Morgan Stone - The Russian Factor

Groceries were stowed. The entire front of the boat ahead of the mast was packed tight — floor to ceiling in two cabins. The cabin I’d thought would be Anna’s along with my own cabin was stuffed with soft items like clothing, extra sails, life jackets, and bedding, leaving just enough room to lie down. Tom approved, “One really wants to be wedged in tight at sea.” While I had been at customs and Sinem and Anna were visiting the wholesalers, Erdem and Tom had used electrical tape to surreptitiously rename Shadow SPLASH-DOWN. They rechristened the decoy charter yacht, SHADOW when they tied it alongside as camouflage.

“You have diesel fuel and propane for the stove?” Erdem asked.

“Yes, filled all the tanks last time we were out.” Sinem answered.

“I topped up the freshwater and the desalinator checks out fine.” It was Tom.

Hearing everyone checking things off drove it home that I really was about to launch myself into the sea — and that was if all went well . It just hadn’t seemed real until then. I felt as if I were counting down to my own execution. I’d never sailed anything on my own and without Anna, what had been our home for the last two months felt like a tomb. I dialed Anna’s number and heard her phone ring in her former cabin. My heart sank. It was time to go.

With the activity on deck wrapping up and the sun nearing the horizon, we started implementing the escape plan Tom and I eventually worked out. Sinem and Erdem repacked the sails on the decoy Shadow and started to decorate it as though for a party. The stereo was turned up, balloons and streamers were hung, and lights were switched on to draw attention to the decoy. Fake Shadow was a veritable party platform. Omar had come down from his office to join us. Nobody said anything about Anna’s absence. It was a stone in my heart as the countdown continued.

It was getting darker. Sinem, and Erdem were dancing on the forward deck and toasting with virgin cocktails. Security even came by to say there had been a complaint about the noise. The two of them boisterously announced our intention to take our party to town, “For some dancing and serious clubbing.”

The Russians on the catamaran watched us, bored. They fidgeted with their cell phones and passed a bottle back and forth. Tom and I slipped over to the newly named and re-flagged SPLASH-DOWN. Below deck, we finalized the plans, coming up with radio codes, a satellite communication schedule, and an exchange of encryption keys. I really appreciated his insistence on data and communication security.

Ready to sneak back to his own yacht, Tom saluted, furrowed his brow and cogitated for a moment. Then he dismissed whatever was bothering him with a wave. “Nah, you gotta do it. Nothing I can say except, ‘see you on the other side.’”

Omar left with a handshake and, outside the pool of light cast by the fake Shadow , he quietly untied the lines. Out of sight, Sinem and Erdem changed into the hoodies Anna and I had been wearing despite the heat. The three of us embraced in a group hug, probably unnerving Erdem. Then the two of them, hoods drawn, got back aboard the fake Shadow and started the engine. I stayed below on the real Shadow. Omar crouched on the seawall beside my yacht, waiting to untie its lines on my signal.

In complete darkness, and now all along on my yacht, SPLASH-DOWN, I broadcast on the marina’s VHF frequency, “Area traffic, this is sailing vessel SHADOW departing marina southbound. Conflicting traffic please inform, sailing vessel SHADOW.”

I heard Sinem rev up the fake Shadow and maneuver the brightly lit charter yacht into the passage between the docks. I could see the cousins on the catamaran scrambling frantically to get untied and underway. Not fast enough and Sinem and Erdem blasted by the bows of the catamaran, well in excess of the marina’s posted speed limit. Still, far slower than the catamaran would be capable of going in a few seconds.

Radio microphone keyed, “Marina traffic, sailing vessel SHADOW underway, clearing dock foxtrot and heading for the breakwater.” I could hear my radio call echo from the catamaran as its engines roared to life and lights came on. The Russians had fallen for the bait but would catch up and catch on in short order. Tom, aboard his own yacht, was already gliding toward the fairway between docks golf and foxtrot . Hearing my radio call, and seeing the decoy speed past, he eased his vessel across the end of the fairway, blocking the catamaran. Tom killed his engine.

The sound of engines reversing and Russian cursing provided an overture to Tom’s loud “Sure am sorry to hold you folks up, but I seem to have a bit of engine trouble.” More shouts and threats erupted from the Russians. I cringed, anticipating gunfire. I saw the top of the fake Shadow’s mast rounding the breakwater. I radioed again to bait the Russians and let Tom know where Sinem and Erdem were. The cousins went nuclear. One of them hurled a bottle at Tom, who ducked to avoid it. At the last possible moment before being rammed, Tom got his engine started and slowly pulled far enough out of the way to let the catamaran pass. Its engines roared to maximum RPM and it accelerated toward the breakwater.

I started the engine on SPLASH-DOWN. I could hardly breathe while Omar threw the lines on deck and started to shove the bow from the seawall. Shit, I was actually leaving without Anna! My face burned. I could barely see through a storm of my own damn tears. I forced myself to concentrate on the bow, now swinging into unobstructed water.

Then whump! The shock nearly buckled my knees. Anna slid on the cockpit floor, having just taken a flying leap from the seawall. She stayed down. Hurt? I caught a glimpse of Omar, hands clasped above his head, smiling.

“Go! Just go. Don’t stop now.” Anna said from the floor between the cockpit benches. If we’re going to die we’ll do it together.”

I barely had the strength to push the throttle forward, or maneuver down the fairway. My mind was reeled, my heart pounded. I worried about being sick. I watched Tom take up pursuit of the catamaran using a floodlight to blind anyone who tried to look back or to pass him. Trying not to sound scared, I took a crack at a funny accent and broadcast, “Sierra victor Shadow, this is motor launch Banzai with traffic on your stern.” It was Sinem’s signal to kill all the lights on the false Shadow and run full throttle toward the boats out on the bay for evening cruises.

Without any lights and at dead slow, I eased us out of the marina toward the black center of the huge bay. Increasing our speed, putting more distance between us and the lights of Marmaris, we became less visible. Anna got off the floor and took up a position at the stern. She stood, statue like, white knuckling some standing rigging while staring back at the receding town we’d called home for the last couple of months. Glistening tears fell from her cheeks. She said nothing.

I was afraid to speak.

Toward shore, I saw Tom’s yacht and beyond that, the catamaran turning lazy circles, sweeping a searchlight over boats within range of its powerful beam.

Heading for the channel out of Marmaris bay, I’d pushed Shadow to full throttle. Coming in from the Mediterranean, in the opposite direction, was a fortuitous fog bank. It poured into the bay through the inlets. Soon we were completely enveloped and visibility went to zero. I throttled back somewhat while Anna kept her eyes glued to the radar screen. The opening to the Mediterranean lay dead ahead.

Stars appeared through breaking fog just after midnight. We’d crossed into international waters and out of any country. Anna was no longer illegal. Still, she faced instant arrest if we tried to land anywhere. For better or for worse, with Anna aboard we were committed to a long sea voyage. With only twelve nautical miles behind and at least ten thousand to go, any anticipation of adventure I might have had was, by then, well and truly quashed. It was pitch dark, wet and cold. Waves we’d experienced maybe once or twice in training were only a baseline in open water. The first queasy hints of seasickness were coming on fast.