It took some fast footwork from the lab boys, but there’s no doubt about it. Do you know it means farmhouse?—Boerderij, I mean.” “Yes.” “Well, it’s the fanciest tourist joint this side of Miami. Good beer, fine food, jammed to the rafters with travelers who pay through the nose. What better place for Julian and Marius Wilde to dissolve into anonymity, eh?” “You’ve got something,” Durell conceded. “But Julian may not have gone back to his hole there after last night.” “Shall I find out?” Durell hesitated. “You’ll have to be very careful, John.” “Of Flaas? He doesn’t even know me.” “Don’t underestimate him. But I wasn’t thinking of our friends. I had Julian Wilde in mind. It’s just possible that he has another vial of the plague virus on his person.” “Oh, Lord,” O’Keefe whispered, suddenly shocked. “Exactly. If he has, he’s like a man walking around with a bottle of nitro.”
