“This is all we need here,” he said. “We’ll get the rest of the stuff we need—pots and pans and so on—in Trinité.”
Making their way back to the aircraft, Biff envied the natives their ability to carry tremendous loads with no apparent effort.
The hop across the island to La Trinité was a short one. The plane was secured to a mooring and gear unloaded.
“Well, Crunch, what are you going to do?” Uncle Charlie asked.
“Find my little brother first,” Crunch replied.
“And what about Dietz?” Biff asked.
“Maybe find him, too. Where Crunch find you?”
“We’re going to make our headquarters here just down the street. At the Sans Souci. We’ll show you,” Charlie Keene said, “and if you want to find us, or get in touch, ask there.”
“What about Derek?” Biff asked. “We’ve got to locate him.”
“Don’t worry, Biff. In a town this size everybody knows everything that’s going on. I’ll bet you right now the grapevine has spread word of our arrival. If Derek is around, he’ll be looking us up within an hour.”