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“They do.”
At the manned security gate leading to the luxury yachts, the police handed back their passports and gave them a salute, per the driver.
And drove away!
Dimitri got the call he’d been waiting for. “We’re on our way. Little bit of a bumpy ride through customs. But all turned out well,” said Byron Reyes. “You guys all ready to take off in the next hour or before?”
“Roger that. Man, it’s good to hear your voice.”
“We had to get Kyle on the line. There was no way they were going to let us pass. He told them we were on vacation but also scouting for good training grounds for some underwater exercises. He had to tell them it was to be a joint operation. That seemed to be the magic word.”
Dimitri could hear the roar of the engines in the background as he hung up.
They alerted the others and worked their way down to the harbor, but they stood under a woody park of tall trees with several benches facing the water. Moira slipped him her hand.
“It’s going to work out. I know it will,” she whispered.
The pack was getting heavy to carry around, since he had included Moira’s things. His shoulder ached. But sitting there in the morning sunshine, by the water, he began to change his mind about the island as a destination for tourists. It was lovely. If you didn’t have two capos and a bunch of drug dealers after you, and if you weren’t trying to rescue a family—the family of your believed-to-be dead fiancée. Other than that, he could see himself enjoying the place.
In a little over a half hour, the streamlined luxury yacht came into view. The three-tier deck and long sleek lines of the sixty-foot vessel sliced through the water at top speed. A graceful thing of beauty. He figured it might be able to outrun an Italian Coastie, the bigger ships. The little ones were like speedboats, and there would be no chance. But a full destroyer-class ship would be much slower than the yacht, at least initially, to escape.
He’d been told the captain of the ship was also a pilot who directed huge cruise ships in and out of several of the ports on the island, as well as the coast, so he was the perfect hire. And he was an independent contractor, not affiliated with the government or attached to a ferry service for the cruising industry.
He came in slow, turned around, and headed in by stern. The young crew dropped lines on the portside at the dock. He’d been instructed to leave the motors running to pick up the passengers.
Dimitri was the first to board, walking up to the four men, who stared at him.
“You got a little Capri goin’ on there, big D,” said Byron. “You stay here any longer and you’ll come back with dreadlocks.”
“You have no idea, Byron. I’ll tell you later.” He greeted the others and then headed up to the captain and introduced himself.
“Captain Phillips, I presume?” he asked.
The British captain gave him a gruff handshake, crossing his eyes. “Don’t you dare bring that up. I’ve been on enough ships to dread that kind of an outcome. That was a one-in-a-thousand mission.”
“Couldn’t agree more. So you got the plan? We’re hoping for no interference from the locals. So far, nothing from the Don here. You connected or know anybody in that group?”
“Don’t understand a thing about that, mate. I stay completely away from all that. Strictly by hire. No politics. It’s dangerous here in Italy, if you understand my meaning. But you’re the one paying the bills, so welcome aboard. And you got some of your colorful ilk coming aboard as well, I understand? I wasn’t told about this until just now.”
“Yes, little change in strategy. Creating a diversion. There’s a twenty percent bonus for the inconvenience.”
Dimitri knew the captain was mumbling under his breath to the two others on the bridge, but it was of no concern to him. He was headed back to his Team.
They helped Moira aboard then her parents and her sister and brother. As planned, Moira took them immediately downstairs in the galley and out of sight. Then the line of cabaret folk followed, and being they were ladies, the men helped each one board, high heels, feather boas, and colorful wigs to boot. The ladies were impossible to keep quiet.
Dimitri saw Byron search the pier.
“You see the Spec Ops guys?”
“Nope. No sign of them. I don’t think they were suspicious up to a point. We’re good.”
He abruptly turned and faced Dimitri. “I was going to say, sir, that your trip to Italy has done things to you. Why the fuck are we boarding these ladies?”
“It’s a smoke and mirrors thing. A distraction. Gives us time to get away. We didn’t know who would be meeting us here. That’s why you’re along. If we’re lucky, you won’t have to use anything in those bags you’re carrying.”
“Roger that.”
The captain waved to Dimitri, anxious to get out into the bay. He gave him the go ahead to begin to leave. The lines were pulled in and stowed, and in seconds, they slowly taxied through the smooth waters of the harbor. The girls floated about the yacht, picking up glasses of champagne, and enjoying the thrill of the multi-million-dollar vessel and the most luxurious view of the bay they’d probably ever see.
