"How long is that going to take?" Mike asked.
"I don't have a good estimate," Aaron said. "It's going to take a lot of guesswork, then some trial and error, unfortunately."
"We need to get our hands on Grissom — alive, and able to answer questions," Mike said. " And as soon as we can. He's the key to finding out what's in that compound, what the special ops team was defending."
"Maybe," Bob said. "Or maybe not. But he's our best option right now. Think you can snatch him out of the meeting, Finn? Mary?"
"Well, we can handle interrogating him," I said, "but we may not want to snatch him. Too much chance he would be missed before we can act on what we learn from him."
"I agree," Mary said. "Depending on where they're having the meeting, it might be better to interrogate him there."
"But what about the other attendees?" Bob asked. "There's still the risk that they'll discover what's happening."
"Not if they're dead," Mary said. "They were on our list of targets a few weeks ago, weren't they?"
"You're proposing to go in and wipe them all out but Grissom, then?" Mike asked.
"We could spare one or two, in case we want to question somebody else," I said. "That way, we might be able to verify what we get from Grissom."
"What about logistics?" Bob asked. "You said there were 350 islands in the Exumas, Finn. I'm guessing a lot of them are uninhabited, or private. Correct?"
"Yes. There are plenty of both kinds. We'll need a boat. Ideally, something that will blend in. That's an area where there are a lot of sailboats with couples aboard, but Island Girl is too far away to be practical. We might be able to charter something in Nassau."
"Or Miami, for sure," Mary said. "That would add maybe 24 to 36 hours to our travel time, though."
"Besides," I said, "if we sail in from the States, we'll have to clear customs going into the Bahamas and again when we return to the States. Even with false identities, that's a paper trail. Nassau would be better."
"I can solve that problem," Mike said.
We all turned to look at him. He grinned. "I left my boat at Paradise Island, in Nassau. She's been there a couple of months, now."
"What kind of boat?" I asked. "I didn't know you had a boat."
"A Bermuda 40," Mike said. "I've had her for 30 years."
"I didn't even know you sailed," I said.
"I don't get in as much sailing as I'd like to, but whenever I can get down there, I take her out."
"How much water does she draw with the board up?" I asked.
"A few inches over four feet," Mike said.
"Perfect for where we're headed," I said, "and that solves the customs clearance problems. We'll just fly in, sail her down to wherever, do our job, and put her back in Nassau."
"We'll book the two of you into a villa in Nassau under whatever names you're using," Aaron said. "And we'll make sure it looks occupied the whole time, so you'll have an alibi, should the need arise."
"We won't need an alibi," Mary said.
"Not one to share with the authorities," Aaron said. "But one for misdirection in case anybody starts digging into airline reservations, or the customs and immigration databases."
"How long will it take you to get from Nassau to George Town?" Bob asked.
"It's daytime sailing," Mike said. "You have to eyeball the water depth; there are lots of coral heads between Nassau and the northern end of the Exumas. And even along the west side of the island chain. Maybe two or three days. But I thought they were going to be there until next week, didn't you say?"
"Yes," Aaron said. "That's what we picked up. That's cutting it a little fine."
"There's a faster route," I said.
"How's that?" Mike asked.
"Southeast from New Providence Island until we're south of the Yellow Bank, then up to Ship Channel Cay. That's a little over 30 miles — easy to do while we have good light for dodging the coral heads. From there, we'll head out into Exuma Sound, and we'll have deep water all the way to George Town. It's 100 miles from Ship Channel Cay to George Town, so we'll enter the harbor in daylight the morning after we leave Nassau."
"Sounds good," Mike said. "Let's get you on your way. By the time you're out in Exuma Sound, Aaron should know more about where the meeting is. You okay with that, Aaron?"
"Sure. Let me make a call; I'll line up a charter to fly you into Nassau tonight and get you fixed up with a villa as close to Mike's boat as we can manage."
"Mary?" Bob asked.
"Yes?"
"You up for this?"
"Yes."
"Finn?"
"Yes. I've always wanted to sail a Bermuda 40."
"Why haven't you bought one, then?" Mike asked. "There are plenty on the market these days."
"They're beautiful. That's why," I said.
Mike frowned. "Yes. So?"
"So I need something nondescript. Yours will be fine for where we're going. There are always lots of rich Americans on fancy boats in the Bahamas. But down where I hang out most of the time, a Bermuda 40 would attract too much attention."
"Let's do it, then," Mike said. "Have fun, but be careful with my boat."
"We will," Mary said. "Come on, sailor. Let's pack our bags."
"Yes, ma'am. We're outta here."
21
Mary and I slept in and ate a late breakfast at a restaurant in the mega-yacht marina at Paradise Island. We weren't in a big hurry to get away; the coral heads in the shallows would be easier to see if we waited until the sun was high in the sky.
"Man, this place is a serious tourist trap," Mary said, as she gazed at the people wandering around the marina and the adjacent hotel grounds.
"Yes," I said. "It used to be called Hog Island. There was a seedy hotel on the beach, and a few cheap local restaurants. Other than that, it was all scrub palmetto."
"How long ago was that?"
I shrugged. "Thirty years, give or take. Before my time, but when I first came here, this resort was only partly built. The locals were unhappy about the changes; they would tell you all about it. One old guy had pictures. The old places were dying off by then, but it was nothing like it is now."
"There are some incredible boats in here," Mary said. "I don't see anything that looks like a boat we might sail."
"No. Mike's boat's not in here. There's another marina for the people like us. It's been here a long time; it's at the foot of the bridge that goes to New Providence Island."
"New Providence Island?"
"That's where Nassau is," I said.
"But I thought we were in Nassau."
"Maybe. I don't know where the city limits are — never worried about it. It's not a long walk across the bridge, anyway. And then you're in Nassau for sure. You about ready to go check out Mike's boat?"
"Sure. I wonder why he named her Isabella. Think that's his wife's name?" Mary asked, drinking the last of her coffee.
"I don't know. You'd have to ask him."
"I thought you knew him pretty well, from the Army."
I laughed.
"What's funny?" she asked.
"Nothing, really. Just the notion of my knowing him from the Army. I only knew him by reputation. There was a wide gulf between a brand new Second Lieutenant like me and a Lieutenant General like Mike."
"Oh," she said. "It just seems like you four are cut from the same cloth, you and Aaron and Mike and my uncle."
"There's a lot of shared experience, I guess. Aaron and I were buddies; we were the same rank. We served under your Uncle Bob, so we knew him, but only to work for him. We sure didn't socialize with Bob. And Mike was senior to Bob."
"But we're all on a first name basis, now," Mary said.
"Yes, and you have no idea how strange that feels to me and Aaron. Anyway, I have no clue why Mike's boat is named Isabella. You ready to go?"
"Yes."
I left enough cash on the table to cover our breakfast and got to my feet. Mary stood up and swung her backpack over her shou
lder. Hefting my own pack, I followed her out of the restaurant. We left most of our luggage in the villa Aaron rented for us.
He sent a couple to take our place there. In case anybody tracked us from Florida to Nassau, it would appear that we spent our entire time lazing around, like wannabe rich people.
Once out of the resort's grounds, I led the way to the small marina where Isabella was waiting for us. We spotted her at once. Her shiny, flag-blue hull and gleaming varnish made her look like a piece of jewelry nestled between the larger vessels berthed on either side of her.
"Wow," Mary said, pausing as we walked onto the dock where Isabella was tied. "She looks like a showpiece. But she's not as big as Island Girl. I thought she would be 40 feet, because you and Mike called her a Bermuda 40."
"She is," I said.
"But Island Girl's only 34 feet."
"Island Girl's a workhorse," I said. "Isabella's a thoroughbred. She's not as beefy as Island Girl, not as broad in the beam. And she sits a lot lower in the water."
"Is she as seaworthy?" Mary asked, worry lines on her forehead as she studied Isabella.
"Yes, definitely. The Bermuda 40s have been around a long time. They've won more than their share of ocean races, some under wild conditions. She's a go-anywhere boat. And she'll be faster than Island Girl."
"If you say so. She sure is pretty."
I stepped over the lifelines onto Isabella's side deck and turned to give Mary a hand aboard. We went back to the cockpit, and I dialed the combination Mike gave me into the lock on the companionway hatch. Below deck, we stashed our backpacks in the first empty lockers we found.
Mary spent a few minutes exploring the narrow space below deck while I looked at the instruments in the panel over the chart table. When she finished poking around, she joined me, and I talked her through what I found.
"Questions?" I asked.
She shook her head. "Not about the electronics. That all looks straightforward. But we need groceries. The cupboard's bare."
"Okay. Let's lock her up and walk across the bridge. We should be able to find the basics pretty quickly."
"If you're in a hurry, I guess we could stock up down the way somewhere," Mary said.
"This isn't like the Eastern Caribbean. There's not really anywhere to stock up until we get to George Town, and there's not much there. Groceries are hard to find in the Exumas. Nassau's our best bet."
"Lead on, then, skipper."
We spent an hour buying staples and enough canned goods to keep us going for two weeks. When we got back aboard Isabella, it was time to go. I unlocked the companionway again, and we took the bags of food below.
"Give me a hand getting her out of the slip," I said, as Mary started opening the lockers in the galley. "There'll be time to stow everything while we motor through the harbor."
"All right, sailor. You get the engine running, and I'll be right up. I need to use the head, first. Too much coffee."
A few minutes later, I was working my way through the traffic, headed east through the harbor. Mary finished putting our groceries away and came up to join me in the cockpit.
"Busy place," she said. "Did you want to plug a course into the chart plotter? I can take the helm while you do that."
"Not yet; there's no need. It will be eyeball navigation until we get to the cut."
"Which cut?"
"Ship Channel Cut. It's 30-odd miles east. It'll take us out into Exuma Sound; then we can relax."
"Want some sail up?" she asked.
"Not just yet. See that beacon sticking up out there off our port bow?"
Mary shaded her eyes with her hand. "Got it. What about it?"
"That marks Porgee Rocks. Once we pass it, I'll put more south in our course. We'll see what the wind's doing then. We might get to sail if we're lucky. We'll hold a southeasterly course and dodge the coral heads on the Yellow Bank. Once we're past the worst of them, we'll head northeast until we pick up the beacon just north of Ship Channel Cay, and we'll steer on it. We've got maybe five or six hours before we get there, depending on the wind and the current."
"You think we'll have to motor the whole way? That stinks."
"I agree, but the wind's fluky through here, and we need to make it through the cut while we have daylight. Once we're out in Exuma Sound, we can probably have a nice sail all the way to George Town. And there won't be much traffic out there."
"No?"
"No. Most people head south down the west side of the Exumas. It's daylight sailing. You have to watch for shallow spots, but the ride is smooth, because the islands block the wind chop we'll find out in the Sound."
"It looks like we'll have a nice, clear night for it," Mary said. "I hope there's a good breeze."
"There should be; we won't have much land to the east of us, so we should have good wind."
"Sounds nice, sailor. Clear night, nice breeze, and no company except each other. I've missed that."
"Me, too."
"This water's beautiful, Finn." She raised herself enough to get a look at the depth sounder. "But it's really shallow. I see what you mean about eyeball navigation."
"The color of the water gives you a good idea of the depth if you know the kind of bottom under it," I said. "It's mostly sand, and the lighter the water's color, the shallower it is. We want to stay in the turquoise to blue water. If it looks white, it's shallow. The darker the blue, the deeper it is."
"Okay. But can't you just plot a course to pass the shallow stuff and the coral heads?"
"In theory yes. There are two problems with that, though. The sandy bottom changes often; the shoals move with the currents. A good squall with a lot of wind and wave action can wreak havoc with charted depths. And the locations of the coral heads aren't charted with much accuracy. See that big dark mass in the turquoise water about 75 yards off the starboard bow?"
"Yes. Is that a deep hole, or something? Darker's deeper, right?"
"Right, except that's a big coral head. Notice how sharply defined the edge of the dark area is?"
"Yes, and it looks dark brown, almost black, now that we're closer to it."
"Good observation. If that were a deeper spot, the color would change from lighter to darker blue, but the transition would be more gradual. With a little practice, you can learn to estimate depth within a foot or so, if you know the color of the bottom in the area you're crossing."
"This is nerve-wracking, Finn." Mary was watching the coral head as we passed it a few yards off our starboard beam. "That would tear the bottom out of a boat if you hit it at any speed. And is that another one, straight ahead?"
"No. That's the shadow of that cloud that's just a little ahead of us."
"How can you tell?"
"I've been watching it. Its shape and position are changing as the cloud moves."
"Like I said, nerve-wracking."
"You get used to it. It's not that tough, but you do have to pay attention. It's not like sailing in open water, that's for sure."
"I'll let you steer, if that's okay. I'll take my turn once we're in the Sound."
"That's fine," I said. "But let me know if you change your mind."
"Maybe. But for now, I'll keep watching the bottom and the depth until it all makes sense. You want lunch?"
"Sure, if you're ready."
"I'll make conch salad sandwiches. I'm worried that stuff won't keep."
"It should be okay for a few days in the fridge," I said. "You watched that woman making it; it's fresh."
"I know. That's what she said, but I'm eager to taste it."
"Then go for it."
"One sandwich? Or two?"
"Two, please," I said, as she ducked through the companionway and went below.
22
"How are you holding up?" I asked Mary. She took the helm right after we entered Exuma Sound.
"I'm okay; I've only been steering for three hours. You don't want a nap?"
"You know how it is; I'm too keyed up to sleep right now."<
br />
We were on a southeasterly course, making close to seven knots under sail alone. If the northeast wind held through the night, we would be anchored in George Town's Elizabeth Harbour sometime between eight and nine o'clock tomorrow morning.
About ten or twelve miles east of the Exumas, we were having a glorious sail. There was an easterly swell running, and the wind was just behind our beam, holding us nice and steady as we rode the swell. When we crested a wave, we could pick up an occasional flash from the two-second-red-flashing beacon on Highbourne Cay. Otherwise, there was nothing to remind us that there were other people anywhere near us.
"I'm surprised we haven't heard from Aaron," Mary said.
"Cellphone service in the Bahamas is spotty unless you're close to an area with enough people to justify a cell tower. Even then, it's not a sure bet. I should dig out the satellite phone and call him."
"Bring it up here so we can both hear what he has to say, okay?"
"Yes," I said, as I went down the companionway ladder. "Not sure it would get a signal below deck, anyway."
In two minutes, I was back in the cockpit. Mary snuggled against me as we watched the screen on my Phorcys-provided, encrypted satellite phone. Once it acquired a signal, I called Aaron.
"Finn?"
"You got both of us, Aaron," I said.
"Good. I've been trying to reach you for the last couple of hours."
"Yeah," I said. "Sorry about that. I've been in the States too long. I forgot how flaky cellphones can be in the Bahamas. They show they have service on the screen, but … "
"Right. Where are you, now?"
"About twelve or fifteen miles southeast of Highbourne Cay, out in Exuma Sound. We're having a grand sail; Mike's boat is really sweet."
"I'll tell him when I talk to him in the morning. Meanwhile, we may have something on Grissom's location."
"You sound like you're hedging."
"You're right. Bahamian cellphone service, again. He was connected to a cell site in George Town when he talked with Dixon the other day, but that's all we got. The service provider down there strips the location data to save bandwidth, or some such bullshit."
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