The Fifth Profession

Something had to be done.

Through a window, Savage saw Akira in the restaurant, sitting at a table, dipping a tea bag into a cup. The two men watched unobtrusively from a distant table. One of the men said something. The other nodded. The first man got up, leaving the restaurant through a door on the opposite side of the ferry.

Savage straightened. “Rachel, let's go.”

“But where are…?”

“I don't have time to explain.” He led her through the crowded smoke-filled bar beside the restaurant, peered out toward the promenade on the opposite side of the ferry, and saw the man standing at a row of phones. The man inserted a credit card into one of them and pressed a sequence of numbers.

“Rachel, lean against this railing, the same as before.”

Savage quickly walked toward the man, stopped next to him, and picked up a phone.

“We don't know yet,” the man was saying. He sensed Savage beside him, turned, and scowled.

Savage pretended not to notice, going through the motions of making a call.

“Yes, Japanese,” the man said. “He fits the description, but we weren't given many specifics. Age, height, and build aren't enough to be sure.”

“Hi, dear,” Savage said to the phone he held. He'd pressed numbers at random and was getting a busy signal. “I just wanted to let you know I managed to catch the ferry out of Patrai.”

“Then make sure?” the man asked. “How the-?”

“Yeah, we dock in Italy tomorrow afternoon at five,” Savage said.

“Question him?” The man scowled again at Savage, unable to speak as freely as he wanted. “But if it is him, I thought the point was to see if he contacted his associates. From what I've heard about this man, the two of us won't be enough to persuade him to cooperate.”

“I'm looking forward to seeing you, dear,” Savage said to the phone.

“Yeah, that idea's a whole lot better. Send more negotiators.”

“No, everything went fine. I saw every client on my list,” Savage said to the phone. “They gave me some very large orders.”

“ Corfu?” The man sounded baffled. “But that's the second stop. Why can't they board at Igoumenitsa? Yeah, okay, I see that. If the team's already at Corfu 's dock and the airport, they might as well stay in place. Besides, there's no way for them to get off the island at this hour. They'd never be able to cross the channel from Corfu to Igoumenitsa in time to meet the ferry.”

“I love you, too, dear,” Savage said to the phone.

“Right. I'll see you at nine tomorrow morning,” the man said. “If anything develops in the meantime, I'll let you know.”

The man hung up and returned to the restaurant.

Savage replaced his phone and walked toward Rachel in the darkness along the railing.

“Change of plans,” he said.

“I don't understand,” she said.

“I'm not sure I do either.” Savage frowned. “I'm still working out the details.”

5

At one A.M., the promenade was almost deserted. Most of the passengers had gone to the sleeping areas on the lower decks, though a few still remained in the bar and the restaurant.

One of those in the restaurant was Akira. He'd ordered a meal and taken so long to savor every mouthful that his two watchdogs, still sitting at a corner table, had begun to look conspicuous-and looked as if they knew they looked conspicuous.

Any moment, they might decide to find a less exposed vantage point from which to study their prey.

“It's time,” Savage told Rachel. While she'd been standing out of sight from the restaurant window, he'd periodically glanced inside. For all he knew, he had begun to look conspicuous. Yes, he thought. Definitely time.

“You're sure this'll work?” Rachel's voice shook.

“No. But it's the only plan I can think of.”

“That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence.”

“You'll do fine. Keep telling yourself, it's another chance to prove you're a better actress than your sister.”

“I'm too terrified to care.”

“Hey, impress me. Get in there.”

Savage smiled and nudged her.

She studied him, returned his smile, breathed deeply, and entered the restaurant.

From the darkness at the railing, Savage watched the two men. They glanced toward Rachel and almost dropped their coffee cups. In contrast, Akira kept eating with deliberate calm.

Rachel sat beside him. Akira put down his knife and fork as if she was exactly the person he'd expected to see. He said something, then said something else, leaning toward her. She responded, elaborated, and gestured toward the lower decks. He shrugged and nodded.

In the background, the man who'd made the earlier phone call stood and left the restaurant.

Savage was waiting in shadows when the man, his eyes bright with victory, veered toward the row of phones.

A quick glance right and left showed Savage that there weren't other passengers on the promenade. He grabbed the man's left arm, thrust his right leg upward, and threw him overboard.

The fall was five stories. The water would have felt like concrete. The man was too surprised to scream.

Savage spun toward the window, remaining in darkness. In the restaurant, Akira stood, paid his bill, and left with Rachel on the opposite side of the ferry.

The watchdog hesitated, seeming to wonder how soon his partner would return from making the phone call. But the watchdog couldn't allow Akira and Rachel to get out of his sight. Savage knew. As expected, the man rose hurriedly, threw money on the table, and followed.

Savage proceeded along the deserted promenade. It wasn't necessary for him to get to the other side of the ferry and track the stalker. After all, he knew where the man was going.

Taking his time, he descended the stairs to the A deck. Had to take his time. It was imperative that Akira and Rachel reach the cabin Savage had rented, imperative that the watchdog see them go in, hear the lock shut, and realize he had to rush to tell his partner where their master's wife was hiding.

As Savage pretended to stumble drunkenly toward the bottom of the stairs, he groped in his pockets, apparently unable to find the key to his cabin. The watchdog darted toward him, frantic to return to the main deck and locate his partner. Savage punched him in the stomach, chopped the side of his callused hand across the man's jaw, and lugged the unconscious (to all appearances intoxicated) man along the deserted corridor, knocking three times on the door of the cabin.

The door inched open.

“Room service,” Savage said.

6

The cabin was small, starkly furnished with a bureau, a top and bottom bunk, a tiny closet, and a washroom. Designed for two occupants, it provided little room for the four of them to move around. While Rachel locked the door, Akira helped Savage set the unconscious man on the bottom bunk. Working quickly, they used the man's belt to secure his hands behind his back and bound his ankles together with his tie. They searched him and satisfied themselves that he hadn't risked bringing a weapon through customs.

“He's awfully pale,” Rachel said. “His jaw… it's so swollen.”