Emily stirred sleepily beside me.“Not this time darling, here, this is for you,” he said, handing me a large envelope.I opened it. It contained a single sheet of paper, and two keys. The apartment was the penthouse. Large, and filled with light. The furniture was stylish. I read the letter again, then handed it to Emily. We sat together on the sofa, too stunned to say anything. “Lets go for a drink,” I said. “A walk and a drink.”We walked, arm in arm. Silently. It was a while before I realised that we were still dressed in the clothes we had worn when we left our client in Baku. No wonder we were getting some very admiring looks. Heels, tight mini skirts, and clingy tops. We sat outside a pub, two untouched glasses of sparkling wine on the table in front of us. Someone stood between us and the sun, which was low in the sky. They didn’t move. I looked up, squinting into the light.“Natasha?” A familiar voice said, Natasha, is that really you?”For the second time that day, I was stunned. . twins ... were started and the now very liquid mud of the estuary allowed forward progress. The main outfall channel was only 20 yards away and the sailboat forced its way into the channel. The tug pulled her over the bar and into the harbor.I paid the tug owner. We motored to the only remaining Texaco diesel fueling station, filled up and motored out of the bay and around to Auckland. We already had the ownership papers for the yacht but I was sure the city fathers would find some way to bilk us of more money ... it was too easy removing the boat.The first mile in open water, we had left a grey streak as the clean ocean water flushed the estuary mud out of the cooling passages in the Atlas-Imperial 6ES668 six cylinder inline diesels.Upon arrival in Auckland, we visited with the sailmaker; Andressen, Ltd. The sails were ready to ship, Andressen was awaiting developments. Everything had been paid for when ordered. Picking them up at the sail loft saved us freight.Vellamo III was one.
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