The Lost Island by Douglas Preston Page A

two.”
    There was another brief silence. And then Gideon said: “What?”
    Glinn paused, the eyebrow of his one good eye rising.
    “What did you mean, ‘you two’?”
    “You and Amy, of course. You’re partners.”
    “Wait a minute,” said Gideon, “who said anything about a partner?”
    “I mentioned you’d be traveling with a licensed captain,” Glinn said, his voice neutral. “That’s Amy. You’ll be making this journey together.”
    Gideon stared at her and then back at Glinn. “Is this another of your QBA schemes? Introducing us at the last minute like this?”
    “You’ll find her to be a most useful companion. In addition to having a hundred-ton master’s license, Amy has dual PhDs in sociology and classical languages.”
    He looked at Amy and found her looking back with a faintly sardonic smile on her face. That she was evidently in on the surprise irritated him even more. “What is this, The Dating Game ?”
    “In a way, yes,” said Glinn. “You will be posing as a young, well-heeled married couple on a pleasure cruise. Garza has a wedding band for you.”
    “Garza?” Gideon turned on him. “You knew about this, too?”
    Garza was grinning and holding up a little blue box. He flipped it open to reveal a gold band nestled in silk. “Try it on. Size eleven, right?”
    Gideon flushed with annoyance. “And here I thought she was just a glorified stewardess.”
    “Funny, and I thought you were the lavatory attendant,” said Amy, eyeing him coolly.
    Gideon stared at her and then had to laugh. “Touché. Okay, I deserved that. But I still object to being the only one kept in the dark.”
    Amy continued looking at him. The stewardess crack, it seemed, had gotten under her skin. Well, he felt aggrieved, too. She’d known all along they were going to be partners—and had said nothing.
    “All right, Manuel, give me the ring,” Gideon said. He slipped it on and held it up. “So we’re married?”
    “Don’t think any benefits are going along with that ring,” Amy replied tartly. She had a low voice with just the faintest hint of an accent.
    “I do everything with a reason,” said Glinn. His face had become smooth, placid, disinterested. “And there was an excellent reason for this particular partnership. Trust me, you both have skills that will complement each other.”
    Gideon looked from Glinn to Amy. She couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, and he doubted she weighed more than ninety pounds. “What if we don’t get along?” he said.
    “You won’t.”
    Amy said to Glinn: “Your QBA program predicted we wouldn’t like each other?”
    “It did.”
    “Your program works,” she said drily.
    “You will, in time, understand why you make good partners. After you land in Aruba, a car will take you to Savaneta, a village on the southwest coast, where your yacht is berthed. It is a port favored by wealthy yachtsmen, quiet, quaint—a good place to begin your cruise while attracting the least amount of attention. Not that we expect any attention; it pays to be cautious. I leave it to you to work out together your marital history. Manuel has arranged everything else. Manuel?”
    Garza spoke. “The boat’s a Hinckley T55 MKII motor yacht. The Turquesa . Very elegant. Amy’s familiar with its operation and can fill you in on the details. It has two staterooms, a length of fifty-five feet, and a top speed of thirty-six knots. We’ve hustled to retrofit the craft with some specialized equipment you might need for the journey. Again, Amy has been briefed on the details.”
    Gideon turned toward Glinn. “Just the two of us on this boat? What about a wait staff? Cabin steward? Butler? Lavatory attendant?”
    “The beauty of the Hinckley is that it requires no crew. It’s a simple boat to operate, dual jet drives, joystick operation. You’ll be cruising in fairly sheltered waters. One thing, Gideon: Amy is the captain. She’s in charge. That’s the way it is on a boat. You