Morgan Stone - The Russian Factor

“Just so it’s clear,” I told the skipper, who I assumed was listening, “I’m leaving control of the yacht to you. I need to concentrate on its performance by watching and listening carefully.” That seemed to me a perfectly valid reason for not taking the helm. The engine was keyed to life and lines were untied. I watched and made mental notes. On the way into Marmaris’s large bay I asked questions like, “How much does fuel cost?” to determine that the engine burned diesel, without the embarrassment of asking directly.

Away from land, a stiff breeze picked up. Turkish instructions were exchanged between the skipper and Erdem, and ropes, called sheets and halyards , were cranked through winches. In short order, the mainsail was up and flapping. Anna glared at me, wraith like, paralyzed on a cockpit bench. The skipper spat his cigarette butt into the water, turned the big wheel, and Shadow veered. FOOMPH — the huge mainsail filled with wind, taking on the shape of a giant wing. The yacht leaned, tilting away from the wind. Anna gasped, scrambling for something to cling to.

Erdem, wrapping a giant metal spool with rope, saw her. “Are you okay?”

Anna glowered at me.

I exuded pure calm with a reassuring smile.

She wasn’t buying it. “ Mamachka! ”

Frightened by Anna’s reaction, Erdem signaled the skipper to steer Shadow back into the wind. The boat leveled out, but now the big mainsail was flapping violently. Yelling over the noise, he asked me if we should go back for Anna’s sake.

“Hell no!” I bellowed. The boat was sailing. That was finally something I understood. It was aerodynamics in action and I was thrilled. “She has to get used to it. Turn on back and let’s sail!”

Anna clammed up and stared forward. Erdem hauled on the sheets and the skipper, grinning at me with crooked orange teeth, swung the wheel around. Wind filled the main and Shadow accelerated and leaned away from it. The skipper killed the engine. Sudden tranquility, just the swish of water rushing by the hull was magic. Then Erdem released the big forward sail. It unfurled and filled with a colossal bang . After some more pulling, winching, adjusting and yelling, Erdem and the skipper had Shadow seriously heeled over and veritably flying. One thing was for sure, this yacht was fast! I was in heaven. Anna, however, seemed to be in purgatory at best.

Coming back in, and barely leaping distance from the boat to the dock, Anna jumped and bolted. She grabbed one of the dock’s sunshade struts for support and hung on. Her face was a study in extreme stress, not to mention a pale shade of green. Tying a couple of knots in the dock lines and jumping back aboard, the skipper found his English words. He gestured at Anna with a tar stained thumb, ” Your crew, she maybe is not so happy.” He chortled and plunged down the steep companionway. On his way back up, he had the case of beer the charter company stocked all its yachts with. “Your broker, he says you are to sail the Atlantic… with her!” He thrust his chin toward Anna, laughing.

“What do I owe you?”

He jumped to the dock with the beer under his arm. Walking away without looking back he called out, “Paid in full… and, good luck, mes amies.”

A survey was the last condition of sale. It wasn’t going to be easy. Of the professional boat inspectors Omar used: one was in the hospital with his third or fourth heart attack, one outright refused to survey sailboats because of their cramped spaces, and then there was the English alcoholic who hadn’t been seen since a near legendary bar fight days earlier. How bloody frustrating! All I wanted, was to pay for the boat and get us out of there.

Erdem, however, was strongly in favor of doing everything by-the-book. “The survey, it is most important. I insist and so, I am sure, will my uncle. You will not get insurance without the survey and for crossing an ocean, insurance, it is necessary.”

I didn’t see insurance as necessary for crossing oceans. If something went wrong, who was going to collect? Heck, in our case, who was even going to know? “What-ever!” Time was wasting. So, under the brutal afternoon sun, Erdem and I wandered the docks asking anyone we saw about boat surveyors. As luck would have it, we found one — an eccentric late to middle-aged Australian living on an oversized Turkish gulet. Erdem was surprised to learn of a professional surveyor right there, in town — in that very marina — that neither he or his uncle knew about. I smiled, noting that serendipity seemed once again to be on our side.

I needed the survey and Harvey, the Australian, said he could do it. He showed me official looking papers and letters of recommendation from insurance companies. He promised to undercut everyone else and, most importantly, he could do it right away. We struck a deal.

I liked Harvey. He reminded me of my favorite grandfather. I wanted to like him, but hearing snatches of Russian language drifting up from somewhere on the big boat, set me on edge. Harvey picked up on it. “Aw right, that’s just my Russian girlfriend. She’s got some people over.” He grinned. “You know, I’ve just thought of something. Your Anna’s likely missing fellow Russians. I just bet she would enjoy meeting my girlfriend.”

Done with Harvey, we wandered toward the brokerage. “Erdem, it makes zero sense.”

“Miss Ducat, what is it that is making no sense?”

“That man, the surveyor. Did you tell Harvey that Anna is from Russia?”

He thought for a second. Adjusted his tie. “You know, never have I seen or heard of that man before.”

A ponderous mobile crane on earth mover tires, called a travel lift , moved into position above Shadow. It lowered a cradle of nylon straps into the water, and effortlessly the yacht rose, dripping, from the sea. With the boat tucked into the virtual belly of the machine, it rolled glacially across a tarmac. Shadow was sailing over a sea of asphalt. I spotted Harvey walking toward us in a floppy hat and gaudy, mismatched clothes. On his rabbit like face was a bizarre, lopsided grin.

“So, you’re Anna. G’day, my dear! My, my… Wouldn’t my girlfriend like to meet you.” He said, snatching Anna’s hand and pumping a little too vigorously.

“Why?” Anna yanked her hand back.

“She’s Russian, like you. Thought you might like some company.”

Anna whirled and marched away.

I admired the way she didn’t suffer fools gladly, but damn, we needed Harvey. I ran to catch up with her.

“Why did you tell him I am Russian? I do not like this man! I do not know his girlfriend and I don’t want these strangers to know anything about me.”

“I didn’t tell him anything! He knew about you when I met him yesterday. We need this survey and he’s only being friendly.”

“I do not trust friendly people. There is always a reason for them to be friendly. His girlfriend is Russian! You cannot trust Russians.” Anna headed for the marina exit.

I stood my ground. On the spot, like always.

Harvey approached. “Sorry, mate, but you know how those Russians can be.” He slapped me on the back and winked.

I backed away. Looking at the dripping sailboat in the slings, I wondered if all this was really worth it. The boat looked a lot bigger out of the water than afloat. “How long will this survey take you?”

“Four, maybe five hours.”

“Fine, get Erdem when you’re done and put it back in its slip.” I turned and ran after Anna.

The Australian’s behavior was unsettling but what could I do? If it got us closer to home, I had to humor the creepies — Anna didn’t. She stormed off toward town.