Page 19 of Beachcomber Enemy

“What’s he going to say?”

“Cap had a couple of his men take some body bags from the ruins of your beach shack to make it look like they found your remains last night. He got photos and made sure some journalists were there for the photo op as well. The ME is going to declare the identities of the bodies as you and Shana based on dental records.”

“Fictitious dental records. Good touch. Won’t hold up long since I’ve never been to a dentist on Martha’s Vineyard, but we only need to convince them for a short while.”

“Exactly. We will announce your funeral arrangements for the following morning at the church you gave me. It will be in all the news outlets. I will vow to avenge your deaths as close personal friends and heroes. We’ll let out some of the stories from your past exploits to make sure you get the maximum media coverage.” He smiled. “I can’t wait to see the coverage for your resurrections in two days.”

“Dark lining to the silver cloud.” Dane wasn’t happy about the growing list of people who were in on the deception. If the media had any suspicion at all and dug into it even a little bit in the intervening twenty-four hours between the ME declaring them dead and the funeral, their operation to get Whitey Nash would be blown.

Not to mention Sassy’s safety.

“How many people are in on this now?”

“Cap had to tell someone—his most trusted senior man. And the local fire chief had to know.”

Dane knew both these men. They were trustworthy, but it was easy for slips to happen even when it was unintentional, for hints to get dropped without a person realizing it. And the more people who knew, the higher the likelihood.

“No matter. We only need to keep it under wraps for,” Dane checked his watch, “thirty-one hours and forty-five minutes now.”

“I suppose that’s your subtle way of telling me to get out of your way and let you get on with it,” Peter said.

“No. If I wanted to tell you to get the hell out of the way, I’d just say so.” Dane allowed himself a half smile as he zipped the leather jacket over his borrowed black T-shirt.

“I see Joe’s clothes fit you.”

Dane shrugged. “A little snug, but they don’t smell and that’s all that matters.”

Joe snorted.

“You know I use the governor’s laundry service, right?”

“Like I said—”

“Get the hell out of here,” Peter said as he followed them to the door. A black Mercedes sedan waited for them with a man behind the wheel.

“Who’s the driver?” Dane asked.

“Trusted staff. Don’t worry, though. He doesn’t know who you are and he may be under the impression that you’re undercover Boston PD.”

“We’re off then.” Dane and Joe slipped out the back door and into the back seat of the Mercedes.

Joe didn’t say a word until they got to the airport in Beverly. They exited the car and didn’t make a move until the Mercedes was out of sight.

Joe said, “Follow me.”

Dane said, “Since when is this is where the governor’s helicopter is kept?”

“It’s not. We’ll be using Peter’s family copter. He thought it prudent to have a private helicopter for special missions and personal business.”

Dane nodded, wondering if there was a line between special missions and personal business in his life. After Joe went through the takeoff protocol, they jumped in and got underway.

“What’s our ETA?” Dane spoke through the headphones as the helo rose into the air under the roaring power of the rotor blades.

“Thirty-five minutes.”

“We won’t get to the Lucky Parrot until close to 3 a.m. We’ll need the cover of darkness to check out Sassy’s Pie Shop. That’s where I suspect Whitey’s holding her.”

“Not at her house?” Joe said.