Terminal

Both Sean and Janet got over their initial shock and began to react at the same moment. Janet snatched up their robes and suits. Sean picked up the gun. They could see Harris and Tom rolling around in the sand close to the water.

“Let’s get out of here!” Sean said urgently.

“But who saved us?” Janet asked. “Shouldn’t we help him?”

“No,” Sean said. “I recognize him. He doesn’t need any help. We’re out of here.”

Sean grabbed Janet’s reluctant hand, and together they ran out from beneath the canopy of pine onto the beach and then north toward the hotel. Several times Janet tried to look over her shoulder, but each time Sean urged her on. As they neared the hotel they stopped long enough to slip into their robes.

“Who was that man who saved us?” Janet demanded between gasping breaths.

“Head of security at Forbes,” Sean said, equally as winded. “His name is Robert Harris. He’ll be okay. We should worry about that other fruitcake.”

“Who was he?” Janet asked.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Sean said.

“What are we going to tell the police?” Janet asked.

“Nothing,” Sean said. “We’re not going to the police. I can’t. They’re looking for me. I can’t go until I talk to Brian.”

They ran past the pool and into the hotel.

“The man with the gun had to be associated with Forbes too,” Janet said. “Otherwise, the head of security wouldn’t have been here.”

“You’re probably right,” Sean said. “Unless Robert Harris is after me just like the police are. He could be playing bounty hunter. I’m sure he’d like nothing better than to get rid of me.”

“I don’t like any of this,” Janet admitted as they rode up in the elevator.

“Me neither,” Sean said. “Something weird’s happening, and we don’t have a clue.”

“What are we going to do?” Janet asked. “I still think we should go to the police.”

“First thing we’re going to do is change hotels,” Sean said. “I don’t like Harris knowing where we’re staying. It’s bad enough he knows we’re in Naples.”

Once in the room they quickly got their things together. Janet again tried to talk Sean into going to the police, but he adamantly refused.

“Now here’s the plan,” Sean said. “I’ll take the bags and go down to the pool, then slip out by the tennis courts. You go down to the front door, get the car, then come and pick me up.”

“What are you talking about?” Janet demanded. “Why all this sneaking around?”

“We were followed here at least by Harris,” Sean said. “I want everybody to think we’re still staying here.”

Janet decided it was easier just to go along with Sean. She could tell he was in no mood to argue. Besides, he might be right to be this paranoid.

Sean left first with the bags.

WAYNE EDWARDS walked back to the Mercedes at a fast clip and climbed into the passenger seat. Sterling had moved behind the wheel.

Up ahead Sterling could see the youthful Japanese man climbing back into the limousine.

“What’s happening?” Sterling asked.

“I’m not sure,” Wayne said. “The Jap just sat in the foyer and read magazines. Then the girl appeared alone. She’s under the porte cochere waiting for the car. No sign of Sean Murphy. I bet those guys in the limo are as confused as we are.”

A parking valet drove by in the red Pontiac. He parked under the porte cochere.

The limousine started up, spewing a puff of black smoke from its tailpipe.

Sterling started the Mercedes. He told Wayne that the Sushita jet was on its way to Naples.

“Not much doubt something’s going to happen,” Wayne said.

“I’m sure it will be tonight,” Sterling said. “We’ve got to be prepared.”

Presently the red Pontiac went by with Janet Reardon at the wheel. Behind her came the limo. Sterling made a U-turn.

At the base of the drive the Pontiac turned right. The limo followed.

“I smell a fish,” Wayne said. “Something’s not right with this picture. To get to the road you have to turn left. This right is a dead end.”

Sterling turned right to follow the others. Wayne was correct; the road dead-ended. But just before the dead end they came to an entrance to a large parking lot that was partially obscured by foliage. Sterling pulled in.

“There’s the limo,” Wayne said, pointing off to the right.

“And there’s the Pontiac,” Sterling said, motioning toward the tennis courts. “And there is Mr. Murphy loading luggage in the trunk. This is a rather unorthodox departure.”

“I suppose they think they’re being clever,” Wayne said, shaking his head.

“Maybe this move has something to do with Mr. Robert Harris,” Sterling suggested.

They watched the red Pontiac drive by and out the exit. The limo followed. After waiting a bit, Sterling did the same.

“Watch for Harris’s blue sedan,” Sterling advised.

Wayne nodded. “I’ve been watching,” he assured him.

They drove south for four or five miles, then cut west toward the Gulf. Eventually they ended up on Gulf Shore Boulevard.

“This area is a lot more built up,” Wayne said. Either side of the road had condominium buildings with manicured lawns and pampered flower beds.