Crossing the Adriatic

Washington crossed the Delaware River on Christmas Eve. I got to cross the Adriatic Sea. Washington’s crossing was about a mile. Mine was about 100 miles. At least I had a motor.

5:00 p.m.

It was supposed to be a simple ruse that would make anyone watching the house think that Simon had left the country. I intended to go down first thing in the morning and catch the ferry back to Split and from there catch a plane to Rome. Somewhere enroute, I’d change from Simon to Deb and catch a flight from Rome on home. I figured I could lure any watchers off for long enough that Simon and Angel could sneak out and head anyplace else that they wanted to.

But when I got downstairs at about 10:30 last night, Angel surprised me by being packed and ready to go as well. Between her and Simon, they convinced me that it would be more believable if Simon was seen leaving with Angel. They are quite a recognizable pair with the statuesque blonde Angel towering over the short dark Simon. Simon suggested that we leave in the middle of the night and take the boat across from Supetar to Split. We could rent a car there and drive to hell-and-gone for the next couple of days during which Simon would disappear and Angel and I would go separate ways and make our way back home. Simon would lay low for a couple of months and would call for Angel as soon as he could.

“Well, I’ll be go-to-hell,” I said mimicking Simon’s favorite oath. Both Angel and Simon snapped a startled look at me.

“You sound more like Simon than Simon does,” Angel said. “This could be a fun trip.”

Simon growled a little about having too much fun. It was still a risky endeavor. The toughest part would be getting from the house down to the dock. Once we were in the boat, it would take someone with a boat to catch up to us. The ferries wouldn’t run until morning. We could be long gone by then. We haggled back and forth for a good hour before everyone was agreed on a plan that could possibly get all of us away from the immediate danger of Geoff Gilliam and crew.

The goodbye kiss between Angel and Simon made my stomach ache.

It was 2:00 a.m. when Angel and I carried our one suitcase each out of the house, looking in all directions, and then slipping down to the wharf. Simon gave me an overcoat to wear as well, even though he knew that I’d be ditching the suit and overcoat both as soon as I could change back to my own identity.

Let’s see now: who am I? This playing dress-up all the time is beginning to drag on me, so to speak.

We were approaching the boat which was a good big one, I was relieved to see. It was a 30’ Four Winns 288 Vista Cruiser. It was a luxury yacht made to accommodate two people for fast trips to Greece, Italy, or any other port on the Mediterranean.

I whistled low as we approached the boat and to my surprise a figure stepped out from behind a crate on the dock.

“Hello, Simon,” he said. “Going somewhere?” Angel screamed and I nearly did as well, but I recognized the man a second before I let out a blast.

“It’s okay, Angel,” I said. “Silas said I’d recognized him when I saw him. Hello, Ray,” I finished speaking barely above a whisper. “It’s good to see you.”

“Right,” he said stepping back a step. “Just get on-board and go below. Don’t either of you stick your head out before I tell you and no one will get hurt.”

Pretty gruff if you ask me. The Ray Hawkins I’d met on Belize seemed a lot more easy-going. Maybe he was pissed because I gave him the slip in Mexico City at the airport. Well, if he was working for Silas, that would explain why he was so helpful on Ambergris Caye and why he was trying to follow me in Mexico City. Good old Silas. Still looking out for me.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” I said beneath my breath ushering Angel onto the little yacht and below deck in the forward cabin.

Ray boarded behind us and closed the door when we’d entered the forward cabin. We felt, more than heard the powerful engines turn over, and then heard shouting from the dock. I could hear angry voices and running feet on the dock. Ray gunned the engines and the boat lurched from the dock with G-force acceleration. Angel and I fell onto the bed together and clutched each other out of fright. We stayed that way for several minutes, trying to listen for sounds of pursuit, but hearing nothing but the slap of the waves and rumble of the engines as we sped across the channel separating us from Split.

It seemed like forever that we were down there. I finally turned to Angel and asked, “How long a crossing is it from Brac to Split?”

“Only about an hour,” she responded. “Maybe he’s trying to lose the bad guys by taking us further up the coast, like to Sibenik.”

“That would make sense,” I said, “considering we’re not just two girls trying to make our way to dry land.”

“Speak for yourself,” Angel said. “Simon and I have had this boat for two years. I can handle it pretty well.”

“Well, let’s find out where we are,” I said, opening my computer. “It’s a great thing about having a GPS receiver in your laptop.” I waited for the map to come up and an indicator that the GPS had acquired a signal. When it did, I stood up, hit my head on the low ceiling, and fell back into the bed.

“Something’s wrong,” I said. “We’re not headed up the coast.” I pointed to the screen. We’d come through the narrow straight between Brac and Solta and were headed southeast, out to sea.

I went to the door and tried to open it, only to discover it was locked from the outside.

“Hey! Ray!” I yelled. “Where do you think we’re going?”

“Keep your head inside or I’ll blow it off!” he yelled back. WTF??? I sat with Angel and we watched the blip on the map of the Adriatic that was us. We were definitely headed for the Mediterranean. I flipped open my cell phone and tried to call Silas, but we were already too far out to get a signal. Next phone I get will be a satellite phone. It was time to start thinking of ways to defend ourselves.

Angel proved apt. She knew everything that was stored on the boat and had us equipped with harpoons and scuba gear in no time. I really couldn’t see what the point was with the scuba gear. I wasn’t going diving, but the harpoon definitely held possibilities. The only problem was that it was so long that by the time I could get it positioned so that I might do damage to someone other than myself, anyone could blow me away. I was always better at defensive maneuvers than at figuring out how to attack someone. I stowed a knife in my belt and decided that was going to have to be the extent of my weaponry.

I looked again at the GPS that now showed that we had turned further south past the Island of Vis. When Angel and I felt we had prepared the best we could, we lay cuddled together on the bed waiting. I guess we dozed off because I came suddenly awake and alert to the silence of the powerful twin engines.

The water was pretty rough and the waves were slapping against the side of the boat. We could hear Ray scraping things around above deck. Then he yelled at us.

“I’m opening the door,” he yelled. “Stand back.” The door jiggled and then opened just wide enough for Ray to look in before he shoved it further open. He was holding a gun and waved it at me. I saw Angel glance toward the harpoon, but his approach had been so fast and unannounced that it was too far away to effectively get to and turn around the right way.

“You,” he said pointing at me. “Above deck. I’ll take care of you later,” he continued to Angel.

“You are making a big mistake,” Ray, “I said as I emerged from the hold. “Silas said you would help me.”

“I don’t know a Silas,” Ray said. “The orders from your loving wife are that this time when you are lost at sea, you stay lost.”

I looked at Ray. How could I have been so wrong about him? He wasn’t sent by Silas to help me. He was the assassin sent by Brenda to finish off Simon. How could I have been so stupid?

“Step over there,” Ray said waving his gun toward the stern. We moved out of the housing onto the wind and rain-swept deck. The water was rough and it was all I could do to keep my balance. “Now jump,” he commanded.

“No.” I said. “You are making a big mistake Ray. I’m not even Simon Barnett. I’d Deb Riley. You helped me escape from Belize.”

“Nice try, Simon,” Ray responded. He wasn’t even hearing the tone of my voice as I was shouting over the wind. You’d think that he could tell by now that I was a woman. “I got a babe off the boat thinking she’d lead me to you. It took an extra day of tracking airline records to figure out Riley Finn and Deb Riley were the same. Then I came straight here. The beauty is that she thinks I’m one of the good guys and I can use her when I get back stateside.”

“I’m her, Ray,” I said. He was already raising his gun. The SOB was going to shoot me!

“Jump or we do it the old fashioned way.”

“No.” I could see his hand tightening on the gun and knew that was the last thing I was ever going to see. The boat lurched and I lost my footing. I grabbed the rail and fell to the deck. I saw Ray stumble toward me, the gun still pointed in his outstretched hand. Then, as if in slow motion I saw him fall forward and tumble over the end of the boat into the choppy water, a harpoon stuck through his back. Angel was standing in the doorway of the cabin with the harpoon gun in her hand, staring out at the sea.

“Angel,” I said.

“Sorry it took so long,” she responded. “He jammed the lock on the door.”

“I’m so sorry, Angel.”

“He was trying to kill Simon. I couldn’t let that happen,” she said. “I’ve already lost him too many times.”

I went to her and we hugged each other tightly. Then she turned back to the wheel-house.

“We’d better plot a course that gets us home,” she said.

After consulting the maps, we chose Pescara, Italy. They have a beautiful little marina there and Angel made arrangements to have them dock the boat for the next month. She expects to be back soon. I looked back at the boat as we were leaving and realized that anyone could have waited for us at the dock in Supetar. The back of the boat was emblazoned in bright letters: “Angel.”

We caught a train at the Stazione Centrale di Pescara and headed north. Once we got into a private cabin, I stripped and changed out of my Simon Barnett clothes and returned to being Deb Riley. There is a lot to do, but sleep is calling now. Angel is busy making flight arrangements to get us home. I’m looking forward to that.

It’s been an exhausting Christmas Eve.