“Where?” Siegfried asked.

“In the lot by the Chickee Hut Bar,” O’Leary said. “I noticed it on my last tour.”

“Did you see any people?”

“No, sir! Not a soul.”

“There’s supposed to be a guard down there,” Siegfried said. “Did you see him?”

“Not really, sir,” O’Leary said.

“What do you mean ‘not really’?” Siegfried growled. He was fed up with incompetence.

“We don’t make it a point to pay much attention to the soldiers,” O’Leary said.

Siegfried looked off in the distance. In a further attempt to control his anger, he forced himself to notice how the moonlight reflected off the vegetation. The beauty calmed him to a degree, and he reluctantly admitted that he didn’t pay much attention to the soldiers, either. Rather than serving any truly utilitarian purpose, they were just there; one of the costs of doing business with the Equatoguinean government. But why would Kevin’s car be at the Chickee Hut Bar? Then it dawned on him.

“Cameron, was it determined how the Americans got into town?” Siegfried asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Cameron said.

“Was a boat searched for?” Siegfried asked.

Cameron looked at O’Leary, who reluctantly replied. “I didn’t know anything about looking for a boat.”

“What about when you relieved Hansen at eleven?” Cameron asked. “When he briefed you, did he mention he’d looked for a boat?”

“Not a word, sir,” O’Leary said.

Cameron swallowed. He turned to Siegfried. “I’ll just have to follow up on this and get back to you later.”

“In other words, no one looked for a goddamn boat!” Siegfried snapped. “This is a comedy around here, but I’m not laughing.”

“I gave specific orders for a search for a boat,” Cameron said.

“Obviously, orders are not enough, you lunkhead,” Siegfried spat. “You are supposed to be in charge. You are responsible.”

Siegfried closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He’d lost both groups. All he could do at this point was have the colonel call the army post in Acalayong in the unlikely event the escapees might land there. But Siegfried was far from optimistic. He knew that if the tables were turned and he’d been the one fleeing, he’d go to Gabon.

All of a sudden, Siegfried’s eyes popped open. Another thought occurred to him: a more worrisome thought.

“Is there a guard out at Isla Francesca?” he asked.

“No, sir. None was requested.”

“What about at the bridge on the mainland?” Siegfried persisted.

“There was until you ordered it removed,” Cameron said.

“Then, we’re going right now,” Siegfried said. He started for Cameron’s car. As he did so, three vehicles sped down the street and turned into the parking lot. They were army jeeps. They swooped over to the two parked vehicles and stopped. All of them were filled with soldiers bristling with guns.

From the front jeep stepped Colonel Mongomo. In contrast to the slovenly soldiers, he was impeccably attired in his martial finery complete with medals. Despite the fact that it was night, he wore aviator sunglasses. He saluted Siegfried stiffly and said he was at his service.