Max had no seamanship skills and the increasing swell was causing deep concern.
“Star, we’d better make a start. We will turn and run with the waves, adjusting speed to keep in the trough. I hope this will make the boat steady enough so I can work on Ray.” He was still mindful that the corpse was once a human being and knew it could feel no pain or anger. Even so, he wanted to treat it with dignity and respect.
Star took the controls. Max was relieved that she did not panic about the responsibility and just got on with the task, using common sense. In his view, intelligent women that choose to suddenly go bimbo, do themselves no favors.
Max was now free to concentrate on preparations. Polythene sheet was draped across the deck and over the side where the body parts would be thrown. Blood stains had to be avoided at all costs, in case an investigation of the boat ever took place.
With the box top removed, Max decided to use the electric chain saw to slice through the skull, dividing the head into three horizontal slices. With the first slice, the brain oozed out like blancmange. (Brains are not of a cheese-like stiffness, unless treated with formalin or other preservatives.)
As each piece of the head came free, it was thrown over the side. Next the arms were removed at the shoulders and subdivided into very short lengths. It was tricky to hold the limbs in place, being squishy and slippery with blood. Ray’s back formed an acceptable sawing horse.
Cutting down each side of the spine was Max’s first choice, but instead he decided to slice through parallel with the ribs and each rib slice was quartered. The offal slipped into the box at every opportunity and it needed frequent bailing, to avoid spraying it everywhere with the blood and guts from the fast moving chain. The pelvic girdle was tricky, so this was simply separated from the hips and cast out as the largest single chunk. More bailing out of the box was needed, and the legs were next.
With only blood and guts left in the box, Max slid it to the side and tipped everything into the sea.
The final hurdle was disposing of the box. The polythene lining had contained the body fluids, so the wood was effectively free of suspicious stains. It was time to break it up into small fragments to become driftwood.
Star stopped the boat and Max heaved the box over the side, into the water. As each side broke free, Max smashed them up. Star held the remains of the box to the side of the boat as Max worked. Finally the tools were thrown overboard, and apart from a clean-up in daylight, the job was done.
Max took a moment to gaze back at their course. He said a silent prayer and asked Ray’s forgiveness for what he had done. Star left him to his moment of peace and introspection, guessing it was a prayer, as requested in Ray’s letter. Personally, she saw no point in it, but respected Max’s beliefs.
By this time, the rise and fall of the waves was building strongly, catching the boat side on and threatening to capsize it. Getting underway again sorted that out, but they were heading on the wrong course, the right direction was parallel with the waves. A zigzag course was the obvious answer, but time and fuel were against them. The boat had to be returned that afternoon but it would most likely run out of fuel, because of the new course heading against the current.
For an experienced seaman, in a seaworthy boat, the passage would be safe, but uncomfortable. Max and Star were inexperienced and so were at great risk. To call for help was not an option; it would raise too many questions with the authorities.
Star staggered off to the cabin and put on a life jacket. She lay down and cried, emotionally drained and scared witless of drowning in the cold, black water. Every loud bang on the hull from the waves and the violent lurching of the cruiser, were constant reminders that the water wanted to pull them under.
Max had no wish to drown either, but he had to stay at the helm. There was no opportunity to don his life jacket and he would not ask Star for it. She was suffering enough, already.
Progress was slow through the night and Max was both mentally and physically exhausted. Countering the constant pitch and roll of the cruiser with his body and gripping the helm hard, for 4 hours left him numb and disorientated. There was nothing but blackness all around, worsened by looking at the glow from radar and GPS screens.
Eventually the blackness turned to grey, getting lighter by the minute. Dawn was approaching and they were still afloat.
Max had given up calculating time and fuel scenarios, hours ago. There were just too many unknowns. It was time to revisit them now daylight was upon them. The remaining fuel would not get them into the Thames estuary on the present zigzag course. He had to grow some balls and risk capsizing.
Gradually, Max turned to follow a direct course for the estuary and reduced speed to save more fuel. The hard and violent night had become much worse. The certainty that this wave crest was the one that would capsize them turned to disbelief when it didn’t, as they rode over it.
Max was so cold, wet and exhausted by now that he had to call Star out of the cabin. She stood, gripping the helm, shaking with fear like a terrified wet, puppy. Still, she had to help, or they would sink if Max made an error in steering, due to fatigue. She soon got the hang of swinging the wheel at the last moment, so the boat slid down the wave crest, bow first and not side on.
The sky was clear of cloud by 10.00am, the strong gale force wind dropped and the water became calm. Their confidence returned and they were not going to drown. However, it was hard to gauge if they would get refueled, before it ran out.
Max felt able to get up and check over the boat. The final clean-up still had to be made. Seawater had flooded the deck during the night, so blood was hard to detect. There were no suspicious marks or cuts on the deck, so bleach and a good wash down would suffice.
A gut feeling, for that was all it was, prompted Max to look over the side. There was a faint but noticeable discoloration to the white paintwork above the waterline. It was limited to the side the box was dumped from and the stern, on the same side. Max rubbed a cleaning cloth over the stain and it marked the cloth. Could it be blood adhering to the hull surface? He could not take a chance that it might be spotted, so he used a bleach soaked cloth to rub it off. He stripped to his briefs and told Star to stop the boat, while he swam around and cleaned.
“There are lots of fish in the water, Max; I have never seen so many little ones.”
Max felt a deep chill to his core; it was not the freezing water, but the realization that something was attracting them to the boat. Could it just be the bleach? Again, he could not take a chance.
“Star, I’m diving under the boat to check if we have anything caught on the hull which might be a problem.”
“OK, but be careful. I will make tea and get something to eat, while you are doing that.”
Max should have rested before diving. He was still exhausted from his long night at the helm. His body was numb with the cold water and he was panicking about the possibility that body parts might be caught on the hull.
He panted to ventilate his blood stream with oxygen and dived under the hull. It was quite murky beneath the boat, the anti-fouling paint being dull and unreflective. A systematic search was going to take time. A quick look around revealed two possible snagging points and one had a long thread of weed attached. Or was it something else, like entrails?
Max surfaced with barely enough strength to move his arms and legs. Thinking became an effort that he couldn’t be bothered with, anymore. He relaxed in the water for a moment, it was not cold now and he just needed a moment to rest. He closed his eyes and was at peace with the world, all his troubles drifting away. Just a moment more, what’s the hurry.
Somewhere in his mind, he could hear a voice calling, it was distressed and saying something that was familiar. What was it, what did it mean? It was too difficult to think, “I must sleep,” he thought. Suddenly, his world of peace exploded into suffocation and terror. Max had succumbed to hypothermia and slipped below the surface.
Star had been calling him, frantically, but he just lay there, asleep. The moment he slipped below the surface and floundered about, she knew he was drowning. The dark water terrified her, but she had to jump in to save Max, it was the only way.
Grabbing the neatly coiled mooring rope, she threw it in Max’s direction, as a marker and plunged in after it. The freezing cold water closed over her head and penetrated her clothes. It felt like she was being dragged naked through thick brambles. Every part of her skin felt stung, slashed and rubbed with salt. She bobbed back up and the life jacket kept her head well clear of the water. Even so, she felt winded with shock and thrashed around for a moment, desperately gasping for air.
Breathing properly now, she kicked and crawled towards the end of the floating rope, the last place she had seen Max. She plunged her face below the water, forcing her stinging eyes to focus. There was a faint, pale oval in the depths, the face of Max. He was slowly sinking, bubbles occasionally escaping from his nose and lips. Star could not reach him because the life jacket prevented her going below the surface.
As each second passed, Max was closer to death, if not dead already and slipping further from her grasp. She had all this love for him, but what good was it when he needed her. She could slip out of the life jacket, but that would take at least 15 seconds, by then he would be too deep for her to reach. Anyway, she was already weak from the cold water and the frantic swim just getting this far. She would never have the strength to pull him up and grab the life jacket again, for buoyancy.
She stretched her legs down and used her feet to grab each side of his head, pulling up with all her might. His initial weight and resistance dragged her under, momentarily, but he was coming up.
Star panicked when her feet lost their grip on his head. She desperately felt for and gripped his upper body. Another good pull upwards and she had her hands under his armpits. He broke surface at last and she leaned back, pulling him up onto her, face to face, clear of the water. Max was unresponsive.
On her back and kicking for all she was worth, she grabbed the rope with her right hand. Pulling hard, she worked her way back to the boat. The side and stern towered above her and with no strength left, it was impossible to get back into the boat. She hung there screaming for help and crying, her body shuddering with hysterics and the cold. She cuddled and squeezed Max with her left arm, in a feeble attempt to ventilate his lungs, kissing him on the cheek, repeatedly. She vowed she would stay and die with him, he would not be alone.
It seemed like an eternity that she hung there, when suddenly a man surfaced beside her and heaved Max up to another man, aboard their boat. He told Star to be calm - he would pull her out in a moment. He heaved himself up the side of the boat onto the deck, in a powerful, fluid movement and leaned over to pull Star out, lowering her to the deck. He dashed to the cabin for towels and blankets to wrap up his patients.
“Get your wet clothes off, as soon as you can,” he instructed Star, “we must get you warm and dry immediately.”
With superhuman effort and with his help, she eased off her clothes. The two newcomers were experienced first aiders and this was a familiar situation for them. They had seen the girl jump in and knew she at least would need rescuing. This also gave them some idea about how long Max might have been under water. His body temperature was so low that the guideline of 3 minutes without oxygen to brain death could be extended. They worked with practiced efficiency, believing there was every chance of a good outcome. The first sign Max was alive came a minute later, when he coughed and spluttered.
Although wet and cold himself, the man started their boat and surged ahead at full speed, towards the Thames Estuary. He used the transmitter to call for immediate medical assistance, giving their position, course and speed. A colleague on their own boat followed closely.
“I am Steve, he is Donald, and we are divers on our way back home. It is lucky Donald spotted your boat drifting, so we headed over. Then we saw you jump in and knew you were in trouble.”
Donald, the man working on Max asked their names. Star replied, “He is Ray Forbes, my friend, and I am Anna Short. We are due to return this hired boat this afternoon, but I don’t know where Ray got it from.”
“Don’t worry about that Anna, the details are here on the console, we will make sure it is returned for you, just go to hospital with Ray and when you are well, contact the hire company to sort out any problems. I will give you our details and those of the hire company.” He lashed the wheel and grabbed a pencil and paper from the cabin. He gave her the note with a bundle of her and Max’s clothes, stuffed into a pillowcase.
Just 15 minutes later, the rescue helicopter descended and winched them both up. The paramedic stressed that Max was not out of danger yet. He mentioned secondary drowning as well as the effects of hypothermia, but she could not take it all in. She was in severe shock.
Late that afternoon, Star was able to visit Max. He was anxious to know what had happened and what had been said. He remembered the snagged, trailing object and the fact that there were hard to explain items like cleaning cloths and containers of bleach on board the cruiser. Now Star became anxious. With all that had gone on, she had not given a thought to the cloths or the bleach.
“We will see if it’s mentioned, when we collect our belongings from the hire company. That’s all we can do.”
Max agreed and they discussed their next move.
“First, we need to tidy up Ray’s flat, get new bed clothing and mattress, end the rental and leave. Tell Anna’s father you are clearing out and say you will give him contact details when you are settled.
“Then we book our flights, away from the UK and start our new life together. We can give notice to the Authorities that we are emigrating and will not be back. We must ensure there are no loose ends at this stage. A solicitor and an accountant can handle any affairs, once we have left.”
Star’s face lit up; at last the waiting was over.
***
The rescue never made the news, but The Organization picked up on it straight away and verified identities through their back door access to the passport office database. Sam told Carla what had happened and that they were already tracking Max.
Sam also expressed his surprise at the perfect identity he had created. The data and supporting records were flawless, beyond anything they or the security forces could achieve. He was also aware of the £10 million Max had stashed away, now split equally between him and Anna. All the money was traceable and legitimate, nothing was laundered or suspect in any way.
How did he manage that?
It differed from tax records, but the money was in a non-reporting country. They also had Ray Forbes down as unemployed and on benefits, but the government did not have the same access to information that The Organization had.
Carla was beside herself with emotion. She wanted Max, or Ray, as he now called himself, back safe with her but he was with this girl Anna Short. To say she was jealous would be an understatement. Her sharp mind appreciated that Max still had no knowledge of her and had made a new life for himself. Still, Carla loved him to a fault and nothing would change that.
“Sam, I am going to London to search for Max. I will go to the address on his tax and Bank records and get him back.”
“We have kept the flat under surveillance from the moment we had the address, but he is not there. The girl is not at her flat either. I cannot see what you hope to achieve on your own. If we cannot track down either of them, how do you think you can?”
“I just have to do something; I am going out of my mind waiting, wondering if I will ever see him again. I love him, damn it!” She checked herself; she had never expressed her emotions to anyone before, except Max, now she was blurting everything out to her employer. He would lose respect for her and stop giving her assignments if she failed to behave rationally.
Sam knew she was suffering and would be no use to him in this state. He had no choice but to agree with her. She only took his missions because of the excitement and challenge; it was definitely not for money. He doubted she even knew what he paid her or Max as all their records and accountancy were handled by The Organization on their behalf.
“Of course Carla, see Mary on your way out and she will give you a copy of what we have on Max and the girl. We will update you the moment we hear more. The Learjet is available tomorrow morning, so please take it to Gatwick with the compliments of The Organization. Mary will sort out the details for you and - Good Luck!”
Tears of relief and gratitude welled up in her blue eyes; Sam pulled back in his chair, in case she broke down and kissed him. This girl was human after all.