Chain Lightning by Elizabeth Lowell Read Free Book Online Page A

marvelous!“
    “Is your name D. M. Sutter?“
    “Would it do any good to deny it?“
    The man laughed. “Sorry, mate. Afraid not. I saw your picture on the telly last night.“
    Cursing under his breath, Sutter descended the last step leading away from the airplane, careful not to touch the metal handrail. Late September was spring in Bundaberg, but in the northeast corner of the Australian continent, spring was a relative term. The tropical intensity of the sun brought everything it touched up to a burning heat – including handrails.
    “You a reporter?“ Sutter asked, eyeing the tall, muscular, heavily tanned young man in front of him with little favor. Australian reporters made their American counterparts look like well-mannered choirboys.
    “No worries, mate. My name’s Ray. I’m a dive instructor over on Lady. I picked up a message for you along with your diving gear.“
    At the words ‘ ‘dive instructor’’ the grim look vanished from Sutter’s face. He smiled and held out a tanned, callused hand. “Thanks for picking up my tanks for me. We had to dodge some early monsoon storms on the way from Kununurra. Took twice as long as it should have. Is the plane ready?“
    “Just one more passenger and we can leave. Let’s weigh you in.“
    Sutter followed Ray into the small air-conditioned passenger terminal. At a gesture from Ray, Sutter stepped onto a scale with his backpack in his arms. Ray’s eyebrows went up. He gave Sutter’s deceptively lithe length a reassessing look.
    “You’re a diver, right enough,“ Ray said.
    Sutter’s eyebrow lifted in a silent question.
    “All muscle,“ Ray explained. “You weigh fifteen kilos more than you look.“
    “Is that a problem?“ Sutter asked, remembering the strict weight restrictions for the flight to the island.
    Shaking his head, Ray added Sutter’s weight onto the running total he was keeping for the plane. “No worries, mate. We’ve got seventy kilos left on this run. Unless your wife is built like you, we’ll do fine despite the heat.“
    “I don’t have a wife.“
    “Right. Your Sheila.“
    “I don’t have a Sheila.“
    “Then you’ve got worries, mate,“ Ray said, putting away his clipboard. “She’s the one we’re waiting for.“
    “Bloody hell.“
    Trying not to smile, Ray handed a folded piece of paper to Sutter. He eyed the note suspiciously, wondering what his aunt was up to now. The “early start“ on his vacation had turned out to be two days of flying, followed by three solid days and most nights of slogging through some of Australia’s choicer slices of tropical hell while discussing rain patterns and animal migrations with the most enigmatic natives Sutter had ever met anywhere on earth. He had a week’s growth of itchy beard and hadn’t washed himself in the same time – unless he counted periodic drenchings from Australia’s early monsoon rains – and now he was standing around on a blistering cement apron in one hundred degrees Fahrenheit and ninety-five percent humidity, waiting for…just what the hell was he waiting for?
    Muttering, Sutter unfolded the paper and read silently: I’m sending my latest project. She needs a vacation as much as you do.
    The handwriting was both elegant and subtly imperious. The latter element was underlined by the sweeping signature.
    Anthea.
    Sutter looked at the horizon and silently counted to one hundred and thirty in the language that had no numbers. Ray watched from beneath his battered bush hat with the same deeply wary look the auctioneer had used.
    And two goats is twenty. I don’t need this. A near moon and a rising sun is twenty-one. I need a bath, a night’s sleep, a good meal and a drink. Plus two goats is twenty-three. I need peace and quiet. And a pregnant goat is twenty-five. J need to be left alone. I need a vacation, not one of Anthea’s damned projects! And a full moon is twenty-eight….
    It was several minutes before Sutter’s eyes focused on the