God, it pained Kyle to ride in the Caddy. But the customized stretch Gandalf he’d had made for himself was one of the many things he’d had to give up. And even if he’d still had that special ride, he wouldn’t want to be showing up in it on this occasion.

Talk about giving himself away.

No, a nondescript, gas-powered, human-driven Detroit hunk of junk was the way to go today. Kyle had to fly, as they say, under the radar.

“This is good,” he said, from his spot in the rear seat, to Derek, up front behind the wheel. So Derek brought the car to a gentle stop and, with the engine still running, slipped out of the driver’s seat and came around to open the rear passenger door on the other side.

As Kyle got out, he asked, “How do I look?” He gently touched his mustache, ran a hand over his bald head, then patted the bulge of his stomach.

Derek appraised him. “Good.” He paused. “Maybe that’s not the right word. You look like you’ve let yourself go.”

“So you wouldn’t know?”

Derek’s head went side to side, but it was a gesture of encouragement. “You look fifty pounds heavier, and this”—and he touched himself just above the lip—“is holding just fine.”

“It ought to. It’s real.”

“If I passed you on the sidewalk, I’d have no idea. There’s not a picture in existence where you look the way you do now.”

Kyle smiled, nodded, then glanced at his watch. “Okay. So, be looking for me in about three hours.”

Derek nodded. They’d been over this many times. Get the boat from the marina a few miles north on the mainland while the boss did his thing on the island. Head out to sea. Rendezvous at Garrett Harbor. Bring the boss back home.

Good ol’ Derek, Kyle thought. At a time when pretty much everyone else had deserted him, Derek remained loyal to the end. Kyle wondered how much longer he’d be able to keep him on. Not that Kyle didn’t have funds squirreled away. When rich people got wiped out, it usually meant they were down to their last few millions, which was certainly true for Kyle. His worth was a mere fraction of what it was two years ago. Anyway, today’s events would determine whether he needed to find a way to hang on to Derek.

“If you have any problems, call,” Derek said.

Kyle patted his chest, making sure his phone was still in his pocket. “As long as our man on the scene does what he’s supposed to do, things should go fine.”

“And your tech friend in Russia,” Derek reminded him. “With the messaging.”

“Yes,” Kyle said.