Morgan Stone - The Russian Factor

“Why should I, and isn’t that what boat brokers are for?”

“You have a broker?”

“Of course, and why not? I’m not buying it off the street. Some kid, his name’s Erdem, and his uncle owns that brokerage over there.” I pointed at Omar’s building.

The manager went white and swallowed hard. “This is Omar’s boat?” He raised both his hands, made an announcement in Turkish, and what was left of the crowd broke up with groans and hand gestures. Suddenly, all was right with the world.

Tom and the manager wanted to know all about Harvey. I described the boat he lived on and with astonishing speed, cell phones flew from pockets. Omar’s Yacht Sales was the group’s next stop. Walking beside me, Anna whispered in Russian, “I do not trust the American.”

I shrugged. Typical Russian attitude; everyone is guilty of something and out to get you.

Erdem intercepted us before we reached Omar’s. I’d never seen anyone so nervous. His sweat-free record — and, I’d say, his dress shirt — was ruined. He stammered out something like being on his way to Harvey’s gulet to fetch him. Then, “Oh yes, I am to inform you that my uncle Omar, he is upstairs… expecting you.”

“That’s right where we’re headed, son.” Tom tried for a friendly pat on Erdem’s shoulder but managed to miss.

“Ah, a, a… Upstairs… In his office.” Erdem bolted for Harvey’s boat.

Omar was calm and jovial. He and the manager behaved like best buddies. Tea was called for while a deal was hammered out that worked in everyone’s favor. Before Erdem got back with Harvey in tow, Omar had agreed to repair the travel lift and seek reimbursement from Harvey. All problems were solved. The marina manager was ecstatic.

Omar reasoned that since I had nothing in writing from Harvey, and that it had been Harvey who had arranged the haul out and then damaged marina property, Harvey was ultimately responsible. I noticed how Erdem, the broker after all, hadn’t been mentioned. I envied him his family’s loyalty.

Harvey was spitting mad. Over his shouted protests, Omar calmly reminded him that, “As a professional working legally in all respects, your professional organization will likely offer assistance.”

Harvey closed in on Omar, narrowing his eyes, and clenching his fists. Omar didn’t move, didn’t blink, but cracked the faintest hint of a smile that stopped Harvey dead. It was like a mime hitting an invisible wall. Harvey backed off. Then he asked me if I had the money for the survey.

“Uh yeah, sure. Not on me, but I can get it. You mean now?”

“More tea? Miss Jess, you will pay for the survey when you get the report and are completely happy with it and not a minute sooner. My nephew will see to that. Now is not the time for you to pay anyone.” Omar sought agreement from Harvey with a look.

Harvey nodded. “You’ll have that survey report tomorrow afternoon.”

The boat wasn’t going anywhere until someone got back from Istanbul with parts for the travel lift. It put Anna and me right back at the apartment-hotel. The owner, all too happy to oblige, gave us our old suite. We were probably his only guests.

I called Sinem to postpone our first sailing lesson. She was amazed by what happened and wanted to see for herself. She liked the idea meeting to talk about the kind of sailing Anna was planning to do, and to go over the parts of the boat that can’t be seen when it is in the water.

Shadow dangled in the crippled travel lift where Anna and I’d seen it the day before. In the meantime, the area had been cordoned off with highway cones and yellow tape. Sinem oohed and aahed at the severed strap. “Absolutely insane. Somebody did that? Thought I’d seen everything.”

I told her about the confrontation the day before and the laborers Harvey had employed.

“Never heard of him or his guys. Maybe he knows his stuff and is a good surveyor. If he is, you might hire him to tell you what equipment you’ll need to sail this boat to Florida.”

“You think I don’t know what the boat needs to get us to Halifax?” I was taken aback. “And it’s Halifax, not Florida. You know, a city in Canada?”

“I know where it is, but you can’t sail to Halifax from here.” Sinem countered. “Not with the currents and wind against you. You do know that, right?”

“Of course, no point fighting the currents.” I told her that once we left Turkey there would be no turning back or landing until we reached Canada. “Halifax, non-stop, maybe Vancouver. We’ve got no choice.”

“Vancouver? From here? Non-stop? This really is a joke, right?” Sinem drilled into me with dark eyes. Waiting for the punch line.

“It’s no joke.” I said.

“Alright, what kind of sailing experience do you have, Jess, is it?”

I embellished slightly. Telling her, “I’ve done some offshore racing.” I added my experience as commercial pilot, which was true, so at least I knew about weather and navigation. Of course, filing an IFR flight plan, tracking a series of VORs then intersecting and following the ILS in for landing might be a little different, but the same principals had to be at work.

Sinem strolled around the travel lift. “So, you don’t stop in Florida, but that’s where you’ll be headed. Gibe to starboard with the Windward Passage on your port side and head north until you see the iceberg that sank Titanic. Pack a lot of groceries. You’re going to be out there a long time.” She shook her head, then pointed at a couple of disks implanted in the hull, visible now that the occluding strap had been cut away. “Depth sounder and water speed.” Then, pointing at the top of the mast, which could have been in the clouds had there been any, “wind speed and direction. This boat has an autopilot?”

I didn’t know, but assumed by her asking that it must have, “Oh yes, fully equipped, top of the line, yes-sireeee, really impressed the heck out of me.”

“Beneteau puts good stuff on board, but you are going to need a lot more than it comes with. And how are you set for charts? Are you getting a package mailed in for your route or are you flying to London to get them from Admiralty Nautical?”

I hadn’t come up with an answer by the time she started rattling off a list of equipment. Some of it I recognized from the book I was re-reading or from yacht club presentations, but a lot of it was unfamiliar and sounded expensive. “We’re really going to need all that?”

“If you want to stay alive, you will. This boat is equipped for charter . It has what it needs to get to pretty bays and yacht clubs. I’m sure the guest accommodation below deck is splendid, but I can see from here, this yacht is not ready to cross any oceans.”

“Well, it’s not like we’re sailing the Vendee Globe.” I hoped a little name dropping would add to my credibility.

“Around the world alone non-stop, you are not doing, certainly not in a charter yacht, but you and your boat can be in the same conditions, troubles, dangers and emergencies as those racers. Especially because you can’t stop and rest, or fix things. You need to be prepared for anything. If, as you say, Anna can not be caught between here and Canada and you can’t call for help, then you and your friend can die at sea with the Coast Guard a radio call away. It is crazy.”

“Look, I don’t have a choice in the matter. I, or we, will do the best we can with what we’ve got, which is why I want you to teach Anna how to sail this thing so I can concentrate on getting that equipment and getting it installed.”

Anna zoned out. She started to wobble, apparently too bored to stand, she found a place to sit.