Fugitive by Phillip Margolin Read Free Book Online Page B

to say something, but the woman touched his lips gently with her fingers.
    Maybe we will meet again tomorrow night, yes? she said loud enough to be heard by anyone who was listening. Then Rebecca walked away, her hips swaying rhythmically in a manner calculated to attract the attention of every man in the bar. While all eyes were on Rebecca's backside, Dennis worked on his drink, hoping the alcohol would help him calm down. When he'd drained the glass dry, he left the bar through the door that led to the pool.
    The temperature was in the eighties, but the air seemed cool in comparison to the 100-plus degree heat that had greeted Dennis at the airport. The back of the hotel was a tropical paradise. Lights illuminated oversize ferns, palm trees, a spectacular array of flowers, and several paths that led away from the pool into a garden. At the start of one path, a sign pointed toward a hut without walls that was covered by a thatched roof. A bar took up the center of the hut. Dennis was halfway down the path when he heard someone behind him. Before he could turn, a hand clamped down on the wrist that held the flight bag. Dennis's blood pressure skyrocketed.
    I' m Evers. Don't say a word. Just give me the bag and keep moving. Have a drink at the bar then head to the rendezvous.
    Dennis released the bag and a huge, bald man walked past him and disappeared into the garden. Dennis was still shaking when he sat at the bar. A stiff scotch helped him relax a little. When he'd finished it, he went to the front of the hotel and asked the doorman where to find some action in town. As soon as he was given the name of a few bars and the street they were on, Dennis asked the doorman to get him a cab. The doorman blew a whistle and a taxi pulled up. The cabbie was a big man wearing a dashiki decorated with a picture of Jean-Claude Baptiste. When Dennis got into the taxi, he turned his head toward the backseat.
    Where to, my friend? he asked with a jovial grin.
    Lafayette Street.
    Ah, you are looking for fine Batangan women, the cabbie said with a knowing shake of his head.
    Maybe, Dennis answered nervously.
    I show you the best bars.
    Great.
    You are American?
    Yes, Dennis answered tersely, remembering Charlie's admonition to talk to no one.
    Not too many Americans come Batanga way.
    When Dennis didn't respond, the driver said, I like Americans. They tip big. Then he laughed.
    Dennis cast a few surreptitious glances out the back window of the taxi as it sped into town. He didn't see any cars following him.
    I've changed my mind, Dennis said. I want to go to Idi Amin Beach.
    That trip more money, the cabbie said.
    That's okay.
    The beach had originally been named after Batanga's first president, but President Baptiste had rechristened it in the name of his boyhood idol. The compound where many of the expatriates lived backed on it. The driver cut through a few side streets before turning onto Baptiste Boulevard, the main road out of the city.
    What kind work you do in America? the driver asked.
    I write for a magazine.
    Ah, Penthouse, Playboy, they are good magazines.
    Actually, it's a news magazine. We report what's happening in the world.
    The cabbie shook his head. That's a good thing. It is wise to know about the world. Have you come to Batanga to write about our great country?
    Uh, yes. The American people want very much to learn about Batanga.
    That's good. Batangans know much about America. We see the movies. Many gunfights and car chases. Have you ever been in a gunfight or a car chase?
    That doesn't really happen. I mean, not often. They just put those in the movies to make them exciting. Most days of the year, it's pretty boring in America. Americans just get up and work and watch television and go to sleep. There's not much exciting going on.
    I would like a television. It would be a good thing to have. They show our great football team on TV.
    The streetlights disappeared a mile past the executive mansion and the only hole in the