Page 7

CHAPTER 6

“IS THIS STILL necessary?” I asked.

I was scratching at my cheeks. The makeup was driving me crazy.

“Not much longer,” said Kira.

I slumped in my wheelchair as she rolled me through the gate of a tiny marina, about fifty miles east of Manhattan. The cab that brought us from the station was just pulling away.

After our twenty-one-hour Amtrak journey, we’d spent another three hours on the Long Island Rail Road, still looking and acting like two doddering seniors.

“Bump,” said Kira. My wheels jolted over a curb as she pushed me toward a long wooden pier. It was almost 10 p.m. The marina was deserted. The only light came from a yellowed bulb on a wooden pole. There were a few boats resting in their slips, mostly run-down cabin cruisers. I could see the flashing beam from a lighthouse across a stretch of dark water.

“Why are we here?” I asked. I was low on patience, and hungry. All I’d eaten for the past twenty-four hours were Amtrak snacks. Kira had slept most of the time, or pretended to. Probably to avoid my questions.

She pointed out over the water. “ That’s why.”

I looked in the direction of her finger. I saw a boat moored about fifty yards out, close to the mouth of the small harbor. I didn’t know much about boats, but I’d been on a few. This one looked like a two-masted schooner, about forty feet long.

“It’s a little late in the day for sailing lessons,” I said. My hunger pangs were making me snarky.

Kira made a quick gimme motion with her hand. “Your ID.”

I reached into my pocket and dug out my wallet, with a driver’s license in the name of Daniel Thunden, born eighty years ago this week. Kira pulled out her own ID. Patricia Thunden, five years younger. Excellent fakes. Denise did fine work.

Kira put the IDs in a plastic bag and picked up a fist-sized stone from the side of the pier. She put the stone in the bag, tied the bag shut, then dropped it into the water. The bag disappeared.

Then she pulled out her phone. She reached into my pocket and took mine. We’d turned them off before we got to the salon. Now Kira put both phones in one hand and heaved them into the harbor. A few seconds later, I heard two splashes, one right after the other.

“Up you go,” she said, tugging at my arm.

I looked up at her. “I can walk again?”

“Salt air works wonders.”

As soon as I stood up, Kira folded the wheelchair and dropped it off the end of the pier. I watched it sink into the murk.

“Ready?” she asked. She sat down, her legs dangling over the water.

“For what?”

She slid her ass off the pier and started swimming toward the schooner.

“Rejuvenation!” she called back.

Was she nuts ? I looked around for a dinghy. Didn’t see one. I gave up and slipped in after her. The water was deep and cold. A shock to my system.

Kira was already power-stroking across the harbor. By the time I caught up, she was hauling herself aboard the sailboat. As I came around the stern, I could see the boat’s name. It was painted in classic gilt lettering, like the title on an old book cover.

Albatross.

I grabbed a rail and climbed up over the transom. The whole topside was covered in thick canvas. Kira was working her way around the boat, freeing the ties one by one. She rolled the canvas into a ragged pile and stowed it in front of the aft mast. Then she stood with her arms flung wide. “Beautiful, right?”

When the deck and cabin were uncovered, I realized that the schooner was all wood—maybe teak—with polished brass fittings. And really old, 1930s, I guessed. It looked like it belonged in a sailing museum.

I watched Kira step into the cockpit and stick her head under the control console. A few seconds later, I heard the engine fire up. Maybe she found the key to the ignition. More likely, she just hot-wired it.

She looked at me and pointed toward the bow. “Release the mooring line.” When she saw my expression, she added, “Don’t argue.”

This was really happening. We’d traveled halfway across the country to steal somebody’s sailboat in the middle of the night. Was this Kira’s big plan? No wonder she didn’t tell me about it.

I walked forward and unfastened the line from the cleat on the deck. I pulled it through the loop attached to the mooring ball. The Albatross was floating free.

“Clear!” I called back, trying to keep my voice down. I was expecting the harbor patrol to show up at any minute.

When I worked my way back to the cockpit, I noticed that Kira’s swim had washed most of the makeup off her face and the powder out of her hair. She looked about fifty years younger. She looked like herself. She also looked happy. I stepped up alongside her as she nudged the throttle forward, steering us slowly out into the channel.

I stared at her. “So we’re boat thieves now?”

“Of course not,” said Kira. “I spotted this beauty at an estate sale five years ago.”

I pulled the last few fake whiskers off my face. “Does that mean…?”

“That’s right. She’s all mine.”