Chapter 26: Crossing the Delaware

WASHINGTON CROSSED THE DELAWARE, we’re told, on Christmas Eve, 1776. Maybe the next day, I don’t remember. My Christmas Eve will be spent crossing the Adriatic Sea. Washington’s rowboats had a mile to traverse. I have about 100 miles. At least I have a motor.

Help arrives

It was supposed to be a simple ruse. Anyone watching the house would think Simon left the country. I’d be dressed like him and catch the ferry to Split and a plane to Rome as Simon. Somewhere en route, I’d change from Simon to Deb and catch a flight from Rome home. Anyone watching would be following me long enough that Simon and Angel could sneak out and start over anyplace they wanted to. End of case. I wash my hands.

But when I got downstairs last night, Angel had her bags packed and ready to go with me. The two of them convinced me it would be more believable if Angel and Simon escaped together. They’re a recognizable pair with the statuesque blonde Angel towering over the short dark Simon.

We planned to leave in the middle of the night and instead of taking the ferry, take their boat up the inland passage to Rijeka and drive to Zagreb from there. Along the way, I’d lose the disguise and two blondes would grab a car to Zagreb and a plane home. While we were luring away our pursuers, Simon would disappear south to Greece and lay low a couple of months. As soon as things were safe, he’d call for Angel to join him.

“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 fin. 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 didn’t run at night. We’d be long gone by morning. We haggled back and forth for a good hour before everyone was agreed on a plan that would get us all away from the immediate danger of Geoff Gilliam and crew.

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

It was close to two in the morning when Angel and I carried our one suitcase each out of the house, looking in all directions and heading down to the wharf. Simon gave me an overcoat to wear as well, even though he knew I’d be ditching the suit and coat before we debarked.

I handed my suitcase to Angel and she started the big diesel engines while I tossed the lines onto the boat and jumped aboard. I was relieved to see it was a 30’ Four Winds 288 Vista Cruiser and not a rowboat. It was a luxury yacht made to accommodate two people for fast trips to Greece, Italy, or any other port on the Mediterranean.

Angel didn’t hear me hit the deck over the sound of the engines. I was shoved and fell next to the suitcases. I rolled to my knees facing a gun.

“Hello, Simon,” Ray growled. “Going somewhere?” At that moment, Angel looked back and screamed. I thought Ray was going to shoot her. “Both of you! Get down below and shut up.”

“There’s no need to be so nasty, Ray,” I said. “It’s good to see you, too.”

“Right,” he said. “I’ll take the boat from here. Just get below and don’t either of you stick your head out before I tell you. There’s no reason for a lot of people to get hurt.”

Pretty gruff if you ask me. The Ray Hawkins I’d met on Ambergris Caye seemed more easy going. I wondered if Geoff was making things difficult. Or maybe he was pissed because I gave him the slip in Mexico City at the airport. Well, if he was working for Jordan, that would explain why he’d been following me. Good old Jordan, still looking out for me.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” I said beneath my breath, ushering Angel below deck with our suitcases. “It’s okay, Angel. Jordan said I’d recognize the guy he sent to help. It’s a relief.”

Ray closed the door when we’d entered the forward cabin. There was shouting from the dock and I heard angry voices and running feet. Ray gunned the engines and the boat lurched from the pier 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.

“Geoff must have been close,” I whispered as we finally sat up and separated. “Thank God Ray got here when he did.”

The devil and the deep blue

It seemed like we’d been down there forever.

“How long is the crossing from Brac to Split?” I asked Angel.

“Less than an hour. Maybe he’s using the same plan we came up with and going up to Rijeka.”

“I’m glad someone is piloting the boat who knows how to handle it.”

“I know how,” Angel said. “Simon and I have had this boat for two years. I can handle it just fine.”

“Well, let’s find out where we are,” I said, opening my computer. It’s a great thing to have a GPS receiver in a laptop. Dag was smart about that.” I waited for the map to resolve 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.

“This isn’t right,” 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 islands and were headed southeast—out to sea.