I needed the survey and Harvey, the Australian, said he could do it. He showed me official looking papers and letters of recommendation from insurance companies. He promised to undercut everyone else and, most importantly, he could do it right away. We struck a deal.
I liked Harvey. He reminded me of my favorite grandfather. I wanted to like him, but hearing snatches of Russian language drifting up from somewhere on the big boat, set me on edge. Harvey picked up on it. “Aw right, that’s just my Russian girlfriend. She’s got some people over.” He grinned. “You know, I’ve just thought of something. Your Anna’s likely missing fellow Russians. I just bet she would enjoy meeting my girlfriend.”
Done with Harvey, we wandered toward the brokerage. “Erdem, it makes zero sense.”
“Miss Ducat, what is it that is making no sense?”
“That man, the surveyor. Did you tell Harvey that Anna is from Russia?”
He thought for a second. Adjusted his tie. “You know, never have I seen or heard of that man before.”
A ponderous mobile crane on earth mover tires, called a travel lift, moved into position above Shadow. It lowered a cradle of nylon straps into the water, and effortlessly the yacht rose, dripping, from the sea. With the boat tucked into the virtual belly of the machine, it rolled glacially across a tarmac. Shadow was sailing over a sea of asphalt. I spotted Harvey walking toward us in a floppy hat and gaudy, mismatched clothes. On his rabbit like face was a bizarre, lopsided grin.
“So, you’re Anna. G’day, my dear! My, my… Wouldn’t my girlfriend like to meet you.” He said, snatching Anna’s hand and pumping a little too vigorously.
“Why?” Anna yanked her hand back.
“She’s Russian, like you. Thought you might like some company.”
Anna whirled and marched away.
I admired the way she didn’t suffer fools gladly, but damn, we needed Harvey. I ran to catch up with her.
“Why did you tell him I am Russian? I do not like this man! I do not know his girlfriend and I don’t want these strangers to know anything about me.”
“I didn’t tell him anything! He knew about you when I met him yesterday. We need this survey and he’s only being friendly.”
“I do not trust friendly people. There is always a reason for them to be friendly. His girlfriend is Russian! You cannot trust Russians.” Anna headed for the marina exit.
I stood my ground. On the spot, like always.
Harvey approached. “Sorry, mate, but you know how those Russians can be.” He slapped me on the back and winked.
I backed away. Looking at the dripping sailboat in the slings, I wondered if all this was really worth it. The boat looked a lot bigger out of the water than afloat. “How long will this survey take you?”
“Four, maybe five hours.”
“Fine, get Erdem when you’re done and put it back in its slip.” I turned and ran after Anna.
The Australian’s behavior was unsettling but what could I do? If it got us closer to home, I had to humor the creepies — Anna didn’t. She stormed off toward town.
The castle of Marmaris morphs out of ancient Greek dwellings that grow in size as one climbs the hill the town is built on. The higher up the hill and the closer to the castle, the more affluent you would have been in antiquity. It is so indistinct at the plebeian street level that I didn’t know we had reached it until the castle wall itself became an obstacle. A dead end. Anna plunked herself on a step to brood in the pizza-oven like heat.
Sea-glimpses between buildings revealed the bay that had once been home and refuge to Alexander the Great’s fabled fleet. I pulled the camera from my pack and snapped a few shots.
“I cannot believe we will sail this sea?” Anna waved at the scene I was shooting.
“You bet, just look at how beautiful it is. What an adventure we’ll have.” I tried for a shot with some foreground perspective. “Why do you ask? Are you afraid?”
“What do you think? Of course, I’m afraid. You have at least some experience, I have none. I’ve never been at sea. I’ve never even swum in it.”
“You have nothing to worry about. We’re doing everything right. Getting the right kind of boat. Making sure everything is safe. Like by getting a survey with Harvey, for instance. And what choice do we have? We have to leave Turkey, we have to do it on our own, and our only option is to do it by sea.”
“I know we have no choice and I know you will do everything you can but I don’t know what I am capable of. We are facing oceans and seas, such an immense undertaking and I cannot help but be afraid of it. It scares me just to talk about it here on land. At sea I will be useless. I am not just afraid, I am terrified. We are talking about death here. That time when we sailed with Erdem and that Frenchman, I could do nothing. I was frozen with fear. I couldn’t even move, Jess, and that was only a sunny day in that pretty bay you take pictures of now.” Anna clawed at her spiky, wrecked hair. “Even if I wasn’t afraid, I still don’t know how to sail!”
A red-faced troupe of profusely sweating Brits huffed past with cheerful greetings before I continued. “Of course you don’t know how to sail yet, but that’s not a problem. If you can ride a bike, you can learn to sail. We’ve got time before the deal on the boat closes. I’ll sign you up for sailing lessons.”
“You can not teach me?”
I snapped off a couple more shots. “I’d rather not. A professional will do a better job and cover stuff I might miss.” It sounded plausible.
Anna hugged her knees. Went silent. I wondered how long she had before someone wanted to use their front step.
With something like a third degree sunburn ravaging my nose, I reached down, took her hand. “It’s time to go.”
We started downhill on a narrow cart-passage of polished heat-shimmering cobblestones. Anna clomped beside me in her Doc Martens. Her hand was cold, even in the searing heat, and she held on like she was afraid of letting go. I was starting to worry about this adventure.
One after another, staff in marine stores responded with blank stares when I asked about sailing lessons. “Does anyone actually learn how to sail around here, or does one simply rent a yacht and head on out into the wild blue yonder?”
“Oh, no, test must be passed to sail a yacht.” Finally, we’d come across someone in the know. A large, older woman sitting behind the counter, cradling an old, blind toy-poodle, told me, “You must get a card, it is like a license, to take out a yacht.”
“Funny, nobody asked to see my qualifications before telling me to take a yacht for a test drive.” I glanced at Anna.
She didn’t look good. Maybe heatstroke or the sudden onset of a nervous breakdown.
“The marina mall, it has schools for sailing.” The woman put down the poodle and traced a route for us. The dog stood, crooked, paralyzed, shaking — a picture of fear and pain. Poor creature didn’t have long.
I didn’t know the marina even had a mall. It was brand new, barely occupied, and built in the classic Taco Bell fake-adobe style. Almost everywhere outside closed storefronts, signs announced Yacht Clubs and Sailing Schools. One of the deserted sailing schools had at least gone to the effort of taping pictures of sailboats and smiling fit crews to its windows. It also provided an after hours phone number. Anna punched the number into her cell phone, checked to see that it was ringing, then shoved it at me. She prefers to let me deal with strangers.