“Good morning, Signor Stanford,” Captain Vacarro said. “We’ll take your luggage, and…”
“No luggage. Let’s shove off.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Wait a minute.” Stanford was studying the crew. He frowned. “The man on the end. He’s new, isn’t he?”
“Yes, sir. Our cabin boy got sick in Capri, and we took on this one. He’s highly—”
“Get rid of him,” Stanford ordered.
The captain looked at him, puzzled. “Get…?”
“Pay him off. Let’s get out of here.”
Captain Vacarro nodded. “Right, sir.”
Looking around, Harry Stanford was filled with a renewed sense of foreboding. He could almost reach out and touch the danger in the air. He did not want any strangers near him. Captain Vacarro and his crew had been with him for years. He could trust them. He turned to look at the girl. Since Dmitri had picked her up at random, there was no danger there. And as for Dmitri, his faithful bodyguard had saved his life more than once. Stanford turned to Dmitri. “Stay close to me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Stanford took Sophia’s arm. “Let’s go aboard, my dear.”
Dmitri Kaminsky stood on deck, watching the crew prepare to cast off. He scanned the harbor, but he saw nothing to be alarmed about. At this time of the morning, there was very little activity. The yacht’s huge generators burst into life, and the vessel got under weigh.
The captain approached Harry Stanford. “You didn’t say where we were heading, Signor Stanford.”
“No, I didn’t, did I, Captain?” He thought for a moment. “Portofino.”
“Yes, sir.”
“By the way, I want you to maintain strict radio silence.”
Captain Vacarro frowned. “Radio silence? Yes, sir, but what if…?”
Harry Stanford said, “Don’t worry about it. Just do it. And I don’t want anyone using the satellite phones.”
“Right, sir. Will we be laying over in Portofino?”
“I’ll let you know, Captain.”
Harry Stanford took Sophia on a tour of the yacht. It was one of his prized possessions, and he enjoyed showing it off. It was a breathtaking vessel. It had a luxuriously appointed master suite with a sitting room and an office. The office was spacious and comfortably furnished with a couch, several easy chairs, and a desk, behind which was enough equipment to run a small town. On the wall was a large electronic map with a small moving boat showing the current position of the yacht. Sliding glass doors opened from the master suite onto an outside veranda deck furnished with a chaise longue and a table with four chairs. A teak railing ran along the outside. On balmy days, it was Stanford’s custom to have breakfast on the veranda.
There were six guest staterooms, each with handpainted silk panels, picture windows, and a bath with a Jacuzzi. The large library was done in koa wood.
The dining room could seat sixteen guests. A fully equipped fitness salon was on the lower deck. The yacht also contained a wine cellar and a theater that was ideal for running films. Harry Stanford had one of the world’s greatest libraries of pornographic movies. The furnishings throughout the vessel were exquisite, and the paintings would have made any museum proud.
“Well, now you’ve seen most of it,” Stanford told Sophia at the end of the tour. “I’ll show you the rest tomorrow.”
She was awed. “I’ve never seen anything like it! It’s…it’s like a city!”
Harry Stanford smiled at her enthusiasm. “The steward will show you to your cabin. Make yourself comfortable. I have some work to do.”
Harry Stanford returned to his office and checked the electronic map on the wall for the location of the yacht. Blue Skies was in the Ligurian Sea, heading northeast. They won’t know where I’ve gone, Stanford thought. They’ll be waiting for me at JFK. When we get to Portofino, I’ll straighten everything out.
Thirty-five thousand feet in the air, the pilot of the 727 was getting new instructions. “Boeing eight nine five Papa, you are cleared directly to Delta India November upper route forty as filed.”
“Roger. Boeing eight nine five Papa is cleared direct Dinard upper route forty as filed.” He turned to the copilot. “All clear.”
The pilot stretched, got up, and walked to the cockpit door. He looked into the cabin.