Makarovia? Where the Hell Is That!? Northeastern University

Story: Makarovia! Sure, I Know Where That Is

Chapter 22 Returning to Athens

Author: Eric McQueen (mcqueen.richarderic@gmail.com)

Adult Readers, Sexual Situations, Sex

Freedom of expression is precious. To do that Nifty needs help. Your donation is greatly desired. Give to http://donate.nifty.org/ or this story ends and all the others! That would be a crime!

With Boris and Yuri with them, they return to Athens after clearing the tracking threat from the Duchess.

Returning to Athens

We spent what was left of the morning and most of the afternoon searching the black hull. It wasn't a deep dive. We were just a few feet underwater. If it was more you had to consider the pressure of the air in your lungs. An inflated balloon lowered in the water would seem to lose air. It didn't. The pressure around the balloon makes it shrink. Go back to the surface and it will return to what it was.

The opposite was true about filling that balloon up to what looks full underwater. Raise up and the balloon will pop as the air expands. Your lungs are the balloons here...oh, never mind. No lectures. We weren't that deep. There were these devices...what looks like a floating tire with a hose sticking straight up. There was a long tube with the other end in your mouth and technically you could remain indefinitely. That was possible until your body got so waterlogged you had to go to the surface. Dehydration was a problem. Surrounded by water and yet you have an adverse reaction because you lose water!? Yep. Remember how wrinkled your fingers after a while? That's a sign of you losing water. I liked the idea of doing that, but I had to see more about it first. You were still restricted by air. You have an unlimited supply but only as far as the tube will let you. I could see dangers in that tube getting tangled or blocked. No underwater cave diving. I did that as often I would river dive. Remember what I said about that? (Yes, sarcasm again. I'm not sorry.) I didn't do it.

Yuri was in sight and seemed to be doing fine. He watched the close behaviors of the agents with each other, the crew of the Duchess, Peter, and me. Even the casual regard they gave Boris. Doing that with Yuri would take more time. It took a few months to get comfortable with me and even Peter.

That was Peter's problem, too. Yuri didn't push for a close relationship with Peter and Peter didn't expect one.

What Yuri only told me a little of...I knew he was a complicated man. The truth told we all are complex. Again, the love that dare not speak its name played a huge role in Yuri's life. The psychological pressures are so intense and at that critical time in Yuri's life. There was often there in many other lives, but no doubt that Yuri believed what he saw was exactly what happened. I considered this man's look and character was enhanced by the number of years that passed. The unknown man reached levels of a martyr in Yuri's young mind. No one could convince Yuri it wasn't true. I could see a different man there. He could have just been a horny guy that smiled at the approach of a handsome young man, hardly more than a boy. What Yuri saw could have been a man who knew he would "get some" that night. That really was way less important than what Yuri witnessed there. He watched a man get killed and it wasn't an accident. That was an event that shaped who Yuri would become.

The second one he spoke of Yuri was a young man. For two years he pined for love from Daiki, his older partner with the police who sacrificed himself to save Yuri.

Yuri also said those two events were what he thought of the most, but said there were others.

What was I just looking at? I jerked my attention back on what I was supposed to be doing.

That's the other problem. Letting your mind wander could be dangerous. Or more precisely, I let my own mind wander. I had a lot on my mind!

Peter was raised in a culture that didn't add those psychological pressures that made him see himself as abnormal. They really didn't seem to be in Greece either.

Russia did have those pressures. The USSR ceased to be. You know that. Yuri had been a child. There were confused people there and a lot of predators. Rights for homosexuals? Russia had bigger fires to put out.

Yuri and I took an air break. Understand? A break...for air? Not applying air to stop.

Peter was there with bottles of this sports drink created specifically for dehydration. Pro-lyte. It was a lightly fruit-flavored water with electrolytes.

Gretchen and Earl surfaced and Earl held something up.

"Gretchen found this," Earl said holding that something up for Yuri.

Yuri took this little...rectangular box just a tiny bit larger than a domino. He looked at it nodding. "It's a GPS Tracker."

It was solid black. "How do you know?" I asked. It could be, but he had no doubt.

Yuri smiled as he showed me one side of the thing. "It says so right here." A finger tapped near some letters. GPS, PWR, and CEL.

I gave him a smirk back. "Oh, you really enjoyed that." I groused.

He began nodding and chuckling. "Yes. I did." Yuri said turning the tracker in his fingers. "The first letters tell us what it is. The second one is power and the third you connect with a cellphone." He looked up. "Now, here what's not labeled out on this. It's an Interloc GL300W." He shook the tracker as he spoke. "It's barely transmitting."

Peter frowned. "That's good, isn't it?"

Yuri nodded. "For you. Not for them." He thought to himself a moment and he looked at Gretchen. "You found this below the level of the water?"

Gretchen shook her head. "No, just above it." She sought words to explain in English. She spoke English, but terms, tools, and technical English was a whole other skill. "Around the Duchess, there is a..." she struggled, "slight separation of the hulls. Where the lower hull meets the higher hull? Where the lower hull gets an extra covering for rougher seas?" She showed using her hands. "There is a narrow...space?" She pointed at GPS. "It just fit in there."

Yuri nodded. "The problem is," he sighed. "It doesn't fit with the Consortium."

My face and the others were very confused.

"Then who?" Peter almost demanded.

Yuri's hand was raised to stop further questioning. "What I'm saying is this," he held the tracker. "isn't the work of Consortium. That doesn't mean they aren't involved." And again did the hand-raise to stop them. "Peter, you, and Eric have seen them work. You know their patterns and how they operate." He held the tracker up. "This is using a battery that's almost dead."

That was odd. I nodded. "A new fresh one wasn't put in."

"No," Yuri said. "The...plan was altered a few times and they hastily put this together. The pirates did."

"They would ask for the ransom?" Peter asked again to confirm.

Yuri shrugged. "I'm putting together possibilities based on what I see. There is a possibility of several things, including taking you and asking them for ransom."

I wanted to be sure myself. "They would ask the Consortium, professional extortionists, for ransom before the Consortium asks for ransom from Makarovia? Extorting the extortionists?"

Yuri held that hand up again. "It is possible. The Consortium has means to do it, but better. They would have used a fresh battery." He sighed. "I'm following evidence to piece things together using what we know with that evidence and history. "It's barely transmitting." He pointed to a green light that burned next to the letters GPS.

"It should be a constant and steady green." The light now was dull and faded to black slowly. "The battery is not common and may be hard to get where she's from. The United States, Great Britain and most of Europe isn't difficult to find, but you have to go to certain stores there. Getting it online would take time."

"They aren't the Consortium?" Peter stated to confirm he was understanding.

"And not just slapping some triple A's in?" Earl asked.

"They willingly spend millions to make billions." Yuri pointed out.

Yuri held that hand up again. "It is possible. The Consortium has means to do it better. They would have used a fresh battery." He sighed. "I'm following evidence to piece things together."

"The Consortium isn't going to allow that to happen!" Peter said. "That would be suicide!!"

I nodded. "A criminal organization commits a crime on another." I shrugged. "Why not?"

"Or!" Yuri said loud. "This is the most likely. They want to join the Consortium and this would show the Consortium they're worthy."

Peter gave a loud grunt. "This is oburlyyy!"

I knew what Peter was saying. There was a pair of eyes that hadn't understood. "He means ridiculous or outrageous." I grinned at their almost choreographed nod of understanding.

Peter frowned even more. "We should destroy it."

Yuri looked up quickly. "What!?" He pulled the tracker back to protect it. "No! If we do, that will tell them we found it."

"They know now if they're watching us," Peter said.

Yuri looked at Earl. "Does the Duchess say there are other ships out there?"

Earl shook his head. "Not for several miles."

"There are no other areas of land they can watch from?" Yuri pressed.

"No."

Yuri held the tracker up. "We'll let this continue." He shook his head in frustration. "All this is speculation. Until there is evidence that's all it will be."

"And this is the only scenario that fits?" Earl asked.

"So far. Unless I think of others," Yuri pointed out. "That pirate didn't use her full crew." He waved the tracker. "This is not how the Consortium operates, so I feel very certain it isn't them." He looked at the GPS.

I shook my head as I thought about it. "They had plenty of time between Antikythera and Malta. We weren't on the recommended course. There were some deep waters between the Ionian and Mediterranean Seas."

Yuri nodded and gave a slight shrug. "Not taking the route you should have taken and the GPS that wasn't sending a good signal. They couldn't locate you."

Earl nodded. "The Duchess was going pretty fast." He said smugly. He looked around and then looked at Yuri curiously. "Where's Boris? Peter's here with his husband. Where's yours?"

Yuri gave an award-winning, disappointed sigh. "He left me for another man."

Earl was shocked for a second and then shook his head. "Nah, man. I don't know either of you," he said. "He ran off with someone? From here?"

"But he did!" Yuri insisted. "He's off cooking up something now with that French guy."

I chuckled. "I saw Henri and Boris in a conversation earlier."

Yuri laughed and said. "I would not want to be in that kitchen."

"Galley," Peter said grinning. "Not kitchen."

"Where they cook things," Yuri grumbled. "Okay?"

"I'm not complaining," I began. "Why are we the target to show someone else they should be included? Those people they want to impress would do it if it could be done."

Yuri shrugged. "This is a new situation Makarovia is in. We've been unwanted for centuries and now we have something the world wants, but we've asked for help getting it and help to keep it from those who took from us without even asking." Yuri grimaced. "I speculate after knowing facts that can not be denied. Makarovia is a small country and new with the kind of attention we've got now." He looked at Peter and me. "You two are not the first to be targeted and that dates fit back a few years. They tried to get King Olek to fall in love with someone working for them. When that didn't work, they tried to get King Olek to father a child. They failed every attempt." He began to sort of think out loud. "The element that includes Boris and me, Peter and Eric isn't really important but can be used. Fact, the Consortium attacked the house in Boston and many of their men were killed. They had to be shone threats will not be easily done." He looked at the tracker. "Just as those in Makarovia did with the car bomb a year ago. This would prove they were up to the task."

"But it didn't work," I said.

"But it might have," Yuri countered my statement. "Showing them they could do what the Consortium failed to would prove that. That Beauty and Beast pirate did get you to stop. She is known for being blood-thirsty. However, she didn't use the forces she commanded. That is also a fact."

I nodded. "And you are coming up with plausible scenarios."

Yuri shrugged. "It's what I do." He smiled. "To predict what someone is going to do, you need a pattern to follow."

Peter's mind was working as I often saw him do. He looked at Yuri. "What happened with that guy? The one that had a relationship with Penelope Baldwin, Carter wasn't it?"

Yuri looked a bit puzzled. "He and that Baldwin woman were turned over the authority of Great Britain."

"Isn't he a member of the Consortium?" Peter asked.

"A junior member," Yuri said.

I hadn't thought of them. "Doesn't he have contacts with the others?" I asked. "I assume he's been questioned."

Yuri just stared. "We turned him and Baldwin over and let them handle it."

"Is it possible to ask him?" I asked him. "Maybe interrogate him?"

Yuri wasn't used to having other countries that would cooperate. In this case, they were more than willing.

Yuri gave a hesitant nod. "We'll just have to ask." He smiled at us. "Boris and I have to get our luggage from the house." He held the GPS thing. He looked at Earl. "The Duchess tells you what's under the water. That's how you knew there was more than she wanted you to see."

Earl nodded. "That's right."

"Even now?" Yuri asked.

Earl gave a not so convincing nod. "The island will be registering on the sonar." He used his hand to show the island in front of him. He was the Duchess. "The island shows up, but the signals go out and around the island." He had his hands do a sweeping motion around where he said the island was placed, but his hands touched again on the other side. He grinned. "That and our satellite feed will tell us what's where. Even underwater."

"Even a wooden ship with no satellite link?" Yuri asked.

Earl frowned. "We can tell about are the surrounding wildlife." He reluctantly admitted. "Individual fish and turtles don't, but if they are in a big grouping, a school of fish will show up. An individual rowboat won't..."

"I understand," Yuri said and gave a grudging nod. "Our agents will keep watch to see if any rowboats approach." He looked at Earl and Gretchen. "Thank you for being such a huge help."

Gretchen smiled. "It was no imposition." She smiled. "When the Countess asked for me especially, how could I refuse? I was a little concerned when I realized Nita and I would be the only females." She shook her head. "You've all been nothing but respectful gentlemen starting the first day. It's been good the entire trip. We like you. This I wanted to part of. We want you to come back."

Earl grinned and was nodding as Gretchen spoke. "Yeah." He stated and jerked his head in Gretchen's direction. "What she said."

Peter and I walked back to our quarters. I needed to shower and clean up. Peter had calmed down after he saw I was fine and really enjoy it.

"What is like down there?" He asked.

I glanced at him. "You've swum underwater."

Peter nodded. "But you have been much deeper."

I nodded. "Certainly." I grinned remembering some of my past dives. "It feels..." I tried to think of a word. "It's a sense of freedom I can't describe." We entered our quarters. "I entertained the thought you would want to try it."

Peter looked uncertain. "Is it hard to learn?"

I gave him a look that asked if he was kidding. "There are things to know and commit to memory and take action, not react. I was nervous on my first dive." I smiled. "From that moment until today, I felt that sense of freedom. There are only a few things more beautiful."

"Does it take long to learn?"

"There are some that do it in a day." I groused. "A week perhaps if done every day."

"A week." He repeated. "We go back to Makarovia soon and then back to Northeastern."

I nodded. "It's summer. There can be time." I smiled. "I'd like to share something with you."

"I'm willing to share hockey!"

I was nodding. "That's so nice of you, but there is that problem again. I can't stand on ice skates." I threw my arms out in futility. "I can't skate on ice!"

Peter laughed pulling me close. "I love the suit you're wearing." He put his arms around me. "It's kind of formfitting."

I smiled. "It's neoprene and spandex. It will be."

Peter chuckled. "Oh, that explains it." He kissed me gently. "I love that we're still discovering things about each other."

"I think in a couple of decades we can say we know each other."

Peter pulled me closer as if being pressed together wasn't enough. "I really love you."

I smiled wrapping my arms over him in a familiarity having done it so often. "I know. I really love you."

His hands went over me. It was nice, but I knew what he was doing.

He pushed me back and scowled. "How do you get in and out of the damned suit?"

I chuckled. "You sort of have to peel me out of it."

"Fine," Peter waved his hand at me. "There goes the romantic moment I hoped for!"

"I guess we'll just have to call it quits."

Peter's head was shaking and even a finger on his right hand shook. "Oh, no. We've worked too hard to get here. No one calls it quits!" He looked closer at my wet-suit. "No zipper or louse fabric to untuck."

"I'm sure we can get the romantic feeling back."

The purpose for neoprene is insulation. They can look very sharp now. I wore one that was dark blue but had yellow lightning bolts on it. The water was not cold, but keeping heart and lungs protected was why I put one on. Still, I was a nicely dressed diver. I never dive without wearing one even in warm waters. It did also add some buoyancy.

I did have to be peeled out the wet suit to save Gretchen or whomever to clean up the water on the floor. It was a wet-suit and wet. I did it in the shower stall. Peter even joined me. We got the romantic moment back.

The scenario Yuri proposed was possible. The Beauty and Beast pirate was, from what I saw, in her mid-thirties. Did she want to be a part of this Consortium? It would mean she would get a portion of the billions. They could give her access to some needed resources and help with a future. She could be defeated and killed.

She was also operating outside her usual behavior. Her normal operation was to hit and kill. I guess this was a way to step up for her. It meant more money that was certain if the Consortium agreed. She had failed her attempt to track and her attempt to rectify the problem.

I didn't know how the Consortium dealt with failure. Nelson Carter was the only one I knew about. Penelope Baldwin was the only associate I ever personally met.

Peter and I were walking toward the galley. As we arrived there Mikell was standing in the dining area that was being transformed. A larger table was there made with attachments. There would be enough room for everyone. Mikell just stared at the door to the galley running his fingers over his chin. He didn't have a beard, but if he had one, he'd be stroking it in contemplation.

"What's going on?" Peter asked Mikell.

Mikell nodded at the door. "You'll find out when Yuri comes back."

I have to say, the Duchess was well insulated against noise. When Yuri came out and the door was open there was a raised voices heard. One was clearly Boris and the other was Henri. What they were saying I couldn't make out. It had to be English...or did Boris speak French? He had attended Le Cordon Bleu in Paris. Maybe he did. The words weren't the somewhat fluidly, melodic sound of French.

Whoever was not happy with something the other did or said. I could tell that voice was Henri's. His French accent was stronger now. Boris spoke back, but like always...he was a slow boil or distant thunder. I know I've said it before, but I've never heard him yell or shout.

Yuri looked up and saw us. His smile was instant. "I would seriously think about going in there." He waved at the galley door. "You might get hurt."

"Don't they get along?" Peter asked concerned.

"Henri wants something done," Yuri explained. "Boris does it. His way." He chuckled. "Boris wants something, and Henri doesn't do it right." He looked back at the door. "Those two are having the time of their lives! Boris hasn't been happier." He bounced. "I just met Henri that one day, but he seems happy, too." He pushed the door open a little and the loud conversation could be heard again. He let it shut again. There were delicious odors coming out now.

"We sort of worked through lunch." I began as I rubbed my midsection. "I'm fine waiting until dinner. I know I gained a few pounds on this trip."

"That isn't good for diving?" Peter asked.

"No," I frowned. "Muscle makes you sink; fat makes you float. Usually." I smiled. "My torso floats. My legs sink."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I haven't?" He looked at Yuri. "Can we get our coffees?"

Yuri nodded. "No problem. I'll get them." He went through the door again.

It made a little sense that they restricted the noise. My mother and grandma made a lot of noise in the kitchen at times. Pans occasionally clang, plates and glass cups were dropped and most kitchens had a hard surface. It sounds ten times worse than it is most of the time. Grandma had a big one. She just wanted the china cabinet away from the wall a little more. There was...it sounded as if someone crashed into the house. Grandpa and Mom were still alive. We all converged from different rooms to find a disgusted Katrina and the kitchen dining area was littered with glass, broken china and wood pieces.

"At least it wasn't the good china." Grandma waved in the direction of the dining room. Grandma had more than enough china. What had been in this cabinet was her good everyday china you served lunch on for guests. The fine china and crystal were for Grandpa, and I used the inexpensive Corelle plates and bowls. They were unbreakable.

Grandpa smiled and said with a nod. "Just checking to if there are survivors." We all helped grandma clean up.

It only took a few minutes for Boris to come out with a tray with two plates of sandwiches made from some croissants. "Dinner will be at nine, but this will tie you over until then." He put the tray on the table.

"You're still on vacation," I reminded him.

Peter added. "You know? To relax?"

Boris looked confused. "I am relaxed."

Yuri came behind Boris but had the desired coffees. He nodded. "He is."

"Okay," Peter nodded. "Aren't you and Henri getting along?"

Boris now looked even more confused. "Of course, we are." He looked at Yuri and Mikell. "Did someone say we weren't?"

"Somebody was arguing." Peter pointed to the galley door. "We heard you."

Boris chuckled. "Oh, that."

"Yes," I nodded, "that."

Boris waved the concern off and smiled. "Henri is a very special man." He said with affection, but it was admiration. "I have never encountered someone with as passionate he has..."

Yuri handed us our coffees and froze. "Really?" He scoffed.

Boris grinned at his husband, "for food." He completed what he was going to say.

"Oh." Yuri nodded relaxed again.

Boris stared off as he thought how to explain. "What you heard was that passion. I am telling you he is a genius!" He looked at us excited. "He was a child prodigy! He started cooking very young."

Peter nodded. "Beginning with..." he looked at me, "what did he say? Five years old and a can of Spaghetti-Os, right?"

Boris nodded. "Yes! He..." Boris shook his head thinking, "knows ingredients and spices almost intimately."

"Yes, he does." Peter chuckled.

I was nodding. "He sees them in his head and knows exactly when to add things for the perfect flavor combination."

"And when he says to be at the table at a specific time," Peter continued.

"Don't be even a second late," I nodded.

"He'll pout." Peter grinned. "Yes, we know."

Boris' enthusiasm didn't falter. "Isn't that remarkable!?" He held his hands out for us to see the grand scope of what he found out. "And he's right!"

"So," I said pleased that they got along. "No one was yelling at the other?"

"No!" Boris said. "His passion gets involved and the volume grows." He shrugged. He looked back at the door. "I need to get back." He grabbed Yuri and gave him a damned fine kiss and dashed back in the galley.

Yuri smiled as the love of his life went back to the galley. Turning back to us, he looked at Mikell. "What do you guys do when there's nothing to do?"

Mikell smiled. "I'll show you." He waved for Yuri to follow him.

Yuri was trying by extending friendship to Mikell.

I had no doubt that what those two in the galley were up to. Dinner that night was going to blow us away. Whatever it was.

The Shrimp Salad Croissants were not the usual dish served to us. It was...not hot. We've had fire quite a while now. Use it! These were not by heat or spices. The croissants were fresh, but the salad was cool. Who cared? It was delicious!

During our search for the tracker, the agents had gotten Boris' and Yuri's belongings from the house.

I was concerned for a few seconds when I found out Boris and Yuri were in a stateroom near Peter and me. The one they stayed in when we got to Venice. It was just a few seconds and I remembered. The agents were working. Boris and Yuri, though I tried to make them stop, worked but were still on vacation.

Once again, we were lounging on the deck enjoying the late day's warm weather. Luke came down again. He had before when I was looking for the tracker and then we were showering. He was military trained and was standing with his hands behind his back.

"We are alone out here," Luke began as if giving a report to a superior officer. "We've can head out tonight to go back to Athens. We will be at the Corinth Canal the day after tomorrow in the morning."

Peter looked up at Luke. "And?"

Peter was like me and knew there was something else.

"I'd like to remain here." Luke said.

"You're the Captain," I said.

Luke chuckled. "I am. I just didn't want you to wonder what we are waiting on now that everybody is here and there's no reason to remain."

"There," I pointed out, "you are wrong."

His eyebrows rose. "I am?"

"Very wrong, my friend," I chuckled. "The quicker we leave, the sooner it ends."

Peter nodded quickly when he understood what I was saying. "He's right. We're in no hurry for it to end." He said happily and then got serious. "There is a reason you think we should stay here?"

Luke nodded. "That pirate is out there. She and her people can't sneak up as readily here as she can at sea. She can come over land, but we're watching for that or by sea."

I understood. "You can't be snuck up from behind with your backs to the wall. We can skedaddle before they figure it out."

Peter sat back a little in wonder. "It must something about Southerners."

I looked at him. "What?"

"Running with scissors, feeling lower than a tick on a fat dog's belly, I can guess skedaddle is a way of moving quickly or something." Peter said. "You and Ted come up with most interesting analogies."

"Sure," I said smiling. "There are thousands of those sayings. Some we just make up or change for situations. It's more fun than a gift box full of kittens!" I laughed and seemed to want to confide in them. "I changed that one. I just used with kittens because the language and didn't want misunderstandings."

Luke was laughing, too. "What was it before?"

"A sack full of kittens," I said and saw Luke's and Peter's smile lower a little. "See?" I pointed at their faces. "You're trying to figure out the sack part. The sack was often used to get rid of unwanted pets by drowning them by putting them in a sack with a rock or brick. I like cats! I love kittens!! A box full would be a lot more than just fun!"

Luke chuckled nodding. "Yes, they would." He liked them, too.

"I told you," I said to Peter. "I've neglected your education. We're speaking in English, so why not?"

Peter shook his head. "I've not heard but you and Ted use them!"

"We're an exclusive club." I simply said.

We all got to the dining area on time, except for Cosmo. It was his job to watch for now. They drew lots. Luke had his phone, and the ship would send him updates on what was new around the Duchess in or on the water. Cosmo was to watch the island. Yuri was thought it was conceivable that the Beauty/Beast pirate could figure out where we were going and had people hiding there who could approach the Duchess at night.

That was assuming she knew Boris and Yuri were here and the reason we'd come to the island. Names weren't really used, but why would the Duchess be here? Yes, lots of assuming done, but you had to know the connections with all of it. Don't worry, Cosmo had a plate taken him so he wouldn't miss too much. It just had to be done.

There was still a honeymoon and vacation happening, the agents were agents and the crew worked...the dress code was casual. What was served was not casual.

Henri and Gretchen served; Gretchen had to simply because someone had to do it. Henri could do it alone, but this was quicker.

We had courses. Not math or some school kind of courses, but I did learn some new things. The first serving was a plate each with a few small crisp sandwich-like things. Canapes. I knew what it was. I did not know what it was made of until I ate one. Scallops and crab meat made in a not so bland seasoning. It made a delightful impact.

Peter leaned toward me and muttered. "I don't think we dressed properly enough for this."

I smiled at him. "No need to gussy up fer supper."

After hearing that Peter's head went back to think about what I said. I could see him repeat what I said silently to see if he was gathering the meaning. I pulled him to me kissing him quickly. This was fun.

The canapes were wonderful, of course.

Henri served us a small bowl of soup or broth of amber brown in color. My thought was the men here would die from a lack of real food! I'll try to explain as I go. This took time to make! It was very pretty on the plates for presentation, but...he had cooked some things and as most things a liquid was rendered as it cooked. Many people made a gravy from it. It was from the sea, but he rendered it down and concentrated it down squeezing all that flavor together. One bowl had the flavor of ten or more bowls in this soup or broth but was one small bowl. What it lacked in substance did not take away the intense, savory flavor. I expected to easily eat it, but when the complex flavor hit. It was so intense you naturally slowed down to taste and enjoy it. It was more than delicious. I thought again of the Ambrosia in Greek myths. There just so many adjectives I can use. How do you describe flavor? There was a shaft of light that came down as angels sang one note that let you know you've been touched by God!

(I heard that! I'm exaggerating!? The only ways to prove that is try it yourself. Until then, what I described is true.)

That was just the first items. There were several wine glasses at each place setting. It added to the meal and cleansed the palate. My mind was blown with the serving of ice cream. That's right. Ice cream. Not vanilla, chocolate or some other sweet cream. There was nothing sweet about it. Again, it was so delicious words can't adequately describe it. It was savory, cool and made with...get this. Oysters!!

I knew oysters having eaten them my whole life. On the half shell, smoked, roasted and many times fried. I knew there were savory ice creams as in sweet corn, green pea, sweet potato and a South of the Border queso! I even thought of trying some. Yet, something in me wasn't ready to challenge my perceptions on the ice cream I loved as if that would be ruined. I was a coward. Henri and Boris had worked hard to make all this. I would never hurt Henri and I kn ow this was his creation. I tried a little. Boom! That what happened in my mind. What I expected from what I previously knew was thrown completely overboard.

Oysters have a taste, and that taste was in that cold cream. But it wasn't cream. There was a lemon taste that blended it. There is a liquid from Oysters. Oyster Liquor. That was the "cream." Sorry about this, but oysters usually went down the throat and felt sort of like swallowing snot. You know, the goober in there and have nowhere to spit? I said I was sorry! Was that too Southern or crass for some of you? It wasn't just Southern. It was crude. My point was I never had an oyster "crunch" before. It was damned good.

Course after course came and each with a different wine. It was all very French. Supper, or dinner for some people who object to calling it Supper. Why did anyone object? It was a fine word, or they would call Leonardo da Vinci's painting The Last Dinner! This dinner lasted until after midnight! I was told that was a quick meal compared to some.

I won't tell you about every course. He did combine the usual fish or poultry entree. He served Lobster Ravioli. (He kept with the theme of the past couple of weeks.)

My concern about the lack of food was foolish. I knew and heard that you get full eating slower. We in the West look for the quick fix often at buffets.

Henri was working. His usual lighthearted comments were there, but he concentrated on what he was doing. No one asked him to do this. It was probably because Boris could help now. If needed.

A light lemon sorbet came next, then a salad. Finally, some cheese and a sinfully rich chocolate mousse.

Peter's appetite satisfied he sat back. "I think some special recognition is due." He said looking at the captain. "With your permission, Captain."

Luke smiled and waved Peter to continue.

Peter got up and headed to the galley door. I knew what he wanted to do and went with him.

"Henri," Peter said to the air. Henri heard, remember? "Could you come here, please?"

The galley door opened, and Henri looked questioningly. "Do you need something?"

I smiled at him. "Definitely. We need you."

Peter nodded, "This meal has been one of the best I have ever had." Henri began smiling now.

"I agree," I said. "But I have to say; without you, this would have been a much duller trip. You, my friend, are not dull. We owe you so much for welcoming us onboard and quickly became a good friend."

"This has been a wonderful time and not over," Peter said. "A lot of the credit goes to the others of the crew of the Duchess as well. I say to you," he looked at the other crewmembers. "You will always be welcomed in our home. In Makarovia and in Boston. You will be our guests and, stay with us whenever and as long as you like. You are all dear friends."

"But you, Henri," I said, "made it memorable and truly enjoyable."

Peter nodded. "We bow to you."

Peter and I bowed to Henri who was getting some redness in his eyes. Our agents, Boris and Yuri began applauding vigorously.

Henri no longer just had red eyes; he was crying. He appreciated what we said. "Merci." He smiled. "Mes chers amis. Merci." He brought us in for a hug. The traditional hug or greeting given in Europe and very much so in France. Both cheeks kissed on each and a hug that was truly felt.

Henri deserved more credit than we could give him. He really touched and you saw it in his face. We did appreciate all of the crew, Captain Agius, Earl, Gretchen, and Anita. Gretchen was good and did a hell of a job. Gretchen called her Nita. Nita was shyer than Gretchen. It was an interesting pattern I saw. All of the crew excelled at being invisible. The captain rarely left the bridge except for meals with the crew in the Mess (the crew dining area?).

The Count and Countess von Barr had a preference for that quality. The Duchess was built for that need the need for that many in the crew. When the Duchess had more passengers there were more support crew members. The more the Duchess worked, things needed maintenance and more crew was added for that purpose.

What I began to say was Henri was the one we dealt with every day and on a personal level. I was again reminded of what Grandpa said. You needed to get to know and befriend a few people or groups; those in charge of your paychecks, your medical care and those that feed you. He did more than provide meals. He was funny and smart as well as a great chef. He was a genuinely nice person.

Henri nodded and wiped his face with the rag in his hand. "Thank you."

Boris cleared his throat. "I think I know what's coming next." Everyone looked at Boris. "As a reward, you will offer something well-intended. I will agree, but; he's like me."

Peter grinned and nodded. "We've seen him work. He never looks for a thing. He knows where everything is."

"Fine," I agreed. "He can direct and know where things will be, but we will help clean up. We know there is a lot to clean."

"Just the dishes are a lot!" Peter said. "We can help clear them."

We did. There was a problem though. As big as the ship was, the galley was too small for everyone. Captain Agius went back to the bridge to prepare for returning to Athens.

Peter and I helped as well. I say, thank God for dishwashers. Henri's The Duchess had a nice one.

Henri was the sort of chef that kept up with what he'd used. The pots, pans, and utensils were clean. I remembered another distant thunderstorm from Boris when someone used a scouring pad on his perfect pots and pans. He said he never "scrubbed." Absolutely nothing abrasive was used. I could only imagine Henri's reaction. Boris' knives were also a passion, so don't let me get started with that.

Nothing was burned with Henri. Ever. I saw Boris throw a pan away when something did. He claimed it was ruined as what was burnt on could and would never be cleaned. He had different cleaners for grease as opposed to baked-on cleaning.

I didn't see the big deal, but Boris did. His and Henri's cooking was second to none. They drew people with it. So, I say that made a difference with what they made.

I got an idea. First, I told the idea to Peter who nodded instantly agreed.

"Henri," I began. "You don't cook just on the Duchess, do you?"

Henri shook his head. "No, I'm by contract here. I have restaurants. Paris is my main one and I have a smaller one Cannes."

Of course, he did. "Is that all?" I somewhat joked.

Henri wasn't bothered. "How many do I need?"

I shrugged. "There are celebrity chefs that can't seem to get enough."

Henri nodded a shrug. "If I do, that restaurant has my name on it." He sighed. "That means every chef I hire there must do it my way to say it's mine. I spend several weeks at them." He grimaced. "All that business work takes me away from cooking!" He shook his head. "I won't do that." Then he said helplessly, "I can't!"

Peter nodded. "You have time now to do that, right?"

Henri could see what we might be leading toward. "I do," he grinned.

"We mean what we said," Peter assured. "You can come anytime for as long as you want in Boston or Makarovia..."

"Oh, just say it, Peter," I grumbled. "There is so much to love about you. You've got a great personality and a wonderful sense of humor. We love you! We would love to have you there and we will love to have you cook again to enjoy."

Peter nodded. "Makarovia would be a challenge as access to what you're used to, but Boston should be no problem."

I shoved Peter lightly. "There you go again with what we don't have."

Peter shoved me lightly back. "He can't say he's unprepared if do."

My eyes rolled at that. "Things are improving. In the future, if you decide to; you could open a restaurant in Makarovia. I can promise a near virgin clientele..."

"Boris and Yuri will go on a vacation again," Peter added, "and we know Boris won't object to you being there..."

"Not a bit," I said.

Henri chuckled. "And when will that be?"

"Who cares?" Peter asked. "If you have time; come!"

I looked at Peter. "Of course, if Boris knows Henri's coming he won't go anywhere," I said reluctantly.

Peter was getting good at making poker faces. He really looked like he realized the error in what he said. "True. If he had gone somewhere, I know he'd come back."

Henri was laughing. "Oui, oui. Je le promets!" He swore. "I promise."

He did have a certain place to put things for quick access when desired.

It was early morning when we heard and felt the Duchess begin to move. There was no lurch to a speed. I knew there were ways they compensated for it, but I really didn't want a headache. Physics? That would bring on a migraine! I've seen the equation. "kg"m2" kilogram mass times two, rotational acceleration. Radians/sec2. Feeling any pain yet? I am and I know I remembered the formula wrong. I can add, subtract, multiply, and divide. I'm good.

Loretta. She was a girl in school that seemed to have her life totally emerged by math. She had tried to explain what she understood easily. If anything, she was the exact opposite of me. She, for example, found emotions difficult to understand. Her chosen degree was Biomathematical Engineering! I knew what it was but had it a career. There had to be. When samples are taken of blood, biofluids or tissue the computer gives numerical properties that are displayed by a computer that lets those in science to read and understand what it means. She wanted to be the one to get the computer to do that. I just wished her the best and let it go feeling the pain begin.

We would stay close to the northern coast of Sicily and continue near the southern coast of the Italian boot and head east. There would be a lot of traffic there even at night. The Beauty/Beast pirate would have to seriously consider the situation as we traveled this way.

Yuri had this...thing. He called it a filament. He could shut the whole integrated system down, but that, he said caused more problems because; there is a ship you can plainly see, but don't show on the computer? Someone's trying to hide something. A ship you can see on the computer and see is having difficulty.

With luck, we will simply be one of a few and ignored.

The filament worked like a light bulb filament that burns between two electrical sources. With what he was using, it lit between a sent computer source and the authorities' computer. Giving unclear information is darned clever.

With time he could have a computer output that did what he could do. Give whatever ship configuration he chose. Having the Titanic would cause different problems and could not fit in the Corinth Canal. Yuri preferred faulty information was sent.

The crew of the Duchess would be welcomed by us. Don't doubt that. Luke would stay, but we knew he had to return to the sea. He was the first "old salt" I'd ever met. That wasn't completely accurate. He spent half his life on the water, but he wasn't "old." Mature? Yes, but not old. The ladies would visit and so would Earl. We gave Henri an excuse to come and stay. We hoped. We didn't want to piss off Step-Aunt Maria by stealing her chef. But he wasn't her chef, was he? He said he was under contract for the Duchess. He mentioned his restaurants, but nothing about her estate. He said he cooked for them...here. Was he an accessory when they got the yacht or something? You know by now I had to ask. I did later.

Peter and I didn't sleep in. We didn't get out of bed (nudge, nudge, wink, wink). Eventually, the desire for coffee won out.

Peter and I showered and as we were dressing Peter contemplated. "Is there a term for not really being hungry, but want to eat something?"

Chuckling, I nodded. "Sure. Lazy and getting fat." But I thought of one. "My friend next door, his mother had one. Peckish. When she wanted to eat but wasn't really hungry. She felt peckish."

Peter nodded. "That doesn't sound Southern."

I grinned, nodding. "Oh, you want one of those." It only took a few seconds. I shrugged. "You quote one or make one up. I'd get the nibbles and hankerin' for something."

Peter's mind worked over the words. "Nibble is small bites," he began working it out. "And hankerin' is a desire?" He asked hopefully.

"Yes," I answered. "Hankerin' is a bit more specific. A flavor remembered and you want again."

Peter nodded understanding. "I get it!"

I kissed him. "I never doubted you. I'll make a Southerner out of you yet!"

We had passed through the narrow passage between Sicily and the boot toe of Italy and headed for the heel.

Walking into the galley I was surprised to not see Henri, but Boris. Alone! It just seemed so odd to me.

"Boris!" Peter blurted.

Boris grinned. "Yes." He looked at us. "I insisted Henri take the morning off." His head lowered and gave us a challenging look. "I fed you for a while. You don't doubt I can now, do you?"

"No..." I said.

"That..." he said in frustration, "lovely woman on that island..." he said so that wasn't the word he wanted to use, "only let me cook twice. She refused to even let me help!"

I nodded smiling. "She knew you were to relax."

Boris held his arms out exasperated. "I was relaxing. I'm damned relaxed now! Don't tell me I shouldn't do this!"

I chuckled. "Of course, we won't."

Peter nodded. "Just remember where you got everything."

Boris nodded. "Absolutely!"

We got our coffees and were promised lunch in an hour. The Consortium was a constant threat. Other religious groups were just as much a threat out there, too. Why!? You don't agree with us? We didn't agree with them! And? We portrayed a happy result in being wrong or immoral!? That's too bad. Life doesn't always go the way we want. Get over it.

The Consortium didn't give a damn about any of that. All they wanted was the money.

I know, I often relate to movies and shows, but I'd seen it before. Many of the early 007 movies! Spectre? But even with that comparison, there were huge differences. Money. Spectre committed crime after crime to get money to finance them taking control. The Consortium committed crimes to get money. That's it. They should stick to one name. The Greedy.

I know. I did it again. It's not like I heard voices causing me to stand on a street corner, put a sandwich board on saying "The End Is Near" while ringing a bell.

We got our coffees and went to see others that had gotten up. The Duchess' crew had duties to perform. I really have to stop how I think about things like the crew having to do things...like they were doing their jobs! It was why they were hired, and I hoped paid well to do it.

It was interesting to see even with the advanced surveillance capabilities of the Duchess, people still tried to look out as if their eyes could work better. The brain was needed to interoperate what was seen. Mikell was on the deck looking out away from Italy with a pair of binoculars. No fishing boat or even a rowboat was getting past him.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked as he looked at me. He wasn't concerned about it too much.

I chuckled putting an arm around his waist. "You can't tell?"

Peter shook his head. "Not really." He pointed at my face. "There is a little worry, but also satisfaction."

Stopping us, I looked directly at Peter. "I'm concerned about this situation, but liking what I see." I saw the confusion on his face. "I'm concerned we could get in trouble. There are innocent people here." I waved at Mikell. "He and our other agents signed up for this." I waved toward the upper levels. "Luke didn't. Neither has Earl, Gretchen or Nita. I am concerned about their safety."

Peter smiled. "You left out Henri."

I shook my head with a chuckle. "I'd never forget about Henri. I can't." I tapped lightly on Peter's chest. "In fact," I stated, "I believe he's the most important person on the Duchess right now. He does a whole lot more than cook."

Peter's left eyebrow rose a little. "Oh? Why is that?"

"He's not commissioned, but he's the morale officer," I said. "With his wonderful meals and a great sense of humor he eases the minds of those he serves."

Peter agreed with a nod. "Yes, he does."

"I don't want any of them hurt," I said seriously. "Not because of us, be it because of money or morality. Religion, greed or stupidity is no excuse. That's the concerned part. The satisfaction is about how people on the Duchess have rallied around each other and congealed as a team. Our agents are working together are feeling comfortable with each other and even with the crew of the Duchess."

Peter smiled. "It will make leaving much harder."

"It will," I smiled. "We've made some good friends. The hurt I've begun to feel, I welcome." I shrugged. "Those feelings prove they are. I said the first day this was dangerous."

We had been trained to be on time for meals on the Duchess. We were on time.

Boris was happy to be cooking. We had the croissants with the butter and jellies. Boris served us...hash? He made is Makarovian has many times, but this was...I could see something I never did in his hash. You can mash it up and cut it up, but shrimp is shrimp.

"I know you've had seafood every day," Boris smiled. "This a breakfast hash only because I'm giving it to you for the day's first meal. It has shrimp and crab." He said happily. "I hope you like it."

I can make a few things pretty well. Somehow Henri and Boris added...something that spoke of them. Boris was a good chef and so was Henri, but they could make the same dish and have each one say Boris versus Henri. Two different artists with two different interpretations of the same thing. It was delicious!

"This is," I said, "sooo good."

"Now he's in trouble," Peter said sadly. "We'll be asking for this again."

The galley door opened, and Boris didn't come out but said. "I heard that."

I found Yuri in the library working on a desktop. Alec was watching him as Yuri explained what he was doing.

"...see where we are," Yuri said. "They won't see who we are."

Alec nodded. "I see, but won't they come to investigate the faulty information?"

Yuri gave a slow nod grudgingly. "If they are an authority, maybe. Other ships have deadlines and perishable cargos. Passengers who need to be somewhere. They might report the faulty information but shouldn't stop to find out why."

Alec nodded. "This is fascinating. I took BASIC in school."

"That's a great language to program with and only the beginning," Yuri instructed. "There is also C and C++..." he shuddered when he remembered something unpleasant. "FORTRAN, COBOL, Pascal..." Yuri saw us and smiled. "Good to see you survived!"

Peter nodded. "We slept like..."

"A pig in the mud," I said in English with that hillbilly accent. It is different than a Southern accent. There were sharper vowels. It was still Southern, but different. "We were happy as a possum eating a sweet potato?"

Peter chuckled, but Yuri and Alec looked baffled.

Peter put his arm around my shoulder pulling me close. "He's teaching to be a Southerner."

"Guys!!" We heard Mercea shout and run around looking for us. He stopped seeing us. "You have got to see this!" Without giving us anything about what we had to see, he dashed back to see it again himself.

We sensed the urgency and raced after Mercea.

I also knew the Duchess was no longer moving forward much. My imagination thought of many possibilities, and most were not good. Mercea went up, but not to the bridge. Luke was talking to someone who apparently was on another ship. The new ship was bigger and being raised on the coast and seen many. I knew it was a Navy Destroyer. The green, white and red colors told everyone they were the Italian Navy.

"Boris is still writing his program," Peter pointed out. "There shouldn't be an investigation yet."

Luke was having a friendly conversation. In Maltese? He was speaking Maltese to someone on an Italian Navy Destroyer. "...huwa apprezzat. Se nkunu tajjeb sakemm ninsabu fl-ibħra Griegi." He was nodding at what he heard. "Sewwa!"

I had to learn more languages. I was jealous again!

Luke clicked his phone off and turned. "That was Stefeno. He's the First Officer on the Durand de la Penne." He pointed at the naval vessel. He shrugged. "I didn't know if they could, but" he chuckled, "he could it seems. They are escorting us until we get to the territorial waters of Greece near Corfu."

We were still in Italy, so I asked. "In exchange for what?"

Luke chuckled. "Nothing really. I mentioned he could win favor with the kingdom of Makarovia." He pointed a finger of caution. "I said favor, not uranium. I was in school with Stef. He was a grade behind me. His mother is Maltese, but his father was Italian."

I nodded. "I don't know anyone that's from one place." I "I've gotten a commonality with our friends." I smiled with a nod.

Peter smiled. "Okay, what is it?"

"They all do something they love." I pointed out. "Boris and Henri love to cook." I waved at the direction Luke went. "He loves the sea. Pano loves Edger, Barry, and Big. None are stressed about work. There could be problems personally, but they aren't stressed."

There were a lot of people who dreaded going to work daily. They just had jobs. They had to do it to keep a roof over their head and most of the time, they often included a family that needed that roof and food to eat. Those were the good people who take responsibility for others. Others weren't good people. Add the ones that fail...you know all this. I don't need to lecture you on Sociology.

My point was all of these new friends were less stressed. Grandpa again said: love what you do and do what you love.

That pirate would not attack with the Italian Navy with us. She could still track us with the AIS (Automatic Identification System). We couldn't know what technology or savvy she had access to. I didn't ever read or see coverage about clever pirates. Captains were smart, yes, but I wondered if the pirate's crew could even read. Those that could rose in the ranks becoming captains and first mates themselves.

This Beauty and Beast pirate was very smart. I wondered how she became what she was. What killed her conscience? Did she ever have one? The hard lives of these pirates showed on their faces. She hid hers.

Peter and I felt better with the destroyer with us. We sent Pano and Barry a tentative arrival date the next night at ten in the evening insisting Edger was there, too.

With the Italian Navy Destroyer there, Yuri had more time. The destroyer could escort us until we entered the Territorial Water s of Greece. If anybody was brazen enough to try anything, the Durand could legally open fire. They might cross a little into the waters of Greece. Where we had planned to go was a route less than fifty miles apart. Ortanto, Italy or Santa Maria di Leuca, Italy were both on the heel of the Italian boot. Corfu was practically a skip and jump away, but we weren't going to Corfu. With the Durand we could travel south traveling on the outer edge of the territorial waters of Greece. The Durand could defend us a lot longer doing that. There was a problem when we got to where veer eastward when we got to the island of Kefaloina to get in the Gulf of Corinth. It was hoped the government of Greece made sure their territorial waters were safe. That meant nothing. The pirate was already breaking the law with how pirates made money. If they thought they could get away with it they would strike while we were berthed in Athens. It was the response time that was important. The Consortium would not do that, but a pirate might. So, yes, Yuri's Filament Program was needed.

"Greece probably thinks we're on the same side," Peter said. "That's why they are so cooperative."

Okay, I don't know everything but could look it up. I didn't think about it. "We are, aren't we? We're not allies, but we want the same thing. Don't we?"

"Remember the missile sent for us?" Peter grinned. "It destroyed a lot in that village in Turkey."

I was slow at that time. Remembering almost physically hit me. "Oh, yeah, they have had a conflict since..." I said to him, "when was it?"

Peter nodded, "Off and on since the nineteenth century."

"Sure," I marveled. "The Anyone Who Attacks My Enemy Is My Friend thing."

Peter gave a shrugging nod. "Well, it's really the enemy of my enemy..."

"Don't quibble," I muttered. The word quibble wasn't in Makarovian or Ukrainian language. I really said, Ne Yarto quibble.

Peter's face showed confusion again. "I don't know quibble."

"Quibble is a small disagreement or argument." I instructed, "The closest word is kalamutyty." His mind slowly got it. "Technically, no one attacked Turkey. It was an accident and sent by extremists and aimed at us."

"Now it's your turn to quibble." Peter rolled his eyes. "Greece might have felt sorry for innocents killed, but they weren't unhappy about it."

I nodded. "They used resources to help us."

"Which will benefit them both. Greece will be thrilled we tell the world we love their country." He shrugged. "Italy will be thrilled to get praise for what they've done." He grinned and said suddenly. "We should call Olek."

I grinned. "We've got time. Why not?"

We had our phones for the past two weeks and never even looked at them. Emergencies happen. We had gotten used to the big monitor screen but used a phone with protective capabilities. It wasn't bad.

"Do you remember the number?" I asked.

"We haven't been gone that long," Peter said lightly. "And who uses numbers anymore?"

I got serious covering his phone's screen with my hand. "Do you remember the number?" I asked again in a firmer voice.

Peter looked at me surprised. "Do you?" He challenged.

"Olek's private line, your number, the house in Boston and Makarovia's palace," I said. "Grandma's cell number and the number she had in Asheville. The international numbers when we call from overseas..." His face wasn't puzzled exactly, so I explained. "This pirate and the Consortium will take you or me without worrying about us. If they do, you can call from any phone for help."

Peter smiled. "I remember Olek's and Mom's." He shrugged. "You're right. I need to remember the palace's number and Don's number."

"Yes," I said. "The pictures you have on your phone are great when you're in a hurry. That and passwords when the computer asks if it should remember them for me I always say no. The repetition is needed so I don't forget."

He typed in the number to prove to me he could. I did see one second or two where he had to run through the number to get it right.

"How'd you find time to call me??" Olek's happy voice came. "From what I've seen on television you two are very busy!"

"We're on television?" Peter asked.

"Sure, you are!" Olek confirmed, "And making an impact you go! Corfu loved having you there and so did Athens!"

We weren't on a video link, so my smile was only seen by Peter. "That's wonderful, we love Greece. How are things in Makarovia?"

"Great!" Olek said. "Things have calmed down a lot since the wedding."

"And how is Helga?" Peter asked.

His tone lowered a little. "She's fine, but..."

After a long pause, Peter asked. "What, Olek?"

"She is always saying she doesn't want to go down in history as the woman who bears a child with a king," Olek grumbled.

"She's won't," I said quickly. "Many women have given birth to a king's child outside of marriage. Spain, the Netherlands, Monaco..."

"Did any of them become Queen later?" Olek pointedly asked in frustration.

He had me there. "No," I said. "They were usually mistresses of the king."

"That's what she said!" Olek stated loud. "I am going to marry her. I am. I offered to have it legally done last week!"

Peter looked at me and then asked. "Isn't that too late?"

"She said that, too!!" Olek said back. "She's sick most of the time. She won't eat...even with the saltines and room temperature ginger ale she says she sick."

"It's pretty early in the pregnancy..." Peter began hesitantly to a touchy subject.

I looked at Peter. "I believe women have a right to control their bodies..." I said.

"No!" Olek said quickly. "She won't have an abortion."

"It would solve things," Peter said. "She wouldn't be the pregnant mistress anymore and she's sick..."

"No," Olek said again but there was a sad tone in his voice. "Not because I say not to. I mean she will not. She had one before."

"But not with her husband?" I said.

"This is a secure line," Olek sighed. "She was sixteen. She loved a boy her mother refused to even consider. She thought if she got pregnant her mother would consent to her marrying him. Or at least make it so she had to see him. Her mother didn't consent but insisted she have the abortion. She won't go through that again."

"That," I began as I thought, "is wrong in so many ways."

"The pregnancy?" Olek asked.

"No!" I said quickly, but then I sort of nodded. "Well, yes, but not directly." I knew that wouldn't answer any question. I wouldn't let it go if I got that answer. "She was pregnant, but she was sixteen! How many sixteen-year-olds make good plans? She did it to force her mother to let her marry the guy."

"Blackmail," Peter said simply.

"Yes, but not to blackmail the guy!" I said, "For her mother."

Peter did the head back move as he thought. "I've never heard her speak about any family except about the Jewish members."

"Yes," Olek said. "She has only shared a little with me."

I sighed. "We Ivanovs speak openly about many very personal things. She knows that. I guessing she hasn't shared because of that."

"Perhaps," Olek said. "I will say this. Her mother is alive in Germany. Her father died years ago and before that pregnancy. If you recall, the Jewish portion of her family was on her father's side. She takes more after him than her mother."

"Okay," I said. "Let's not go into it over the phone."

"We'll be coming home in a couple of days," Peter explained. "We promised some of our new friends in Greece we would before heading home."

"You mean the really, really big bar owner?" Olek asked.

I knew Pano had been interviewed locally by news crews. "How do you know that?"

Olek's chuckle said of course. "The BBC International news show The Royal Effect."

"They showed him?" Peter asked in disbelief.

"They did," Olek confirmed. "They showed the aftereffects on Montenegro and the protests in Podgorica."'

Peter looked a little uncertain. "There should be. What they're doing isn't right."

"Don't forget," Olek said, "I'm on your side."

We asked about Mom and Mario and my grandmother.

"Katrina Sams exhausts me," Olek said. "She does not slow down!"

I smiled hearing that. "I don't think she remembers how."

We reminded Olek to be ready. We were coming back.

There was always something to do. We just needed to find what that would be.

We wanted a refill on our coffees, so we went to the galley.

Now Henri and Boris were having another conversation. No raised voices yet.

Henri's eyes brightened. "Mes amis!" He greeted us. "Dinner tonight will not be like yesterday..."

Peter folded his arms over his chest and growled. "And why not?"

Henri, for a moment, was sucked in.

I did the light jab in Peter's gut. "Henri, you can't be fooled by Peter anymore."

The grin on Peter's face after that made Henri shake a scolding finger at Peter as he laughed. "Monsieur, vous êtes très mauvais. Very bad."

Peter still grinned and shrugged. "I am." He admitted.

"We don't want to interrupt two great culinary minds at work, but can we get our coffees?"

"Absolument!" Henri said and turned to do that.

"Can you tell me why and how you're on contract for the Duchess?" I asked.

Henri chuckled. "The Countess funded me." He said simply. "She helped me finance Maison d'Henri à Paris."

I nodded. "Henri's House in Paris."

Henri smiled. "That's right." He gave me a look. "If we're together more, I bet you could learn to speak French quickly."

"That's a good incentive," I said. "We'll have to see."

"You're not on the Duchess all the time, are you?" Peter asked.

Henri shook his head. "I have an apartment in Paris when I go see the restaurant there. I have one in my restaurant in Cannes." He looked around with pride. "When I'm not in those places, I do live here." He said. "I make all my discoveries here. This is my kitchen. I know where everything is." He said content. "The Countess lets me stay here free and cook as much as I want."

Yes. That made sense.

Peter was a thinker. He would just take things in and mull them over in his mind before he said anything. I loved that I could see that and just let him do it. We relaxed in some lounges on the deck as evening approached.

"You know," Peter began out of nowhere.

I grinned as I was waiting for him to reach a point he would comment.

"Helga has always seemed to be this..." he sifted things in his mind for the right word, "this classy person." He cocked his head as he put words to his thoughts. "I'm not referring to her social status. There are many people in the world that have almost nothing but have that quality."

I listened. I was his sounding board.

"She's so smart!" Peter said. "She's...open?" He said as a kind of question. "She's willing to learn things and accepting what she finds out." He glanced at me. "I can't see her as poor. Am I making sense?"

I nodded. "Perfect sense."

Peter frowned, "Am I right?"

I shrugged. "I don't know." I saw his frown get larger. "No one can answer that but Helga. You made some observations and are telling me what your perceptions are."

"And what do you think?"

"I never considered her financial status before," I said. "When you and I became more intimate, I took you to meet my grandmother. The dinner at the White House was somethingto help Makarovia and I met your family. How many times has Grandma been to see us? How many times has Mom and Olek visited with us or we visited with them?"

Peter nodded smiling. "There are quite a few times."

"Helga has been unofficially part of the family since when?" I shook my head. "No visits by her mother to Makarovia. Olek hasn't mentioned any visits by them to see her mother." I reluctantly nodded. "He didn't say what her health situation is. Helga's in her late thirties, so her mother should at least be in her sixties."

Peter nodded. "She could have dementia."

I nodded. "She could a lot of things." I waved my hands out with the usual futility. "Until we're told, it will be guest work. Just speculation."

"Olek is not letting her go."

"We need to tell her, that neither will we." I took a breath. "The world's opinion of her is giving her trouble."

"She's worried everyone will see her as immoral?" Peter asked. "Look at what we did Saturday before last!"

I chuckled and looked away. "It isn't fair, but women face scrutiny in history books. It was common and even expected that kings and princes would have many lovers. A queen or princess could not. Women's fashion in the past could hide things. A princess is sent to a convent somewhere for a year to have a child." I chuckled. "Makarovia is leading the way. They supported you and me in our getting married. We'll show the world we love and respect Helga and Olek. I know they will be married." I held a finger up. "However, I think they need to make it legal as soon as they can."

"Why?" Peter asked but knew to what I'd say.

"They can still do the Proposal and wedding later," I said. "God in heaven forbid anything happens to Olek. You know I love that man, but if they aren't covered legally; a child will be born, but if they are legally wed. She will give birth to the next king or queen."

Peter nodded and slumped. "Yes, I knew that was what you meant."

"I hope she does it openly and honestly," I said. "She won't face the world's judgment alone."

grinned. "I'm a prime example."

"We'll be off again," Luke said. "I hope they can keep up." He laughed and went into the bridge.