It was late afternoon when Adam was awakened.

Up till then, the rustle and hum of fair winds, the comforting rock and roll of Vendetta under sail, and honey-violet dreams of salty skin and tangled limbs, had swathed him in peaceful slumber.

It was Ava Blair's urgent call that had drawn him out of this amniotic-like respite.

"Adam, Adam! Wake up!"

"What?" he said groggily then repeated, fully revived, "What is it?"

Adam looked about and assessed the situation: everything was copacetic, ship-shape: Vendetta sailing strong and true in fair winds. Though, he was surprised with himself. He had slept deeply and truly for almost three solid hours. This was extraordinary behavior for a veteran solo sailor. Either he'd been more drained than he realized, or he trusted this woman more than he would've conceived, or advised. Mmm, he had to wonder, what kind of spell is Miss Ava Blair casting?

"Look," Ava pointed off the starboard bow, "I think we're on a collision course."

The huge oil tanker loomed large, and if they were sailing at night, and they didn't bother to alter course or speed, there would be a chance of an unfortunate incident. But Adam knew the ship was well over a nautical mile away, no problem. He said, "Good job, Slim. Keep'er on course, I'll be back in a New York minute." He dashed down the companionway.

When he returned, he had his binoculars and a red signal flag shaped like a big fat 'K'.

Adam focused the glasses on the ship for a brief time then set them down. He un-lashed the mainsail down-haul and began to lower the sail. He said, "Turn the wheel further port, Ava... to the left, sorry."

"Port. Aye aye, Captain... but, what're we doing? Are we stopping here?"

Ohh, christ, this is gonna get sketchy, Adam thought. Here I am in the middle of the Gulf of Aden about to engage in unlawful activity, while accompanied by a journalist afflicted with a possible terminal case of ethics and morals... Thank you very much, Inspector Guma.

He said, "Uh, yeah, we are. Listen, Ava, it would be advisable for you to remember half of what you see and none of what you hear over the next twenty minutes." He clasped the mast shroud and swung up onto the cabin top neat as Errol Flynn, said, "No questions, okay?"

Ava responded with silence, and an accusatory stare.

With the mainsail fully reefed, Adam fastened the signal flag and ran it up the mast. He dropped back into the cockpit and returned to the helm. Ava stepped aside and crossed her arms as Adam fired-up the engine to hold Vendetta stationary. He said, "We'll hold the bow into the wind while I conduct business and then we'll be outta here quicker than a pickpocket."

"'Business', huh? And exactly what manner of business are you conducting?"

"I thought we agreed: No questions. And I think it's best you go below, Ava."

Adam squinted at the oil tanker and could see an inflatable had launched and was bouncing in their direction. Ava followed his gaze.

"Adam, W T F!" she spelled out. "Talk to me. Who are those guys and what the... heck are we doing out here?"

"We'll talk later, Slim. I'll explain. Please, come below."

Explain? Adam knew full well there could be no explanation that Ava would accept, or understand. He was in-deep over here, likely too deep, and now he'd dragged Ava Blair into the same dangerous waters. But he'd had no choice. He headed down the companionway. Ava stayed put.