Infernal

2

On the way in Tom hooked up with two other sport fishers. They all exchanged friendly waves and three boats cruised into Bermuda's Great Sound as if they all belonged there.

The five major islands are arranged in a rough, irregular, fishhook shape with the convexity of the hook facing west, its barb pointing north. The Great Sound occupies the space inside the hook.

Jack had followed their progress through the reefs on the tide chart. Once they reached the sound he refolded the map and stowed it. No reefs here. This was the deep caldera of the ancient volcano.

A little ways into the sound Tom veered west toward the bulkheaded shoreline. He pointed to a squat box of a building on their right.

"There's the island prison."

"Swell," Jack said. "Let's hope this is as close as we ever get to it."

He noticed Tom's attention was fixed more on the houses lining the shore than on the water. Pastels, especially turquoise and coral pink, seemed to be the local favorites—but only their walls. The roofs were a uniformly dazzling white.

Tom must have noticed his interest.

"The white roofs are traditional but not just decorative. See those slanted ridges? Rainwater runs along them and down into a cistern below each house. Not much rainfall here, so every drop is precious. This island is called Somerset Parish, by the way. Bermuda is divided up into parishes. Don't ask me to explain. I don't know."

Jack watched Tom's attention drift back to the shoreline.

"What're you looking for?"

"An empty dock."

"Lots of them along here."

"Maybe I should have said, An empty dock belonging to an empty house flanked by a couple of other empty houses."

"Sounds like a tall order."

"In season, yeah. But this is off-season. People who have second homes here are elsewhere, and even native Bermudians tend to leave the islands for shopping sprees in the U.S. All we—" He pointed to an orange-sherbet house. "There. That looks like a possibility."

Tom cut the engine to near idle and drifted toward the dock jutting from the bulkhead in front of the brightly colored two-story house. A sign on the dock proclaimed THE BERESFORD's. Jack shook his head. The world seemed full of superfluous apostrophes. He didn't know why they irritated him. Lots more serious problems around.

Focusing on the house he noticed the corrugated steel storm shutters rolled down over all the windows. Definitely looked like someone was away for a while.

A twenty-foot speedboat, partially sealed in some bright blue material and suspended from a pair of davits, took up half the yard.

Jack said, "It's got a boat…"

"Yes, but notice that the outboard engine has been removed, and the open area is sealed in shrink-wrap tarp. Definitely winterized. I can't see these folks coming back till spring."

Jack checked right and left. The neighboring houses looked equally deserted.

"So what's the plan? Tie up like we belong here?"

Tom smiled. "Exactly. Like I said: Hide in plain sight."

He turned the Sahbon so that its stern faced the bulkhead, then tried to maneuver it into the dock. The wind and current did their best to frustrate his attempts.

After the third failure Jack said, "Wouldn't it be a lot easier to go in nose first?"

Tom nodded. "Damn straight, but I don't want the transom visible to everyone who cruises by."

On the fourth try he maneuvered the stern close enough to the dock for Jack to jump to it with a rope. While he quick-tied to a piling, Tom hurried forward along the narrow port deck to the bow where he grabbed a rope and threw it to Jack. With the bow and stern tied, they were docked.

"Not pretty," Tom said, "but we made it."

Jack stepped off the dock planks onto the yard. He ground his sneakers into the sandy soil.

"Guess what?"

Tom turned to him with a worried look. "What? No surprises, please."

Jack spread his arms. "This is the first time I've set foot on foreign soil."

Tom stared at him. "You're kidding."

"Nope. You might say I'm a homebody."

A homebody without a passport. Can't get too far without one of those.

"Welcome to the rest of the world. How's it feel?"

"Pretty much like anyplace else I've been."

Why should it feel different? With no official identity, he didn't officially belong anywhere. He was a man without a country.

Not such a great position in these times.