CHAPTER 5
WHEN THE PLANE landed smoothly at Owen Roberts International Airport, the old lady next to me was still snoring away. Still, it could have been worse. She could have been in the aisle seat. As it was, I slipped out before the cabin crew tried to wake her.
According to Dan, Raul was anchored up at the Cayman Islands Yacht Club in Governors Creek. So much for my plan of sticking to the centre of the island. The yacht club lay to the west, in the midst of meandering waterways. I wouldn’t be able to go half a mile in any direction without hitting the wet stuff. On the positive side, the number of tourists in that area would make it easier to hide. Maybe I’d even find the time to top up my tan?
Without knowing how long Raul planned to stay, I avoided any long-term commitments and u
