Trojan Odyssey

'May I see the body?' Ortega asked, with official dispassion.

Pitt was already dropping down the ladder, almost falling on Giordino, who leaped off to one side. 'This way, Inspector. The women were in my cabin below.'

Inwardly, Pitt felt a flood of guilt at not recognizing Rita as a woman who was capable of murder. He cursed himself for not accompanying Renee, for sending her alone to release her killer.

He muttered, 'Oh God, no!' under his breath at the sight of Renee, stripped nude, lying on the bed with her legs together, arms outstretched in the position of a cross. The image of the Odyssey logo, the Celtic White Horse of Uffington, had been carved into her stomach.

Rita had acted compliant and docile when Renee removed the duct tape from around her arms. But when Renee, innocently unaware that her life was in jeopardy with five men less than ten feet away, knelt to remove the duct tape from Rita's legs and ankles, the witch clenched her hands and brought them down in a vicious chop to the nape of the neck. Renee dropped without uttering a sound.

Rita quickly removed Renee's clothes, laid her out on the bed and pressed a pillow over her face. There was no struggle. Already unconscious, Renee was never aware of being smothered to death. Then Rita took a pair of hair scissors from Pitt's shaving kit in the bathroom and carved the image of the Celtic horse on Renee's stomach. From start to finish, the hideous act took less than four minutes.

Moving quickly toward the forward section of the boat, Rita came up through the bow hatch, shielded by the pilothouse. Out of sight of the men conversing on the stern deck, she climbed over the side and slipped into the water without making a splash. Then she swam underwater to the opposite side of the dock, reached the shore and crawled through the thick vegetation that covered the bank. In the exact moment Giordino discovered Renee's body, Rita disappeared into the jungle.

'The woman cannot get far,' said Ortega. 'There are no roads leading in and out of Rio Colorado. She cannot flee into the jungle and live. My men will apprehend her before she can obtain air transportation or a boat.'

'All she has is the bikini she's wearing,' Pitt informed him.

'She took no clothes?'

'Renee's closet is still closed and her clothes are scattered on the deck,' said Gunn, pointing to where Rita had thrown them.

'Does she have money?' Ortega asked.

Pitt shook his head. 'Not unless Renee had some on her person, which I doubt.'

'Without money or a passport, she has no place to run except the jungle.'

'Hardly a place a woman could survive in only a bikini,' said McGee, who stood in the doorway.

'Please secure the cabin,' instructed Ortega. 'And do not touch anything.'

'Can't we at least dress her?' Pitt requested.

'Not until my forensic staff arrives and conducts a formal examination.'

'When can we remove her for a flight to the States?'

'Two days,' Ortega replied politely. 'In the meantime, please remain here and enjoy Mr. McGee's hospitality until you can all be questioned and reports filled out.' He paused to look down at Renee indifferently. 'She is from your country?'

Dodge could not bear to look at Renee and turned away. 'She lives in Richmond, Virginia,' he whispered in a voice that choked.

Pitt looked at Gunn. 'We'd better inform the admiral.'

'He won't take this sitting down. If I know him, he'll demand Congress declare war and send in the Marines.'

For the first time, Ortega's eyes widened. 'He would do what, senor?'

'A play on words,' said Pitt, ignoring the police inspector and drawing a blanket over Renee.

Rita hurriedly made her way through the jungle, staying close to the riverbank until she reached the Rio Colorado Sport Fishing Lodge. She followed the signs on the walkway to the swimming pool. Wearing her bikini, she fit right in with the other fishing widows lying around the pool while their husbands indulged themselves trolling for tarpon and snook in the river.

Ignoring the stares from the pool attendants and waiters, she snatched up a towel from an empty lounge chair and draped it over one shoulder. Then she stepped along the walkway between the lodge's rooms. Finding one where the maid was cleaning the room, she stepped inside.

'Tome su tiempo.' She told the maid to take her time, acting as if it were her room.

'Me casi acaban,' the maid replied, as she carried the dirty towels to her cart on the walkway and closed the door.

Rita sat at the desk, picked up a phone and requested an open line. When a voice answered, she said, 'This is Flidais.'

'One moment.'

Then came another voice. 'The line is clear. Please go ahead.'

'Flidais?'

'Yes, Epona, I'm here.'

'Why are you calling on an open line from a hotel?'

'We have an unexpected problem.'

'Yes?'

'A NUMA research boat looking for the source of the brown crud was not deceived by the hologram and destroyed our yacht.'

'Understood,' said the woman called Epona, without the slightest trace of emotion. 'Where are you?'

'After our yacht sank, I was captured by the NUMA people, who held me prisoner. I escaped and am now sitting in a room at the Rio Colorado Lodge. It's only matter of minutes before the local police trail me here.'

'Our crew?'

'Some were killed. The rest escaped in the helicopter and abandoned me.'

'They will be dealt with.' The voice paused. 'Did they interrogate you?'

'They tried, but I gave them a phony story and told them my name was Rita Anderson.'

'Keep the line open and wait.'

Flidais, alias Rita, went to the closet and found a flowered-print summer dress that was a size ten to her size eight. Close enough, she thought. Better large than too small. She pulled it on over her bikini and found a scarf, which she tied around her head to hide her red hair. It didn't bother her in the least that she was stealing another woman's clothes and running up a large phone bill, certainly not after having killed Renee. Next she pulled on open sandals that were a close fit. A pair of sunglasses were sitting on a bed stand, so she slipped them on.

She smiled to herself as she searched the drawers of the dresser and found the room occupant's purse. Why women never used any creativity in hiding their valuables was a mystery to Flidais. It was well known among hotel thieves that women invariably hid their purses, including their wallets, under their clothes in a drawer. She found eight hundred dollars American and a few Costa Rican colones. With an exchange rate of 369,000 colones to the dollar, most monetary transactions in Costa Rica were handled in foreign currency.

Barbara Hacken was the name below the picture of the face on the driver's license and the photo inside the passport. Except for a different hair color and a few years' difference in age, they might have passed for sisters. Flidais cracked the door to see if the room's occupant was coming up the walkway, when Epona came back on the line. 'All is arranged, sister. I'm sending my private plane to pick you up at the airport. It will be waiting on the tarmac when you arrive. Do you have transportation?'

'The hotel should have a car to carry guests to and from the airport.'

'You may have to show identification to get past airport security.'

'All is established on that score,' answered Flidais, slinging the purse strap over her shoulder. 'I'll see you and our sisters at the ritual in three days.'

Then she hung up and walked to the hotel lobby past two local uniformed policemen who were checking the grounds. Looking for a woman last seen in a bikini, they gave her a quick glance, thinking she was a guest of the lodge, and passed on. She spotted Barbara Hacken sunning at the pool. She looked to be dozing. When Flidais