Uncharted Read Free

place I was storing the encrypted data, but if the guy held up his end of the bargain, it would be the easiest place to retrieve it.
    “Put this someplace safe. This is the number I’ll give you when I come to pick up the envelope.”
    “Whatever you want,” he said as he took the claim ticket from me. “It’s your show.”
    “Have a nice day,” I said, and then I picked up my bag and headed toward my gate.
    •   •   •
    I landed in Dubai fifteen hours later, eight of which I slept away thanks to the Xanax I’d convinced my doctor to prescribe.
Stress,
I’d said.
I’m not sleeping well.
    Making my way slowly down the aisle, I yawned and stretched and followed the people in front of me into the terminal. I had several hours to kill before my flight to Malé, so I wandered aimlessly through the crowded airport, listening to a jumble of voices having conversations in languages I didn’t speak. When I arrived at the departures area in Terminal 1, I stopped at a restaurant serving American food and ordered a burger and a beer. My cell phone remained in my pocket, turned off. I had no desire to see how many messages had piled up. It wasn’t as though I planned on answering any of them.
    With each mile I put behind me, I felt less stress. More confidence in my decision. Maybe it was extreme and completely over-the-top. Eccentric, even. But I really didn’t care because all I wanted to do was get lost for a while and this seemed like the best way to do it.
    I’d become fascinated with the Maldives after listening to a business acquaintance talk about the chain of islands. “The resorts are amazing,” he’d said. “But there are also islands that are completely uninhabited. You can go there if you want. Spend the night, too. They’ll come back and get you.”
    In the days leading up to my company’s IPO, when things were really getting out of hand, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much easier my life would be if I just walked away from it all. My cell phone rang constantly. So did the one that sat on the big mahogany desk in my corner office. The ringing grated on my nerves and made me feel as if I couldn’t breathe. Everyone wanted something from me: time, money, help.
    On a particularly stressful afternoon, I picked up the phone and used it to make a few inquiries of my own. Over the next few weeks I obtained a sponsorship visa, which allowed me to enter the Maldives and stay indefinitely. I located a pilot willing to fly me where I needed to go—and purchase the supplies I require—with a minimum of questions asked. I expected to hit a roadblock at some point, which would have stopped my plan in its tracks, but I didn’t. It’s easy to disappear if you have enough money, and I had plenty of it.
    And it was in my best interest to be far, far away when everyone discovered that their gravy train had come to a screeching halt.
    •   •   •
    It was morning when I landed in Malé; I’d been traveling for so many hours that I was already confused about what day it was. I found a restroom and ducked into a stall to change into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.
    The line at the seaplane counter in the arrival hall wasn’t long. I waited patiently and when it was my turn I pulled a sheet of paper with a confirmation number on it out of my wallet. “It’s a private charter,” I said. “Captain Forrester is the pilot.”
    The woman behind the counter pulled up my reservation on the computer. “You’re checked in and ready to go, Mr. Sparks. I’ll page Captain Forrester. I believe he’s standing by.”
    “I’m positive he is,” I said. I’d paid him generously to be waiting for me, no matter how many travel problems I encountered, or what time I arrived. I knew with absolute certainty that the seaplane would be idling at the dock.
    “Please come with me,” a uniformed employee of the airline said. I followed him outside and stood at the curb. “The shuttle will transport you to the