His room was dark but for the light of the desk lamp and computer screen, and the house was silent.His jet was standing by at the Antigua airport, and if he left now, the Gold Bay helicopter would get him there before midnight, when the airport closed. He would be back home in Palm Beach by three A.M., and his first Monday meeting wasn't until ten. It wouldn't be a perfect night of sleep, but it would suffice, if he hurried.His eyes felt hot and scratchy, and he reached up to rub them. He didn't feel like hurrying. He also didn't feel like getting into a helicopter, then a plane, then a car before he finally made it to bed. Staying at the villa was much more appealing, and if he left early the next morning, and went straight to work from the airport, he could easily make his meeting. It wasn't a difficult decision. He made a quick phone call to let the pilots know that the plan had changed, and then stood up, stretching, and realized that he was hungry.The kitchen was on the bottom floor of the villa, a significant hike from his room.
