Read Donovans 03 - Pearl Cove for Free Online Page A

quality of the connection told him that she was using a cellular phone, open to anyone who cared enough to eavesdrop. So he didn’t ask her where or how or why Len had died.
    “I’m sorry,” Archer said softly. “That’s not adequate, but in the face of death, no words are. I’ll be there no later than noon tomorrow, your time, earlier if at all possible.”
    Hannah’s fingers loosened a bit on the thin, vaguely oblong plastic body of the cellular phone. All she could think of was that Archer understood everything she hadn’t said. “I . . . thank you.”
    Archer knew he shouldn’t ask, but the words were out before he could stop them. “Are you all right?”
    She shivered, remembering Len’s stripped, battered body and sightless eyes, and Chang’s warning: Cyclone season is coming. Don’t follow Len into the grave.
    “Hannah?”
    “Hurry, Archer. I’m getting . . . sleepy.”
    The quality of the sound changed, telling him that she had disconnected. He didn’t bother cursing the empty line. If someone had a lock on her cellular, she was safer not talking at all.
    He punched in one of Donovan International’s unlisted numbers, the one Donovan executives called when things started to go from sugar to shit. No matter what time it was, someone would answer this number.
    “This is Archer Donovan,” he said. “Put me through to someone who can get me to Broome, Australia, no later than noon tomorrow. Shave every minute you can.”
    “Noon U.S or Australian time?” asked a woman’s voice.
    “Australian.”
    “Where are you now?”
    “Seattle.”
    “Thank you. One moment, please.”
    It was more than one moment, but at least he was spared any canned music. He waited quietly, not showing the urgency riding him or the adrenaline licking in his blood, called by the fear that even Hannah’s smoky voice couldn’t conceal. He simply held the phone and made a list of things that had to be done before he landed in Australia. Some could be handled from the plane. The important things couldn’t.
    Kyle Donovan was in for a rude awakening.
    “Thank you for waiting,” said a man’s voice. “None of the Donovan International aircraft can get you from Seattle to Australia in your time frame. We have chartered a jet from Boeing Field to Hawaii. A company jet will meet you there. Our files show that your Australian visa is up-to-date.”
    Archer’s passport was never mentioned. People in Donovan International would sooner take up nude ice-climbing than let their passport lapse.
    “Are you at the Donovan family suite in Seattle?” the man asked.
    “Yes.”
    “A car will pick you up in half an hour. A rental car has been reserved in Broome. Will there be anything else?”
    “Not at the moment. Good work.”
    “That’s what you pay me for, mate,” the man said, allowing his native Australia to color his voice for the first time.
    Archer hit the disconnect and headed for the door that led to the family areas of the Donovan suites. Kyle and Lianne were in town to celebrate Donald Donovan’s birthday. Jake and Honor were due in this afternoon. Archer regretted missing his sister and her husband, but not as much as he regretted having to tell The Donovan that Len McGarry was dead. Happy Birthday, Dad. And by the way, the son who hated you is dead.
    Grim-faced, Archer started knocking on the door to Kyle’s suite. Moments later, it opened. The person who opened the door wasn’t Kyle, who wouldn’t get out of bed before nine o’clock for anything but a dawn salmon-fishing raid. His wife, however, didn’t need a kick-start to get going. Mussed with sleep, wearing a navy man’s T-shirt that came to her knees, six months pregnant with twins, looking like a grumpy Munchkin, Lianne stood in the open door. One look at Archer’s face had her wide-awake.
    “What’s wrong?” she asked quickly. “Is—”
    “It’s nothing you need to worry about,” he cut in quickly. “Everyone you love is just fine. Get