She tipped up on her toes and gave him a quick kiss, noting the bruised tenderness to her lips and a deeper ache that warmed the chill from the cold cabin.
“I said nothing about this being aregularoccurrence,” she reminded him, refusing to assign anything more to this night than two people needing to comfort each other. “Maybe for now, what happens on the English Channel stays on the English Channel.”
He frowned and pulled on his clothes, tucking himself away with some effort. “We’re stillonthe English Channel, I might remind you.”
“Hopefully, not for long.” She finished dressing and pushed him toward the door. “Until then, let’s see if this boat’s send-off includes coffee.”
As they exited the cabin, Naomi waited in the passageway. She eyed them both with raised brows and an amused smirk. “Archie and Tag are already up on deck.”
Duncan tried his best to smooth his clothing and his dignity. “I’ll go see if anyone needs help.”
Naomi scooped an arm around Sharyn’s waist. “I will want details later. I deserve it after being driven away last night by the commotion going on inside the cabin.”
“Where did you—”
“I bunked with Archie and Tag. Not exactly the three-way—orménage à trois,I should say, as we’re now in French waters—that I was hoping for.”
The two of them climbed the narrow steps single file. Duncan held the door open, fighting a stiffer wind that had blown in overnight, clearing the clouds. Stars and a bright moon hung over the dark waters. While sunrise was still a couple hours off, a slight pinkening to the eastern skies promised a new dawn to come.
Hopefully on a better day.
Atop the deck, the captain oversaw his two crewmen, rushing them with urgent commands in Swedish. He clearly did not want to tarry long in these waters. According to Laurent, French authorities regularly patrolled the coasts, but they would likely give little attention to a fishing trawler.
Still, no one was taking any chances.
The crew had already rigged nets as if readying for a new day of fishing. The pair now worked to lower a dinghy into the water, fighting the strong gusts. The little craft looked more rust than metal, but at least it had a motor, and they wouldn’t have to row to shore.
Duncan and Archie, even Tag, sought to be of assistance, which proved to be mostly useless, but such was the conceit of men. Sharyn crossed with Naomi to the stern rail. With the trawler anchored, the windblown seas rocked the boat with large swells. Sharyn feared, if they delayed much longer, her stomach would be churning just as fiercely.
To ward off nausea, she focused on the horizon. The coastline was only discernible as a bright line of sand or rock against the black water. A few lights glowed farther inland, marking a few homes. Farther to the west, a constellation of lights marked the city of Le Havre, split down the middle by the Seine as it carved a path from the Channel and headed toward Paris.
A loud splash and rattle of metal drew her attention. A loose rope ladder with plastic rungs was tossed overboard to the dinghy.
The captain waved to them. “Dags att gå!”
Though she didn’t understand Swedish, they were clearly being dismissed. Helped by one of the crew, they scaled down the ladder. The dinghy rocked and battered against the trawler’s hull. Once weighted by the five of them, along with the crewman who would be tendering them to shore, the little craft became somewhat tamed.
The captain called final orders to the man below, then lifted an arm toward them. “Hej då! Lycka till!”
The guttural and hard words sounded like a curse, but the crewman at the stern translated. “He say goodbye. And good luck.”
The little motor growled into an angry buzz, and the dinghy heaved toward shore, bouncing roughly at first, then growing smoother, skimming over the swells.
Sharyn glanced back to the trawler. She had thought the captain had been perturbed with them, but maybe it was just his cultural mannerisms and language. His orders and admonishments in Swedish reminded her of the conversation she had overheard when Professor Wright took a call back at the Old Library. She suspected now it wasn’t German he had been speaking, but one of the Scandinavian languages.
She did not know if this was significant, but a gloominess settled over her. That urgent call had set everything in motion and led to so many deaths.
Back aboard the trawler, she had kept Saint-Germain’s book secured in her crossbody bag. She was more than ready to hand off its responsibility to another.
I’m done with being its accursed Thirteenth Keeper.
The last of the ride across the Channel left her cold, bitter, and sprayed with salt, which stung her lips, as if scolding her for her brief moment of relief. The dinghy finally nosed into a stretch of empty sand. Across the beach, a small restaurant stood dark and abandoned, looking long shuttered for the winter season.
But as they climbed out of the skiff, a pair of headlights flared to the side, revealing a black van parked there.
Sharyn and the others drew tighter together, wary and fearful. She dropped a hand to the Glock she had tucked into her waistband. Duncan drew his pistol fully out, proving he was not as adept when facing a threat.
Never show the enemy your cards, her father had instructed her.Surprise can be as powerful a weapon as any gun.
