“ It’s true.”
“ Can you two cut it out?” Broxton said. “You sound like you hate each other.”
“ Not really,” Ramsingh said. “This is an old game between us. Nobody else has the courage to talk to me like this, except the loyal opposition and the press, and they don’t count. I enjoy Dani’s wit. She’s made a difference.”
“ Anybody can agree with a prime minister,” Dani said. The cab turned right onto a short palm tree lined road on the Sans Souci property.
“ Why don’t you check in and we’ll see you later for dinner,” Broxton said after the cab had stopped in front of the lobby.
“ I can’t. I have someone to meet, then it’s off to Ratan’s,” Dani said.
“ Ratan’s?” Broxton asked.
“ Very large supermarket,” Ramsingh answered.
“ Where you can get all those American goodies you can’t get in Trinidad, because it’s not a free market economy,” Dani added.
“ She never quits,” Ramsingh said.
“ That’s why we all love her,” Broxton said, and they all laughed.
“ Okay, dinner in an hour,” Dani said. “Then it’s off to Ratan’s for me.”
“ Won’t they be closed?” Ramsingh said.
“ They stay open till midnight. When you have a duty free economy people have more money and stores can afford to be open later.”
“ The Venezuelan economy is in the toilet,” Ramsingh said.
“ Not Margarita’s. If they ran their country like they run this island everyone would be better off.”
“ All right, no more, please,” Broxton said.
“ He’s not very political,” Dani said.
“ Doesn’t sound that way,” Ramsingh said.
At reception Dani checked in first, then headed off toward the elevators promising to meet them in the restaurant in an hour’s time.
“ I believe you’ve the presidential suite reserved for me,” Ramsingh told the desk clerk.
“ We’d also like something smaller, two single beds on the same floor,” Broxton said, “and a lot less expensive. You have something like that?” Broxton felt Ramsingh tense up next to him, but it couldn’t be helped. Everything was happening so fast. One minute he was heading for a short vacation and the next he was not only in charge of the prime minister’s security, he was the prime minister’s security.
Ramsingh didn’t speak until they were up in the small room. “This is it? We’re staying here?”
“ It’s not bad,” Broxton said. “Modern, clean, view of the beach, very touristy.”
“ And not very presidential.”
“ Did you book your room yourself?” Broxton said.
“ No.”
“ How many people on your staff know where you’re staying?”
“ They all do.”
“ And your attorney general thinks you’re secure?”
“ Surely you don’t think?”
“ I don’t have the training or the insight to know who to trust, so I’m going to compensate by not trusting anybody.”
“ How about Dani?”
“ Not even her. Certainly she’s not going to try to kill you, but who knows who she might talk to. She could easily slip and say the wrong thing. So until we get some real professionals, it’s better not to trust anyone.”
Then the bomb went off.
Broxton threw himself at Ramsingh, pushing him onto the floor and covering him with his body. The room seemed to vibrate, but the windows didn’t break and the explosion was muffled.
“ I’m all right,” Ramsingh said. Broxton eased himself off and helped the prime minister up.
“ It won’t take them long to find out you weren’t over there. Then they’ll come here,” Broxton said. “We have to go, now.”
Ramsingh reached for his bag.
“ Leave it.”
“ I can’t, it’s got government papers in it.”
“ Your life’s worth more,” Broxton said on his way to the door.
“ I’m leaving it.” Ramsingh stepped into the hall behind Broxton. The doors to every occupied room on the floor were open and the hallway was teaming with people in various stages of dress and undress.
“ What happened?” a female voice said.
“ Sounds like the boiler blew,” a man said.
“ They don’t have boilers anymore, at least not on the fifteenth floor,” another voice said.
“ We’ll take the stairs,” Broxton said, leading Ramsingh toward the stairway at the end of the hall.”
“ Billy.” Broxton recognized Dani’s voice and stopped.
“ Are you all right?” he called toward her.
“ What happened?” she said, pushing her way through the throng toward them.
“ I don’t know, but we’re leaving.”
“ The elevator’s the other way.”
“ We’re going down the stairs.”
“ Let’s go.” She followed them through the excited crowd toward the end of the hall and the staircase.
The stairway was lighted and empty. Broxton took the steps two at a time, the prime minister and Dani doing the same as they passed floor after floor. They were four floors down with ten to go when the fire alarm went off and Broxton quickened his pace. They were five more floors down with five to go when they met the first panicked person entering the stairway.
“ Is the hotel on fire?” she asked. She was a young mother, with a baby in her arms.
“ I don’t know,” Broxton said, stopping and gathering his breath. He was panting heavily, but both Ramsingh and Dani looked like they’d just been out for a short walk. “We have to go.”
“ I can’t go down with the baby.”
“ Give it to me,” Broxton said. The woman handed over her child and Broxton again started downward. Three more floors and the stairway started filling up. Broxton pushed into the panicked people, yelling out, “Please make way, my baby’s not breathing, please make way,” and the frightened people moved aside as Broxton, the baby’s mother, Ramsingh and Dani hurried down the stairs.
Broxton burst through the door at the bottom and jogged through the lobby with his troop still following behind. The fire alarm was still wailing, short, steady blasts, but the people in the lobby appeared more curious than panicked. A few were headed for the doorway, but most were standing around like they were at a garden party, talking, laughing, wondering what the fuss was about.
Outside, Broxton saw a couple getting out of a late model Mercedes. A man in an evening jacket was holding the door for a woman dressed like she was going to the Academy Awards. The parking valet was standing solicitously to the side, waiting for the keys.
“ You’re safe now,” Broxton said, handing the baby over to the young mother.
“ Thank you,” she said.
“ Dani, see that she’s all right,” Broxton said. Then he stepped over toward the Mercedes as the overdressed gentleman was dropping the keys into the valet’s hand and he snatched them out of the air.
“ I’m going to borrow the car for a bit. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt it.”
“ See here,” the man said. Two words and Broxton knew he was British.
“ Life and death, forgive me,” Broxton said. Then he turned away from the man and held the door as Ramsingh slid into the passenger seat.
“ Life and death?” the man said. Broxton nodded and noticed a big man leaning on a palm tree, watching him. He was speaking into a handheld radio and Broxton had the impression that he and the prime minister were the subject of the conversation. They locked eyes for an instant, then Broxton hustled around to the driver’s side of the
