“This will not be easy, Mr. Jenkins. The waves are considerably larger than I would like. Put on survival suits. Both of you.”
Minutes later, Yusuf and Jenkins had put on the thick red-and-black suits, leaving the hoods off for now. The waves increased in size, fueled by a strong wind blowing whitecaps across the water’s surface. Yusuf hooked a winch to the apex of cables attached to the four sides of the Zodiac inflatable, and Demir’s plan became clearer.
Jenkins followed Yusuf back inside the pilothouse.
“The Zodiac is prepared,” Yusuf said to his father.
Out the pilothouse windows, Jenkins could see spotted lights and the dark shadow of mountains rising seemingly from the water. The waves intensified, crashing over the bow of the boat and causing it to pitch.
“I will get you as close to shore as is safe, but I must be careful. There are many unseen rocks. Go,” Demir said to his son. “We are almost in position.”
Yusuf handed Jenkins a dry bag with a tether and a Velcro strap he could attach to his ankle or wrist. “Put what you can in here. You will have to leave the rest.”
Jenkins opened his duffel and stuffed what clothes he could into the dry bag. He pulled out several passports, various other pieces of identification, the encrypted cell phone from Lemore, and rubles and dollars but did not put them in the dry bag. He sealed those inside a plastic bag he shoved inside his dry suit, against his chest.
“We go,” Yusuf said.
Jenkins followed the two sons outside, mimicking their movements. He pulled up the hood of his survival suit. The spray from waves hit his face, and the water was as he recalled—numbingly cold. The two sons fought to steady the inflatable as they lowered it, the winch whining. Demir slowed the boat, which increased the impact of the waves and the resulting pitch. Several times Jenkins nearly lost his footing, but he remained upright.
“Go,” Emir yelled from the pilothouse door over the howling wind. He looked to be repeating his father’s instructions, motioning with his hands that they needed to get into the inflatable.
“We cannot slow any further in this weather. We will be like a cork in a storm. Get in,” Yusuf shouted at Jenkins. But that was easier said than done. The inflatable banged against the side of the Esma, then swung four to five feet away. Jenkins held the cable and timed the swaying. When the inflatable swung inward, he jumped, falling into the boat with his dry bag.
“Try to center your weight,” Yusuf yelled to him.
Jenkins remembered his position from their earlier escape and got on hands and knees in the center of the boat. He gripped the holds on the two pontoons with his gloved hands. Yusuf jumped in behind him, and Emir lowered the winch.
“Hang on, Mr. Jenkins,” Yusuf called out. “We are going to have to do this the old-fashioned way.”
Without further warning, the boat dropped from the hook and hit the water with a thud and a violent jolt that nearly caused Jenkins to lose his grip on the handholds. Yusuf, who had already started the engine, steered the inflatable sharply to the right, away from the Esma so it didn’t pinball against the ship’s side.
The inflatable rose and fell on the wave crests, water splashing onto both men. With each rise Jenkins felt as though the boat would get caught in the wind, like a kite, and tumble across the whitecaps. Each time the inflatable rose, he could hear the engine whine as the prop came out of the water. With each spray he tasted salt, and he was glad he’d grown the beard, which protected his face.
“I am going to try to get behind those rocks,” Yusuf shouted. “It might help to calm the waves.”
Water crashed into and over a jetty of rocks. Jenkins gripped the holds. His arms strained from the torque and pressure as he struggled to keep his center of gravity as low as possible. His face and hands soon grew numb. The wind and crashing waves slowed their progress.
“Hang on,” Yusuf yelled. He cut the bow of the boat sharply to the right and gunned the engine. For a moment they were sideways in the surf, and Jenkins thought for sure they would capsize, but Yusuf quickly corrected. They hit a wave and the inflatable shot into the air, landing with a violent bounce that yanked the hold from Jenkins’s grip. He fell sideways into the pontoon. The inflatable pitched again, this time to the right, and, before Jenkins could grip the hold once more, he fell overboard into the water.
10
The stinging cold water felt like a slap across his face, but Jenkins resisted the urge to gasp, which would cause him to suck liquid into his lungs. Immersed in darkness, he held his breath until he shot to the surface, gasping as he bobbed, as Yusuf had said, like a cork in the ocean. He looked for the inflatable but didn’t see it. Another wave loomed over him. He held his breath and tried to descend, but the suit made him buoyant, and the wave crashed on top of him and drove him under. Another lifted him and shoved him forward, toward the rock jetty. Jenkins curled into a ball as he pitched under the crest and slammed into the rocks, bringing a sharp pain to his rib cage. He shot to the surface and again looked for but did not see the inflatable. Probably for the best. The rocks would destroy it.
On his own, Jenkins turned and searched for the shore. He kicked and swung his arms, but the suit made movement difficult, as did the pain to his ribs. The tethered dry bag dragged behind his right arm. Another wave drove Jenkins under. He reached for the Velcro strap on his wrist and wrenched it free, letting it go. When he popped to the surface, he kicked with the waves and the wind.
After several minutes, the mountains appeared closer. Progress.
He lowered his head and kicked with everything he had. Another wave hit him, forcing him under. This time his knees struck the rocky stones. He popped up, realizing the waves would pound him against the bottom. His right side, where he’d struck the rocks, already burned in pain. He could not afford a serious injury.
He tucked into a ball as a wave lifted him and shoved him, tumbling forward. He breached the surface, took a breath, and tucked again. This time he unfurled his legs, pushing off the pebbled bottom with his feet and springing ahead. He fell, went under, but managed to get to his feet, eventually crawling from the sea on hands and knees, gagging and gasping for air.
After he’d caught his breath, Jenkins looked back to the sea. A white light furiously flashed—Demir seeking to determine if Jenkins and Yusuf were alive. He stood with difficulty, legs weak, his side painful. A second light flashed. Yusuf on the inflatable. Jenkins felt for the nipple on the shoulder of his suit and pulled it. The light activated, flashing. After a few seconds, the two lights at sea extinguished, he hoped voluntarily.
Each breath brought pain to Jenkins’s side where he’d struck the rocks. He hoped his ribs were not broken, or badly bruised. He coughed and the pain radiated down his side. Again, he bent over, but this time he vomited seawater, retching for several minutes and feeling the cold settle in, the whipping wind chilling him.
Jenkins considered his location. Nothing looked familiar. A white foam filled the shoreline and blew along the stones and pebbles. He walked down the beach, struggling to see, hearing only the howling wind. He was uncertain of where he had entered these same waters nearly a year ago, if he was even close. If he could not find the safe house, it would be a very long night. He looked for anything remotely familiar. Nothing was.