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None of it needed to happen.

All Holmes, Marple, and Poe had to do was meet one simple demand.

Paul walked across to the deck’s edge and stared into the dark sky. He saw the blinking lights of another chopper approaching. Possibly a Seahawk. Government property for sure.

Paul’s heart started pounding.

That must be her.

Paul pulled out his phone and tapped the stored number for SHERLOCK.

CHAPTER 86

HOLMES FELT HIS phone vibrate as the chopper set down on the pad. He put it on speaker so that everybody in the cabin could hear.

“Agnes had better be with you,” said Paul. “And she’d better be healthy.”

“She’s waking up right now,” said Holmes. “Where are you?”

“In a position to send this whole platform to the bottom of the Gulf,” said Paul. “You know how good I am at staging accidents.”

“How do we handle this?” asked Holmes.

“Very simple. You drop her off on the landing pad. No cuffs. No chains. Then you take off.”

Holmes looked over at Marple. She nodded.

“But I need to hear from her first. I need to know that she’s awake and alert.”

Holmes held the phone up. Marple called out, “Oliver! I’m here!” Just three words, in her best Yorkshire snarl. Was it enough?

“Hand her the phone,” said Paul. “I want to talk to her.”

“No,” said Holmes. “You heard her. That’s all you get. I don’t want you two speaking in code. She’s coming out now.”

Edwards slid the chopper door open. The two sharpshooters hung back in the cabin, rifles ready. Marple turned and backed herself out onto the skid of the Seahawk. The blast from the rotors blew her hair around. She covered her face with her hands and crouched down on the landing pad.

Holmes looked out the open hatch as the chopper ascended and banked away, leaving Marple alone—a solitary figure in orange in the center of the landing pad’s white marking circle. “Wait!” he shouted. “This is a mistake! Go back!”

Poe leaned over and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Brendan! Margaret knows what she’s doing. She’s our best chance.”

Holmes kicked the frame of the cabin door in frustration. His mind was spinning. I should have never let her do this! I should have never let her go!

Edwards turned to the sharpshooters. “The second you get a clear shot, take it.”

CHAPTER 87

AS THE CHOPPER flew off into the distance, Marple slowly stood up. The prop wash was gone, but now the natural wind was buffeting her. It was like standing on the top of a skyscraper in the middle of the ocean. All around her, platform lights were glowing. Far below, she could see the waters of the Gulf. From where she stood, it looked like a mottled gray carpet.

When she looked across the platform, she saw workers wrangling equipment and bustling along elevated passageways. On the far end of the top deck, a massive orange crane sat idle on a platform of its own, its boom arm folded in like some giant insect.

Marple caught movement on the deck directly below the landing pad. A lone figure, hugging the shadows as he headed for the ladder. Marple felt a fresh rush of adrenaline. This was no burly oil worker.

It was Oliver Paul.

He looked up. She looked down. He waved. She waved back.

Marple took a deep breath and planted her feet. So far, the illusion was holding.