The man got out of the car and went over to the back of the truck. He knocked on the doors, which opened a second later. The guards inside the cargo area offered no resistance when he climbed in and inspected the wooden box. He spoke into a hand radio. A moment later, a truck with a FAST DELIVERY logo pulled around from behind the derelict pizza house. The statue was quickly unloaded and exchanged for four limp bodies that were taken from the second truck.

The baby-faced man went over and gazed at Carina, thinking how beautiful and peaceful she appeared. He flexed the fingers that could still her beating heart in an instant and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. With his homicidal impulse more or less under control, he climbed into the back of the moving van. The van pulled out of the parking lot, with the delivery truck close behind.

NUMA 7 - The Navigator

Chapter 22

THE YUKON PULLED INTO the parking lot of a Potomac River marina and Austin got out. The second agent had been following in the NUMA Jeep. He parked the vehicle, tossed Austin the keys, and got into the SUV.

Flagg leaned out the window. “Let’s get together for lunch at Langley sometime. We can bore the crap out of Jake here with Cold War stories.”

“We were pretty dumb back then,” Austin said with a shake of his head.

Flagg laughed. “Damn lucky too.” He put the vehicle into gear and drove off.

Austin strolled along the line of boats. A few people puttered around, but otherwise the riverside was relatively quiet. He stopped to inspect a vintage motor cruiser.

The white-hulled, wooden boat was about fifty feet long, and the mahogany trim was polished to a blinding shine. The name on the hull was LOVELY LADY. A man was sitting in a deck chair reading a copy of the Washington Post. He saw Austin, put his paper aside, and rose from his chair.

“What do you think of her?” the man said.

Austin was fond of classic yachts and their understated air of luxury, which was so different from the garish display of extravagance to be found in some of the modern-day craft tied up at the marina. “Her name says it all.”

“Indeed it does.”

“I know it’s not polite to ask a lady’s age, but I was wondering how old she was.”

“Don’t worry about insulting the old girl, my friend. She knows she’s as beautiful as the day she was born in 1931.”

Austin ran his eyes over the craft’s sleek lines. “I’d guess she came out of the Stephens boatyard in California.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like more than a guess. Stephens built her for one of the lesser-known Vanderbilts. Would you like to come aboard for a closer look, Mr. Austin?”