The high-speed ferry left Fort Lauderdale at nine on the button and landed at a marina dock near Princess Beach in Freeport on Grand Bahama at a little before noon.
It was an uneventful crossing except for some choppy water as they came through the Gulf Stream. The seesawing of the ferry had woken Stick from where they’d been napping in one of the inside lounges and sent him green-faced into the bathroom.
Standing in line at the deck rail to get off, Gannon searched around nervously until he turned and saw the Donegal Rambler waiting at the other end of the dock behind them. He waved back to Little Jorge standing in the stern.
“More boating now. Oh, and a smaller one now, too. Super,” Stick said as they got off and headed down the dock toward the Rambler.
“All gassed up, stocked and ready to go, Captain Mike,” Little Jorge said as they stepped aboard. “You said we were in a hurry, so I grabbed you guys lunch. Should we just get going, then?”
“You took the words out of my mouth,” Gannon said, untying the line and giving Little Jorge a high five.
Tourists were already being tugged around on banana boats out in front of the pink-and-white stucco hotels as the Rambler pulled out of the marina. When they’d cleared the bay, they went dead southeast with the throttle open.
They put Great Harbour Cay and the Berry Islands behind them and kept going out into the open water. It was a gorgeous day, temperature in the low 70s and hardly any wind.
At around five, Ruby came up into the flying bridge, where Gannon had just relieved Little Jorge. She had her hair pulled back and her sunglasses on and was smiling as the breeze ripped at her maxi dress.
“How’s Stick doing?” he said.
“He’s asleep.”
Gannon laughed.
“Hey, good news,” he said. “I saw the weather report. It’s going to be a crystal clear night tonight.”
“Oh, yeah?” Ruby said.
Gannon smiled.
“For our cruise, remember? You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”
Ruby laughed. She looked out at the water through the rushing wind.
“What do you think is going to happen, Mike? I mean, this is a level of nuts never seen before. The FBI is making people disappear? Killing reporters and cops? That’s hard to even say, let alone believe. I mean, is it even possible to straighten this out?”
Gannon looked at her, looked out at the water.
“Anything can be straightened out,” he said.
“Do you really think so?”
“Anything,” Gannon said.
“You’re unbelievable,” Ruby said.
“How so?”
“How the hell are you so confident?”
Gannon shrugged.
“I don’t know. Good genes? A happy upbringing in the home?”
Ruby laughed.
“You know, I almost believe you.”
“Believe what?”
“That you’re not shitting bricks, too.”
It was Gannon’s turn to laugh. Then he pointed out through the breeze.
“Hey, look,” he said.
There was an island, faint in the hazy blue up ahead.
“You see there? That’s Pimlico Island. That’s at the tip of Eleuthera,” Gannon said.
“Home?” Ruby said, smiling.
“Yep,” Gannon said, smiling back. “We’re almost home.”