Violetta said, ‘She’ll learn.’

  Alexis said, ‘Learn what?’

  ‘Looks mean nothing,’ Slater said. ‘If we didn’t go after Wayne, this man would have held his ankles down while another guy took a blowtorch to his lower half. We caught them in the act. They would have burned him to death if we weren’t around to stop it.’

  Alexis looked like she might be sick.

  Slater said, ‘Go in the house. You’re not ready to see this.’

  Her face turned to steel. ‘Will…’

  ‘Please,’ Slater said. ‘You can protest later. Right now I need to talk to this guy and I can’t have you here. Okay?’

  She gave him the finger, turned and went inside.

  Violetta said, ‘That was unnecessary.’

  ‘I know, right?’ Slater said. ‘What a rude gesture.’

  ‘You know what I’m talking about.’

  Slater threw the guy across the porch so he landed in a heap in one of the patio chairs. Now close to ten in the morning, the sun speared diagonally undercover, shining on the crusted blood. He closed his eyes to stop himself being blinded.

  Slater said, ‘You want her to see this?’

  Violetta said, ‘She’s killed someone already.’

  ‘So because she lost a piece of her soul we should just throw away the whole thing?’

  Violetta looked at him for a long time. ‘You really think that?’

  Slater sighed. ‘I don’t know what I think. I just know I’m not going to like this.’

  ‘Like what?’ the European guy said, cracking one eyelid open.

  ‘Look who’s awake,’ Slater said. ‘This, buddy.’

  He stomped a boot heel down on the guy’s shin, coming within ounces of pressure of snapping the bone clean in two. But he held back at the last beat, making it incredibly painful instead of crippling.

  The guy made to scream but King clamped a hand down on his mouth, saving it from reaching the neighbours’ earshot.

  Slater said, ‘I really don’t have time to play around today, sir. So this is going to be very simple. You’re going to tell us how to get to Dylan Walcott or the next stomp is going to be twice as hard as that and you won’t have any lower leg left to walk out of here. Comprendé?’

  King’s hand stayed firm on the guy’s mouth. His eyes were wide, and under the crusted blood his face was paler than pale. He mumbled something into King’s palm.

  ‘Don’t speak,’ Slater said. ‘Just nod.’

  The guy nodded.

  Slater said, ‘My friend takes his hand away and I hear anything other than Dylan Walcott’s location, well…’

  He feigned a second stomp.

  Brought his boot to a halt in mid-air inches short of the guy’s shin.

  The guy squealed into King’s palm.

  Slater looked over at Violetta. ‘You feel sorry for him?’

  Violetta didn’t take her eyes off the hostage. Her pale blue irises glowed. She said, ‘Was that the truth about the blowtorch?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Not even slightly exaggerated?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then the answer is no. Continue.’

  ‘Would Alexis feel sorry for him?’

  ‘You’ve made your point.’

  Slater nodded to King.

  King took his hand away.

  The guy sat forward, and with his thin lips working at warp speed, said, ‘I swear on my fucking life I don’t know where Dylan Walcott is. He wouldn’t tell a grunt like me. He’s got about ten different offices on the island and he floats between them with a security cohort like he’s the POTUS. I work for Vince Ricci. He’s a debt collector here in Freeport. Vince works for Walcott. So I can give you Vince and he’ll give you Walcott. Trust me on that.’

  Slater thought about it. ‘It’ll do.’

  Violetta said, ‘You sure he’s telling the truth?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  King nodded his approval too.

  ‘Where can we find Vince Ricci?’ Slater said.

  The guy panted for breath. ‘He’ll be at the tiki hut today. Collecting debts.’

  ‘Collecting from who?’

  ‘Specifically or in general?’

  ‘First, in general,’ Slater said. ‘Why’s a business magnate like Walcott got debts to collect from civilians in the first place?’

  ‘He’s a loan shark, man,’ the guy said. ‘He was doing it as a side gig to pass the time until Hurricane Dorian hit. Then there were thousands of people who needed money real quick, so he gave it out to everyone who asked. They all signed illegitimate contracts but no one read the fine print because they were focused on rebuilding their homes and their lives. Now everyone’s drowning in the interest payments and Walcott’s got his goons roughing certain people up, making examples out of them, making sure he collects every penny. He’s a scumbag, man. I hate working for him.’

  King rolled his eyes. ‘Sure you do.’

  ‘Okay,’ Slater said, anger rippling through him at the depravity. ‘Now be specific.’

  ‘There’s an old dude who works at the tiki hut. Vince doesn’t like him. He’s made it his sole duty in life to harass him. I don’t know why — Walcott doesn’t seem to want to touch the old guy with a ten foot pole.’

  ‘This old guy got a name?’

  ‘Not one I know.’

  ‘Where’s the tiki hut?’

  ‘In front of the MantaRay Bay Condominiums, on Coral Beach. Drive down there, you can’t miss it…’

  Slater said, ‘Thank you. That was altogether less violent than I thought.’

  A long pause as the guy slumped back in his seat to pontificate on how he’d ended up here.

  King lifted his gaze to Slater. ‘Now what?’

  Slater understood, and played along.

  Slater said, ‘Well, he knows where we’re staying…’

  King turned his back on the hostage, practically presenting the Glock in its holster on a silver platter. He pretended not to notice his terrible positioning.

  It didn’t take much courage.

  Live or die.

  The guy went for the gun with the same intensity he’d used to hold down Wayne’s legs. King didn’t let himself forget that mental image. This man was willing to melt the skin off an arms dealer for information and then kill him to put him out of his misery. And if they’d busted him in the midst of that attempt, what were the chances it was his first time? How long had he been torturing, mutilating, executing on this island? How many people were in the ground because of his actions?

  So the guy snatched at the Glock, and King darted out of the way, pulled the sidearm, placed it on the back of the man’s skull as he splayed to the porch and pulled the trigger.

  No more hostage.

  Violetta tried not to show her shock, but her eyes froze up all the same.

  Then they turned with scorn to King. ‘You moron…’

  King said, ‘You saw what he was doing. That was self-defence.’

  Slater said, ‘You were scared for your life.’

  ‘Exactly right.’

  Violetta snorted with derision and stormed inside.

  King and Slater got to work hiding the body.

  22

  They gave it a few hours before they went for a midday meal at the tiki hut.

  There was work to do, and as much as they hated to admit it, King and Slater needed to decompress.

  After they made the body disappear — temporarily, at least — they unpacked their bags and hid the arsenal Wayne had delivered in easy-to-access places around the bungalow. It was their first chance getting a look at the interior, and Slater had to wonder how much the owner had charged per night. The furniture was rustic and exotic, the materials incomprehensibly pricey, and everything was constructed with a craftsman’s touch and arranged in the open-plan bungalow with an interior designer’s eye for detail. The villa had two bedrooms, which suited them just fine, and the main space was enormous, comprising an all-in-one kitchen, dining room and lounge area running down to the waterfront views through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

  Sunlight streamed in, bathing everything yellow.

  You couldn’t turn in any direction without noticing the white sand out of the corner of your eye, tantalisingly close.

  Then there was the turquoise water beyond.

  Paradise.

  Making herself a coffee at the kitchen island, Alexis said, ‘What happened to that man?’

  King said, ‘He went for my gun. I had no choice.’

  Violetta came out of the bedroom, proving she was within earshot. ‘You had a choice.’

  King cocked his head. ‘Are we suddenly benevolent? You think we’re going to get anywhere on this island without standing up for ourselves?’

  Violetta shook hers. ‘That’s not the point. An ordinary operation, go for your life. This isn’t anything yet. We know nothing, besides the fact that a guy named Dylan Walcott owns a bunch of banks and casinos and is making a symbiotic relationship out of them. Sure, now you know he’s loan sharking, too, but it’s all hearsay. We’ve proven nothing.’

  Sitting with rounded shoulders in the corner of the room, Slater looked up. ‘Did you forget the part about the blowtorch?’

  Violetta threw her hands up. ‘Maybe Wayne’s worse than they are. We don’t know anything. I’m all for doing what’s necessary but not until we have actual knowledge of what’s taking place. I mean, am I going insane by caring about this? Are we on the same page at all, or am I just pissing in the wind?’

  King said, ‘I see no problem with what we’ve done so far.’

  Slater said, ‘No, she’s right.’

  ‘She is?’

  ‘You know how careful we have to be,’ Slater said. ‘We make one wrong call and suddenly we’ve done something unforgivable. So, yeah, she’s absolutely right. We need more info. I suggest we dial back the aggressiveness until we at least talk to this Vince guy. Are we all in agreement?’

  Violetta said, ‘Yes.’

  Alexis said, ‘Yes.’

  King took a moment, but he nodded. He went to Violetta and put an arm around her. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘I know.’

  He kissed the top of her head.

  Alexis said, ‘When are we going to find Vince?’

  ‘You’re not,’ Slater said. ‘King and I are.’

  Alexis paused. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because that’s the way it is.’

  ‘Isn’t it a better cover story if the four of us go for lunch together?’

  ‘We don’t need a cover story,’ Slater said. ‘No one has any idea we’re here. The three guys working for Dylan Walcott who had any sort of suspicion have just vanished off the face of the earth.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Alexis said. ‘You’re talking to me about having just killed three men, and I’m fine with it. So why are you still sheltering me from the rest of it?’

  ‘It’s not that complicated,’ King said, butting in. ‘Violetta’s staying here to dive deeper into anything she can find on Walcott. So if you came with us you’d only slow us down. Okay?’

  Alexis nodded, then shot a look at Slater. ‘See? That’s all I wanted. Honesty.’

  Slater said, ‘I thought that went without saying.’

  ‘That I should go where Violetta goes?’

  ‘That you slow us down.’

  Silence.

  Slater said, ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘No,’ Alexis said. ‘It’s the truth. I’m not some emotional girlfriend. It’d just be arrogant to assume I can keep up with you two when you’ve been doing it for fifteen years longer than I have.’

  King paused to gauge the atmosphere, then raised his eyebrows and said, ‘I swear that was heading towards a fight. Well done to you both.’

  Slater said, ‘That’s why I love her.’

  Alexis said, ‘At least I can dish it out as well as I can take it.’

  Slater winked at her, highlighting the innuendo, and she shook her head and turned away in embarrassment.

  King lowered his ridiculous floral shirt over the Glock in its holster at his waist and gave himself the once-over. Then he said, ‘Lunch?’

  Slater said, ‘Lunch.’

  He turned to Violetta and muttered, ‘You’re good here?’

  She was focused on her laptop screen, scrolling through financial documents. She managed a disinterested nod.

  ‘You know how attractive you are when you’re in the zone?’ he said.

  She rolled her eyes and took her attention off the screen. ‘Good luck out there. Try to keep the body count low.’

  ‘Of course.’

  She swept her hair back, stood up to her tallest and kissed him with a gentle touch.

  ‘I love you,’ she breathed.

  ‘You too.’

  He turned away from her just in time to see Slater and Alexis stepping out of a warm embrace.

  All was well for the moment.

  King and Slater made for the door and stepped out into the late morning heat.

  23

  It was a fifteen minute walk to Coral Beach, and a perfect chance to determine whether anything seemed amiss.

  All they had to do was walk down to the sand, turn right, and make a beeline west across the south shore of the island. It didn’t take them long to realise navigation would be fairly simple during their time on Grand Bahama. The sun beat down relentlessly, and each of them broke a light sweat, but that was just a byproduct of being as fit as they were. They thought nothing of it.

  No one looked at them twice out of maliciousness. A scattering of pasty pudgy tourists didn’t hide their stares, but their looks were harmless. They were mostly in disbelief at how two people could be in such incredible shape and not take hundreds of photos of one another to upload to social media. Was it possible to be that physically fit and not try to monetise it online?

  Apparently so.

  Slater spotted the tiki hut first. It was set back off the beach itself, in a natural clearing next to a parking lot that someone had scattered sand through to make it seem like part of the shoreline. There was something resembling a midday rush, but Slater got the sense that outside of lunch and dinner peak hours the hut was dead. There weren’t many people in front of it on Coral Beach, which at least made the views better.

  As they got closer to the short flight of steps in front of the entrance, they both spotted the old man waiting tables, moving with practiced poise from customer to customer, a warm smile on his face. He had kind eyes and deep wrinkles accentuated by decades of sun exposure. He was slightly stooped, frail in his ever-increasing old age, but he still beamed ear to ear when he served someone. He was a man that put his all into his job, no matter how much it might seem to be beneath him.

  Slater admired it straight away.

  And it only made him angry that the harmless old fellow was caught up in all this ugliness.

  He took the steps two at a time and signalled to the old guy.

  The man was clearing a table of empty plates and drained cocktail glasses. ‘Be with you in a moment, sirs.’

  Slater nodded his appreciation.

  The old man’s accent was British. It was strong, hadn’t faded at all even though it seemed he’d been living in the Bahamas for years.

  Seconds later, he was there. He was tired from a long and arduous shift, but that ever-present kindness in his eyes kept it at bay. ‘Two for lunch?’

  King said, ‘Yes, thank you. We’re hungry.’

  ‘You’ve come to the right place.’

  He led them to a spare table one row in from the outer perimeter, just shy of overlooking the water from beside the hut’s thatched waist-high wall. They pulled up chairs and spent a long minute pretending to peruse the menu before they looked around.

  One by one, they noticed Vince Ricci sitting alone in the corner.

  It couldn’t be anyone else. He had eyes like a beady little rodent and he wasn’t even pretending to look accommodating. His hair was thick and wet with hair gel but he kept it short so he could sweep it up off his forehead, making it stand on end. Despite the heat he wore a long-sleeved button-up shirt and tight jeans. Both items clung to his small chubby frame as if he didn’t realise that he wasn’t showing off anything impressive. Slater guessed the loan shark had a bit of spare strength — his hands looked big, and he wasn’t entirely unathletic, but he was a lazy man, failing to take advantage of genetic gifts and letting a beer gut develop over his waistband.

  Slater made sure to lower his voice before he said, ‘I don’t like him.’

  King said, ‘Were you ever going to?’

  ‘He’s a slimy rat. You think he needs to be here? You think that old guy needs to be in any way intimidated? What are the chances that particular debtor takes off and is never seen again? Looks like he’s been living here for most of his life. And that’s not even addressing the main problem, which is that these monsters are exploiting people at their most vulnerable, when they’re rebuilding out of the ashes. There’s no lower category of human being.’

  ‘Not most of his life,’ King said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You said that old guy’s been here most of his life. You heard the accent. He’s British.’

  ‘Still…’

  ‘So we’ve established you’re not a fan of this loan shark,’ King said. ‘Now what do you want to do about it?’

  Violetta’s words rang in the back of Slater’s head, but somehow he couldn’t listen to them. ‘I think I’m just going to stare at him.’

  ‘You think that’s wise?’

  ‘It’ll prove what sort of a man he is,’ Slater said. ‘We’re a fair bit bigger than he is. Will he confront us or will he run?’

  Slater swivelled his head and proceeded to death-stare Vince Ricci like the man owed him money himself.

  It didn’t take long for Vince to notice.

  He pretended he couldn’t tell for a long ten seconds, which proved to Slater exactly what sort of man he was, then swivelled his own head like one of those plastic clowns in a circus game and met Slater’s gaze.

  Right then, the old waiter approached. ‘Sir?’

  Slater didn’t look away. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Is everything okay?’