“ You might need this.” The fisherman who had given him the sandwiches held out a scaling knife. “It’s very sharp, skin a man easy, if you want.”
Jim put it between his teeth, climbed down the ladder and slipped into the cold, dirty water.
Donna struggled against the ropes, but only managed to chafe her wrists further. The brass seaman’s clock on the wall read thirty minutes to midnight. Not much time left. She remembered when she was a little girl and used to count down the days till Christmas. Time seemed to take forever. The night before she would lay awake and watch the second hand on her lighted bedroom clock creep ever so slowly around the glass enclosed circle. The second hand facing her now seemed to be racing.
She gasped as someone opened the cabin door.
“ Ah, did I startle you?” She heard the German accent before she saw the face. Long thin nose, beady gray eyes, hollow cheeks, and hairless. No eyebrows, barely any eyelashes, no hair, not balding, but shaved. If there ever was a living Death’s Head, this was it. If ever a head belonged on the shoulders of a Gestapo uniform, this was it. If ever evil flashed from behind a grin, she was seeing it now. “Someone will come and untie you in just a minute,” he said.
Donna caught the gleam in his eye and was afraid.
“ By the time you finish your shower, we will have some clothes ready for you and after a quick examination to make certain you are all right, a policewoman will drive you home.”
“ Shower?” Donna said through parched lips.
“ Yes, you’ve soiled yourself and besides, your hair is a mess.” The man attempted a laugh, as if he had made a joke. Donna didn’t find it the least bit humorous. Then it hit her, what the man had said.
“ Policewoman?” Donna couldn’t believe it. She also couldn’t believe she’d soiled herself without noticing. It must have happened while she’d been out. Just a short while ago she’d have been embarrassed about it. Now she didn’t think she could ever be embarrassed again.
“ I’m here, Doctor.” A pleasant female voice drifted into the cabin from behind the man.
“ Ah, yes.” The doctor turned to face a woman in uniform. “Officer, untie this woman and help her to a shower, but first get me a glass of water.” The policewoman left and returned almost immediately with a glass. She handed it to the doctor.
Donna looked up into the woman’s eyes as she bent over her with a sharp knife and sliced through the ropes that had been binding her to the bed. She allowed herself to be filled with hope. Once the ropes were off, the policewoman massaged her wrists and helped her sit up.
“ Feel a little better now?” she asked and Donna nodded.
“ Give her some of this, but not too much right away.” The doctor handed the policewoman the glass. Then he left and Donna sipped at the water and reveled at the clean, clear taste. It felt glorious as it slid down her throat.
“ There is a very anxious man waiting to see you,” the policewoman said, “and I know you don’t want to see him looking like this.”
“ Jim Monday?” Donna said.
“ Yes.” The policewoman smiled. “He’s in the salon. It’s because of him that we found you.” The woman helped Donna stand and wrapped her in a bathrobe. “The shower is at the end of the corridor.” She showed Donna the way. “You’ll find soap, shampoo and conditioner inside.”
“ Thank you so much,” Donna said and with the woman’s help, she hobbled down the hall to the shower. She was too tired and too overjoyed at being rescued to feel humiliated, besides she didn’t think she would ever feel humiliated again.
Once in the shower she allowed herself to finally feel relief. She had been saved. Jim had done it. She would be with him in a few minutes and the horrible nightmare would finally be over. Shivering, she turned on the water, stepped under the warm spray and sighed as the water washed the filth from her body.
She reached for the shampoo and lathered her hair, luxuriating in the soapy suds. She poured more shampoo into her hand and lathered her arms, breasts, stomach and legs. It felt wonderful just to be clean.
Then all of a sudden she felt guilty. Her brother was dead, so many others, but thank God it was over now. Jim had done it. He had arrived with the police in time.
“ Are you almost finished?” It was the policewoman.
“ Almost.” She hated to leave the shower, but Jim was waiting for her. She quickly poured some conditioner in her hand and ran it through her hair. She wanted to look her best for him. She rubbed it in, massaging her scalp and running her fingers through her long hair. She continued massaging as she rinsed it out.
“ Hurry up honey,” the policewoman said, “everybody is waiting.”
She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. There was a warm towel hanging on the rack. She wrapped it around herself and sighed as it soaked up the water. It was so soft. She was so lucky. Dry, she put on the robe and opened the door.
“ This way.” The policewoman had been waiting. She led Donna down the hallway. “Everybody is waiting in the salon.”
“ Go on, honey,” the policewoman said when they’d reached the end of the corridor. “Just a little more and it will all be over.” She opened the door for Donna.
“ Thank you so much.” Donna stepped into the salon.
Something wasn’t right.
“ Come in, we’ve been waiting,” the hairless doctor said. His voice and accent frightened her. She froze. The two men with the doctor were no policemen. They were dressed in the same black sweaters and seaman’s caps she had seen through the window of the Park Side Motel.
The only furniture in the salon was a double bed in the direct center of the room. Its clean white sheets glowed, reflecting the rays of an overhead light. There were two video cameras mounted on tripods, one on each side of the bed. This wasn’t right. Something was wrong-very, very wrong.
“ Get on the bed, bitch,” The policewoman smacked her on the back. Donna stumbled and the woman pushed her again, guiding her, so that she fell onto the bed.
The water chilled him to the bone. The salt in it sent pain stabbing from his damaged wrist up his arm. He fought the urge to scream out. He pushed off toward the boat, conscious of the unnatural weight of the revolver tucked into his belly and the awkward weight of the cast on his right forearm. He decided on the breast stroke, took a deep gulp of air, careful not to lose the knife, shivering as he made his way toward the Reptil Rache.
He estimated he had to cover about twenty-five yards at a stroke a yard, five strokes per breath, five breaths and he would be there.
Three strokes, four strokes, five, first breath. He broke the surface, sucking air around the knife. Water seeped under the cast and the jeans he had taken from the dead seaman were heavy and uncomfortable to swim in. Eight strokes, nine, it felt like his lungs were going to burst, one more stroke before the precious air, ten. He took another breath.
Eleven strokes, twelve, he needed air now. He was freezing. His fingers were numb. He felt the cold steel in his mouth and tasted the polluted water as it seeped between his lips to wrap itself around the tip of his tongue as it stuck out and rested below the sharp blade. Thirteen strokes, fourteen, he was light headed, he couldn’t make the last stroke, not without blacking out. Yes, yes he could, only one more, the thought raced through him. A short, quick stroke, but a stroke, fifteen.
Suck air.
Sixteen strokes, seventeen, well over halfway. He felt something big glide by. Shark was his first thought. It came within inches. Maybe a dolphin, but he discarded that thought, too close to shore. Polluted harbor, there would be no dolphins here. Eighteen strokes, nineteen, it came by again. This time it bumped him as it swam by. He forced his eyes open and got a quick look at it as it broke the surface. It was no shark. Twenty. He took the scaling knife out of his mouth, gulped air and waited for the Gecko’s return.
He held the knife in his right hand, concealed by the cast, as he hung limp in the water, playing the decoy, hoping the reptile would think him dead. He sensed rather than felt its approach, closer, coming closer, but it whizzed on by, forcing him to continue his charade. He wanted to open his eyes, but he knew it would be pointless in the murky water. He would have only one chance at the beast and he would have to rely on instinct.
