"No," said Romeo, his chubby face gleaming in the sun. "Only pure cocaine."

"I thought they'd be refining the bloody stuff by now."

"You shouldn't fly down there, anyway, mon. It's like an army camp."

"Don't worry! I wouldn't land there if they had a ten-mile airstrip and handed out free petrol from the truck."

Romeo watched a lanky island woman swing by, hips swirling, a bright bandanna and a basket of yams on her head.

"Did you know, mon," he said idly, "down at Spanish Galleon Cay they have a shark?"

"Who? Lomas?"

"Nah, mon, a man-eating shark."

Hoagie raised his eyebrows. "A shark?"

"Not so loud," murmured Romeo, with a glance at the English couple. "A great white shark."

If the Neptune Folly's shark had moved to Spanish Galleon Cay, thought Hoagie, Mike and Jake might lose their job of tracking it.

"Where'd you hear that, Romeo?" he asked curiously.

Romeo nodded at the far end of the bar. "Couple of Lomas's coqueros I brought in from the airstrip," he said softly. "They speak this crazy Spanish, you can hardly understand. That's all I heard that's worth a thing—the shark."

Hoagie glanced at them without much interest. Calypso could never fly them home; it was enemy turf, and he'd probably end up hanging from a palm tree if he dared.

"Tell me about the shark," he said. If the great white took to visiting all the islands, it could hurt his tourist charters.

Romeo grinned and began to speak the King's English. "Lomas was water-skiing, I think they said, in front of his troops, and this bloody shark cuts him off!"

Hoagie sat up on his bar stool. "And how did Lomas handle it?" he asked, trying to keep the excitement from his voice.

"Not very well, Hoagie." Romeo chuckled and toyed with his dripping glass. "Not very well at all."

"Then tell me about it, Romeo. Remember everything you can."

The calypso music stopped. A Vespa snorted by. The clock on the Anglican steeple began to gong.

And Hoagie sat and listened carefully to what Romeo had to say.

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Alejandro put his tequila con aqua mineral on the polished bar and stared at el Inglés in astonishment.

"Quién? You want to see who? Señor Lomas?"

When he had seen the Englishman coming across the dark, deserted cocktail lounge of the Loma Bella Club, he had very nearly gone for the snub-nosed .38 tucked in his belt.

Now Newcombe was looking at him in amusement. "That's right, lad. Your boss. El Patrón. Rico. El Hombre."

"I unnerstan' English," he said angrily. He didn't understand it very well and ordinarily refused to speak it, but the courage el Inglés showed in coming here had shaken him to his soul.

Was it possible that the Englishman didn't know who had almost blown him out of the sky? He began to doubt his senses.