Chapter 49

AN OLD FREIGHTER lay at anchor in a harbor on the west coast of Colodor, silhouetted in the moonlight. Waves lapped against its rusty hull. Rats squeaked in the hold and a guard snored on the deck.

Banana plantations filled the coastal lowlands of the country, while mangrove trees and shrimp ranches covered the edges of the wide jungle river that emptied into the Pacific. In the harbor, fishing boats and canoes clustered along the docks beside seafood shanties on the wharf.

Panting and weary from his long, hard day of near-death and near-marriage, Smith clomped up the gangplank of the freighter and went to see the captain directly. The snoring guard didn’t stir at all.

“Captain,” Smith said, banging on the door of the cluttered bridge house, “I understand you’re going up along the coast and through the Panama Canal to Jacksonville , Florida.”

The captain scratched his sweaty beard stubble. “This ain’t no cruise liner.”

“That doesn’t matter so long as I can get out of South America and back to the United States.” Smith still wore his German mountaineering clothes, but by now they were rumpled, stained and speckled with leftover flecks of hay. “I can, of course, pay my way.” He held his heavy rucksack by one strap.

On an unbalanced table in the captain’s office, a half-full tequila bottle held down a stack of scattered charts. The brass porthole was so corroded it looked green in the lamplight. “Where’s your passport?” asked the captain.

“I kind of lost it,” Smith said with an innocent shrug. “My baggage was mixed up when I landed in Santa Isabel. I won a free vacation, you see.”

“So why don’t you go to an American Embassy? They’re always eager to help.” The captain wrinkled his brow.

“The embassy blew up,” he said. “But if you can land me somewhere quietly in the U.S., I’ll pay you very well.”

The captain raised his eyebrows. “Five thousand dollars, or get off my ship. That’s my terms — take them or leave them.”

“Okay,” Smith said. “I’ll pay in gold, if that’s all right.”

Startled, the captain rose and made a mockingly servile bow. “In that case, I’ll show you to your room, sir!”

The shabby cabin was single bunked, dim and smelled of old fish. “Not luxury accommodations by any means,” Smith said as the captain closed the door behind him. “But right about now, a few hours of peace and quiet is worth any price. And at least nobody’s shooting at me.”

Smith reached into his rucksack and fished out his paperback of Famous Naval Battles. With a long, heavy sigh he stretched out on the bunk and kicked off his shoes. “Now maybe I can finish this book at last.”

* * *

Back in the bridge house, the scruffy-looking captain sat at his desk. He juggled eight gold pieces in his hand, studying how the light glinted along their faces, along their edges; he slid them into his pocket.

With a smile, he snapped open a drawer in his console and pulled out a sheaf of papers held together with a bent brass brad. He turned to the fourth one from the top. “Ah, there it is,” he said, then yanked it out of the stack. “I knew I’d heard that red hair mentioned someplace.” He scanned the words again. No doubt about it.

* * *

As the freighter left the port and headed northward toward Central America, the captain powered up the radio, tuning to the correct frequency.

“Key West Coast Guard, come in! Is the reward still good for Lieutenant Tom Smith, the fugitive?” He paused to listen. “Aha! How about doubling that?” he frowned. “Well, can I talk to your supervisor then, please?”

Much later, as the freighter plowed through choppy water approaching the Panama Canal, the captain leaned back in his chair and smiled. He glanced down at his chart, moving the tequila bottle to uncover his position. “All right, I’ll deliver him right into your hands.”

U.S. COAST GUARD MERCHANT SHIP BULLETIN

WANTED FUGITIVE

6" 180 LBS, REDHEADED
LIEUT. (JG) TOM SMITH, USN
ESPIONAGE AND TREASON!!!
WANTED BY THE FBI, U.S. NAVY, NATIONAL
SECURITY AGENCY, CIA, DEFENSE INTELLIGENCE
AGENCY, STATE DEPARTMENT, CONNECTICUT POLICE,
NEW YORK POLICE (AND PERHAPS OTHERS).
P.S. A REWARD IS GRACIOUSLY OFFERED
R.S.V.P.