Silent Thunder

'Nice.'

'Now that you've had a chance to check out the competition, you must realize there's no place on the beach better than TNT.'

'Well, most had more customers than you. Have you considered ninety-nine-cent chicken wings?'

'This is a real bar. I don't need that stuff. And to be fair, you've only come to my place at odd hours.'

'True.'

He leaned close to her. 'And even if the place is empty, you have to admit that the bartender lends it a certain charm.'

'I came back, didn't I?'

He nodded. 'I'm glad you did. What do you feel like doing?'

'A drink might be nice. After that, I'll leave it up to you.'

'Perfect. Let me close up before some unwelcome straggler wanders in.'

He unfastened a coil of nylon rope at a support post and lowered the canvas awning until it covered the front of the bar. He repeated the action on both sides, completely enclosing the seating area. 'Alone at last.'

The canvas folds of fabric brushed the pocket of her skirt, where Kirov's cell phone transmitted to him on the street outside.

Niler reached behind the bar and picked up something Hannah couldn't see. 'A guy came in here tonight selling handmade jewelry. Most of it was seashell-and-bead crap, but he had a necklace that made me think of you.'

'Did you get his number?'

'Nah. I bought it for you.'

'You are sure of yourself, aren't you?'

He gave her a puckish grin. 'Well, if you hadn't shown up I'd probably have just given it to another pretty tourist this weekend.'

'I have no doubt.'

'It's a necklace. Turn around. Let me put it on you. Though I have to warn you, there's just a chance that I want to get my hands on you.'

'You're moving a little fast.' But Hannah turned and lifted her hair, allowing him to fasten the necklace around her neck. Niler's hands felt warm and coarse on her skin as he carefully positioned it.

'There. Perfect.' He reached over the bar, picked up a small mirror, and handed it to her. 'I hope you like it.'

'I'm sure I will.' She angled the mirror toward her throat. She inhaled sharply. 'Oh, my God!'

Six paper-covered blocks and a tiny radio receiver.

She turned on him. 'What the hell?'

'It's a low-power explosive device.' He stepped back and showed her a small remote control. 'I push this button, and your goddamn head flies off.'

Hannah instinctively reached for the necklace.

'Don't do it!'

She stopped and let her hands fall to her sides. 'Are you some kind of psycho?'

'Not at all. I'm just not very good with guns. I'm a rotten shot, and I always have been.' He raised the remote. 'This is more my speed. You have half a dozen cubes of HMX-based explosives around your neck. In the trade, we call them bullion cubes. It's enough to lop off your head, but light enough to leave me and my bar intact. I'll be open for business tomorrow, no problem. The question is, will you be open for business?'

Hannah felt the perspiration beading her face. 'Why in the hell are you doing this?'

'You're the one who needs to explain. Who are you?'

'My name is Hannah Bryson. I'm a marine architect.'

'Bullshit.'

'It's the truth.'

'Who broke into my car while you were chatting me up this morning?'

Hannah stiffened.

'Yeah, I know about that. I have a hard disk recorder hooked up to my security camera. Later in the day I noticed that my car alarm was off, and I never forget to set it when I get here. So I scanned the disk back and caught your friend. You were the only customer during my first hour of business, and my car was broken into during the five minutes you were here. You expect me to believe it was just a coincidence?'

'We didn't take anything.'

'I would've been less worried if you had. What were you looking for?'

Hannah didn't reply.

He raised the remote and said with cold precision. 'I repeat. What were you looking for? '

Kirov's voice called from outside. 'That's enough, Niler. I'll tell you everything you need to know.'

Niler turned toward the tarp. 'Who's that?'

'The man who broke into your car,' Hannah said. 'I think you need to talk to him.'

'Are you a cop? A Fed?'

Kirov said something in Russian that Hannah couldn't understand.

Niler turned toward Hannah. 'Now, I have to say, I wasn't expecting that. Okay, lift up the awning and crawl under.'

The awning pulled away, and Kirov appeared from underneath. 'Still up to your old tricks, I see, Niler.'

'Never old, always fresh and new. Keep your distance.' Niler gestured to the remote. 'I believe we have some things to sort out.'

'So I see.' Kirov walked toward Hannah. 'Are you all right?'

She nodded.

Kirov turned toward Niler. 'What do you say we take off that dreadful necklace? You used to have much better taste, Niler.'

'She had a problem with it too. I have a quick way to oblige both of you.'

'It would be unfortunate if someone at the next bar changed television channels or made a cell phone call that accidentally set off this device,' Kirov said. 'Can't we be civilized about this?'

Niler shook his head. 'You know my work better than that. The charge won't go until I push this button.'

'Of course. The Great Dane never makes mistakes.'

'Too bad I can't say the same about you. What are you calling yourself these days?'

'Kirov.'

'And what the hell are you doing here?'

Kirov took Hannah's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. 'We've recently encountered another one of your devices, Niler. Four red cylinders at extreme underwater depth-does that ring a bell?'

Niler smiled. 'If you really encountered it, you're lucky to be standing here.'

'I know Pavski commissioned it from you. He meant it for me.'

'I'm not a terrorist.'

'I never said you were.'

'I only build sentry devices, to protect personal property.'

'Like this necklace around Hannah's neck?'

Niler shrugged. 'That's to protect me.'

'Fair enough. But believe me when I say you're the last person on earth I'd want to see harmed. I want Pavski, and you're my best hope of finding him.'

'That's what this is all about? Pavski?'

Kirov nodded. 'I can make it worth your while to help us.'

'I always protect the confidentiality of my clients.'

'Very honorable, especially from a man who earns a great deal of his income from South American drug lords.'