Rogan St. Klare informed his boss from where he sat across the desk. “Not because of the remote area. It was something else. Either the marker was found or…hell, I don’t know. It’s like they dropped off the face of the earth. Just…disappeared.” Max frowned. Rogan was a techno geek with a surfer’s shag and his signature Hawaiian print shirts. Tonight he had on a bright yellow pineapple print. It boggled Max’s mind how anyone could wear such hideous clothes, but he supposed living on an island had its perks. “You have their last location?” Rogan cocked a brow and Max waved the ridiculous question away. He didn’t know why he asked. Rogan would know what Noah and Attie had for dinner, he was that good. “The team is on standby. We have no communication with Noah now?” “Nope, none. Which is damn irritating. I worked hard on that new mic. No matter where they are we should still have communication ability. That mic has a fifty mile range.” “Think it was destroyed?”
