Donovans 03 - Pearl Cove

background.”
    “Until seven years ago, yes.”
    “Okay, slick. Listen up. Uncle never heard of Len McGarry.”
    Archer grunted. That wasn’t good news. “Especially in the past seven years?”
    “You catch on. Make damn certain no one else does.”
    “Yeah, folks get really testy when friends spy on friends.”
    She muttered something in Chinese, which made Archer wish that his sister-in-law Lianne was along to translate.
    “Slick,” April said, “you sit down at a table where China, Japan, and Australia are playing pearl poker, and you can count your friends on your cock. McGarry was a loser, but he was a useful loser. Sometimes. Most of the time he was just a hemorrhoid. He took money from everyone at the table and some who weren’t. He was a player without a handler.”
    Nothing new there, Archer thought. Len had never liked taking anyone’s orders, no matter how compelling the reason.
    “What does Uncle say?” Archer asked.
    “We know French Tahiti’s pearl farms are getting raped by international pirates—mostly Chinese businessmen in league with the triads. We’re not crying. The French told the world to go to hell when they nuked that atoll. Now we’re returning the favor.”
    “Just so I don’t accidentally eat Uncle’s lunch,” he said, “all you’re interested in is keeping Len’s past quiet?”
    April hesitated.
    Shit. But what Archer said aloud was, “Right?”
    “I’ll get back to you on that.”
    “Don’t wait until a postmortem.”
    “You planning on killing someone?”
    “I’m planning on staying alive. Pass the good word.”
    “I will.” She hesitated, sighed, and stuck her neck out. “Don’t turn your back on anyone. Anyone. Pearls in general, and unique black pearls in particular, have become a very valuable bargaining chip at certain international tables. That could change in a week, a month, or a year. Until it does, there are some fairly lethal folks out there playing pearl poker.”
    “Does Uncle favor any of the players?”
    “So far, we’re just kibitzing.”
    “Let me know if that changes.”
    “I hope it doesn’t, slick. Odds are we wouldn’t be on the same side.”
    Archer wondered if the U.S. favored China, Japan, or Australia in the black pearl free-for-all. But there was no point in asking. April had already said more than he had expected her to. More than she should have.
    “Thanks,” he said simply. “When this is over, I’ll arrange a tour of the Tang jade collection, if you’re interested.”
    “Am I breathing?”
    He laughed.
    “Stay alive, slick. I dream of seeing Wen Tang’s jade.”
    “There it is,” Hannah said, pointing.
    Crouching on his heels, Archer ran his fingertips very lightly over the bent metal that once had been the door to the biggest pearl-sorting shed. Though the sun had long since fallen off the hazy western edge of the horizon, the metal was still hot.
    He set down his backpack, opened it, and took out the small flashlight again. An intense beam of light leaped out, sweeping over the metal like a second noon. Holding the light almost parallel to the warped door, he examined the salt-stained steel.
    “What are you looking for?” Hannah asked.
    “Tool marks.”
    Anxiously she glanced over her shoulder. No one was nearby. No one was walking toward them. The ocean lay in shades of black with molten silver highlights. A fugitive moon winked between pillars of clouds. Fitful fingers of breeze combed water and land alike. The cooling air was silky, heady, laced with salt and the earthy scent of tidal flats bared by the retreating tide.
    Intent on the remains of the shed, Archer was aware of the heat and rushing night and silence, but he didn’t really notice it. He wouldn’t, unless something changed in a threatening way. With small, smooth motions, he shifted the light from the lock and door handle to what was left of the hinges.
    Between one heartbeat and the next, the chemical heat of adrenaline slid silently into his blood, bringing his whole body to a heightened awareness. It was just a small flick of the adrenaline whip, nothing like he had known in the past, but it was very real. The echoes and memories it brought reminded him of everything he had tried to leave behind.
    “What is it?” Hannah asked, caught by Archer’s absolute stillness.
    “Looks like somebody went after the hinges with a hammer and chisel.”
    Swiftly she crouched beside him. The surface of the ruined door was like a road map of