God's Island

Chapter Forty

I never saw Joyce Schumacher again.

Agents Bremmer and Dunn continued my enlightenment from their perspective back in the conference room. Bremmer slid a file folder in front of me.

"Firstly we need to clear up a question regarding the identity of the man you called Gervasio. We're running down his background through various sources."

Bremmer leant over me and opened the file. I detected the fresh application of cologne. Dunn remained his usual noncontributory self, which made me wonder about his purpose. From the start he'd seemed redundant.

"Study the large man in each of these photographs," Bremmer continued. "I'm afraid the resolution is poor despite enhancement."

The prints were severely grainy, lacking detail and contrast, yet despite the poor quality the subject matter came across clear and hit me with a jolt. The first shot showed two men, one clad in military fatigues and the other hiding his face beneath a makeshift hood. They stood either side of a third figure. This third wretch seemed to be, naked and suspended by a rope attached to a cane shaft. The wrists and feet were tied to the shaft and another rope stretched tight around his neck. It appeared much of the skin had been flayed from the victim's back. The other prints were more of the same from different angles. The backdrop looked like jungle foliage.

Bremmer apologized. "I'm sorry we had to show you this, but it's important. The shots were taken about fourteen years ago. They are real not fakes. What you see is actually happening. Look carefully at the man on the right. We believe his name is Gervasio."

I swallowed, pushing back the rising nausea, and tried to concentrate. Bremmer could see the disgust written in my face. The man appeared tall compared to his hooded companion on the left. Stocky but not fat, and he'd grown a full, dark beard and moustache. I tried to make out the eyes, but the graininess obscured all fine detail.

I shook my head. "No, I can't confirm that's Gervasio."

Dunn emitted a groan, followed by silence when Bremmer glared at him.

A second folder provided more photographs, which were slid across the desk. An Asian man in a double-breasted suit had stepped from a doorway onto a crowded street. This time I had no doubt.

"That's the one Victor called, General Chu," I said positively.

"No mistake?"

"Definitely no mistake. That's him."

"Good," Bremmer said curtly, glancing at Dunn. "A result." He retrieved the Chu photographs and slipped them back into the file.

Without prompt, Dunn picked up a large buff envelope and stood it on end like a display card. He wasn't letting it out of his grasp, but held it close enough for me to make out the security stamp. Obviously this part had been rehearsed.

"The information in that envelope came here via a secure Teletype just over a week ago. Only five days after you were rescued. It's from the Central Intelligence Agency in Washington," Bremmer said, as if we were now playing some sort of game.

I looked at him deadpan. "So am I supposed to guess what's in it?"

"The Shanghai list—latest edition. Obviously I can't show you the list for security reasons, but there are new entries that must be brought to your attention."

He paused.

I found the false drama irritating. I said, "Okay, I'm listening," without disguising my impatience.

"The new entries are Greg Rhodes, Donald Crenshaw and yourself."

The ensuing silence didn't last long. "Did you hear me, Gina?"