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What are you going to do? It is what it is.
They dined at a seafood place with a jazz singer who was mind-blowing.
He caught Moira flirting with him and breaking out in a wide, mischievous smile from time to time. He knew what she was thinking. It was thrilling to know she thought he looked hot, even with his earring and rainbow hair. He found it easier as the hours went by to just pretend he was waiting in the bushes, painted with blackout, armed, alert, and using every tool in his arsenal to stay alert and safe. Some hair tint and an earring wasn’t a biggie any longer. At least it wasn’t makeup.
He examined every stranger or couple who came in or out of the little restaurant.
They walked with his arm around her shoulder to the little pension they’d picked out with a veranda overlooking the water. He stripped down and showered. She joined him, kissed his hungry lips, and gripped his hair as he knelt before her, tasting her goodness and making her come in little whimpers.
They didn’t speak all evening, because there was nothing to say. Tomorrow, they’d see how close to the plan they could make it. With luck, twenty-four hours from now they’d be on a plane to New York.
He held her in his arms all night long, just so she knew that he would never, ever leave her again.
No matter what.
The bright sunglared off the glassy waters of the bay, nearly blinding them. While he was getting ready and packing up, she walked down to a corner bakery and purchased croissants and coffee.
He was hungry, even with the huge dinner the night before, but the coffee helped, and the croissant kept his stomach from grumbling. She once again offered the makeup, and once again, he declined.
“I didn’t tell them what I’d look like.”
“You could send them a picture.”
He was horrified of that answer. “Holy crap, Moira, no pictures. Not to anybody!”
She smiled and nodded her agreement. “It’s only for your protection.”
“I don’t think we’ll need it. Just a few steps away from the terminal. If it makes you feel better, we can bring it, but I was going to toss it, frankly.”
“You’re the expert.”
“I’m sure they’re already on edge. That would just do them in. And for the record, I don’t ever want you to show any of those pictures you have on your phone to anyone. We’re going to purge those when we get in the air, understood?”
“Of course, anything you say.”
Her family and several of their cabaret friends were waiting in the Ferry Terminal, a half hour early, mostly because it was temperature controlled and had vending machines to buy waters and snacks, and it was relatively hidden. The first ferries came and went. Hordes of people arrived; fewer went back toward the mainland. That would all change later in the afternoon in reverse and be completed by sunset.
At seven, he began to pace. They should have landed. No word had arrived. When nothing was heard by nine, he had Moira call her relative.
“He’s not seen them. They have not come out from baggage claim. Probably immigration.”
“Oh dear. Do you think there’s a problem?”
“No, this is common. A little long, but they like to look like they’re thorough. Depends on how many are working and how many are coming through. We have three cruise ships today in Naples, so perhaps that’s the holdup.”
They waited. Moira called the boat works to let them know the guests had not arrived. He confirmed the crew was waiting and would until noon, but then they’d have to cut it off.
Dimitri knew that if the yacht crew refused to wait longer, the alternative would be for the men to take the ferry. But then, that would mean everyone would have to turn right back around and ride it back. It made no sense and was too high profile, too public. With the yacht, they had the option to dock at several ports along the coast, and they had a first, second, and third choice all lined up.
At last, the men were spotted. The driver got out and sent a video of the four men with their bags strapped over their shoulder, looking very much like combat types. But what wasn’t expected was that they were being escorted by two military police, wearing the Special Forces patches. Moira showed it to Dimitri.
“They’re coming right for him. Tell him to wait and let them load up. There’s not room for more. They can’t take those guards with them.”
Moira relayed the message, and a return message came back,
“The military police are driving them over. I’m going to follow.”
“Don’t get too close. Don’t get noticed,” Moira said into the phone. To Dimitri, she asked, “They do have the address, the dock number, right?”
