Rates of Exchange, Chapter 5

A Lebanese family is gathering at the hotel for a wedding. When I drove into town looking for the Easy-Way, I saw the stores, the street names, the women in headdress. There are strong families here with deep roots in the community. They stand on the balcony, men and women in western clothes, all of them smoking - except the kids. Head cover. That takes me back. Someone is smoking Turkish tobacco. The scent jars me into a very specific memory.

Frank and I are sitting across from each other at a rough work table. There is only one light - a candle in a lantern - and our faces are barely visible to each other. Around us in the shadows, hoists, strapping, paint, tools, and workbenches barely revealed. Like the curtains or rugs or dresses in a painting. There is the smell of resin mixed with the gentle tang of the sea. And Frank's Turkish tobacco. Light and scent contrasted with the soft lapping of small waves too gentle to be open water. Faint light dapples on the water under two large doors, betraying moonlight outside and segueing to darkness in the channel that runs through the middle of the room. A sixteen-foot aluminum boat moves gently in the slip. Exfiltration time.

"Less than we thought of the uncut stuff. What about the displays?"
"Mm, 'bout the same. But good enough at that." His voice echoes around the stone walls. He takes a deep breath. Looks at me. And the subject changes. "You know the drill -"
"Yeah, In two weeks Monday at the station. Then Sunday, then Tuesday next....until I see you."
"Good lad. I don't need to tell you..."
"Yeah. Keep stum."

Frank passed me an envelope and I pocketed it. Money. Then he tossed something at me. I caught it in my left hand as I was pulling the zipper closed on the dough. A little brooch. Emeralds, rubies and sapphire set in obsidian and gold. An eagle. My eyes went wide. "This isn't...?" The idea that any of the loot would be near us now raised serious flags.
"No, no, lad. It's from an old friend and I've had it for a while. But don't hawk it. You should find a girl for that." I missed the contradiction. And I had two years and six months to consider that.

And then Frank was gone. Faded to black in the shadows of the walls. An alley door I didn't know about. I didn't like that. Never enter a room without having a secure way out. - or knowing how others may get in. I snuffed the candle and let my eyes dark-adapt for an hour. Then I pulled an electric trolling motor from under the table and carried it to the aluminum boat. I turned my ears back up and listened. Nothing. I hung it on the transom next to the big outboard and checked the battery. I pulled the boat to the two doors and waited again. Nothing. A little swing on the counter-weighted door opened it and I was in the canal. The trolling motor whispered its little song, inaudible at six feet. A left, a right, and then I was in the Canal Grande. A wait in the shadows and then a right off of the Grande, and then three lefts put me on the open water in sight of the Lido. Through the channel and straight out with the wind at my back until the battery died. The lights of the Lido were still visible but between the wind and the time of day... I tossed the trolling motor and battery overboard and released the lever on the Honda outboard, dropping the big motor into position. I cranked the sixteen-footer southwest to intercept the coast where it curves south. Well south of the city. Dawn was breaking on my left. An hour later I beached the Springbok in a thicket, walked into town and bought a Trenitalia ticket. Ancona, Milano, over to Paris. I breathed easier in France. Two weeks of sight-seeing went by too fast and then it was time for the settling of accounts. I wandered down to the gare on Monday. September 12th. I didn't last a minute. For two-and-a-half years after that my only glimpses of the sun were framed by high walls and razor wire.

I watched Frank work his wedding party. He was good. Maybe a little heavier than when I'd seen him last, but still socially nimble. He glanced around making sure nothing would disturb the family's big day. He followed them towards the lobby at the end of one arm of the "U", almost directly beneath me. He must of felt my eyes because he looked up and the smile came off his face. Only for a second. Then it reappeared, only not quite to the eyes. With a wave as if I was just another guest, he disappeared into the lobby. An idea was beginning to form at the base of my brain.