I encouraged Tecla and Elle to have fun, show Mandy the plane, and get rest. Meanwhile, I could sit with Alicia and Skylar as we plotted what would happen once we were on the ground. We retreated to one of the several sitting areas, making sure no one was around as we discussed our plans.
“So, Debbie Does Dallas is coming along for the ride?” Skylar asked, clearly drooling a little over the presence of our new guest.
Nodding, I explained that we’d want Amanda to stay on the plane as we made our way to the presidential palace. Felix had been talking to our London office and to Alicia, so I was still in the dark about some arrangements.
“Is the old man going to be there?”
“The president will be there,” Alicia answered. “Have you met him before?”
“No. They let Felix study in Switzerland, but they’d have never let his father into European airspace. He must be almost a hundred…”
“Almost, sir.”
Soon, we were over the Caribbean, looking down at beautiful oceans and tropical isles. Our destination was grand — its white beaches and palm trees serving as an incredible distraction from the serious business at hand. Business of murder and spies.
Our flight was quick and we landed at a relatively modern looking airport that had recently been upgraded in an effort to boost tourism. A man in full military dress enthusiastically greeted us as we disembarked. He was accompanied by the foreign minister and about a dozen more officers dressed in their full ceremonial gear. Two young ladies offered flowers to my sisters as a fleet of classic limousines in jet-black waited to take us further.
Skylar insisted that our people remain in control of our own vehicles and they conceded. She took the passenger seat while our regular driver sat beside her. He was a good guy who drove well, but I missed Isabelle. She’d be with us again soon, but not soon enough. I wanted to phone her again, but there always seemed to be something else on my mind.
As we squeezed into the back of our car, I teased my sisters. “You make very convincing billionaire’s wives.”
The girls smiled with Tec sticking out her tongue at me as they tried to find comfortable positions in the cramped space. We’d managed to have a talk about our father, Sardonis, and the plot against me. If they had questions, they weren’t ready to ask them. But I had a feeling they wouldn’t be asking any… After all, they barely knew our father, which might have been a blessing if the stories I’d heard were true.
As we set off on our journey, truckloads of soldiers travelled with us: at least five large military vehicles with more than a dozen female soldiers on each. I suspect the gender composition was a nod from the government to my preference for women as bodyguards. Clearly, they didn’t just want to cooperate on the threat against me — they also wanted to impress — aiming to get some of my money for their embattled economy.
The only thing I truly cared about was the information they could offer. Thoughts of business were secondary, soon to be tertiary, and fast fading from my list of priorities.
It was a short drive to the president’s residence. The building itself was large, but the gardens were what dominated the space. The white stucco walls of the palace reminded me of old movies and we had a view of the capital in all its splendour; beautiful, albeit aged and poor.
This was a place trapped decades long before the present. For some, it worked. For others, it was a living hell.
Antique wooden furniture gave the home a distinct smell. Not unpleasant, but heavy on the lungs and throat. We were led into a large dining room packed with politicians, diplomats, and soldiers. My old friend Felix was there to welcome me with great big smile and a bear-hug.
“You look good!” I said, noticing his long hair and clear complexion.
“Not as good as you, my friend!” Felix answered, doing his best to hide his private school English from the politburo men in the room.
“Oh, c’mon,” I insisted. “No need to flatter me. I know I’ve had a rough few weeks!”
Felix laughed and slapped me on the back. “Rough, ey? Well, perhaps we can improve your life a little. You’ve not met my father…”
Suddenly, there was silence as we realised we were already in the presence of one of the world’s most notorious men. The old man smiled at us; his eyes bright and alert even as his hair thinned. He looked nothing like I’d expected and was wearing a casual shirt with half the buttons undone. Yet, despite this appearance, he clearly commanded total respect from the people in the room.
With a friendly wave, El Presidente invited us to take our seats. He leaned forward in his chair, slightly parting his lips. But it was the man on his left that started talking.
“We provided shelter to Edward Sardonis when he was fleeing from the West,” he explained, getting straight to business. “To say the least, he abused our generosity, and we would like to remedy the fact.”
Alicia cleared her throat, taking a seat next to me. “So, we have a mutual interest in finding him.”
The man to the left nodded. “The unfortunate thing is that we know very little about where Sardonis is now. But we can confirm that Mr Orwell’s father–”
Felix stopped the man before he could finish. “Sorry, I would like this matter to be treated with more sensitivity…”
The man on the left accepted the intervention and let my friend speak.
“Look, Oliver, I don’t know what your people have been able to figure out, but I think you know there’s more to your father’s death than previously believed.”
My back straightened. “Yes… We had an idea, but we don’t have specifics.”
Felix looked to his father, and his father looked to the man on his right. This man was older, with bad teeth and almost no hair, but a head full of memories. He insisted on speaking Spanish, but I could keep up (and I knew Alicia could too).
“Your father worked for Elizabeth Wharry while she was involved with Sardonis. He would’ve seen their romantic relationship, knowing it was the reason they were willing to adopt you. He may have spent private time with Sardonis, which is where we believe he learned of a deadly secret.”
“A deadly secret?” I asked.
At this stage, Felix chimed back in from the head of the table. “Oliver, we are quite certain Sardonis wanted to kill you too. We know about the nightclub attack and we can produce definitive proof that Sardonis ordered the operation. So, what does he think you have that could make him want to destroy you?”
I was lost for words. “Nothing. I have no clue why the man would want me dead. Maybe my father left it somewhere… Maybe Wharry broke a deal… I… I don’t know, Felix. My people are looking for–”
Alicia put a hand on my arm and stopped me talking. “Let’s be clear on one thing: we can’t share information with you. Quite simply, your state remains a pariah and intelligence sharing would undermine our commercial interests. You will have to help us unconditionally.”
The left-man replied, “No.”
“Then it’s a no from our side as well.”
The declaration was clear and a line was drawn in the sand.