Chapter 2
2039 Words
Chapter 2As we moored the launch against the marina pier, I realized the second trawler had disappeared from view. It had followed us at a safe distance, when we saw it was making its way northward. Opening fire in the middle of an inlet was one thing, but doing the same near a marina would have attracted too much attention.
One of the men from the boat-rental shed ran over to us when he saw the difficulty with which Mark was climbing over the bench and onto the pier.
“Are you okay?” He extended a hand to help Mark out of the boat.
“I’ll be just fine,” Mark said, cringing with pain.
Aziz had padded the wound with some gauze and plaster bandages that he had found in the first-aid box of the launch, but the sewing up would have to wait until they got to the hotel. He had taken care to wipe the blood from the seats and had spread seawater over the floor. He had also found the bullet encased in the sideboard. He had carved it out and put it in one of the numerous pockets of his vest, so that practically no trace of our ordeal remained. However, the stain on the back of Mark’s jeans was quite visible. The blood had run down his pant leg after the bullet had left a deep gash in his buttocks.
“He’ll be fine, not to worry,” Aziz said reassuringly, while shielding Mark’s backside as he, too, climbed out of the boat. “We’ll go on ahead,” he added, shooting a quick glance to me. I was ready to get off as well.
“Yeah, I’ll just sign the paperwork and be right with you,” I said as I observed the three men walking up the pier towards the rental shed.
I shook my head. The guys on the boat will be back. They know they haven’t hit our mark by now.
I joined my companions as they were reaching the footpath leading back to the road. Mark could hardly walk. Not to be too conspicuous to the passers-by, Aziz only supported his patient under his elbow. I walked behind them, trying to block anyone’s view from noticing the blood on Mark’s trousers.
It took us the better part of an hour to reach our hotel. They had to stop several times to let Mark sit down on the benches that lined the promenade, before being able to take a cab that drove us back to our B&B on San Fernandina Beach. Mark was exhausted. He had lost a lot of blood and this walking had used all of his remaining strength.
When we finally got to our rooms, Mark pulled down his pants and lay on the bed without a word – he knew what was coming.
Standing away from the scene, by the window, the next thing I heard was a series of screams that would have woken all sleeping evils of hell.
“I don’t know why you’re screaming, it just took a good bite out of your flesh but no bullet here – you’ve got a couple of gouges...,” Aziz told him.
“You son of a... God! Did you cut half of my behind out or what?” Mark hollered.
“No, I just drilled...” Aziz’s sense of humour hadn’t abandoned him, I was glad to hear.
“You friggin’ bastard...”
“Mark, come on... it’s not that bad. Just don’t get it infected.”
“And how would I do that?”
“Don’t expose the wound to bacteria for one thing and don’t sit on it for too long.”
“I’m not planning to do any mooning for a long time to come... but as for sitting, what do you propose I do? Should I kneel at the table when we have dinner next?”
“No, but I suggest that you carry a ring cushion with you for the next few weeks.”
“Just get me sewn up so I can stand and... You...” Mark growled, his voice smothered by the pillow.
“Now don’t move, otherwise I can’t guarantee the stitching...”
“Just get on with it... ouch...! Aziz.”
“You’ll have to stand for another three or four of these... so just lie still for a few more minutes.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You doctors are all the same; you enjoy inflicting pain...”
“Mark, stop it ... just think of what we’re going to do...,” I said, trying to get Mark’s mind onto something else than Aziz’s painful stitching. “You brought me back so we could plan something together... What about it, Mark?”
“Do you really think I am in a position to think of anything else than my butt at this moment? Ouaach... For God’s sakes, take it easy, will you? This is my bloody flesh you’re sewing.”
Aziz then gave Mark a painkiller that knocked him right out within a few minutes of having bandaged the wound and covering him up. He would have liked to give him an I.V. for a few hours so he would recuperate faster, but that was something he didn’t have on hand.
I looked up at him when I saw that Mark had fallen asleep. “What do we do now?”
“We wait. That’s all we can do.” Aziz sat down beside his patient.
“How long?”
“I’d say he’ll wake up in a couple of hours... but, he’ll need some fluid...”
“But he drank a half a bottle of water when we came in; won’t that be enough?”
“Not quite, Talya. Anyway, we’ll see what happens in the next hour. I’ll stay with him. You just go back to your room for now and have a rest.”
“I think we should stay together.” I lowered my gaze.
“Why? He’ll be okay, and you need your rest...”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What then?” Aziz looked at me with renewed concern.
“These guys will be back,” I whispered as if ashamed of mentioning it.
“You mean the men on the trawler?”
I nodded.
“And you think they know where we are?”
“I’m sure of it. They saw us turn into the marina and we’ve taken almost an hour to get back here. And a lot of people have seen us walking about with an injured man – it’s even surprising that no one called the police by now.”
“So what do we do now?”
“Let’s wait until Mark wakes up before we do anything, but in the meantime, I think we should rent a car and drive ourselves back to Miami.”
“What about the plane we chartered? They’re supposed to fly us back to Miami...” Aziz’s words died in his mouth.
“Exactly, if someone is tracking us now, they’ll be checking the airports and chartered flights, if they have any sense.”
“Okay, let me rent the car, and bring it down here, so you don’t have to show yourself anywhere near here again.”
“But...”
“No argument, Talya. You stay with him and if he wakes up before I get back, give him some water again. I’ll bring back something to eat...”
“Okay, but your clothes are a bit stained and...” I didn’t have time to finish my sentence. Aziz had pulled off his pants, revealing an attractive pair of shorts, and taken off his vest. All of a sudden, he looked like the perfect beach bum dressed in cut-off shorts and garish T-shirt. To add a final touch to his appearance, he pulled out a plain yellow cap from the back pocket of his discarded trousers, which he adjusted on his head. He looked at me, a broad grin on his face.
“You look quite a sight,” I exploded amid nervous giggles.
“Okay then. You hold the fort and I’ll be back as quickly as I can,” Aziz said as he closed the door behind him.
I took a seat beside Mark and watched him sleep for a while, lost in thought.
There was definitely something wrong. Why did the second trawler come after us? According to Mark, the guys from CSIS and the FBI, presumably, were already busy cleaning up last night’s mess and if Slimane knew what happened by early morning, he would not have escalated his pursuit with the second trawler, or would he? Yet, the fact remained that he had. Then, there was the matter of finding one of Osnoir’s men aboard the first boat. What was he doing there? Maybe, they were right in thinking he got a transfer to Florida when Osnoir died. Then again, he didn’t seem that high-up on the ladder to get a promotion, and how could he land in the US – the States are not known for welcoming “Wanted Men” at the border – without being bothered by customs? This whole thing seemed a little too well orchestrated for being just a criminal plan – even with the likes of Slimane at the helm.
Aziz came back within the hour. He had brought back enough food to feed eight people by the looks of it.
“I’ve got hamburgers, fries, fruit and some donuts,” Aziz announced when I opened the door.
“And here I thought you were a doctor,” I said, grabbing some of the boxes off his arms.
“Yeah, but there was no time to get anything else. How’s Mark?”
“He’s still asleep. Should we wake him up?”
“Not just yet. Let’s eat first, and then we’ll see. And I don’t think he’s going to be hungry when he gets up – until his stomach settles down.”
We sat down at the table near the window overlooking the driveway and the street beyond. We ate heartily and were sipping on our juices when Mark started stirring. Aziz went to him, checked his pulse and shook his shoulder.
“Hi...” Mark grumbled in a croaky voice. “Where...? What you doing...?” He stared at Aziz who was looking down at his patient kindly, his wrist still in his hand.
“Had a nice sleep?” Aziz asked.
“Yeah, thanks... Ouch!” Mark tried to sit up. “s**t,” he swore as he got up and rushed into the bathroom.
I tried to smother a laugh as Mark slammed the door behind him.
“Don’t, Talya. Let’s get his mind on something else when he gets out, please.”
“Okay..., okay..., I’m sorry.”
“Okay, guys...,” Mark said when he came to stand beside me, clad in a towel around his waist, and looked at Aziz up and down. “What’s with the shorts...? And that cap...?”
“Just a little disguise of my own, why? Don’t you like it?”
“Where did you leave your roller-blades?”
“Downstairs...”
“Okay, I’m not going to ask... Anything to drink?” Mark looked down at the open boxes of food and half-consumed bottles of juice.
“Sure,” I said, pouring some orange juice in one of the cups.
“You sit and relax,” Aziz added, adjusting a pillow on one of the chairs.
Mark looked down at it and shook his head. “No thanks. I think I’ll stand this one out.”
“Do you want to eat something?” I offered, opening the fruit salad container.
Mark looked at it for a moment and then shook his head again. “No..., thanks, I’ll stay with the juice for a bit.” He drank a big gulp and then asked, “When are we leaving?”
“As soon as you feel okay to take a ride.”
“A ride? Where? You mean to the airport...”
Aziz and I looked at each other. “No, not to the airport. We’re driving to Miami,” I answered.
“How am I going to sit in a car for four hours? You guys..., you...”
“Don’t, Mark... This is the best way to get away from ‘them’...”
“What do you mean them? Who’s them?” Mark asked.
“The guys who shot at us, remember?”
“Don’t remind me.”
“What bugs me is why would Slimane do that?” I asked.
“Well, these guys had their orders, Talya...,” Mark said, drinking some more, “they needed to finish the job.”
“Maybe. But if Slimane is out of reach – not in Florida – how was he informed of the clean-up that our CSIS has been doing this morning? How did he know where we were? What’s going on here, Mark?”
“How should I know?” Mark shrugged. “It’s a bit strange, yes, but somehow I don’t think Slimane is going to give up. Even if he knows that you’re on your way back to Vancouver, he might not want to miss this opportunity to eliminate you before you board a plane in New York.”
“Yes..., yet I don’t see how he could have been advised so quickly of what happened on the Marianne. Plus, I’d think Ottawa would make sure the whole thing wasn’t advertised,” I said.
“But taking two bodies out of the St. John’s and impounding a fishing trawler is not that simple.” Mark shook his head. “And you’ve got to consider that the port authority had to be involved – so a lot of people knew what happened, before morning even. And we don’t know who Slimane’s got in his back pocket, do we?”
“I guess. But if he knew the authorities were cleaning up the mess, why did he continue chasing after us? Even if he wanted to take this opportunity, as you said, to get me out of the picture, he would rather wait until things calmed down a little..., so why take the risk with the second trawler chasing us?”
“I don’t know, Talya,” Mark replied, picking a couple of grapes from the fruit container.
“Okay, let’s get moving, shall we?” Aziz seemed all of a sudden very much aware of the urgency of the situation.
I got up, began storing the leftovers in our containers and packing them into a plastic bag.
“What about my trousers?” Mark asked, looking at Aziz.
“You can wear mine until we get to a store and get you some jeans and something to sit on.”
- Writer
