Aground on St. Thomas Read Free

unfastened his cuff links, Cedric resumed his worried pace around the office. The aide was unnerved by the sudden change in circumstances. The situation was spinning out of control—and he wasn’t referring to the incoming feds.
    Fowler folded up the Governor’s shirt and slacks and tucked the clothing, along with his loafers, into the tote. As the Governor stood from tying his shoelaces, Fowler handed over a white visor printed with the logo from a New York–based tennis tournament.
    It wasn’t much of a disguise, Cedric thought, surveying the improvised outfit. The Governor’s chubby figure was well known throughout the territory, particularly in Charlotte Amalie. He wouldn’t get more than a block or two from the building without being identified and called out.
    Fowler was far more confident in the costume’s chances of facilitating evasion. With an approving nod, he cracked open the door and peeked down the hallway. The Governor leaned forward, anxiously peering over the other man’s shoulder.
    Cedric stopped his pacing and stared at the pair crowded by the doorway. He shook his head, stunned by the rapid turn of events.
    For the past six years, he had run the Governor’s schedule, overseen his legislative obligations, and managed almost every aspect of his daily life. He’d been invited to family events and had dined regularly at the Governor’s Mansion. He had been the only aide trusted to babysit the First Lady’s beloved Chihuahuas. He’d been an essential part of the politician’s very existence.
    But if he didn’t act fast, his services were about to come to an abrupt end.
    With difficulty, Cedric swallowed his pride. He would have to set aside his qualms about the Governor’s accomplice—no matter how much he disliked the thought of involving the Fixer.
    “How can I help?” he asked meekly.
    The Governor turned his head back toward the office and shifted the visor so he could see out. The tone of his voice matched the incredulous expression on his face.
    “Aren’t you coming with us?”
    •
    THE TRIO CREPT down the hallway, with Fowler taking the lead, the Governor following cautiously in the thin man’s footsteps, and a bewildered Cedric bringing up the rear.
    The group hugged the corridor’s right-hand side so they wouldn’t be visible through the opposite wall, which opened to the floor below.
    A quiet hush rose through the building’s empty center space, the collected bated breath of the Government House employees waiting for the raid to commence. Cedric veered left to peek down through the slats in the hallway’s side railing.
    Like most offices, theirs was a fractious workplace, particularly behind closed doors and turned backs. Feuds were often fueled by jealous speculations about who was in favor and who had fallen out.
    As the Governor’s trusted aide, Cedric discreetly monitored the building’s verbal traffic. He could usually squelch the most damaging rumors before they reached the newspapers.
    Over the years, he had overheard countless disgruntled discussions from hidden positions on back stairwells, inside bathroom stalls, and behind copy room doors. The complaints ranged the gamut, from perceived inequities in pay and workload to suspicions about the administration’s ethical policies and practices.
    But at this moment, none of that rancor was in evidence.
    As Cedric looked down at the employees gathered in the lobby below, the faces reflected back a wall of undivided loyalty. Their innate aversion to the imposition of foreign troops combined with the Governor’s attempt to elude the invaders had forged a temporary unity.
    That allegiance wouldn’t last more than thirty seconds after the big man left the building.
    At least, that’s what Cedric was counting on.
    In recent months, the trusted aide had turned on his employer.
    He was now the star witness in the federal government’s case against the Governor.
    •
    FOWLER THREW BACK his hand, halting the train of