Matroska emerged from the main hatchway looking imposing as ever.  He
didn't seem to have a bag or a change of clothing or anything really
that Danes could discern, except for that blacker-than-black coat he
eternally wore.  He had never asked to use the laundry or shower as
far as Danes knew.  Yet as Danes saw him walking towards him in the
early dawn light he looked as composed and fresh (if that word could
ever be used to describe Matroska's appearance) as he had the first
day they had met, deep in the forests of Colombia.  He was indeed a
mystery.  Danes didn't get any time to speculate further as Matroska
reached his side.

Danes spoke, ``The dinghy's in the water ready and waiting.''
Matroska nodded.  ``Down the ladder at the stern, you first, be my
guest.''  Matroska said nothing, but complied.  There was a loud
sputtering (TODO, what's it called?) followed by a low thrum as the
dinghy's outboard motor coughed into life.  Es had taken the liberty
of climbing down into the dinghy and getting everything ready for
them.  She was seated in the driver's position in the stern with her
right hand on the outboard tiller and left on the port gunwale.  She
stared up at them with a meek look (or what she presumed a meek look
would be) on her face.  ``And where do you think you're going young
lady?'' enquired Danes with a slight grin on his face.  She was
nothing if not bold.

``Uh, I just though I could drive you guys to the dock you know?
You're the captain and a captain shouldn't have to drive himself
right?  And that guy,'' she cocked her head in Matroska's general
direction, ``doesn't look much like he's into dinghy driving to me!''
Danes looked down on her, exasperared.  What was he going to do?  She
wasn't a child anymore (if she had ever been) and it wasn't like Grand
Cayman was the most dangerous place they'd been lately (not for her
anyway).  She must have sensed that she was wearing him down since she
increased the meekness level on her face (trying hard to mask a grin)
even further and continued, trying hard to keep pleading out of her
voice, ``Oh please Danes, I'll stay with the dinghy I promise!  You
need someone to guard it anyway, who knows what people might do around
here.  Uh, not that there would be anyone dangerous around, I just
mean, a lot of theives, or...something,'' she trailed off, obviously
not sure if she'd blown her chance or not.

Danes sighed (this was becomeing a habit), ``OK, you can drive us, but
stay with the dinghy OK?  No following us!  And make sure you have
your phone with you in case of an emergency.''  She lit up and a broad
grin cracked across her face.

``Aye Cap'n!  Won't let you down, already got everything I need.''
She looked very pleased with herself sitting there.

``We might be a few hours, go pack some water and something to eat.  I
don't want you wandering off anywhere.''  Danes sounded more stern
than he wanted to really.  He was just feeling so stressed about this
whole Matroska business.  He hoped he didn't come off sounding too
harsh on her but he really just didn't want to risk anything happening
and couldn't spend time worrying about her safety when he should be
focusing all his attention on his own.  She'd be OK though.  He made a
mental note to send a text to Hans telling him to keep an eye on her
from the kill-9.  Es grinned broader and nudged a small brown bag
under her seat with her foot.

``All here.'' she said.  Danes couldn't help but return the grin.
Planned it from the beginning of course.  She was turning out quite a
bit like him when he was young.

They seated themselves to evenly distribute their weight in the
dinghy, now getting a little crowded.  Danes in the bow, Matroska,
clearly the largest, amidships, and Es driving in the stern.  The
journey from the kill-9 to the shore was a short one.  Only a few
minutes or so with the George Town skyline before them, lit up from
behind by the blazing Caribbean dawn sun.  It was not a large town,
only around 30,000 people called it home, but it was certainly the
largest in the Cayman islands with around half the population residing
here.  But the significance of this small town in the world of
international finance was huge.  Due to the country's somewhat
favourable attitude taxation and business it has been used by
corporations and persons the world over as a convenient place to store
funds which they may not want the governments of their native lands to
know about.  This applied equally of course to legitimate, and perhaps
not so legitimate businesses (and that line can be quite blurry at
times Danes had found out).  It was for that reason that Danes
suspected that he had been sent here with Matroska.  The Black Hat
Freelancers were suspected to control funds to the tune of trillions
of euros from behind the scenes.  But they never wanted to be seen in
clear daylight, preferring the shadows.  So one of them might want a
more discreet way to enter that country than a first-class flight in.
Surely Matroska or Hernandez or whomever had sent a little something
the way of customs as they certainly hadn't been bothered by them thus
far, and Danes doubted that they would be.  That would make a nice
change, but it did nothing to assuage the knot slowly forming in his
gut.

They arrived at a small jetty in front of a fancy restaraunt.  Even at
this early hour there were people out and about.  Early risers going
about their morning errands.  Es killed the motor and Danes made the
dinghy fast and climbed up a small ladder and onto the jetty.
Matroska followed him silently, as ever his face an impenetrable blank
mask.  Danes thought he must have been sweltering under that heavy
black coat but he never once broke a sweat or gave any indication that
he was in any way uncomfortable.

Danes turned and looked back down at Es, sitting quietly and
innocently in the dinghy.  Perhaps a little too innocently he thought,
and hoped that she wasn't going to do anything dangerous.  No thinking
about that now.  Now is the time for focus.  He took a deep breath and
let it out slowly.  Here we go.  ``We'll be back soon sweetie.
Shouldn't be longer than a couple of hours, ok?''  He had no idea how
long they would be, but it felt reassuring just to say it.

``No worries, I'll be fine.  I'm 13 you know!''  She grinned and
added, ``Have fun boys!'' cheekily.  Danes could see Matroska waiting
patiently (Or impatiently?  Who could tell?) out of the corner of his
eye.  She would be fine.  She was more capable than Danes ever was at
that age, but he couldn't help but think of that fragile broken
creature he found in his engine room all those years ago.  The
contrast was night and day.  No trace of that former self here, but
still...  He quickly turned on his heel and strode off down the jetty.
Matroska caught up within two strides and took the lead, his long
black coat sweeping out behind him in his haste.