******157:

Richard sat up on his twin bed and ran a hand through his hair. His companion was also sitting up.

"Is everything all right, Elder?" the companion asked solicitously, curiosity burning beneath the exterior question. Everyone in the mission knew that Richard had been a celebrity, and was in touch with another very famous celebrity, in fact, had permission to talk to that very famous celebrity when deemed necessary.

Richard looked up, the dim light from an outer street lamp on the road below their four-story apartment building giving his companion a silhouette. "Yeah, yeah, fine. That was om.... Tracy's dad."

"You're talking about Ray McCaffrey, right?" There was a certain amount of eagerness in this young man's voice that Richard found slightly amusing, and slightly annoying, although he didn't hold it against his new companion at all. It was to be expected, and he was used to it.

"Right." He said and then got up and went into the bathroom, turning on the glaring light, and eyeing himself in the mirror. His heart was racing, pounding, thudding uncomfortably. He'd thought it was her. And it wasn't.

Disappointment waged a battle with concern, and logic at the same time. He had his cell phone. He flipped it open and hit speed dial. No answer. In fact, out of service. He hit three buttons.

"Please triangulate the location of this number." He said instantly, giving a code, that indicated that he had paid for a satellite service that most people didn't have access to. In moments his cell phone beeped and a computerized voice told him that the latitude and longitude of the cell phone in question were north of Jamaica, in the Caribbean Sea.

He smiled. It paid to have services like this, even though it cost him a pretty penny. He immediately dialed another number, this time his brother Zachary. He didn't wake him, but he did startle him, and after a very short moment of explanation, he asked Zachary to check his computer for listings of Cruises leaving Fort Lauderdale for the Caribbean in the last several days, was given a number for the Island Princess Line and then dialed this number after saying goodbye. In minutes, he had ascertained that one cruise indeed had left that would place the cell phone coordinates in the right area. He asked to be connected to the captain of this ship, and after several minutes, ascertained that the ship's manifest listed Daniel J. Crandall, a minor, traveling with his mother, Lynn Maverick, and was connected to their room. Two long minutes of waiting procured no answer, and the operator again came on the line, to which Richard paid a fee to have a porter take a ship to shore phone onto the decks, looking for Ms. Maverick and her children. It was a good five minutes before they were located, but he hung on, gripping the phone with a sweaty hand.

Eventually, the male voice that came on, asked his name, and he smiled grimly. He gave it, unwillingly, would rather have surprised her, but understood her reticence especially if she were incognito.

"Hi." Her voice was cheerful, rushed. "I was playing a rousing game of tennis with myself, and the heat is making me crazy! What's up?"

****