Hardbingers

11

Back in his apartment, Jack Googled Nantucket. He found a boomerang-shaped island thirty miles south of Cape Cod. Small: only fifty square miles. Only? That was twice the size of Manhattan. Not good. But year-round residents numbered just under ten thousand. Much better, but still a lot of people. Loads better though than the forty to fifty thousand on the island in the summer.

He figured the islanders would be, well, insular, and the kind who knew everybody's business. They'd sure as hell know if a bunch of sunglass-wearing outsiders and a teenage girl had moved in among them. But would they tell another outsider? Jack had his doubts.

So he needed Russ to ferret out a name or address or anything involving Nantucket from that flash drive. Otherwise he'd have to tackle the island on his own and find some locals to chat up, see if they'd come across with any hints as to the whereabouts of the yeniceri.

A very iffy proposition since Jack had little time and no illusions about his chatting-up abilities. They stank.

In the meantime, he'd hang at the hospital and hope for the best… hope he wouldn't have to go to Nantucket at all.

He realized what an idiotic hope that was, but he wasn't giving up on Gia and Vicky. Not ever.