Desperado Dale (Scenic Route to Paradise) (7 page)

Merry ran for the vests. The sloop seemed to be
listing to the starboard. It had been so calm, even humdrum so what was causing
this panic? She began to tighten her own vest while she scanned the water.
There was nothing to be seen. Tino was yelling. The engine was sputtering to
life. Zeff was cursing. Junior, dropping the final 10 feet as he came down the
mast, hit the deck with a thud.

Fumbling with the life jackets, Merry looked
again to the west. An ominous mist roiled above the horizon. A line of water
hung in the air below the churning grey vapor. A tsunami? They had seen and
even ridden, several tsunami waves but this was horrific. Could the
Serendipity
ride this speeding, growing mound of water?

Merry ran with the life vests while Zeff cursed
and the boat swung around to meet the foe.

Chapter 9  Counterfeit

Mr Adams was up early. His room overlooked the
mature gardens that circumvented the inn. In the distance, the
Ionian Sea
peeped at the horizon.
The sky was blue, pale blue and cloudless. The water, turbulent.

Yes,
Greece
was better all around compared to
France
,
he decided again as
though his thought novel.

Bernie was downstairs sitting in the shade when
Bean came down dressed for the day in a lavender colored velour jogging suit. She
joined him at the poolside table.

A middle aged woman came out and introduced
herself to Mrs Adams.

As if an explanation was needed, she told them
she had been a schoolteacher on mainland
Greece
for almost 20 years before she retired early to
move to Kerkyra with her aging spouse.

“Call me Sylvia,” she said in very clear
English. “It was my husband, Gus that you met last night. What a pleasant
surprise for us to have you arrive, as you did.”

“Oh, no. The pleasant surprise was on our part.
That soup was delicious... What a beautiful home you have here. So spacious and
modern too,” said Bean courteously although her thoughts were elsewhere as she
began sipping from Mr Adam’s coffee cup.

Sylvia promised to give them a map - hand drawn
of the best route to the northern town of
Avliotes
. “From there your daughter-in-law’s family
village is very close and doable even on our roads, if you leave this morning.”
After more small talk with Mr Adams, she went inside to make breakfast for the
guests.

“I understand how people at one time thought
Greece
to be the cradle of
civilization... the Garden of the Gods. Why Bean this is a wonderful place...
Look at that pool! Perhaps, we should stay another night or two. It couldn’t
hurt and who knows but maybe Dale can meet us here... Although, I have no idea
where
here
is!” Bernie let out a laugh at his own statement. It felt
somehow freeing not knowing where he was and the place being so peaceful and
comfortable.

Bean looked at the calm restive demeanor of her alienated
first love and thought nothing of popping Bernie’s bubble of peace.

After all, hadn’t he popped my idyllic bubble
almost 50 years before?

The fact was she needed his advice. Mr Adams was
the smartest man she knew and if there was going to be trouble and it certainly
seemed that there was trouble coming and going, she wanted Bernie to have his
brains working to fix the problem.

“Mr Adams, I think we need to get on the road
this morning - just as Sylvia suggested,” Bean began. “You see I came across
something very odd, if not worrisome last night while I was readying for bed.”

Bernie opened his eyes wide. “You did? So did I.
Yes! I was about to brush my teeth
and
also, my dentures when I glanced
into the bathroom mirror... I was shocked. My appearance has become very odd
and also, worrisome as you say. In fact, I don’t feel a day over 72 but when I
looked in that mirror last night, why an old man looked back! Odd! Very worrisome
indeed!” he muttered with a bushy wink.

   
    In spite of her somber thoughts, Jellybean let out a chortle. “No, I’m
serious Mr Adams.” She went on to explain what she had discovered the night
before only taking a break when a breakfast ensemble was rolled out on a dining
cart.

When Sylvia left them, Bean continued, “I
thought there was something different about my bag... It looked less worn but
it wasn’t until I opened it that even that insignificant detail registered.”
She took an empty coffee cup from the cart and Bernie poured her a cup of
coffee. He refilled his own, adding hot milk. He turned to examine the rolls
and eggs and simple fare that had been left for their morning meal.

Scooping up a pastry, he recounted, “There is
money... and you say it’s not the old drachma or the Euro but the new currency.
Also, there is jewelry - mostly gold and finally a manila enveloped with a
notebook; a handwritten travel journal inside.”

Nodding, Bean confirmed. “Yes, it was sealed but
I opened it.” She paused and when she got no rebuke from Mr Adams she
continued, “And, the diary is in English. I was thankful for that because it
was easily read. Anna and the baby were sleeping through my entire discovery...
exhausted little lambs. Anyway, I stayed up late trying to figure out
everything. Its old but there are no dates... Strange!”

“You know what I think, Mr Adams?” She remarked.
Bernie poked his breakfast as he shrugged… He had his own thoughts about what
the discovery meant. “I think someone intentionally switched my bag and that is
why Dale has been detained,” she confided using a stage whisper.

“Really, dear?” He wiped his mouth with a cloth
napkin and then he added, “No, we don’t know what has happened to Dale. The
last twenty-four hours is chocked full of unanswered questions... What has
happened to our grandson? How come Anna is told not to contact him? Where are
we? And what in the world are you doing carrying someone else’s pink bag?” He
took a swig of coffee. “Yes... yes, the bags are somehow related and most
probably, a fellow traveler intentionally switched them. I’ll bet my last
thousand liras, he’s a Frenchman for sure and he did not want to be identified
by the strange contents of this carry-on. It seems whoever that traveler is, he
or she went to great lengths to copy
your
bag.”

Lira?

Also, Bean doubted that the person in question
was French. The handwritten journal was in English and from what little she had
read, the author was a Brit. “I know, but I originally bought that bag... a
mauve colored bag - not pink, in an airport terminal. Actually, I bought it at
Heathrow before the disaster hit back home. Sir, in spite of the absolute
horrible financial problems, some of the kiosks at the airports are still open
for business. My bag is a fairly common one and easily identifiable and so, it
seems someone chose one like it in
Marseilles
before we flew out. Besides, I probably look
like an easy target.” She explained with a sad smile.

“Well, we both do look like easy prey, I suppose
but if people only knew what kind of... erh, huh, business we did following the
Great War, I’m sure they would have picked another courier to do their dirty
work!” Mr Adams said quietly but with such resolution that Bean cheered-up,
convinced he was correct in his assumption.

He continued, “We have money,
their
money
and their gold and a possible important bargaining item -
their
journal.
We may need these things to find and deliver Dale. I wonder where that boy has
gotten off too. I sure hope the authorities don’t have him in a cell underneath
the airport... That would be a difficult safe to crack.” Mr Adams looked at his
watch while Mrs Adams arranged her breakfast plate.

He reiterated mentally,
Not impossible but
definitely a difficult safe to crack
.

For a half hour, the elderly couple discussed
the probable scenarios and finally concluded that without Dale’s input there
would be little to do but take precautions and stay alert. The two had worked
with the underground and in espionage post World War II. It was as if they had taken
up where they had left off but neither one considered that the last time they
were called up for “service” was over 30 years ago.

Bean returned to the room she shared with Anna
and Gwyneth while Mr Adams conferred with Sylvia on the best route to the
northwest tip of the island. In the end, as the travelers left the inn behind,
he had a map with three different routes marked on it. The fastest way and then
the most scenic route but also, the slowest route which would take them all day
and half the night to obtain their destination - Anna’s cousin’s house located
in the tiny village of Evangelos east of Avliotes.

Chapter 10  Surprise, Surprise, Surprise

Remarkably, Dale had slept sound. The evening
before, he made an effort to shift his worries from his own shoulders to
Another’s before resting his head on the pillow, as was his custom. The villa
was quiet and cool. In the night the sounds of the dogs snuffling about his
closed bedroom door and leaves whispering in the constant breeze at the open
windows acted as therapy.

For several moments Dale lay in bed wondering
about the adventure God had drawn him and his family into. He needed to call
Anna, reassuring her that he was okay. The calm he sensed making the rounds in
his mind and heart, told him that his wife, child and grandparents were safe,
as well.

When Dale didn’t have a Bible handy, he would
dredge up from memory the scriptures he had learned as a youngster. This
morning he meditated on the Shepherd’s Psalm. In his mind’s eye, Dale read the
six verses and dissected the words and phrases and the intent of the shepherd
king, David the Jew who penned the poem. Ending with,
I shall dwell in the
house of the Lord forever
, Dale began to pray. He sensed God. Inspired, he
climbed from the comfort of the bed to kneel on the throw rug.

Quietly speaking and then waiting to hear
reverent inspiration, Dale’s mind eventually wandered to the events of the last
few months. There was a bitter residue in his spirit as he thought of his home
and the chaos that had overtaken his country; the government, the
infrastructure and the people. He knew that he knew, God had taken him and his
wife, daughter and grandparents out of the impending catastrophe and yet, Dale
wondered about so many left to fend for survival besides all the immediate
fatalities from both the humongous earthquake and the coordinated enemy
attacks. There were friends and family members who were probably dead... who
were
dead. Although, he hadn’t heard specifically. And then, he mulled the
demise of so many innocents, including animals, his pets but especially
children.

The bitter taste traveled to his innermost
extremities. Dale had gone this route in his mind many times already. With each
introspection, an inner ache and doubts of God’s character surfaced. A guilty
cloud of oppression formed and hovered, mentally suggesting:
Innocent people
died but I am alive...  I am not worthy.

This time the condemnation was followed with
accusations and streaming mental snapshots of his wife and daughter being thrown
into a dank Greek prison because of his cowardice.
You ran and hid like a
scared little weasel but your wife she was stopped and now she and Gwyneth are
being punished... tortured.
Your prayers are useless! The old people - your
grandparents are dead and in hell because of you... You’re worthless!

The lies had gone beyond believability… over the
top. Dale let out a drawn out screech, “No-o-o!” Praying quietly, he sought
God’s help. He invoked the name of his Savior Jesus to drive off the enemy’s
accusations. The calm he sensed when he awoke pressed against the spiritual
gloom before penetrating to settle again upon his soul.

After some minutes, Dale stood up and resolved
to “gird up the loins” of his mind. He couldn’t let his imagination wander
unchecked... not now. Not in this environment. Not ever. If he had questions
that needed answers... he would pray and keep his thoughts harnessed and ready
to hear and obey God’s Spirit.

The night before had brought several surprises.
First, the old woman arrived as dinner was being laid on the table. She nodded
at the younger men and then took her seat, not seeming perturbed by a stranger
- Dale.

   
    Sam introduced her. In the dim lantern light, Dale smiled a greeting and
sat.
   
    The first surprise occurred when both Sam and the woman, Bethania Kalamaki
bent their heads to pray for their meal. Caught off guard by this unexpected
gesture of reverence and gratitude, Dale could only watch as the elderly woman
moved her lips silently while Sam gave the blessing in Greek.
   
    Sam replied to Dale’s obvious amazement. “Life is lean but we are very
grateful for divine provision. I had everything before but yet nothing! Now? I
have nothing but honestly I have all I need.” Speechless, Dale looked from Sam
to Bethania. The woman gave a confirming nod as she handed the bread to Dale.
   
    Taking the loaf, Dale tore a piece and passed it on to Sam. The thought
that God was orchestrating the events that transpired since they landed on the
island, flitted through his mind.
   
    “We are trusting in the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob for our
well-being,” Bethania said softly. Her English was thickly accented. “Perhaps,
our God has sent you to us.” Then she added with a gentle laugh, “Always
praying! Surely, our God hears - so why not pray?”
   
    Her words perplexed Dale but he was hungry. Pickled fish and the potatoes
with the local herbs blended and steaming before him were diverting.
   
    Sam and Dale ate silently as Bethania spoke. She explained about the food
and fuel shortages. It had been increasingly difficult and the discontentment
brought on by hardship allowed a group of organized thugs to step forward as
savior-types. “
Ne
, but they are far from saviors. In reality, they are
corrupt and mean... Evil! People here are in constant fear of their random
violence.” Dale noted that Sam looked increasingly uncomfortable as Bethania
talked. The woman seemed oblivious to his worry.
   
    “I don’t have to be a prophetess to see what is coming. I’ve seen it
before. There were over 2000 of us here in the isles before they took us away
to
Auschwitz
... but now there is
only a handful,” she said.
   
    Sam said in Greek, “But Yiayia, that was a long time ago. It will not
happen again.” Although Bethania was not really Sam’s relative, out of respect
and affection he called her by the Greek name for grandmother.