Black & Green

Intro

I was looking forward to this vacation. I haven’t taken any vacation time in over six years. None of us had any idea how this pandemic marked the beginning of the end of life as we knew it. Social Media was packed with posts from people talking about our “return to normal” which has yet to come.

A New Dawn

I suspect everyone of selfish intent. In my lifetime of experience of just driving a car, it is easy to determine that a very high percentage of the drivers in our communities are only interested in themselves and those in their inner circle. I really have learned a lot about who people truly are by observing their driving patterns and attitudes. I am not a psychologist but there is something terribly wrong with a person that will change their driving pattern to prevent another driver from making a smooth transition into the Fold. Speeding up or not changing lanes to allow another driver a successful merge into the flow of traffic, as an example. I suppose what I am saying is that people are inherently selfish.

I felt fortunate to be settled into my tiny cabin on this cruise ship. It lacked any view whatsoever, and the furniture was comically small, to make the room look normally sized I suppose.

I have learned a great deal about people by simply observing them. So, when I was observing the passengers leaving the cruise ship at port, on my very first cruise, my curiosity was struck when I saw a man looking uncomfortable in his casual “tropical” clothing with his stiff wing-tipped shoes. It was like in the movies when the criminal on-the-lamb is on the airport security line, and his skin begins to glisten from fear of being caught. I wondered why this man would need to work so hard to fit-in when his clothing choice was clearly quite itchy and intolerable. I began to study the man. Sticking out of his cream-colored linen trouser pocket, I noticed the corner of a small black book. The cover looked like soft leather that was enticing me to reach out and touch it.

I casually dropped my beach-bag on a lounge chair on the deck as we proceeded to disembark the vessel at our first destination city. I am moderately certain he is not headed to the beach in those Italian, and possibly handmade custom shoes.

Curiosity Killed the Cat

The streets in town seemed straight-forward and grid-like. The alleyways were another story. Slanted, winding, some abruptly ending at a door to a pub or shady looking law office. I wondered if the locations were strategically placed in the middle of an alley to make use of the back-alley escape. I would soon find out.

I could hear the man’s footsteps around the corner abruptly stop clacking on the pavement. He had stopped. I peered around the corner just in time to see the heel of his snazzy leather shoe duck into a dark archway. A door slams behind him as I slowly approach the façade. I had no idea what I was getting into by following this man. Maybe he was being watched by someone else besides me? I hear another door open and I dart my eyes to look up to the rooftops, like a lost tourist in New York City. This is where I start to think I must be nuts... far later than a normal person might have had this realization.

My informal acting skills aside, the woman swiftly passed by me, mumbling to herself in a language I didn’t completely understand. Fortunately, she was too focused to even notice me just standing there looking awkwardly lost.

I watched her until I saw her skirt-tail flitter around the corner behind her, in the direction I had come from. And for a second, I considered turning back myself and spending a lovely day at the beach. The thought was interrupted by raised voices muffled by the thick stone wall between me and what I knew would be either disappointment or destiny. I was determined to find out which. I’d already come this far after all.

I peered into the slender window next to the arched doorway. I wiped away the grime thinking it would help me see into the room, but most of the grime was on the inside of the glass. I wondered how any establishment could be allowed to let such filth build up on their windows, and probably other surfaces inside. Gross. I raise an eyebrow and hope they don’t serve food in there. I take in a big breath and hold it while I pulled open the heavy ornately carved and salt-air weathered door.

The heavy brass ring door handle bangs against the wood as the door shut behind me. The room was empty of people. They must have a back door in this joint. Throwing caution to the wind, I proceed to make my way down a back hall, briefly peering into small empty rooms along the way. I am not a fan of people sneaking up behind me. I have watched enough “cop shows” to know you are supposed to clear rooms as you proceed to avoid a negative surprise.

The back door was painted dark, with a round plate glass window centered at slightly above eye-level. The grime on this window was confined to the edges. I was able to press my temple up on the edge of the window at an angle to get a limited view of the alley outside. The strange man I had followed here was standing near a black sedan, surrounded by at least three men. He looked very reluctant to comply when they pushed him into the back seat. The men jumped into the car and the tires briefly squealed on the uneven stones that stretched the length of the alley. The car turned right and disappeared. It had all happened too fast for me to think of getting a plate number or description of any of the kidnappers. Crap!

Any normal person would wash their hands of this situation and return to the marina at this point, but I think we’ve established that I am not a “normal” person. Plus, I feel compelled to report this kidnapping to the local police. I am certain this will be just as alarming to them as it is to me.

I made my way back into the dark main room. Looking around, I noticed that this place used to be a pub … well, I hope it used to be a pub since every surface was covered in a thick coat of dust and sand. A dusty beam of light shined through the narrow window near the front door, my eyes followed it to a table to my right that was suspiciously not covered in the same amount of filth as the rest of the place. So naturally, I stepped over to investigate. My second step startled me. Did I just step on a mouse? I didn’t hear any hurt animal noises, so I bent down to get a closer look. As my eyes adjusted to the dusty blackness below me knees, I saw white, then … This must be the black book that the strange, and now kidnapped, man had in his trouser pocket. I had stepped directly on it as it lay there splayed open. I surmised that it must have fallen there during a scuffle, or maybe the man knew he was in trouble so he dropped it on purpose because the book contained clues needed to save him. I must admit, I hope it is the latter … but I also watch too many movies. This was a real –life kidnapping that I witnessed with my very own eye pressed up against a dirty window.

I picked up the book and took it outside to get a better look at it. The soft leather felt worn, but still looked new. The ivory pages were crisp, yet inviting. They practically called out for me to write on them. The pages I had stepped on were smudged and dirty from being pushed along the floor. Mine was not the only footprint to be found in it. As I flipped through the pages, I saw writings and drawings. Some of the entries were in English, but several were in languages I don’t know, and a few of the passages almost seemed like they were written by aliens. There were pages and pages of symbols, shapes and squiggles lined up. It seemed like an organized language, but nothing like I had ever seen. I flipped to the end of the book and noticed a pocket on the inside of the back cover. Here was a boarding pass for our cruise ship … which I immediately realized would be very handy since I left mine in my beach bag on deck … and a card key just like to one I have for my room on the ship. I clap the book closed, stuff it into my beach-pants pocket, and make my way down the alley to the open-air market I passed on the way to the creepy kidnapping scene. I need to ask for directions to the local police station.

Safe Passage

Well, that didn’t go as planned. The police officer looked at me like I was crazy. And it was super suspicious when he asked me if I had seen anyone with a black book when I hadn’t even mentioned it yet. I am certain it was a huge mistake, but I kept the book. I told myself that it was because I needed the boarding pass, but we know that isn’t the entire truth.

I now find myself walking down the long narrow corridor to check out the room of the kidnapped man. Not the best decision I’ve ever made, I suppose. But the police seemed more interested in finding the book than the man. It could hold a clue about who took him or where. It will take a little time to research and translate, but it’s days before our next Port. Meanwhile, what could it hurt to check for clues or a calendar or phone in the kidnapped man’s cabin?

His room was meticulously clean and organized. It barely seemed like anyone had been staying there. Some personal effects were in the bathroom, normal stuff. In the trash were the tags presumably from the clothing he wore to his own kidnapping. Apart from that there wasn’t much else. I sat down on the bed to enjoy the view from his impressive Stateroom. My cabin doesn’t have a window at all, which some people would call cozy, but frankly, its stuffy and claustrophobic. While I am considering moving my stuff into this now unoccupied cabin, I notice the chair looks strange. It seems like the cushion is almost teetering on the seat of the square base. Sure enough, I pulled the cushion off the base. I felt around the edges and my fingers slipped into a cut along the back. After a light tug, the fabric pulled away from the base and revealed a small black travel duffel-bag. Unzipping the side pocket revealed three passports with three different names, all with the kidnapped man’s picture in them. Well, this can’t be a good sign. I slowly open the main compartment, afraid of what I might find and what it could mean. This makes perfect sense, a bag full of American money wrapped in plastic wrap as if someone thought to protect it from getting wet. There is certainly more than a hundred thousand dollars in this bag. So much for my relaxing cruise vacation. My mind races. Obviously, I can’t stay in this awesome Stateroom. Am I in danger here? Everything has changed. What exactly have I gotten myself involved in?!