About ten seconds later, the Falcon 2000 cleared the foliage that ran the length

of the runway on the beach side, soared into the air, banked hard right over the

water, straightened out, and continued its rapid ascent.

 

Rogers looked over at the man and woman.

 

The old man was still staring aimlessly out toward the water.

 

The young woman was up on her haunches and waved.

 

Rogers turned to follow her gaze and watched the twin plumes of exhaust from the

jet’s engines smear the otherwise clear sky.

 

So who is in the Falcon?

 

He walked a bit farther out into the water, letting the saltwater edge up his

pale ankles. He glanced down and saw the remnants of the old scars on his

calves. Every few seconds he would shift his gaze to the left and eye the little

group on the beach.

 

The lunch in the basket was served, the woman dutifully taking care of the old

gent. She had put her cover-up back on.

 

Glasses of wine were poured and drunk.