Blind Read Online Free Page B

Losing Gaia was an ache that went on and on.
    That was why he was here, so far from everythingand everyone he considered important. If Loki’s plan could be discovered, if his agents could be neutralized, if Tom could ever be sure that Gaia was completely safe, then he could go home again. He could get back to Gaia and try to salvage something that looked like a normal life.
    He had been down here for days, trying to find the tag end of Loki’s organization. So far his progress had been slow. Loki had taken steps to cover his tracks. All Tom had been able to turn up were the names of a few agents that might—
might—
be working for Loki. He was going to need more information to find the next link in the chain.
    Tom took another glance down the deserted beach. What would it be like to come to this place on an actual vacation? To get some of those drinks with funny, tropical names and little umbrellas, toss some towels down on the sand, and soak up so much sun, it drove out all the years of hiding in shadows? He might even get Gaia to shed her grungy sweatshirts. They could be a real family, he, his daughter, and—
    His thoughts were interrupted by a splash out in the bay. A small, dark shape broke the smooth surface of the water. A moment later the shape was revealed to be the head of a man with a mask on his face and a snorkel alongside his ear.
    Tom waited until the man was stepping free of the waves, then stood and brushed the sand from hisneatly creased khaki pants. “Good morning,” he called.
    The man pushed the mask back from his face and gave a quick nod. “Yah,” he said. “Good morning.”
    There was a certain stiltedness in the man’s voice, a trace of accent that put a hard
g
sound in the middle of
morning. Germany
Tom guessed.
Or maybe Austrian.
Not that it mattered. He put his hands in the pockets of his pants and strolled closer.
    Meanwhile, the man had stopped at the edge of the waves and dropped onto the damp sand. There was a black nylon web belt around his waist. Several fish hung from the belt: some snapper, a couple of grouper. Red fish blood ran over his leg and stained the tan beach. The fisherman took off the belt and laid it to his side, then took a blue anodized speargun from its holster and put it down beside the fish.
    â€œThat’s quite a catch,” Tom said.
    â€œYah,” said the man without looking up. He pulled his knees toward his chest and started to remove the fins from his feet.
    â€œI guess there must be a lot of fish out there.” Tom took another step, and his shadow fell across the man.
    The spearfisher finished taking off his fins and looked up at Tom. The man had short black hair coated with something that was clearly impervious to water. Even after going out under the waves, the man’s scalp was still covered in a forest of sharp littlespikes. The guy was tall, with broad shoulders and well-cut muscles that spoke of a lot of time working out. He had a deep tan broken only by a small, pale scar at the corner of his mouth. It made the man look as though someone had once caught
him
on a hook and line.
    â€œYah, yah, yah. There are a lot of fish,” he said with obvious irritation. “It is the ocean. That’s where they put the fish.”
    Tom smiled. “Hey, I guess that’s right.” He looked out at the water for a moment and nodded. “Sure is a pretty spot.”
    The man with the spiky hair gave a disinterested grunt. He stood up, the belt of bloody fish in one hand and his speargun in the other. “Did you want something?”
    â€œIt’s just…” Tom gave a shrug. “I was wondering if I could see your spray gun.”
    â€œIt’s called a speargun.”
    â€œSpeargun, right. I’ve never seen one like that, and I thought maybe I could take a quick look.”
    The question caused the man to roll his pale eyes, but he pushed the blue speargun toward Tom.