Myron tried the hospital from the satellite phone. This time Dr. Ellis got on the phone with him. “Your father is out of surgery, but this has been a tough one. His heart stopped twice on the table.”

The tears started coming again. Myron forced them back. “Can I speak to my mother?”

“We gave her a sedative and she’s sleeping in a room down the hall. Your nephew is asleep in a chair too. It’s been a long night.”

“Thank you.”

Win came out of the bathroom, dressed head to toe in black. “There’s a change of clothes for you in there,” he said. “There’s also a shower. It might help refresh you. Our help will be here in ten minutes.”

The plane’s showerhead was not designed for the tall, but the water pressure was surprisingly strong. Myron hunched over and used nine of his allotted ten minutes under the nozzle and one minute drying off and slipping into the black garb. Win was right—it did refresh.

“Our ride awaits,” Win said. “But first . . .”

He handed Myron two guns. The larger one had a shoulder holster. The smaller was to wrap around the ankle. Myron fastened them into place. Win led the way. The plane steps were slippery. Rain pelted down on them. Win ducked back under the plane for protection. He took night-vision goggles out of their case and strapped them onto his face like a scuba mask. He slowly turned around in a circle.

“All clear,” Win said.

He put the goggles back into their pouch. Then he held up his mobile phone and pressed a button. The screen lit up. In the distance Myron saw someone flash car headlights at them. Win started toward the vehicle. Myron followed. The airport, if you will, was basically a landing strip with a concrete building. There was nothing else. A road crossed the front of the landing strip. There were no traffic lights or even a gate to stop cars from going by—one had to guess, Myron assumed, when an incoming plane was on the way. Or maybe it was more of the Adiona Island mystique. You simply knew when someone was coming.

The rain kept pouring. A thunderbolt shattered the air. Win reached the car first and opened the back door. Myron slid in and across to behind the passenger side. He looked in the front seats and was surprised to find Billings and Blakely.

“Our local help?”

Win grinned. “Who better?”

The car smelled like an old bong.

“Cousin Win told us you want to get into Wire’s place,” the twin driving said.

“Which one are you?” Myron asked.

He looked insulted. “I’m Billings.”

“And I’m Blakely.”

“Right, sorry.”

“Blakely and I have spent every summer on this island for as long as we can remember. It can indeed get boring.”

“Not enough girls,” Blakely added.