“Why can’t we just steal the plane?” Ambassador Green whispered from close beside Beat. At least he’d learned to keep his voice down.
They squatted close beside the wreckage of the garage. Still no one had come to clean it up. The flesh of the pieces of the two embassy personnel killed in the explosion had started to go putrid in the tropical heat. There was a slight land breeze headed out to sea, so she moved them to the upwind, east side of the garage to cut the smell.
When Charlotte and Sam had asked what that stench was, she hadn’t answered. Thankfully they already knew to never ask her something a second time. They’d learned that she always heard them and when she didn’t respond it was because they didn’t want to know. Not the screaming of a burn victim, nor the wailing of half the
