in black spray paint: The S.S. Cordella.
Whenever a wave hit, the boat tugged at the dock as if trying to break free, and Larke wondered how many more hits it would take before the entire thing collapsed.
“That’s his boat?” she asked, following Desmond’s finger. “If he has the resources to get us money and fake passports, why doesn’t he put some of that ingenuity into his boat?”
Desmond chuckled . “Doug loves that thing. He bought it several years ago for a few thousand dollars.”
The boa t tipped so far to the right that she feared it would end up submerged in the water.
“I th ink he might have paid too much.”
They parked the truck underneath a string of palm trees on a gravel parkway just off of the sand , and made their way over to where the boat was hitched. A shirtless man appeared on the dock, his light blue denim shorts frayed at the bottom edges and torn right above the left knee. His dark blond hair tousled wildly in the breeze and a shadow of his beard outlined the lower portions of his face. When he spotted them walking towards him, his bright blue orbs glittered with relief. He rushed over, grabbed Desmond in a brief, yet rough hug, and then turned to Larke.
“ I’m pleased to finally have a chance to meet you, Larke,” he greeted. “I’m Doug Casey. Come on in and have a seat.”
They followed him onto the treacherously unstable boat, but once Larke crossed the threshold, she understood why he kept the outsid e looking as shabby as he did. The interior looked as if it belonged to a luxury yacht.
There was a desk in the back corner set- up with a hi-tech computer system and several monitors, one which had Gano’s face frozen on the screen. The entire right side of the boat was littered with all different types of gadgets—cameras, trackers, scanners, and other contraptions that she couldn’t identify. A sofa wrapped around the opposite wall and a mini fridge hid underneath the computer desk.
“I was not expecting this,” Larke admitted, sitting on the sofa.
“No one ever does,” Doug replied, taking a seat at the desk. “It’s why I keep the outside looking like I do. I actually had to bring my wife inside a few times to convince her that I was really working and not lazing around on a fishing boat.” His eyes flashed to Desmond. “I’ve got some of the information you asked about.”
He tapped a few keys and the computer screen split into a picture of Gano’s face next to a shot of Jarvis. On the other monitor were photos of the two ranging from grade school to adulthood.
“ Guess we’ve figured out why Larke was abducted,” Desmond said.
“That’s not all,” Doug added. “I just got word from headquarters. Not only do they now know that Larke is missing, so is Jarvis.”
Larke’s head shot up. “Eddie is missing? Missing how?”
“They’re saying that he was lost in transit,” he explained. “One of our guys talked to one of the inmates that witnessed it and he said they took him professional style. Three men dressed in all black boarded the vehicle and extracted Jarvis like a scene straight from a movie.”
Desmond’s jaw clenched. There was no doubt in his mind that now that he was free, Jarvis’ sea rch for Larke would intensify.
“How’d they find out that Larke was missing?” He asked.
“I don’t know,” Doug answered with a shrug. “Someone leaked it to the FBI, so we’re either looking at a crack in our agency, or someone else knows about what’s going on.”
“ And they’re trying to stir the pot.”
“Exactly.”
“Has the link been made between Larke’s, Cory’s, and Jarvis’ disappearances yet?” Desmond asked, then cursed. He’d forgotten that he hadn’t told Larke about Cory.
“Cory’s missing?” She asked, landing an accusatory glance on Desmond’s face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I forgot.”
“So, this whole ‘Babylon Roots’ thing. That was a lie? You knew who abducted me all