Free Aground on St. Thomas by Rebecca M. Hale Page A

the big man’s appetite—or his wife had cut off his ice cream supply.
    Hightower could barely suppress mental chuckle.
    Regardless, nothing was going to prevent the successful completion of this mission.
    As he stepped onto the balcony, the clatter of plastic on wood sounded from inside the office.
    Hightower flinched, resisting the urge to look back to see which agent had knocked the picture frame over on the Governor’s desk.
    The suited man slowly turned from the balcony railing.
    “Good morning, gentlemen.”
    Hightower leapt forward with his handcuffs.
    “Governor, you have the right to remain silent.”
    The suit looked even more ill-fitting when viewed from the front, but the man inside the clothes was perfectly at ease. He held out his hands to the agent.
    “Yes, of course.”
    Hightower snapped the cuffs around the man’s wrists. “Anything you say can and may be used against you . . .”
    “Oh dear.”
    The mocking tone riled the Gorilla’s temper, taunting his inner beast. Already irritated by the subordinate’s picture frame fumble, his face turned red with rage.
    Swallowing a curt retort, Hightower continued the mandatory listing of the arrestee’s Constitutional rights. “You have the right to an attorney . . .”
    “Sounds like we better call him.”
    A strained cough interrupted before Hightower could spit out a response.
    “Sir.”
    An agent stood by the desk, holding a picture of the territory’s head of state standing next to his wife, the First Lady.
    The agent frowned at the image and then compared the photographed face to that of the man in the handcuffs.
    “You got the wrong guy.”
    “What?”
    Meekly, the agent cleared his throat. “That’s not the Governor.”
    Hightower spun around, stomped to the desk, and snatched the photo from the agent’s hands.
    His expression cycled through disbelief, realization, and then back to rage.
    Cursing, he threw the frame onto the floor, cracking the glass fronting.

~ 17 ~
    The Betrayal
    GRUMBLING INTO THE two-way radio, Agent Friday huffed up the road to Government House. He was accompanied by a handful of agents that he had snagged on his way out of the Legislature Building.
    The group had nearly completed the short hike to Government Hill, skirting Fort Christian, Emancipation Park, and a large post office en route.
    While climbing a flight of public steps north of the post office, they received word that the Governor had given the slip to the team responsible for his arrest.
    Alarmed, Friday had increased his pace to a brisk trot.
    He rushed through the Government House front entrance just as a fuming Hightower shoved the handcuffed doppelgänger out of the Governor’s office and down the hallway toward the stairs.
    Friday joined the sea of upturned faces watching from the first floor. He clenched his teeth, hoping the Gorilla wasn’t about to throw the man over the hallway railing.
    He tried to catch Hightower’s attention, but his hand-waving was ineffective. His polite verbal attempts were drowned out by the senior agent’s belligerent rant.
    “No one plays me for the fool and gets away with it. I’ll book you on impersonating.”
    The doppelgänger merely smirked. He knew Hightower was bluffing.
    “I believe I asked for my attorney.”
    “Oh, I’ll get you your attorney. He’ll have to use dental records to identify you . . .”
    “Agent Hightower,
sir
,” Friday called out, straining his voice to be heard. “I thought we might be of assistance.”
    Hightower jerked the doppelgänger to the side so that he could see down to the lower level.
    “Friday,” he replied without the least bit of embarrassment. “Good of you to join us.”
    •
    FRIDAY SENT A subteam to scour the rest of the building for the real governor while one of the other agents took custody of the doppelgänger and carefully marched him down the stairs.
    Hightower directed his ire to the employees who had been gathered in the lobby. With