"What about her?"
"She's the only one missing from the lockup. Don't tell me she was killed?" Dawn pleaded.
"No. She was the only one who didn't get a dose. She's fine."
"Oh, thank God. How's she dealing with all of this?"
"She's fine," Grom said quickly. "Dawn, they're here."
"The agents. The two who've been after me. They were on the morning flight out of Miami. That's where I really need your help now."
"What can I do?"
Grom gave her a sick smirk. "You're Dawn Summens. You know what to do."
THE BEACH WAS rocky and dirty. The ocean wasn't so much turquoise blue as it was sea-slime green. The clientele were less attractive. Around the swimming pool, lounge chair after lounge chair strained under the massive pasty skin-sacks of American vacationers. Not one of them was flattered by the tiny straps and G-strings that were standard swimming attire.
The waiters, all local islanders, strolled among the vacationers and looked tiny by comparison.
Remo went the long way around the pool, but he could feel the eyes on him. There were a few catcalls and three drink offers. One woman jumped off her lounge chair-quite agile, considering her age-and started toward him with a gleam in her cataracts. Remo sped up.
"Not so fast, sweetums! Let's get to know each other over foreplay."
Remo often had problems with overamorous admirers, a side effect of Sinanju training. It had been fun for a week or two, but that was a long time ago. These days, his control over this animal magnetism was inconsistent. Right now he seemed to have lost his edge. He zipped around the side of one of the resort wings and leaped skyward, slipping over the rail of a second-story balcony. He sat there listening as his pursuer came around the corner and stopped below him, wheezing. "Oh, shit," she said.
Somebody else was coming up behind her and making a lot of noise doing it. Through the narrow gaps in the balcony floor he saw a steel walker appear, followed by its owner, who made a deep frown out of her wrinkles. "Where's the kid?"
"Got away. Sorry, Sally."
"Shit!" Sally thumped the walker in frustration. "We still have Duncan and Buck in the suite across the hall. They're eager to please."
"I suppose, but they're so second rate," Sally complained. "The kid with the big wrists, now that was prime beefcake."
Remo was on a private balcony, and now he heard the faint swipe of a keycard and the door opened in the room behind him. The bleached blonde who entered could have been any over-the-hill waitress from any truck stop in the U.S.A. Her sunburned face brightened with happy surprise.
"Hiya, sweetie!" she called to Remo through the glass. She peeled off her I Came To Union Island T-shirt as she headed his way.
Beneath him Remo heard Sally and her friend turning back to the pool.
The bleached blonde had a one-piece bathing suit, and two steps later the bathing suit was wadded up in the corner.
Remo preferred not to make a miraculous disappearance that might get people talking, but Sally wasn't exactly moving at lightning speed and she'd see him if he just jumped down to the ground. If he escaped via the roof, the blonde might start asking around about the flying skinny guy. He was stuck between a skank and a wrinkly place....
The peroxide waitress unlatched her door and at that moment Sally and her companion were gone around the corner. Remo jumped off the balcony-fast enough to escape the blonde but slow enough to look normal.
"Come back!" wailed the blonde, her voice muted behind the glass of the balcony door. "Look what I have!"
Remo tried not to look. He tried hard. But then he looked.
The blonde had pressed up against the patio glass, flattening and expanding her impressively large breasts into pale white circles of flesh that were big as dinner plates and, with a little mashing, getting bigger.
On the beach he marveled at the variety of skin shades. Some vacationers were pale as death. Several of the great quivering mounds of flab were pink turning to scarlet with nicely progressing burns.
Alice Aberwicz, however, was in a class by herself. "Hello, Remo!"
The Reigning Master of Sinanju looked this way and that. There was nobody else in his vicinity who might possibly be named Remo.
"I'm talking to you, silly boy!" Alice Aberwicz waved and smiled from her beach chair. Remo approached cautiously and gazed down at a vast, glimmering, bronzed body.
"Do I know you?"
"I saw you check in last night and asked the front desk for your name. I'm Alice Aberwicz."
Alice Aberwicz wasn't pale or pink. She had a beautiful, bronze tone to her skin. Many hours of careful sunning, turning and basting had to have gone into achieving her perfect overall doneness. Her coating of coconut oil was so thick that it dripped from her elbow when she shielded her eyes from the sun. Being topless, the gesture also hoisted one massive breast off her lap and it, too, dripped oil.
"Nice tan," Remo said politely, trying not to stare. Alice was certainly-something.
"I thought you'd like it. Join me for a drink?"
"No, thanks."
"Want to just go to my room right now and get it on?"
"Maybe later," Remo said as he strolled off.
"I'll take that as a promise!" Alice called after him. Remo kept seeing that great, golden, greasy image in his mind. He was turned off probably for good. And all at once he was turned on again.
She came out of the water not fifteen feet away. The late-morning sun shimmered around the figure in the emerald-green bikini, emerging with the natural grace of an auburn panther. Her skin was slightly dappled with the cutest freckles Remo had ever seen, and her tan had the depth of great art, rich and dark in some places but lighter in other places, as if inviting you to explore those places. Her hair was dark, swirling around her neck and shoulders, with a few dark strands clinging to the gentle swelling of her breasts as if they were directional arrows pointing the way.
Her features were strong, almost severe, but then she looked at Remo Williams and smiled a warm, provocative smile and she could not be more beautiful. "You look hot," she said.
That wasn't what he had expected her to say, and for the life of him he couldn't think of a response that sounded intelligent, although he tried hard.
The girl in the emerald bikini added, "The long pants, I mean. They're too warm for the beach."
"Oh. Oh yeah. Well, I forgot my swimsuit."
"You're joking!" She laughed.
Remo was convinced at that moment that he was the funniest, wittiest man ever. "No, really, I did," he said. "I guess I should buy one at the gift shop."
"I'll have somebody get it for you," she volunteered.
"That's not..."
She gave a brief wave and three of the hotel staff came running. She gave them quick instructions and they were gone again. "Yes, Minister," one of them said as he went.