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at first. I need some equipment transported to the Pacific Northwest. If all goes as planned, I’ll also need some luxury service for potential buyers from major hubs to a small airport along the Oregon-Idaho border. I’ll tell you exactly where when the time comes. Think you can handle that?”
    Scott thought about the logistics and personnel. Emily Parkington had asked one too many questions at the last shareholder meeting. He’d scared her off but she was as annoying as her mother had been—always watching him with disapproval in her judgmental eyes. He’d have to keep tabs on her. She had been flying most of the Pacific Northwest routes but that could be changed. He’d have to be subtle about it, but he thought he could do it.
    “No problem. When do you want to start?”
    “I’ve already started. The first of the new cargo shipments should be arriving in Wichita in a couple of hours. More will follow. Be sure they encounter no difficulties getting to their destination.”
    “Will do.” Scott didn’t like the man’s superior tone of voice but for a cut of the deal he was willing to put up with it.
    “Good.” There was a slight hesitation. “And Scott, my boy . . .” The smug bastard made Scott feel about two inches tall. “See that your pilots keep their noses out of my cargo boxes this time. Do it personally. I’d hate to have to arrange another explosive decompression.”
    A bomb. That’s what he meant. He’d already blown up two of Scott’s toys. Those Lear jets didn’t come cheap.
    “Sure thing, Dr. Jennings.” Scott used the man’s surname purely to annoy him.
    “Idiot! I’ve told you never to use my name over a phone line even if it is supposed to be secure. They have eyes and ears everywhere!”
    Bingo. Scott had hit the bastard’s paranoia button right on the nose.
    “My apologies, sir.” That little, subservient sir had always helped defuse his father’s anger and it apparently worked on this science geek too. After a moment of silence, he seemed to calm down.
    “Don’t let it happen again.” He cleared his throat and his voice calmed further. “I’ll be in touch in a day or two, after the first shipment is completed, to schedule more.”
    The phone disconnected with an abrupt click. No goodbye. Just a click.
    Jennings was a nutcase, that was for sure, but he was a rich one with what seemed like unlimited resources. And if the deal he was working on came through, Scott could finally buy that island in the South Pacific he’d had his eye on for a while. Owning his own island was something Scott had always wanted. The old man had left him rich, but not rich enough to do that. It was his goal and he’d do anything—anything—to get it. Including selling his soul to the devil.
    In this case, the devil was a nutty professor who wanted to remake the world in his own image. Whatever. All Scott wanted was enough money to buy his island and transplant all the people and supplies he’d need to live out his life with a harem of beauties at his beck and call.
    Was that too much to ask? A different girl for every day of the week. Hell, why not every day of the month? With enough money he was sure to find thirty or forty women willing to live on his oasis in the sea with him.
    It was his fondest daydream. And if the rest of the world went to hell because of Jennings’ little plague, so be it. Scott didn’t really care.

Chapter Two
     
    S omeone was in the hangar with her, of that Emily was certain. Nobody should be here. It was way too early for the day shift of mechanics to arrive and there were no outstanding charters from this airport at this ungodly hour of the morning.
    She’d come in at 2 A.M. to take delivery of a cargo job. The client was in an unaccountable rush to get the cargo loaded and ready for takeoff at 9 A.M. Emily couldn’t figure out why. If they wanted it gone that badly, why hadn’t they requested a night flight?
    Under normal circumstances, she probably