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The FBI chopper was hovering in the distance now, maybe two hundred yards away. Marple could hear the sound of Paul’s steps on the aluminum ladder. She pulled the pistol from her rear pocket and held it behind her back. She clicked the safety off with a flick of her thumb. In her front pocket were the handcuffs she’d been wearing, ready to be repurposed.

Paul’s head and shoulders emerged above the edge of the platform. There was no mistaking that left eye, focusing just a few degrees off center.

Marple whipped the gun around and aimed it at his heart. “Freeze!”

Paul stopped on the ladder. He blinked. His mouth twitched for a second. Then worked up a smile. “Margaret. It’s you.”

Marple flinched. She could almost see Paul’s mind working, like a finely tuned watch.

“I was hoping for Agnes tonight,” he said. “I really was. But you’re a perfectly suitable plan B.”

CHAPTER 88

OLIVER PAUL STEPPED off the ladder and onto the pad, squinting as he examined Marple’s face. “Not bad, Margaret. The eyebrows are perfect. Hair color too. The cheekbones could use some work.”

Marple gripped the gun tighter. Why was Paul so calm? Why wasn’t he furious? “Face down!” she ordered.

Marple backed up as Paul shifted his approach. She realized that he was putting her between himself and the chopper’s sight line. Paul looked past her into the distance. “I know you’re wired for sound, Margaret,” said Paul. “And if you don’t shoot me, the snipers in the helicopter will. That’s the drill, right?”

“Face down!” Marple repeated. “I don’t want to shoot you. I just want you in cuffs.”

Paul smiled. “Don’t you understand, Margaret? I’m actually glad you’re here.”

He lifted his right arm to expose an Apple Watch. “See this? Not my usual style, I know. I prefer classics. Coil spring, mechanical movement. But technology has its advantages. The timer on this watch is set to a series of charges placed on the platform. If anything happens to me, the charges go off. Right now, as we stand here, there are 315 people on this little island. I guarantee that almost none of them would survive.”

“Including you and me,” said Marple.

“No, Margaret. That’s where you’re wrong. There’s a way out for us. And we’re going to take it.”

Marple fingered the trigger. “Disarm the bomb.”

“Not until you and I are off this rig and safely away.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

Paul continued to smile. “You think the mighty Mr. Holmes is going to let you die here? Margaret, let’s face reality. Agnes and I are great partners. But our relationship is purely transactional. You and Holmes—you have something real. And losing you would be worse than death for him.”

“Give me the watch,” said Marple.

“No, Margaret. If you really want to save lives, give me your gun. I’m not going to kill you. You’re my bargaining chip. With you at my side, I can get anything I want. Money. Agnes. Freedom.”

Marple calibrated the position of the chopper behind her. She could drop down to give them a clear shot, but then the whole platform might go up. Maybe Paul was bluffing. But maybe not.

“Holmes!” Paul shouted. “I know you can hear me. Tell your pilot to make a slow 180. I want to see that open hatch pointed in the opposite direction.”

“Do it, Brendan,” said Marple. “I’ll handle this.”

She could see Paul looking out into the distance over her shoulder. “That’s better. They’ve made a smooth turn. Now it’s just you and me.”

Marple was holding the gun, but Paul seemed to have all the power. As much as he deserved to have a bullet in him, she knew her only chance was to parlay. And for that, she needed him alive and breathing.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll put down the gun.” She bent and laid the pistol gently on the pad. Paul dipped right along with her. She knew she was violating a fundamental rule. Never, ever surrender your weapon.

Paul reached down to retrieve the gun. Before his fingers could touch it, Marple launched herself at him, a shoulder to his gut. Paul went down with a loud grunt. Marple grappled her way up his torso, grabbing for his arms as he twisted to get free. They were inches from the edge of the platform. Marple could see the drop. She raised her elbow and brought it down hard into Paul’s solar plexus. He gasped. His right arm whipped around. Marple felt a stunning shock at the back of her neck. A violent spasm ran down her body.

And then her brain went black.

CHAPTER 89