by Gabi Moore
“Well, I’m very grateful not to be found in the ocean upon the morning time,” I returned, not a small bit of sarcasm present in my voice.
“What are you needing the boat for, and why shouldn’t I call the police on you right now?”
I thought about my response for a moment, not sure if I should be honest with him, or if I should withhold information for the sake of personal privacy. Then I came to the realization that as the sum of my life moved forward, I was becoming more and more present within my experiences. There was no anticipatory possible future any longer. I had conceded to move forward with a plan that very well could have me killed. By that time tomorrow, if I managed to make my way to Corsica, I could be shot, killed or worse.
No - I decided.
Now was not a time for secrets.
Now was a time for drastic honesty, and the decision to move forward in a direction regardless of what might come about as a result.
“Nosa Geraldine is my father, and a man killed him less than a week ago.”
The man grew visibly silenced and obviously felt a lack of comfort as a result of my disclosure. I continued regardless of his apparent discomfort.
You asked, I thought to myself, and then moved forward with my proclamation.
“I intend to sail out to Corsica, and then confront my father’s killer. I intend to entrap him, and possibly kill him myself. I’m not certain how I will do this, but I’m prepared to move forward, and take this line of thought until the end of the line — whatever that may be.”
The man was silent for several long moments. He looked at me at first, and then his eyes moved to the side, as though he was more than a bit disconcerted by this information.
“Nosa and I used to sail together,” the man finally said, his voice cracking as he spoke, “when I lived in Lido. I only moved here eight years or so ago. I’m sorry to hear about his death, but I’m glad to see you. Piper, is it?”
I nodded. Now it was my turn to be shocked.
“I don’t recognize you,” I said, “but I wasn’t exactly very fond of spending time with my father during that period of time.”
“You were a young woman yet, and you had to go through that time period as all young women do. There is no shame in what you have done, and much pride in what you are doing now.”
I watched him in the evening light as he bit his lip.
“You know, I can’t go with you, though it would seem as though fate brought you here to my boat tonight. I have a family here and if you’re planning on dying in order to fulfill your karma, I can’t stop you. However, I can let you borrow the boat.”
“What if I can’t return it?” I asked, understanding in all seriousness that this might indeed be an option.
“There is a town, close to here, on the island of Corsica. The town is called Porto - Vecchio. You can sail over tonight, and dock there in the early dawn. There is a fair enough wind out this evening, and I trust that a daughter of Nosa can manage the ocean current at night. I will fetch my boat tomorrow during my morning fishing run. They have people who will take a ride across the bay for less than a day’s wages, so that is no major loss to me.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” I said, thinking that I would have to be sure to take care of this man if I ever had the opportunity.
“If you are free by the morning, then perhaps I will find this boat here when I wake up, and there will not be any reason for me to worry.”
At this last statement, he smiled, and I realized that he was not talking about his boat. This stranger was actually offering some care and concern for me as a person. I felt, in that moment, the sense of love that the world gives you when you least expect it. Here was a man, doing god knows what in his boat in the early evening, and I just happened to be in the right position to enjoy his presence.
“Love is a strange thing when you’re not expecting it,” I said, more to myself than to anyone else.
The man heard, however, and he smiled at me, and then walked away toward the dock, along the deck of his fishing vessel. He shouted the coordinates of the town toward me, as well as our current point of departure. I realized that with a fair approximation, I could leave now, and probably float there by dawn. With my level of sailing experience and a bit of luck, I could probably count on arriving there by early morning. I affirmed that I understood his directions with a nod, and then set about the ship to make my preparations for departure.
“Godspeed, Daughter of Nosa,” I heard him say, and then I saw the curl of the ropes which had tied the ship to the dock fly toward my feet.
The cords landed with a soft thud, and I watched as the man pushed the small ship away from the dock. With expertise, I grabbed the nearest oar and began to push away from the other ship, heading out into the waters toward Corsica. The sun was setting, and I would not have much time to get situated. Knowing time was of the essence, I launched the sails, and caught a brisk evening wind away from the coast. The night would be short, but I was more than prepared for whatever might come in the morning.
I smiled to myself, feeling a grim sort of satisfaction.
There was no need for sleep. I was more than capable of taking a rest in the deep waters, but my mind was spinning, and my adrenals were flowing. There would be no sleep this night, and perhaps none to follow in the next. As a matter of fact, there might not be any sleep ever again — and I was alright with that possibility.
Such is the mindset of one who has decided to engage their future — whatever the result might be.
The night passed without incident, and I arrived in Porto - Vecchio just before dawn. The fishermen were just getting their boats out of the small harbor for the day, and though I got more than a few curious glances, nobody bothered me. By in large, fishermen around these parts appeared to be much more accommodating and respectful of personal privacy than not.
They reminded me of my dad.
He used to pry into my business, but in retrospect, that was only because he cared so deeply about what direction my life was moving. In the end, his intuitions proved to be correct.
I let out a long sigh, reminiscing about things that I could no longer change.
The fact of the matter was that though he did put his nose into my business on a regular basis, he did his bet to leave the rest of the community to their own devices. The attitude wasn’t an issue of ‘strangers be damned,” or anything so callous as that. More than anything, it was simply the respect that other people had a right to decide whether or not they were going about their business in a way that was good for them. Reminded me of the old Wiccan rede, practiced by the older folks of the country.
“An it ‘arm none, do as ye will,” was the saying.
I didn’t know if my actions would result in harming none, but then again, I wasn’t sure my dad would be so opposed to that type of action either. Everything had to be weighed when considering the ethical responsibilities that an individual had to live up to. At the very least, it seemed like these fishermen were leaving those karmic determinations up to myself, which was a bit of a weight off my shoulders, to say the least.
Wrapping the cord around a free post on the dock, I stepped off and made my way through the dim morning light to the town. If the boat was discovered by some antsy official, they would likely assume the ship was stolen, and would contact the registered owner. He would end up being fined, but other than that, nothing would come of it. He had known that no doubt before lending the vessel to me.
In all likelihood, he was friends with one or more of the people who policed such matters. I had been told more than once by my father that fines and the sort like that were often levied against more irresponsible civilian types; joyriders who were careless about where their boats were docked. Fishermen brought all of the major financial weight into towns like this, and as such were treated with a bit of respect, within some circles.
According to the Intel from Angela, I thought to myself, taking a look at the town and getting my bearings
, I’ll need to head west to Sotta.
I had committed the address and general whereabouts to heart. There was no more need for me to use a great deal of my brain space, so that which was available had dedicated itself to this singular task. There were no places in the future where I had to be, and no details that I needed to remember except these.
Now I know how a trained assassin must feel, I thought, but then immediately scoffed at the notion.
For a moment, I felt more self-conscious than not. I knew how to fire a gun, and I knew how to seduce a man, but there was no way that I could be sure that these talents, if you could call them that, would be enough to achieve the sort of results I was looking for.
I took advantage of the fact that the town was still sleepy, and pulled my one remaining thieves card out of my pocket — I hot wired a Vespa. Those fuckers are a dime a dozen in these parts, and no self-respecting Italian youth should get through their teenage years without picking up on a skill like that. With an obnoxious roar, and a few loud, barking dogs, I was off down the highway toward Sotta.
I gripped tightly to the vibrating handlebars of the scooter.
Almost there.
I knew that the whine from the scooter was the last thing that I needed to bring with me into the upcoming situation. I opted to pull to the side and park about five miles outside of Sotto. If Angela’s information was correct, I shouldn’t have more than an eight-mile walk to where I was headed. I was a bit begrudging when I dropped the scooter, knowing that a bit more time on the thing would decrease my fatigue level considerably, but then I decided against it. A walk would do me well, and I saw no reason to turn down an opportunity to clear my mind.
God knows I needed it.
After checking the coordinates on my phone, I found that if I cut through the forest, I could shave about three miles from the trip, two if I used the posted trails, and departed them at the last minute. I opted to take a stroll through the woods, though I grew increasingly wearier when I knew myself to be approaching the location of the hideout.
Maurice probably has scouts in this area.
I opted to take cover in the trees and thick shrubs which spotted the undergrowth.
I hadn’t seen anyone yet, but that didn’t mean anything. I was hardly a forest ranger and was a bit out of my element. Nevertheless, I approached the coordinates given to me by Angela in the stealthiest way possible.
Just before the entrance, I felt my heart racing with anticipation of the events to follow. I realized that in that moment I had practically no lucid means of moving forward. I began to panic and thought to myself about the pain and problematic nature of my place in this scenario. I had no weapon and no means of providing myself any service.
What were you thinking, I began to berate myself, having very little recourse other than sheer panic.
I came to the conclusion that there were some things that I would have to be ok with, in a very literal sense of the word — death, for example. I might indeed die here, and though I had known that in an abstract sort of way on my way over here, I was now starting to come to the realization that this might be an actual reality that I would have to contend with. There might actually be a sense of finality to these moments.
Just the thought brought a vivid color set to the plants around me, as well as tears to my eyes.
Don’t be such a baby.
Regardless of the emotional content of the moment, I knew what I needed to do.
Move forward, I commanded myself.
I would have to step forward into the known, and get caught. With no weapons and no spy training, it would be incredibly difficult for me to get anywhere through means of subterfuge. I would have to play things off the cuff and blatant if I wanted to get anywhere with all of this.
Maybe I should have just said fuck it, and kept the scooter.
The thought didn’t last long, as I realized how much I had actually enjoyed the trip through the forest.
If you are gong to die, then I don’t see why you should feel poor about spending some of your last moments in the forests of Corsica. Sounds like a fantasy that most would prefer.
With my head held high, I strode boldly into the opening of the clearing.
I was met by rifles, which was to be expected, but at least now something was happening.
Here we go, I thought, raising my hands up in the air in surrender.
Chapter 26 - Piper
“Guys, Guys,” I started to say, in order to placate them, but there was no way that they could be so easily silenced.
I knew I had to rethink my strategy, and the solution to me came rather quickly. As quick as anything else that I had thought of just yet.
“Maurice has been looking for a shipment,” I said, simply, “and I’m here to drop it off.”
Dropping the name of the boss was a casual and bold attempt at getting on the good side of any set of guards. I had seen it done in the movies a thousand times. What was unique about this scenario was that I actually knew what Maurice’s number one priority was and was prepared to deliver.
They both approached me with raised weapons, so I obviously hadn’t succeeded that well in disarming their suspicions, but I was relieved to know that they didn’t shoot me on sight.
“How did you find this location?” the one to my left asked.
He had reached about two feet away from me and was posted up with a rifle pointing directly at my chest. I felt a bit unnerved, given the fact that my journey could end right here, and no one except this other guard would be around to hear the sounds of my death, but I couldn’t let that bother me right now. I had to keep a confident demeanor, otherwise, I would be shut down by my own fear without even getting a chance to confront the man I came here to see.
“Name’s Piper, in the event that you haven’t heard of me,” I replied, trying to disarm them with a smile. “Actually Maurice's personal assistant, so why don’t you do yourself a favor and put your gun to the side?”
I was bold enough to reach forward and brush the muzzle of the weapon to the side, all the while retaining eye contact. My touch was gentle, and there was nothing intrinsically aggressive about my behavior. I was in the position to offer everything I had, and at the moment, confidence was the only item available in my arsenal.
The other guard was not so easily persuaded and put on a tough act in front of the guard who I had attempted to charm.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, pushing me back away from the two of them, and using the tip of his rifle to drive the point home, “and I’d be willing to wager that we could just as soon kill you and Maurice wouldn’t bat an eye.”
The gun prodded into my right breast, and into my rib cage. The man wasn’t gentle, and I was knocked backward slightly and forced to hold my hands up in the air once again. I thought about whether or not I’d be able to bluff my way through here, and came to the conclusion that if these people didn’t trust me already, there was likely no chance that I could bluff my way anywhere except a hole in the ground.
“I have business with Maurice,” I said confidently, lowering my hands to brush off the place where the man’s weapon had pressed into my chest.
“Either you’re going to let me through, or you’re going to kill me,” I explained, letting the two of them know that I understood full well where I stood, and that the knowledge didn’t phase me whatsoever. “You’re free to kill me, but I have proved myself to have a certain skill set for Maurice which cannot have been easily replaced — if you know what I mean. Now are you going to run along and fetch him for me, or are you going to let me through?”
This had put them on their heels when a person knows exactly how little their life is worth at any given moment, it seems as though their ability to raise a solid argument is dramatically increased. I sensed that my time was now if I wanted to push the envelope any farther, and so I didn’t hesitate a moment longer before pushing my final point.
“God knows if Maurice wante
d to kill me he’d have no trouble managing it without your help,” I said with disdain, even allowing my lip to curl slightly when I spoke to the two of them.
I made sure to level my gaze at the two of them, staring straight past their weapons, and into their eyes. They were wearing sunglasses, and I had to take a chance at knowing where they were focused, but an intuitive sense of direction gave me all the affirmation that I needed. The two of them paused for a moment longer, and I knew that I had them on edge.
“As I mentioned,” I said, letting the words fall from my lips with as much inconvenienced disdain as I could muster, “I have his shipment here with me.”
I raised one hand up and tapped my backpack so that the pair could see that I was referring to the bag that I was carrying.
“You two should fuck off with the guns, and let me through,” I said, picking my eye as though bored with the entire exchange.
They paused for a moment. Then, after a glimpse with one another, each of them nodded, and then lowered their weapons to their sides.
I nodded, somewhat imperiously, falling so naturally into a character that I wondered if I didn’t have more than a little dominatrix hidden inside of me, just waiting to get out. I smiled at my own inner thoughts and let that smile come out as a continuation of my character.
Just then, I looked at both of them again, pausing for a moment to check with myself, before making a move that I felt was more than a bit risky.
Fuck it, I thought to myself; this whole plan was risky.
There was no use in pretending that some parts of this experience were less dangerous than others. I decided then, that I might as well have some fun with the whole thing. Closing the distance between myself, and the nearest guard, I stepped forward from my neutral position.
“I have to say,” I began, “Maurice must be proud to have men as vigilant and eager to serve as yourselves.”
I was careful not to spend too much time with one guard, and made my move slowly from one to the other, so both of them would know that my compliments were generous enough to be able to handle them both.
