officer, please?” Holly replied.

“I’m the duty officer; my name is James Tiptree. May I have your name?”

“My name is Virginia Heller; I want to report an American citizen missing on St. Marks.”

“Have you called the police?”

“I’d rather not become involved with the police. I would much prefer it if you would speak to them.”

“What is the citizen’s name?”

“Two people: Mr. and Mrs. William Pepper. He works for one of the offshore Internet casinos on the island; I don’t know which one.”

“I know the Peppers,” Tiptree said. “The American community on the island is fairly small. Why do you think Bill and Annie are missing?”

“Bill’s sister is a friend of mine, and I promised to call him while I’m here. When I couldn’t get Bill on the phone, my friend and I went to his home. Lights were on, and food had been cooking on the stove, but the stove had been turned off. Nothing else in the house seemed amiss, but as soon as we left we saw a police car coming from the direction of Markstown, and it turned into the Peppers’ driveway.”

“Did you have any interaction with the police?”

“No, and I don’t think they noticed us.”

“What is your business on the island?”

“I’m a tourist, staying at the English Harbour Inn, with three friends.”

“I know it well.”

Holly heard a phone ring on the other end of the line.

“Please hold on; I have to answer another call.” He put her on hold for a good five minutes, then came back on the line.

“That was another acquaintance of mine in the States with the same news,” Tiptree said. “I understand your position now; I’ll contact the Markstown police and report the Peppers missing, and then I’ll call Colonel Croft at home and get him out of bed, if I have to.”

“That’s great news,” Holly said.

“I’ll call you at the inn when I know more.”

“Thank you very much,” Holly said, then hung up and turned to the others. “Why don’t we take our drinks out onto the patio?” she said. “It’s a lovely evening.”

They all got up, trooped outside and sat down. “That was a guy named James Tiptree; Lance called him while he was on the phone with me, so the wheels are turning. Tiptree said he’d get Colonel Croft out of bed, if necessary.”

Bill Pepper sat on a hard, straight-backed chair in a room furnished only with a desk and two chairs at the Markstown police station. He had been taken from a cell and placed there nearly an hour before, then left alone. He resisted the temptation to go through the drawers of the desk. The chair was extremely uncomfortable, and he frequently stood up and stretched, but he always sat down again. He had been trained to assume that when being detained anywhere in the world, he would be watched and listened in on.

The door opened and a man in a business suit, but no necktie, walked into the room and sat down. He placed a file folder on the desk, opened it and read from it for several minutes before he spoke. “I am Colonel Croft, of the home secretary’s office,” he said, finally, in his slightly French accent.

“Of course, Colonel,” Pepper said pleasantly. “Everyone knows who you are. How do you do?”

“I do very well, thank you, which is more than I can say for you, Mr. Pepper. You have committed very serious crimes against the people of St. Marks.”

“If you’re referring to the several speeding tickets I’ve been given over the past year, I assure you they have all been paid, and I have adjusted my driving habits so that I am always within the speed limits.”

“You know very well what I am referring to,” Croft said.

“I’m afraid I don’t, Colonel. Where is my wife? May I see her?”

“I haven’t decided,” Croft said.

“I assure you my wife is entirely a law-abiding resident of St. Marks.”

“Does your wife have computer skills, too, Mr. Pepper?”

“She can just barely handle e-mail, I’m afraid.”

“But you-you are an absolute whiz with computers, aren’t you?”

“I’m the chief technology officer for the casino,” Pepper replied. “Computers are an important part of my job.”

“Describe your duties, please.”

“As chief technology officer, I write or supervise the writing of computer software which allows people all over the world to participate in online gaming, thus injecting many millions in tax dollars into the economy of St. Marks. May I call my boss, the chief executive officer of my company, please?”

“No, you may not,” Croft replied. “What is your interest in Mr. Pemberton and Mr. Weatherby and Mr. Robertson?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not acquainted with anyone of those names.”

“Then why were you attempting to obtain information about them from the computers at the Department of the Interior?”

“Colonel, it is a legitimate part of my work to obtain information about clients and prospective clients, but the only reason I would have to obtain any information at all about anyone would be a perfectly normal check of employment and credit records, before establishing a line of credit for a new customer. In the event that the applicant was a St. Marks citizen or resident, one of my staff would seek confirmation of the contents of the credit application. I expect that must be what you are referring to.”

“And would that search for information include attempting to download applications for permission to purchase a residence on St. Marks?”

“It might. Since the credit bureau on St. Marks is fairly limited in its operation, my staff might look for other sources to confirm the address and credit-worthiness of an applicant. The ownership of property is always desirable when we are extending credit to a new customer.”

“And do you have signed applications for credit from those three gentlemen?”

“All our transactions with our customers and with applicants are conducted online, so we don’t have paper records.”

“But you could produce printouts of online applications from Mr. Pemberton and Mr. Weatherby?”

“I’m afraid that our company policies prevent the disclosure of any information about any of our customers or applicants, Colonel. The home office was made aware of our policies and procedures when our business was first established in St. Marks, and so were the home secretary and, of course, the prime minister. Sir Winston takes a very great interest in companies wishing to do business on St. Marks.” Pepper was aware that both of these gentlemen took very great bribes, as well.

“Mr. Pepper, do you see the door immediately to your right?”

Pepper looked and found the door. “Yes, Colonel.”

“Go and open the door and look into the next room.”

“As you wish, Colonel.” Pepper got up, walked to the door and opened it. A trickle of fear ran down his bowels. The room was smaller than the office in which he had been sitting, but it was better equipped; it contained a heavy wooden chair bolted to the floor and equipped with thick leather straps for restricting the movement of whoever might sit in it.

Next to the chair was a large table on which were arrayed a variety of knives, pliers and other hardware that might be used for other than their original purpose.

On the other side of the chair, resting on two sawhorses, was a freshly constructed wooden coffin, with its lid lying on the floor next to it.

Pepper closed the door and returned to his chair.

“Now,” Colonel Croft said, “let us begin again.”