Ken Douglas - Gecko

They got out of the car.

“ Keys?” Mohi asked and Linda tossed them to him. He went to the trunk and opened it. “Take one of these.” Mohi handed Jim a fishing rod. “Maori men fish here every night, even some pakehas, white men. We can get close without them suspecting anything.”

Jim followed Donna’s parents out onto the left pier, where they sat a few feet away from three old Maori men who were fishing in the moonlight. They dropped their lines into the water and stared at the boat. The three fishermen didn’t comment on the fact that Jim and Mohi weren’t using bait.

The sails were tied on. There was a rough looking man sitting on the deck, watching the forklifts and the crane do their work. The Reptil Rache was ready to sail and they had posted a guard to keep off unwelcome visitors. It would be impossible to sneak aboard.

“ How come the diving ladder’s still down?” Jim wondered aloud, referring to a stainless steel ladder hanging over the side of the boat and extending into the water.

“ It was delivered today,” a Maori man from the group to their right said. “I guess they wanted to see if it worked.”

“ If we can distract the guard, I could swim over and climb on board.”

“ The water is dirty, polluted and awful cold,” the Maori said. The two others in his party nodded their assent as the three moved over to join them.

“ I think my daughter’s on board.” Mohi explained the situation to them.

The Maoris wanted to storm the boat, but Jim told them if they did, the men onboard might kill the girl. He didn’t tell them they might get hurt themselves. These kind of men wouldn’t think of their own safety.

“ I need a way to keep this old thirty-eight dry,” Jim said.

One of the fishermen went to his lunchbox, took out two sandwiches and removed them from a Ziploc plastic bag. Jim zipped the gun into the bag and nodded his appreciation when the fisherman offered him the sandwiches and a thermos of coffee. He didn’t have to ask. These men were Maori, they knew when a man was hungry.

With his hunger and thirst partially satisfied, Jim was ready to go into the cold water.

“ There’s a ladder at the end of the pier,” Mohi said.

“ Okay.” Jim tucked the gun back into his pants, then took off the sweater and the work boots. “I’m ready.” He turned to Mohi, “If I’m not off by midnight, assume I’m dead and burn the boat.”

Linda gasped.

The old men’s eyes popped open.

“ If Donna’s alive, we’ll be off. If we’re not, it’ll mean I found her dead and it won’t matter what happens to me.”

“ I won’t burn it if she’s not off,” Mohi said.

“ We’ll need a fire in front of both entry ways and under the windows on that doghouse,” Jim said, ignoring Mohi. “If I do find her alive, we can leap through the flames into the sea. If that thing is on board, the fire will hold it back.”

“ I won’t burn it if she’s not off,” Mohi repeated.

“ Start the fire.” Jim looked him in the eyes. “If we get away, I don’t want that thing coming after her ever again. If she’s there and alive that fire might be the only chance we have of getting off.”

“ He’s right, Mohi,” Linda said. “We have to do what he says.”

“ I have gasoline in my trunk,” one of the old men said.

“ Can I count on you?” Jim asked, standing on the ladder.

“ You can,” Mohi and Linda said as one.

“ You can,” the three fishermen echoed.

“ You might need this.” The fisherman who had given him the sandwiches held out a scaling knife. “It’s very sharp, skin a man easy, if you want.”

Jim put it between his teeth, climbed down the ladder and slipped into the cold, dirty water.

Donna struggled against the ropes, but only managed to chafe her wrists further. The brass seaman’s clock on the wall read thirty minutes to midnight. Not much time left. She remembered when she was a little girl and used to count down the days till Christmas. Time seemed to take forever. The night before she would lay awake and watch the second hand on her lighted bedroom clock creep ever so slowly around the glass enclosed circle. The second hand facing her now seemed to be racing.

She gasped as someone opened the cabin door.

“ Ah, did I startle you?” She heard the German accent before she saw the face. Long thin nose, beady gray eyes, hollow cheeks, and hairless. No eyebrows, barely any eyelashes, no hair, not balding, but shaved. If there ever was a living Death’s Head, this was it. If ever a head belonged on the shoulders of a Gestapo uniform, this was it. If ever evil flashed from behind a grin, she was seeing it now. “Someone will come and untie you in just a minute,” he said.

Donna caught the gleam in his eye and was afraid.

“ By the time you finish your shower, we will have some clothes ready for you and after a quick examination to make certain you are all right, a policewoman will drive you home.”

“ Shower?” Donna said through parched lips.

“ Yes, you’ve soiled yourself and besides, your hair is a mess.” The man attempted a laugh, as if he had made a joke. Donna didn’t find it the least bit humorous. Then it hit her, what the man had said.

“ Policewoman?” Donna couldn’t believe it. She also couldn’t believe she’d soiled herself without noticing. It must have happened while she’d been out. Just a short while ago she’d have been embarrassed about it. Now she didn’t think she could ever be embarrassed again.

“ I’m here, Doctor.” A pleasant female voice drifted into the cabin from behind the man.

“ Ah, yes.” The doctor turned to face a woman in uniform. “Officer, untie this woman and help her to a shower, but first get me a glass of water.” The policewoman left and returned almost immediately with a glass. She handed it to the doctor.

Donna looked up into the woman’s eyes as she bent over her with a sharp knife and sliced through the ropes that had been binding her to the bed. She allowed herself to be filled with hope. Once the ropes were off, the policewoman massaged her wrists and helped her sit up.

“ Feel a little better now?” she asked and Donna nodded.

“ Give her some of this, but not too much right away.” The doctor handed the policewoman the glass. Then he left and Donna sipped at the water and reveled at the clean, clear taste. It felt glorious as it slid down her throat.

“ There is a very anxious man waiting to see you,” the policewoman said, “and I know you don’t want to see him looking like this.”

“ Jim Monday?” Donna said.

“ Yes.” The policewoman smiled. “He’s in the salon. It’s because of him that we found you.” The woman helped Donna stand and wrapped her in a bathrobe. “The shower is at the end of the corridor.” She showed Donna the way. “You’ll find soap, shampoo and conditioner inside.”

“ Thank you so much,” Donna said and with the woman’s help, she hobbled down the hall to the shower. She was too tired and too overjoyed at being rescued to feel humiliated, besides she didn’t think she would ever feel humiliated again.

Once in the shower she allowed herself to finally feel relief. She had been saved. Jim had done it. She would be with him in a few minutes and the horrible nightmare would finally be over. Shivering, she turned on the water, stepped under the warm spray and sighed as the water washed the filth from her body.

She reached for the shampoo and lathered her hair, luxuriating in the soapy suds. She poured more shampoo into her hand and lathered her arms, breasts, stomach and legs. It felt wonderful just to be clean.

Then all of a sudden she felt guilty. Her brother was dead, so many others, but thank God it was over now. Jim had done it. He had arrived with the police in time.