Page 89 of One Minute Out

“Does every American think that the rest of the world is just dying to immigrate? I’m not. I was in school; I come from a good family. I didn’t want to be kidnapped.”

The American woman sighed. “It is so crucial that we make progress. There are eyes upon us.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, if you come along in this process with a more positive attitude, then it will only help you.”

“So... I should play a role in my own abduction?”

Claudia looked to the ceiling, obviously frustrated. She said, “Good things are in store for you, young lady.” Then she darkened considerably. “But, please, for your own good, listen to one piece of advice from me.”

“Which is?”

“The South African. John. Do what he says, when he says it. He is not a gentle man. He would fall in great disfavor with the Director if anything happened to you, but the Director would forgive him in time, and John knows it. The organization needs him to keep the operation running smoothly, so that won’t protect you. Trust me, John is the cruelest person I’ve ever met and, frankly, dear, in this organization, that is saying something.”

She added, “I am here to help you along your path, but this path will have some bumps along the way. John, and the Greek who owns the yacht, they are the bumps you’ll have to contend with before I get you to your final destination.”

Maja didn’t know what the doctor meant by any of this, but she knew it was nothing good.

•••

I sleep like the dead until my alarm goes off—no dreams about the girls, but they are the first thing I think about when I wake. I feel the aches and pains of the fight in Dubrovnik, the fatigue of the days of little rest, but at least I’m doing better than I was when I got to town.

I stumble into the bathroom and toss water on my face, then go check on Talyssa. I find her awake, but lying in the fetal position on the bed.

“You okay?”

“Everything hurts. My neck, my shoulder, my arm, my back. I can barely move.”

“Some asshole must have flipped your van over last night.”

She smiles a little at this and makes herself sit up. We both take anti-inflammatories, drinking them down with bottled water, and then she brews coffee in the pot in the kitchen, which we consume quickly, purely for the caffeine.

At nine p.m. we head out the door, our arms full of gear.

At nine thirty we are standing by the speedboat bobbing in its slip at the marina. I have a perfect view of the south from here, so I’m scanning the night with my binos. There are a number of vessels on the water, but my eyes fix on an especially bright light that grows by the minute. It’s a couple of miles out in the sea lane, and while I don’t know it’s La Primarosa, the general size looks about right. It’s a very large vessel, but smaller than a cruise ship or one of the big ferries that deliver people and cargo up and down the coast.

Each minute the vessel nears I become more and more certain I am looking at my target, and I know that if it is planning on coming to port here at Pula, it will change course to put it on a northeasterly heading, and then begin slowing.

But the vessel just keeps heading to the north, making no correction to bring it closer to Pula.

When it is still a mile or so to the south without any noticeable change in course, I can see well enough to recognize the outline of the yacht I saw last night.

I say, “She’s the right boat, but she should be turning this way, and she’s not. Wherever they’re heading, it’s not here.”

Talyssa is crestfallen that her theory is incorrect. “What are we going to do?”

I look at her, then at the boat below me. “No chance you know how to drive one of these, is there?”

She shakes her head in bewilderment. “Me? No.”

I heft my gear bags on my shoulder. “No problem. You’re about to get one hell of a kick-ass lesson.”

“You want me to go out there? On the water? And drive the boat?”

I climb aboard and take her hand without replying. She comes along, but reluctantly.

“Yeah,” I reply. “It’ll be fun.”

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