Donovans 03 - Pearl Cove

harsh beauty of his face was fully revealed: angular, balanced, strong, unflinching, framed in darkness. His eyes were clear and remote, reflecting the torrid sky. And like the sun, his eyes were relentless. The man who had laughed with her, teased her, loved her, was gone as though he had never existed.
    “Very soon Flynn, Chang, and whoever else has bought in to the game will have had enough time to ransack what’s left of Pearl Cove,” Archer said calmly. “When they come up empty, they’ll have to admit that the secret to the black rainbows isn’t in the ruins. That’s when they’ll come after you.”
    “But I don’t know!”
    “I’m sure they’ll believe you, eventually. Unfortunately, by then you’ll know too much about who killed Len, who has been creaming Len’s pearls, and who has been laundering pearls through him. You’ll be a liability who is known to enjoy diving. Alone. If they’re feeling kind, they’ll let you die that way. If not, they’ll simply feed you to the sharks.”
    Hannah opened her mouth to speak. Nothing came out but a hoarse sound.
    His expression gentled. He brushed the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m taking you to a safe place.”
    She heard what he didn’t say. “What about you?”
    “I’m a big boy.” He glanced at his watch. They were cutting it fine. “When we get on the plane, don’t talk about anything that has to do with pearls.”
    “I thought you said we would be safe.”
    “I’m working on it.”
    Darwin had paved streets, more people, bigger buildings, and the same climate as Broome. The gunmetal sky promised rain; the inhabitants prayed for it as a temporary relief from the merciless seasonal buildup of heat and humidity. The clothes in the store windows and on the pedestrians were a decade or two more fashionable than Broome’s. Despite the punishing climate, people darted from building to building with a purpose greater than merely getting in out of the heat. Darwin didn’t have the pace of Seattle, much less of Manhattan or Tokyo, but the beat of life was faster here than Broome’s no-worries-mate indolence.
    Archer looked in the window of a jewelry store, but it wasn’t the Australian pink and green diamonds that held his eye, or even the silky, lustrous Australian pearls in every shade from moon white to midnight black. What interested him was the store’s thick plate glass. It made a decent mirror, which meant that he didn’t have to crane his neck to check for followers.
    The street behind them was busy enough so that he and Hannah didn’t stand out, yet not crowded enough to make a tail’s life easy. Archer was eighty percent certain that someone had followed them from the airport. April Joy’s man, probably. As the person who supplied the tickets, passports, and clothes, she was the only one who would have a clear idea who to look for and where to look for them.
    “See anything, er, darling?” Hannah asked. She didn’t know what else to call Archer, because his real name didn’t match his present ID.
    “Just some pretty jewelry.”
    She let out a long sigh. “Good. Could we go to our hotel or wherever we’re staying?”
    He smiled slightly. “Tired?”
    “Hungry, too.” She glanced around furtively. “And this wig itches like fire ants.”
    He looked at his watch, took her arm, and headed for one of the run-down bars he had noticed during a taxi ride along the waterfront. If anyone followed them, Archer couldn’t pick the shadow out of the pack of normal citizens.
    “Here,” he said.
    She glanced at the dirty neon lights flashing dim messages about beer and fun. “I’m not sure I’m this hungry,”
    “We’re not here to eat.”
    “Small comfort,” she muttered.
    She followed him into the dim bar. It was surprisingly full of people. Most of them had the look of serious drinkers seriously intent on maintaining an alcohol haze. The air-conditioning wasn’t up to the demands of sweat and cigarettes.
    “I’ve smelled better oyster dumps,” Hannah said under her breath.
    Archer didn’t argue. He just kept taking her deeper into the barroom. He caught a server’s eye, held up two fingers, and pointed toward an empty booth. As soon as the server brought two beers, he paid, left a tip on the table, and kept on watching for new customers coming in the door.
    Sipping her beer, Hannah looked around the bar with a combination of disbelief and sympathy. Disbelief that anyone