Edge parked the car beside the silver Audi and went up the stairs to the Ministry of Technology, Planning and Development. The building was an old plantation house outside the city. Almanacs, photographs of Cabinet ministers, and the Barbados coat-of-arms looked down from walls where family portraits had hung for centuries.

The receptionist looked up from her computer. “May I help you?” she said.

“The name is Edge. I’m here to see the Minister.”

“Oh, yes. He’s engaged at the moment, but I don’t think he’ll be long. He’s expecting you.”

He smiled at her. The smile she gave him in return was full of surprise and wariness. He wondered when last a man had smiled at her. Must’ve been a long time ago when she was young, before the lines of bitterness and mistrust had begun to furrow her brow and etch that hardness around the corners of her mouth, he thought.

“That’s a real nice perfume you’re wearing,” he said.

“You’re very kind.”

“I’ll wait out here until the Minister is free,” Edge said.

“No, come inside,” she said. She opened the door and showed him to a seat near her desk. Half a dozen heads lifted briefly, then the ‘clack-clack’ of keyboards resumed as fingers took up their march across their keys.

A door on the far side of the room opened. The Minister and Thomas Bunker Hill came out. Hill had a white Stetson in one hand and a cigar in the other. His eyes swept past Edge then came back. His face lit up and he came over to Edge with his hand extended.

“Mr. Edge,” he said. “I just called your name a moment ago.”

Edge said, “Hello.” They shook hands.

“Good to see you,” Hill said. “Good to see you.”

The receptionist opened the door for Hill, and he went out.

The Hon. Mervin Steele said: “Shannon Edge. How long has it been?”

“Almost ten years,” Edge said.

They went into Steele’s office.

“Good to see you again,” Steele said. “I heard you were in Europe and then Africa doing all sorts of interesting and exciting things.”

Steele hadn’t changed much. He was a small man. Remembering him from school-days, Edge had expected him to be bigger. The face was sharp and thin. There were hardly any lips. The eyes that used to terrify the junior forms when Steele was Head Prefect now gazed at Edge with frank and friendly interest. Edge glanced around the room.

“Congratulations,” he said.

Steele shrugged. “I was lucky,” he said. “I managed to get through a couple of universities overseas, and when I came back, I was invited to sit in the Senate. I managed to win a seat last elections. That’s about all.”

“Married?”

“Too busy. What about you? Heard you were in the army.”

Edge shrugged. “A youthful indiscretion you might say. But I caught myself in time. Managed to do a few of the things I’ve always wanted to do.”

“The High Commissioner sent us a report,” Steele said. “I’m glad you decided to take the job.”

The office was air-conditioned and panelled in cedar and mahogany. The carpet was deep and soft and new. Steele drew a folder towards him.

“The Prime Minister asked me to handle this matter for him,” he said. “I’ve seen Hervey’s report, but I want to hear from you.”

Edge told him what he knew.

“This character, what do you think of his story?”

“We can’t afford to dismiss him.”

Steele took off his glasses, wiped them and put them on again. “With this economy and the global threat of terror we can’t take any more shocks at the moment. If those banks get hit we’re in for serious trouble.” He smiled suddenly. “Sorry, but I’ve got to think of this like a politician. There’re tourists and investors to think about. Whatever else happens we must keep them coming.” He shook his head. “We’re lucky you intercepted those men on the beach last night. I would hate to know they were roaming loose on the island.”

Edge didn’t say anything. He waited for Steele to go on.

“The Prime Minister said to tell you thanks,” Steele said. “You’re to carry out your investigations as vigorously as possible, but on no account must the public get wind of what’s going on.” The Minister raised his eyes to the ceiling. “What are we coming to? A few years ago anything like this would have been unthinkable.”

“Like the man said, change is the only constant,” Edge offered.

“Yes, but why only for the worst?” Steele said. “There seems to be a dangerous element loose in this country” The eyes behind the steel-rimmed glasses flickered briefly. “Do you carry a gun?”

“Sometimes.”

“Naturally, I don’t want you taking any unnecessary risks,” Steele said. “But I’d like to see you keep the gunplay to a minimum while you are following this thing up.”

“I know,” Edge said. “Guns scare off tourists and investors.”

“No need to get angry,” the Minister said. “The rest is routine anyhow, and even if those five men have friends here they won’t dare make a move now that they know we killed the men that were coming to help them. And another thing, I’d like a daily report. I hope that’s not asking too much.”

A knock sounded at the door. Steele said come in. The door opened and the receptionist came in with two cups of coffee on a tray.

“I hope you like coffee,” Steele said.

Edge took his black without sugar. Steele had his with milk and sugar.

“Thank you Miss Chanson,” Steele said. Miss Chanson smiled shyly. She went out, closing the door behind her.

“I heard you met Mr. Thomas Bunker Hill,” Steele said.

“Yes, and his man Gila Trask.”

“Hill phoned the American Ambassador demanding an apology.”

“And did he get his apology?”

The Prime Minister got in touch with me, and called Assistant Commissioner Cooper. The Ambassador apologized.” Steele put down his cup. “Thomas Bunker Hill is thinking about putting some money into that new refinery we’re building. Nothing settled yet, but I think he means business.”

Edge finished his coffee. The Minister stood up.

“You must call me up some Sunday morning. Let’s have a round of golf,” Steele said.

“Cricket is all I can manage,” Edge said. “Saves caddy’s fees.”

Steele laughed. “We must get together again,” he said.

Edge said yes. They shook hands.

The lunch hour rush caught him on the way back and added fifteen minutes to what was normally a ten-minute ride.

“The Prime Minister was on the phone,” Hervey said.

“The Bureau is to report to Steele.”

“The Prime Minister must think very highly of Steele,” said Edge.

“So I’ve heard,” Hervey said.

“Steele said no guns. Didn’t want to frighten the tourists.”

“The Prime Minister said the same thing.”

“We also have to give Steele a daily report,” Edge said.

“That’s the trouble with these armchair strategists,”

Hervey said. “They’re a pain in the ass.”

They had lunch at the “Feeding Trough”, a new restaurant overlooking the harbour. A waitress in a short red skirt and a white blouse led them to a seat near one of the windows. The place was nearly full. Pieces of African sculpture hung from the walls and ceiling. Potted plants stood in the corners. Music came from the speakers set in the walls and ceiling. Edge ordered dolphin in white sauce, green bananas and pigeon peas. Hervey ordered fish and chips.

“This place is becoming popular,” Hervey said.

“It has a lot going for it,” Edge said. “Good food, atmosphere and women that are easy on the eyes.”

The waitress cleared the table.

“Cooper identified one of the men,” Hervey said.

“Name is Boris White. Used to live with an uncle in some village called Taitt Hill. I understand that his uncle thinks of himself as some sort of High Priest. He is the leader of a cult called ‘The Remnant of Judah’.”

“At least we have some place to start.”

“There is something else,” Hervey said.

Edge waited.

“The police fished Boozy’s body out of the careenage this afternoon,” Hervey said. “Cooper thought that you would like to know.”

Poor devil, Edge thought. He wondered who would want Boozy dead.

Hervey looked at Edge and said quietly: “There are no coincidences in this business.”