Agent with a History

  Chapter Twelve

  Dark Water

  I blinked my eyes open and immediately squinted them against the glare of the sun coming through the portal window. My eyes refocused enough to see that I was lying beside Flint half draped over him. Blushing, I scrambled back and awkwardly got to my feet.

  “Was I sleeping on you like that all night?”

  He sat up smiling and, obviously, the answer was that I had been.

  I brushed my hair to the sides of my face overcome by how hedonistic I seemed to have suddenly become, “I’m sorry!”

  “Don’t be. I rather enjoyed it,” he said, getting up.

  I moved to step back, but he kissed me first. He was always kissing me, it seemed. Not that I minded it all that much.

  “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” I mumbled back in reply.

  “We’ll be landing in an hour so you might want to freshen up.”

  I nodded and went to the rear of the plane.

  Customs was a hassle; which was the best way of putting it. I thought we were through when a short little man rushed forward.

  “Señor James, what a pleasure to see that you have come to visit us again! Tell me, who is the lovely lady?”

  “Enrique, may I have the honor of introducing Mrs. Kilroy to you,” Flint said with a flourish. I smiled warmly on cue as the little man went into double time in his never ending spiel of best wishes, my overwhelming beauty, how lucky Flint, whom he called James, was and how lucky I was.

  Flint cut into the ever expanding monologue, “Enrique, since this is my wife’s first time to your beautiful country, I wonder if you could help us expedite the process of getting her paper work done?”

  “Oh, but of course! It is but the least I can do for an old friend. Come this way, Señora Kilroy.”

  I followed the little man, as he led us to a separate booth and pulled out a thick sheaf of papers.

  “I just need your signature, Señora, on these papers and you’re free to go enjoy all that our fair country has to offer with your new husband.”

  I looked at the pile of papers and leafed through a few. They were all in Spanish. I glanced at Flint, seeking help, and he nodded that it was okay, so I started signing my life away. For all I knew, I could be signing my confession to a murder.

  With that done, we moved out and into the city. I had a strange feeling of being watched and glanced back. Yeah, we were being followed.

  I glanced at Flint and he nodded.

  “Yeah, I know, sightseeing is gonna have to wait, honey. I’ll bring you back someday, I promise. Hold onto my hand.”

  For the next hour I learned how to lose a tail from a professional. I thought we had lost them when a bullet pinged off a building just above our heads. We crouched down together, making our way along the lines of what available cover we had.

  “I thought we lost them!” I said, slightly out of breath, as I tried to keep up with him.

  “We did! This is somebody else,” he replied tersely.

  A man stepped out of an alcove ahead of us with an assault rifle and, instead of shooting him, Flint threw his handgun, which clocked the guy senseless. Flint retrieved his gun and tossed the man’s riffle into some piles of trash.

  The man started to stir and Flint kicked him viciously in the head. The man was out cold. I was seeing a different side of Flint than I had ever seen before, but had suspected was there. He had a savage side, but then, so did I.

  A radio on the man’s side started crackling with foreign voices. Something similar to German, I thought. Flint picked up the radio and listened.

  The voices ended as somebody appeared to be asking a question. There was silence and then the question was repeated.

  Gruffing his tone somewhat, Flint responded in the language perfectly and then broke into a staged, excited monologue that had voices coming back to him over the radio excitedly. He said something more and then dropped the radio and pulled me along after him to where the side alley opened into a busy market street.

  Several white guys suddenly appeared, all running down the street past us, pushing their way through the crowd. Flint waited a moment and then pulled me along after him, in the opposite direction the men had taken. Flint must have led them off the trail, with whatever he had said.

  We split across several busy streets, got honked at by cars and roundly cursed as well. It would have been quite exciting if it wasn’t for the fear of a bullet with my name on it crashing into the back of my skull.

  We ended up on a less busy street and Flint stopped at a pay phone and started calling someone.

  “Who were those guys? What were they speaking?” I asked.

  “Swiss,” he responded.

  “Swiss!” I exclaimed. “Why would they be after the treasure?”

  He gave me a look that said I wasn’t having an especially bright day and I wondered what I had missed.

  “I suppose you’re one of those individuals who thinks that the Swiss banks, out of innocent and honest intentions, held onto vaults full of Nazi treasure, which was mostly stolen from Jews, until well after World War II was over. Imagine a major banking center such as Switzerland with its own version of Midas’s touch. What kind of global control do you think they could exert?”

  Now that he put it in that way, it made a lot more sense why the Swiss of all people might be involved in the treasure hunt.

  If they were involved, who else was?

  I listened to Flint on the phone.

  “Frank, it’s Flint. I’m calling in that favor you owe me. What kinds of assets do you have in Barcelona?”

  He stood there for a few moments listening.

  “I appreciate this Frank! Could you go ahead and call the port authority so no suspicions are raised?”

  More listening and then Flint said, “Thanks old friend,” and hung up the phone.

  He started off down the street at a fast clip and I hurried to catch up, “Where are we going?”

  “The harbor,” was all he said.

  It took us three hours to get there, when it should have only taken an hour. We had to double back and go out of our way several times to avoid search patrols.

  The whole city seemed to be alive with people searching for us. I would never have made it through such a man-hunt alone, and have remained free, using only my limited evasion skills. Flint, however, was a master at it and he helped me keep my cool and not panic.

  We reached the wharf and then made our way along the marina. The docked boats changed from old fishing trawlers, which looked like they would sink in a weak eddy, to more expensive looking yachts.

  Near the entrance of a private marina, Flint stopped. There was heavy security and we weren’t going to be able to slip past them without being noticed.

  Flint was looking farther out in the harbor, his eyes squinted in concentration.

  He pointed at a yacht far offshore by itself, “That’s it. That’s the Siren’s Call. We’ll have to swim out to it.”

  I stepped back from the dark water of the harbor unconsciously. “Couldn’t we use a small boat to get to it?”

  He turned to me and something in my face must have alerted him to the apprehension I felt for the dark water of the bay.

  “Didn’t you swim all the way from your father’s island to shore? I know you can swim,” he said, cautiously feeling me out.

  “It was a bad experience! I nearly died and it was night, everything was dark! The water was dark and something brushed past me and I thought I was going to be eaten! Just like my mother!”

  Flint’s strong arms came around me and held me against his chest. His words came softly, right beside my ear.

  “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, I promise!”

  I drew back slightly and he said, “I’m especially not going to let a sea monster get you!”

  “How can you promise that?” I asked, a little hysterically, as he step
ped back from me, kicked his shoes off and slipped over the side into the dark waters of the harbor.

  He held a hand up to me and said, “I won’t let anything happen to you Lisa, but we have to make this swim. I won’t leave you alone out there.”

  My fingers clenched into fists, but I kicked my shoes off and slipped into the water beside him. I don’t know why, but ever since this man had come into my life I had been made to face each and every one of my worst fears.

  I really wished that cycle would stop!

  Being in this dark water was bad, but Flint was there helping me in the midst of my nightmare. He always seemed to be doing that. What would I ever do without him?

  We started off. I didn’t really focus on how far the distant yacht was from us. I only looked to see where Flint was. As long as I could see him splashing along beside me I was okay, or at least functional.

  Fear closed around me like an icy prison, and as time wore on I could feel its grip on me, draining me of all my energy. Panic started to settle in.

  I wasn’t going to make it!

  Dimly, I heard shouting. I glanced at Flint to see him gesture ahead and I glanced there, too. The yacht was close. I could make it a little farther, I thought. We bumped into the side of the yacht and then Flint was gone.

  I was alone and, in the panic of that thought, my body locked up and I began to sink. Strong hands grabbed hold of me and I was jerked up out of the water to the deck of the yacht, water streaming off me.

  I was so cold!

  My teeth were chattering so hard I thought they would rattle out of my head. Flint swung me up into his arms and I latched onto his shirt front like he was a life preserver, which in a way he had become for me.

  Suddenly, he put me down and hot water began to course down my back. It shocked me so much that I half screamed and latched tighter onto Flint.

  “Sshh, it’s just hot water. It’s a shower.”

  I looked around and saw the shower stall for myself. In complete embarrassment, I started to cry.

  “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” I mumbled out over and over through my tears, keeping my head ducked down against his chest.

  “Whoa! Whoa! Time out!”

  He pulled my chin up to stare into my face with concerned eyes, “What are you apologizing for, honey?”

  “I’m always crying around you! I almost never cried before you came along and now I’m just a bucket of tears all the time! You must think I’m the weakest, most emotional woman you’ve ever met!”

  I tried to duck my head back down again, but he wouldn’t let me.

  “Lisa, you are perhaps the bravest and most courageous woman I have ever met!”

  “Yeah right!”

  “I’m serious! How many women, cursed with the hellish upraising that you were stuck with, could make such a success out of themselves. With nothing to your name and no support, you made yourself into one NY’s finest detectives. And you haven’t let the journey up from the bottom corrupt you, either. You’re an honorable, decent and courageous young woman. And, as far as crying goes, tears don’t make you weak. Maybe the reason why you haven’t cried much before in your life is because you haven’t felt safe enough to let go. You're safe with me and I think you know it. Do I look like I mind you blubbering all over me? Heck no! It just gives me another excuse to hold your awesome body.”

  I couldn’t help the little spurt of laughter that erupted.

  He cocked his head to the side, “You laugh, but it’s darn hard to let go of you girl!”

  Humor faded from me and was replaced with seriousness, “When this is all over, what’s going to happen between you and me?”

  His gaze also turned serious, “Have you ever been fishing?”

  My eyebrows quirked up, “What kind of question is that?”

  “I’m serious! Have you ever been fishing?”

  “Yes,” I said, not knowing where this was leading.

  “Did you keep the fish?”

  I’d only been fishing once, with a group of college friends. My brow wrinkled at the memory, “No, they made me throw it back into the pond. I really wanted to eat that fish, too!”

  “I feel the same way you do about fishing. You and I are kind of like that. I found you, I caught you and I’m never letting you go!”

  “You really mean that?” I whispered breathlessly.

  “I do. Now finish your shower, sexy little fish, while I get us away from this city before our continued health and happiness are threatened any further.”

  He stepped back out of the shower and reluctantly I watched him go. I felt all warm and gooey inside and it had nothing to do with the warm water pounding on my back.

  I stripped off my sodden clothes and finished my shower, grateful to wash the filth of the harbor away. I stepped out and dried off with some nearby towels. Now for some clothes.

  This didn’t look like the main cabin so I might be out of luck. I checked the drawers first. Nothing. I went to a small armoire and opened it.

  “Oh my!”

  Before me was quite the array of lingerie, everything from not so modest to downright bare.

  “Are you serious?” I exclaimed.

  The only clothes for women onboard the ship was this collection?

  Exactly what kind of man was this friend of Flint’s?

  I invaded the room across from mine to find it fully stocked with men’s clothing. I got a shirt and a pair of pants, which I had to hold up with a belt.

  I made my way topside in time to see the harbor fading away behind us. I found Flint at the helm and his eyebrows quirked up at the sight of my baggy attire.

  I answered the unasked question of why; “Apparently your friend prefers his lady friends to prance around his ship in nothing except what’s acceptable in a stripper joint.”

  Flint shook his head wryly, “Yeah, that about describes Frank.”

  “Your friend literally just lets you borrow a several million dollar yacht when you call him up and ask him for it?”

  “How much is a life worth? I’ve saved his on several occasions and gave him a tip once that paid off in the purchase of several yachts larger than this one, if he wanted to upgrade.”

  “Still, how are you going to return it?”

  “I won’t be. If your moral fibers are rising indignantly about it, I’ll see that he gets another one.”

  I studied him for a long moment, “Just how rich are you?”

  “Enough,” he responded with a half smile.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Morocco. If all goes to plan, I’ll pick up a plane there from an acquaintance.”

  “Another largess borrow?” I quipped.

  “No, this time I’m going to steal what I need and you’re going to help me.”

  My jaw fell open.

  “If it makes you feel any better, stealing the plane will cut down on the drug trafficking for a few days.”