Tucker’s rage dropped a level when he looked at the amount. “Ten grand? What’s this for?”

“Call it a first-flight bonus. Beth said you did very well.”

Tucker fingered the check, then brushed the sand off it and read it again. If he had any self-respect, he’d throw it in the doctor’s face. He didn’t, of course. “This is great, Doc. Ten grand for picking up a case of wine. I’m not even going to ask you what was in the cooler she gave that guy, but I was almost killed on the beach a few minutes ago.”

“I’m very sorry about that. There’s a lot of Japanese ordnance scattered around the island. The area at the edge of the fence used to be a minefield. The staff and the natives all know not to go there.”

“Well, you might have mentioned it to me.”

“I didn’t want to alarm you. I told a couple of members of the staff to keep an eye on you and steer you away from there. I’ll speak to them.”

“They’ve been spoken to. I spoke to them myself. And I’m a little tired of being watched by them.”

“It’s for your own safety, as I’m sure you can see now.”

“I’m not a child and I don’t expect to be treated like one. I want to go where I want, when I want, and I don’t want to be watched by a bunch of ninjas.”

The doctor sat bolt-upright in his chair. “Why do you refer to them as ninjas? Who told you to call the staff that?”

“Look at them. They’re Japanese, they wear all black, they know martial arts—hell, the only thing they’re missing are T-shirts that say, ‘Ask me about being a ninja.’ I call them that because that’s what they look like. They sure as hell aren’t medical staff.”

“No, they’re not,” Sebastian said, “but I’m afraid they are a necessary evil, and one that I can’t do much about.”

“Why not? It’s your island.”

“This island belongs to the Shark People. And even this clinic isn’t mine, Mr. Case. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, we are not financed by the Methodist Mission Fund.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that.”

“We do have some very powerful corporate sponsors in Japan, and they have insisted that we keep a small contingent of security men on the island if we want to keep our funding.”

“Funding for what, Doc?”

“Research.”

Tuck laughed. “Right. This is the perfect environment for research. No sense using some sterile high-tech facility in Tokyo. Do your R and D out on the asshole of the Pacific. Come clean. What’s really going on?”

The doctor pointed to the check Tucker was holding. “If I tell you, Mr. Case, that’s the last one of those you will see. You make the choice. If you want to work here, you have to work in the dark. There is no compromise. It’s research, it’s secret, and the people who are paying for it want it to stay that way or they wouldn’t have hired the guards and they wouldn’t allow me to pay you so well.” He pushed back his gray hair and stared into Tucker’s eyes, not threatening, not challenging, but with the compassion of a physician concerned about the welfare of a patient. “Now, do you really want to know what we’re doing here?”

Tuck looked at the check, looked back at the doctor, then looked at the check. If it was good, it was the largest amount of money he’d

ever possessed at one time. He said, “I just want the guards to lighten up, give me some room to breathe.”

The doctor smiled. “I think we can do that. But I need your word that you won’t try to leave the compound.”

“To go where? I’ve seen this island from the air, remember? I can’t be missing much.”

“I’m only interested in your safety.”

“Right,” Tucker said, as sincerely as he could muster. “But I want a TV. I’m going nuts sitting around in that room. If I read one more spy novel, I’ll qualify for a Double-O number. You guys have a TV, so I know you have one of those satellite dishes hooked up. I want a TV.”

Again the doctor smiled. “You can have ours. I’m sure Beth won’t mind.”

“You gave him what?” The Sky Priestess looked up from a copy of Us magazine. She was draped in a white silk kimono that was untied and cascaded around her into a shimmering pool at the foot of her chair. Her hair was pinned up with ivory chopsticks inlaid with ebony dragons.

The Sorcerer stood in the door of her chambers. He’d felt rather proud of himself until the tone in her voice struck him like an ice pick in the neck.

“Your television. But it’s only temporary. I’ll have another one waiting for you at the airstrip on the next flight.”

“Which is when?”

“As soon as I can set up an order. I promise, Beth.”

“Which means that I also have to do a performance without my soaps. I depend on my soaps to practice my sense memories, Sebastian. How do you expect me to play a goddess if I can’t find my emotional moment?”

“Maybe, just this once, you could try emotions that don’t come by satellite feed.”

She dropped her magazine and bit her lip, looking off to the corner of the room as if considering it. “Fine. Give him the TV.”

“I gave him ten thousand dollars, as well.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What does he get if he blows himself up again, a night with the Sky Priestess?”

“If I can bargain him down to that,” the Sorcerer said. He turned and walked out of the room smiling to himself.

Tucker Case spent the next week watching the compound, trying to get a clue to what was going on. The doctor had brought the TV as he promised, and even loaned Tucker a seven iron, but since then Tuck had only seen him from a distance, making his way back and forth from the clinic to one of the small bungalows at the other side of the beach. The guards still watched him, following him at a distance when he went for a swim or a search-and-destroy mission for roosters, but there had been no sign of Beth Curtis.

If indeed the doctor was doing some sort of research, there was no hint as to what it involved. Tuck tried stopping by the clinic several times, only to find the door locked and no response when he knocked.

Boredom worked on Tuck, pressed down on him like a pile of wet blankets until he felt as if he would suffocate under the weight. In the past he had always fought boredom with alcohol and women, and the trouble that ensued from that combination filled the days. Here there was nothing but spy novels and bad Asian cooking shows (the doctor had refused to let him hook up to the satellite dish) and although he was pleased that he now knew nine different ways to prepare beagle, it wasn’t enough. He needed to get out of the compound, if for no other reason than because they told him he couldn’t.

Fortunately, over the years, Tuck had acquired an encyclopedic knowledge of women-in-prison movies, so he had at his disposal a plethora of escape strategies. Of course, many of them weren’t applicable. He immediately rejected the idea of seducing and shiving

the large lesbian matron, and faking menstrual cramps would only get him sent to the clinic with a Mydol IV, but strangely enough, as he was acting out the gratuitous shower scene, his plan burst forth: soap-slathered, silicone-enhanced, and in total defiance of time, gravity, and natural proportion…

The shower drain opened directly onto the coral gravel below.

He could see it down there, the ground, and a small hermit crab scuttling to escape the soapy water. He’d lost weight, but not enough to slide down the drain. The entire bottom of the shower was no more than a tray of gal-vanized metal. He bent, grasped the edge, and lifted. It didn’t come free, but it moved. A little time, a little patience, and he’d have it free. Planning and patience. Those were the keys to a successful escape.

So he could get out of the bungalow without being seen. The next obstacle would be the fence.

Tuck found out early on that the fence around the compound was electrified. He’d found a rooster stuck to the wires, doing a convulsive imitation of the funky chicken while its feathers smoldered and sparks shot from its grounded foot. Satisfying as the discovery was, Tuck realized that there would be no going over the fence, and the gate to the airfield was locked with a massive chain and padlock. The only way past the fence was around it, and the only place to get around it was at the beach. Sure, he could swim out and come in farther down the beach, but how far did the minefield extend? He began testing it by hitting rocks into the minefield with his seven iron under the auspices of practicing his swing. He managed to produce several impressive craters and scare the guards with the explosion before finding the edge of the minefield some fifty yards down the beach. He decided to risk it.