part0052

A cton struggled to steady his pace, his adrenaline insisting he walk far faster than the others out for casual strolls near the marina. Laura was helping by holding his hand and gently tugging it backward to keep him on pace. How she was remaining so calm during all this he wasn’t sure, but he admired her for it.

Perhaps it was because she wasn’t holding a 75 pound Bible, in two halves, under her right arm, all the while attempting to make it appear inconspicuous.

She was probably thinking more clearly. His mind was preoccupied with Marchand and his family, but without the personal connection, he had no doubt she was keeping things a little more straight in her head.

Like pointing out the fact they could see a marina with scores of boats moored not 200 feet from where they had been parked.

“Look,” hissed Laura, indicating with her chin where she wanted him to direct his attention. He spotted a man refueling a boat, his coveralls indicating he was a marina employee. They sat on a bench and observed for several minutes, a plan slowly formulating in his muddled brain. When the dockhand was finished, he started up the boat and returned it to a slip at the far end, walked back, and put the key in the boathouse, a rack visible from their vantage point. Another key was taken, and the man headed to the opposite end to fetch the next boat.

He glanced at Laura. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Grand theft boat? Yes. Are you sure?”

He rose. “Yes. Let’s do this fast, though.”

They walked through the gate and toward the boathouse as if they owned the place. Laura opened the door while he stood watch, the honor system apparently employed as the dockhand hadn’t bothered locking the building housing dozens of keys to millions of dollars of boats. She emerged a moment later with a smile, gently closing the door behind her. They walked toward the boat at the far end of the dock, unnoticed, and climbed aboard.

And within minutes, they were not only wanted terrorists, but thieves as well, Acton guiding the boat out of the marina and toward the Atlantic Ocean only minutes away. As he familiarized himself with the boat’s controls, he pointed at the navigation system. “See if you can figure that thing out. We need to get to La Rochelle.”

Laura had it figured out within minutes and frowned. “If this is right, it says we won’t arrive until mid-morning.”

“Ugh. I’m exhausted as it is.”

“Do you want me to do that?”

He shook his head. “No, but I think it’s best if we get twelve miles offshore so we’re in international waters. I think this thing can handle it.”

She sat and pulled off her high heels, moaning in relief. “I forgot how much I hate these things.”

Acton glanced at her feet as she rubbed them. “I can’t remember the last time you wore heels.”

“Not very practical at the dig site.” She leaned over and grabbed something stowed on a shelf near her.

“What’s that?”

“It’s the manual for the nav system.” She scanned the table of contents and smiled. “This thing has an autopilot.”