Aground on St. Thomas
followers behind him. From the top of the building’s central curving staircase, he angled his head to see through to the front lobby.
    A woman had been posted to serve as lookout for the approaching federal agents. She stood next to the security scanners in an area dedicated to a display of the territory’s past leaders. The lobby’s homage included portraits of both elected and appointed governors, going all the way back to the Danish Colonial era. On the near wall hung a pair of Pissarro paintings, a tribute to the famed Impressionist artist who was born on the island in 1830.
    From her position in the lobby entrance, the woman had a clear view of the narrow one-way street running in front of Government House as well as the public gardens that dropped down the slope from the opposite curb.
    Fowler puckered his lips and sent out a low whistle.
    At the sound, the woman leaned forward for a last check through the glass doors. Then she glanced up toward the unseen trio and subtly nodded.
    With that signal, Fowler ushered the Governor forward, and the group began a mad dash down the red-carpeted staircase, a wild scramble of thumping, slipping feet.
    Cedric considered faking a fall that might slow their departure. But before he could gauge a safe tripping distance, a heavyset man with a build similar to the Governor’s chugged up the steps to meet them.
    Fowler hit the brakes, nearly causing a collision. As Cedric struggled to regain his balance, Fowler reached into the tote bag and tossed the man the Governor’s formal clothes and shoes.
    “Hold them off for as long as you can,” the Governor said gratefully, patting the doppelgänger on the back.
    Cedric turned to watch the man continue up the stairs and along the hallway to the Governor’s office. Once more, he found himself wondering how all of this subterfuge had been arranged without his knowledge.
    Clearly, the Fixer’s sudden appearance wasn’t the only unforeseen wrinkle in the day’s schedule.
    The aide hesitated on the stairs as the other two resumed the charge to the bottom. It was an unsettling sensation, being so uninformed and out of the loop. He had no idea what to expect next.
    Even after the Governor’s earlier urging, he wasn’t sure how far he was invited to join in this improvised escape.
    Swallowing his anxiety, Cedric trotted down the remaining steps. No matter what bizarre tricks the Fixer had up his sleeve, he couldn’t afford to lose track of the Governor’s position.
    Not now. Not when he was so close to achieving his goal.
    He caught up with the pair on the first floor, falling in line as they passed the receptionist, who buzzed them through a security gate leading to the rear of the building.
    They were moments away from fleeing into the surrounding residential neighborhood.
    Cedric straightened his tie, trying to convey a look of confidence, even as his mind reeled with anguish.
    Months of careful planning had just been thrown out the window.

~ 3 ~
    A Warm Island Welcome
    CEDRIC TRACKED HIS boss through Government House, following the man’s bobbing visor down a series of narrow corridors. Up ahead, Fowler took off into a maze of tiny rooms, an indirect but, Cedric presumed, less conspicuous course to the rear exit.
    The building’s floor plan had been modified numerous times since its original Danish construction, the 1860s format being incompatible with the functions of a modern-day office space. The resulting layout contained several odd-shaped hallways and closet-sized cubbyholes, the squeezed-off remnants from efforts to create a center open area.
    Fowler’s winding path took the three men through a servant’s quarters that had been converted into a copy center and across a galley-style kitchen that now served as a break room.
    It was a frantic pace, and Cedric found himself struggling to keep up. The Governor’s bulky frame flashed in and out of view, moving with surprising swiftness and agility.
    “Where did the Guv get

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