She glanced quickly around, and then broke for that bus. Cam jumped in before the doors swooshed shut. She gave the driver a winning smile when he frowned at her.

She used the mirrors of the bus to check on whether anyone followed her, or had been frustrated in not being able to. She didn’t see anyone. She paid the bus fare and selected a seat in the back of the bus.

She didn’t know who was in worse trouble: her or Bette. Her years of working with men like Andrew Green told her that he was ultimately going to try to get rid of Cam once he was done with whatever he wanted to do with her.

He was right, in a sense: Cam would, indeed, have to finish what she’d started in London all those years ago. It was now a matter of survival. And while she did so, she needed to figure out what he was planning to do about Bette, and why she had suddenly become interesting to him.

Forty minutes later, she got out in a commercial area and bought a few disposable phones. And then she hailed a cab. “Ko Olina,” she said quickly as she got in.

“Going to the marina,” she told the guard at the gate to the vast complex ten minutes later as the cab pulled up in the “visitor” lane.

After a few more questions, he let the cab through.   When they were near an intersection with a road that led to one of the resorts in the complex, she told the cab driver, “can you just hang a right here and let me off by the entrance?”

“I thought you were going to the marina?” he asked as made a turning signal.

“I’ll walk the rest of the way through the beach path here,” she said, smiling at him through the rear view mirror. “Nice day for a walk.”

He smiled back and nodded, “You’re right.”

She gave him a good tip when he let her off. “Will you need a cab later?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, I don’t have firm plans, yet, thanks.”

When she got to the walking path that snaked along the beach and connected the various resorts in the complex, she ducked into one of the empty cabanas.

She disassembled the phone she’d been using after emailing to herself the recording she’d made of everything that had happened, from the time the two men accosted her and made her ride with them in the Maybach to the time she’d been let out in Ala Moana.

As she walked along the beach path, she dropped bits and pieces of the phone in trash bins.

And then she called Jackson. “I have to break protocol and talk to Bette,” she said quickly without preamble.

“Something happen?” he asked.

“Yeah, but I can’t get into it,” she answered. “Can’t talk for long on this phone.”

“Got rid of your old phone?” he asked.

“Uh huh. I may get rid of this one later. I’ll text you the number of the new one when I break it open.”

Before he could respond, she added, “Oh, and don’t worry. I’ll tell her following her here was my idea, and that you knew nothing about it.”

“Keep her safe,” Jackson said quickly.

“I intend to,” she answered and then hang up.

She’d need to make her way to the island Bette had gone to earlier that morning, and would need to arrange for a boat to do that.