PART III
It wasn't a boat.
The vessel they approached was a yacht - a super yacht. Joanne had seen one like this before on YouTube. Her dad had shown her a video of the same model that towered majestically before her: a Sunseeker 131 called the ZOZO. They would fantasize what it would be like to travel the world on a craft such as this. "How the other half live!" they had laughed.
The remnants of the fiery sunset had turned everything pink orange, adding somehow even more to the yacht's splendor in the waning light.
Moored alone on its own guest slip, it was too large to fit anywhere else, dwarfing the others nearby. When he had gestured vaguely towards the rows of boats along the piers, she had figured that Julian's rested somewhere among those.
Joanne noticed that there was no name stamped along the side, as was common in most sea going vessels.
"It doesn't have one. I was asked during the remodeling if I cared to call 'her' by a name, which I remember distinctly telling the man that the craft was an inanimate object for transport, nothing more. 'Her', indeed!" Julian huffed, inclining his head toward the entrance. "Shall we?"
The interiors were absolutely exquisite; Joanne had never seen anything like it, and found it hard to put into words. There was nothing nautical about it, as though a first rate penthouse had been crafted and set inside. Everything was bespoke, down to the last detail in every room. Even Henry and each of the crew and catering members had their own quarters. Julian had hired them for the summer during his stay there
The whole thing was spectacular, even more so than the ZOZO. Julian had had the whole vessel refitted to his liking as well as his needs, which included a complete remodeling of the upper deck to include a helipad.
"Really? Why do you need a chopper? This not fast enough?" she joked.
Rolling his eyes, he retorted drily, "In my line of work, I could be called upon at any given time, therefore the need for instant transport."
"Ah. You still haven't told me exactly what you do. Considering the grilling about my past earlier, I think you owe me that."
"Right you are!" he boomed. "Not this evening, though. I really must get you home so that we may be on our way. I would however, like to invite you to my home on Patos sometime. We can circle the island by boat and explore the interior via Land Rover. From most vantage points, the lighthouse there is quite scenic." This was the happiest Joanne could remember seeing him.
"Possibly after my next appointment on Thursday?" he added hopefully.
Excited already, she replied, "That would be wonderful. If it's after work, I assume it would be an overnight trip?" Considering he owned the entire island, she expected his house had more than one bedroom.
He confirmed this, smiling broadly. "That it would. My home is quite spacious. You would have your own suite of rooms, and just to be clear, I have no romantic notions or carnal inclination toward you, Joanne. I will behave in only the most gentlemanly manner. "
The serious countenance was back as he gazed intently at her, his dark eyes shining with promise. A certain attraction lie between them, she was sure. It was a relationship to savor in the long term and not something to be rushed. Even if they remained only platonic friends, Joanne would treasure it, and was sure that Julian would as well. She had no doubt he would be only the most gracious of hosts during her stay on Patos.
A cab was called to take Joanne home. Objecting when Julian gave the driver his card number to charge the fare, she reluctantly acquiesced at his stern look. "You will pay for nothing when you are with me, Miss Hartwell." It seemed Julian reverted back to formalities when arguing a point.
Taking her hand in his, he said gently, " Καληνύχτα φίλε μου. Ανυπομονώ να σας ξαναδώ."
" Kalinýchta, good night. I recognize that. What's the rest?"
"It means, Good night, my friend. I greatly look forward to seeing you again." His eyes held hers.
"What you said last week at the end of the visit was also something along the same lines, yeah?"
"Correct. I believe my exact words were: " ήταν υπέροχο που σε γνώρισα. Καληνύχτα. Μέχρι να συναντηθούμε ξανά, or ' it was lovely meeting you;' 'Have a good night,' and 'Until we meet again.'"
"Yes! That was it! I only recognize 'Good Night' and 'Filo' which is 'friend'. How did you come to speak Greek? It's not the most common language outside of that country."
"My mother was from the Greek island of Kos. Yes, I am half Greek. The rest of me is pure English."
Anticipating her further questions, he held up a hand. "We will have all next weekend to get to know one another, Joanne. In the meantime, I must bid you goodnight. There are a few phone calls and other business matters that need tending to, as it is currently around midday in Australia."
"A working vacation, eh?" she laughed.
"Alas, mine isn't the kind of work one can take a vacation from. Now, in you go. Text me to let me know you've arrived home safely."
"It's only ten minutes away.."
"Joanne. Humor me?" His stance brooked no argument.
"Ok, ok. Hey, thanks for the dinner and showing me around the Sunseeker. It's lovely."
She couldn't bring herself to tell him she'd had a good time during the dinner. He nodded, understanding. "Again, I am sorry for the painful conversation during dinner, but it really was necessary. I hope that I can make it up to you?"
"I'm sure you will. We'll have an extended weekend. I really am looking forward to it, Julian." Sincerity shown in her eyes that she had indeed understood why he'd needed to question her, especially with her checkered past.
For a moment, Julian looked almost overcome with emotion as relief and disbelief that she would so easily forgive him flashed across his face, as well as something else she couldn't quite identify. Before she could sort them out, he was guiding her into the back of the cab.
"καληνύχτα και κοιμήσου καλά, κορίτσι μου," he said, softly squeezing her hand and closing the door behind her.
"Goodnight and sleep well, my girl."
The overnight bag was packed with a few days worth of clothes. Julian had texted her asking if she cared to make it a long weekend. She had Friday's off unless they needed her at Dr. Packman's downtown clinic. After confirming it with her boss, she informed Julian that it was a go. They were to leave right after his appointment Thursday evening. She was beside herself with excitement. It was more than just traveling on a multimillion dollar yacht with its own helicopter, or the fact that Julian owned his own island.
For the first time in decades, she finally had a newfound friend, and one for life, at that. This brought the count of true friends up to about 5. Having been tested and proved trustworthy, Joanne knew he would be a good and loyal friend in return. She remembered a saying she had heard once: There is no U-Haul behind a hearse. The rest was just extra, merely trappings. The soul and friendship were forever.
Joanne brought her duffel bag to work so no time would be wasted getting to the island. Locking the clinic door behind her, she joined Julian in the cab on the way to the yacht. She couldn't bring herself to call that floating palace a mere boat. Henry had remained behind onboard to conclude by phone some business Julian was conducting overseas.
"I knew he was more than just your transport coordinator!" Joanne crowed.
"Did you, now?" he chuckled. "Yes, he certainly is more than that. Henry is my right arm in all business transactions, and operates as my assistant for managing the governmental affairs."
Joanne eyed him eagerly. "Ah, now we get to the interesting part. What kind of governmental affairs?" she probed.
"Oh, this and that," he replied with an exaggerated look of detachment.
"Hey! No fair! You promised I'd get to know everything about you!" she huffed.
"Not everything," Julian quipped. "There are some things in my profession that must, alas, remain secret, even to you I'm afraid."
"Ok. What can you tell me, then? You know I can keep a secret."
Smiling indulgently, Julian proceeded to describe in light detail his work as a government official as they pulled up to the pier.
"The work I do closely resembles that of an intelligence analysis. My cousin Mycroft also does the same. We tend to work behind the scenes in governmental affairs. That is why you will never hear our names mentioned in the papers or in the nightly news. Our respective governments and other people of influence come to us when they need certain types of advice, such as tying multiple events together to create the big picture, as well as predicting various outcomes for different events." Julian paused as the cab pulled up along the waterfront.
He continued as they walked along the pier, the yacht just ahead.
"Our work goes beyond top secret- for example, you will not find our names listed publicly in the who's who on government websites. You will find all cabinet members and those of Parliament listed up and down the chain of command, all the way on up to the prime minister. But you will never find a Holmes listed there."
Joanne listened, fascinated. She was about to ask more questions when Julian gave her a warning look. Approaching the craft, Henry and the crew awaited them. They would discuss this later.
Greetings and introductions were made all around as they made their way onboard the beautiful vessel. She would never get used to this!
"Do you remember where the sleeping quarters are?" Julian asked.
"Yes. My room is on the level below yours, I think?"
"Correct. Go ahead and stow your things in the guest cabin, then come join me on the upper deck. Travel time should be four and a half hours."
The ensuite was just as she remembered on the initial tour: sleek, modern and elegant, it was a five star hotel room in miniature. As is the entire yacht, she thought. Dropping her things on the bed, Joanne reasoned there was no need to unpack for a for hour trip, and quickly rushed back upstairs.
She found Julian at a table on the outside deck. The catering staff were pouring champagne and serving hors d'oeuvres.
"Where do they stay the rest of the time while you're on Patos and not traveling?" she ask after they disappeared back inside.
"On the boat, of course. For most of them, it's a seasonal job; they are always available when needed." Spearing a tender piece of crabmeat marinated in butter and other tasty herbs, he waved it in front of her nose. "Try some. I know you're not keen on seafood, but the cook would be most put out if you didn't."
It was wonderfully presented, and it did look tasty.. Well, far be it for Jo to disappoint the chef or anyone else.
The flavor and firm textures were exquisite, like everything else surrounding Julian. She especially appreciated cucumber and apple, as well as the hint of lemon. Humming in approval, Joanne added a few pieces from the main dish to her plate.
"It's wonderful, Julian. He must be a world famous chef," she said, laughing.
"Not world famous, no, but Mr. Rosini is a good friend of mine, as well asa five star Michelin chef who has served on some of the top class cruise ships. He's works part time now, and was quite excited to take a summer holiday here in the Sound."
"Nice! You sure know how to travel in style, I'll give you that, Julian! This really is good. And now, can we continue our earlier discussion?" she pressed.
Julian raised his eyebrows in mock forgetfulness. "Oh? Which subject was that?" he asked, reaching for the salad.
"Your job, or the vague details of it anyway. I know it's top secret and all." Smiling but persistent, Joanne wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily. "You said you were a type of intelligence analyst?"
"That is correct, or at least, something along those lines. As I said, people will come to either my cousin Mycroft or I when things cannot be sorted by themselves. It's atrocious how blind most world leaders and politicians are." He shook his head irritably. "What is clear to a Holmes is not so for the rest, apparently. Goldfish, all of them. Except you," he said pointedly, again piercing her with that intense gaze.
"Goldfish? Hmm. If everyone is a goldfish then, what does that make you?"
Slowly savoring the champagne, Julian considered this.
"Not having studied marine life extensively, I shall have to choose from the few aquatic specimens I do know. Let's see, now. Ah! I can tell you what species you would be, Joanne."
He did it again! The man was a master at parrying questions the way a fencer avoided his opponent. And again, curiosity got the better of her.
Giving in once more, she asked "What kind?"
"A Siamese fighter fish, also known as The Beta Splendens. They are quiet and unassuming, until provoked. They come in many forms, and are really quite beautiful." He pronounced Beta in Queens English: Beeta.
"Yes, I know them. Hey, you still didn't answer my question!"
"Persistent, as well," he added. " Julian brought his hands up in defeat. "I do not have one for myself, not of the seafaring variety anyway. I can tell you however, that my name in the Intelligence community is Ursus Magnum."
"Big Bear? Yeah, that suits you. How did you acquire that one?"
Julian raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Do you know Latin?"
"No, but it's similar in Italian. Urus, Orso. Similar. Magnum, magnitude - something large." She shrugged. Julian again looked impressed. "Of course," he said, nodding. "Italian is Latin based."
He continued: "When my cousins and I were children, we taught ourselves Latin - It was one of the few languages our parents did not speak. Ours is a family of polyglots. In any case, when communicating a message between ourselves, it was in Latin. If I remember correctly, little Sherlock at the time would tackle me to the floor, repeatedly calling me 'Big Bear'. It stuck, and subsequently became my codename during top secret missions later on."
Julian slowly stood and made his way to the railing. "The old back and legs are not what they used to be," he commented.
Joanne joined him, looking out over the water. Islands and peninsula's drifted by at a quick pace. The sunset once again bathed the landscape in bright oranges, purples and reds. She could literally taste each color as they swirled around her taste buds.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Julian glanced down at her, watching the hues of the sky reflected on her face.
"Just thinking of how I can taste the sunset. Seriously, I could eat it."
"Ah. The vivid colors are affecting your senses tonight," he stated. She nodded. "Tell me, what is it like? I'm fascinated by this unique ability, Joanne."
"Yeah. Everyone is. I don't know how much you go on the 'net, but a lot of people are making this thing a kind of fad. To be honest, I don't know how common Synesthesia is. In the past, it was almost unheard of. Now more people are coming out with it. All I know is, when I was younger everyone always looked at me weird when I'd discussed it, so I stopped. Always thought I was a kind of freak until learning I wasn't the only one." She paused, pulling her coat more tightly around her. The wind was beginning to whip her hair and the water below.
"As for what it's like," she went on "it's hard to put into words. Colors have taste and textures. The sunset for instance. Have you ever had a bowl of rainbow sherbet? I can actually taste and feel it on my tongue: cold, smooth, tart and sweet at the same time. There is almost a grittiness to it in some of the cloud textures, especially as it reflects on the waves. Also, it's not just visual stimulation, but audio, too. That side of things are less pleasant."
"How so?"
"Sound and texture are nearly the same for me. I feel it. Loud noises are literally painful. I put tape across the doorbell at my apartment. The suddenness of a loud sound brings on a migraine, and believe me, it's loud! There is something about the pitch or frequency of it that feels as though I'm being hit over the head. I imagine it's something like the police or military sound deterrent system. Hmm. Another example of this would be loud cars. The engine sounds like large boulders and rocks rubbing together, and I feel as though they are pelting me, as well. Again, hard to explain."
He nodded. "And you've had this gift since you were around five?"
She remembered Julian had stated earlier that he had all her files, including she surmised, that of her family's counseling sessions during her early childhood.
"Unfortunately, yes. And it's more a curse than a gift. It takes a lot to tune things out, especially the audio side. When I need to go into the city, a store or somewhere there are large gatherings, I always bring my headphones. It helps, but then there's the claustrophobia of too many bodies around me while shopping. I have to focus on something in the cart to help tune them out."
"Understandable. Tell me, do you still draw the pictures?"
Wow. Julian had been very thorough in his research. Joanne was glad they were friends and not enemies. She couldn't imagine the damage he would do to someone who crossed him.
"I've not thought of those since that time," she said. "It's been so long. They weren't much, really. Have you ever seen those adult coloring books? They weren't around when I was growing up, but they had one pagers like them on cardboard backing. The black negative spaces were velvet. You bought one and it came with a few markers." She smiled, remembering. "They were relaxing to do. After completing a few, I realized I could write a color coded message in it. Unfortunately, it was only some days later I couldn't remember where the message was at inside of all those colors. They were intricate designs, so there was a lot to get lost in."
"I'm sure. Though I've not seen one myself, the description from your files was quite accurate."
About to ask how much of her troubled past he knew about, a gust of wind came up, nearly knocking Joanne backward. Julian steadied her, and they went inside to the lounge area. One of the waiters anticipated their entrance, proffering a hot pot of coffee and Julian's favorite Greek pastry, a full plate of Baklava cut into little squares.
"Baklava! I love this stuff. First time I had it was when I was stationed in Italy. One of our Greek patients who came for treatment once a month on the ferry would bring a whole pan of it. Always looked forward to her visits."
They dug into the sweet, sticky pastry while enjoying also the strong Turkish coffee. Julian wasn't sure if it would be too strong for her, as it was much stronger than even the Italian espresso she had enjoyed overseas.
"No, it's great. The stronger the better; and great for migraine prevention!"
He looked at her in concern. "Do you feel one coming on?" he asked gently.
"No! Not at all. But it is good for that kind of thing. Ah, they really do think of everything!" she added as the waiter returned with sweet, thick cream. Joanne liked her coffee robust, it was true, but this kind needed to be mellowed with cream. "Thanks Sam!" She remembered his name after being introduced to the staff earlier.
He was a young man, probably no more than twenty five. His red auburn hair and freckles were set off by the recessed downlights in the ceiling above. Joanne detected a Scottish burr in his accent. "You're very welcome, Miss Hartwell. " Glancing between her and his employer he asked, "Is there anything else I can get for you both?"
"That will be all for now Samuel, thank you," Julian stated, turning back to the flaky dessert.
He bowed to them before turning to leave, the very picture of hospitality.
"From Scotland?" Jo asked, indicating the retreating figure.
"Indeed. Samuel is not one of the normal hired staff, but a member of the Compton family. They have served ours for over one hundred years. In fact, he is the grandson of Wilson Compton Senior, who currently works for my cousin, Mycroft. Both he and his son, Wilson the Second, are employees there. The father oversees Mycroft's estates, acting as well as the gardener. Wilson II is my cousin's chauffer."
Julian proceeded to describe the history between their two families, as well as a bit about the Holmes history.
"We grew up together as children, Mycroft, Sherlock and I. Our fathers were brothers. Of course, mine passed away some time ago, he being the elder of the brothers. In fact, most of them have gone now. Uncle Rudy was the middle brother. He remained single his entire life. It was his home, in fact, that Mycroft inherited, though that is not the only residence my cousin owns." Here he paused, looking quite proud of himself. "I had a bit of an influence on him in that respect. Both Mycroft and I are heavily into real estate, which is where much of our wealth was accumulated. It is our goal to invest in the old grade II properties before they are bought and 'remodeled'. Julian spat out this last word, his nose wrinkling in disdain.
"Can't stand remodeled buildings - most don't invest the quality back into them." Jo stated.
Julian became quite animated. "Exactly! Restoration to as close as possible to the original design of the buildings. My cousin feels as I do, that it is quite an atrocity to destroy the character of these grade I and II places. This is why we've invested quite a lot of money and time into them. Though he owns and lives in a few..five residents in London, as I recall, and three country estates, he is also part owner with the National Trust of more than thirty country estates, as well as many more in London and other cities across the UK."
"I take it the Trust keeps things traditional, then? No one can buy and modernize them?"
"Quite so. It also takes some of the financial burden away, allowing him to acquire and restore others. I also own a few, though not on the scale of my cousin, sadly. He's surpassed even me in that department, I'm afraid."
"What about his brother Sherlock? Did he also go into real estate?"
A hearty guffaw erupted from deep in Julian's chest.
"Sherlock?! Never! The man wouldn't know a Grade II building from a common flat," he spat indignantly.
"That bad, huh? I take it he and Mycroft don't do the same kind of work."
"Indeed not! Sherlock is not at all suited to government affairs or that of politics. He does on occasion work for his brother in MI6, taking care of the legwork, as Mycroft calls it."
"Mycroft not fond of traveling?"
"Oh, he's well traveled enough, quite so, in fact. He just prefers the diplomatic office kind of work."
"But he does what you do? Works in the British side of Intelligence?"
"Yes, though to be honest, my cousin over the years has become a rather shadowy figure in the background at Whitehall, more so than I. The man behind the curtain, as they say: That's Mycroft. The amount of power he wields is incredible. No, my cousin has far surpassed me in that respect."
"And Sherlock? What's his day job?"
"Consulting Detective, a phrase he coined for himself. He takes cases from only select clients; he is the man people turn to when all others have failed. The New Scotland Yard also defer to him."
"Likes a tough case and nearly unsolvable mystery, then. Sounds pretty smart!"
"But of course! He is a Holmes, after all. Though it is true, Sherlock is also the bane of his older brothers existence. Mycroft has tried for years to get him to settle down into a sedentary, less dangerous job. It's not compatible with his frequent drug binges."
Julian paused, not wanting to bring up the subject of drugs again. He would not hurt her again.
"It's fine, Julian. It is what it is, you know? What kind does he take, if I may ask?"
Walking over to a glass cabinet that had been built into the wall, Julian brought out a cut crystal decanter. Setting it and two crystal glasses in front of her, Julian proceeded to pour them both a drink.
"Sorry. Difficult topic for me, Joanne," was all he said as he sat back in the chair and took a sip. She waited, not rushing him.
Some time passed as Julian's thoughts turned inward, remembering past events. Presently, he looked up, once again piercing her with those dark, intense eyes. Leaning forward he spoke, his voice tight.
"What I am about to tell you must remain a secret, Joanne. You must tell no one, absolutely no one, do you understand me? Not Sherlock or anyone else in the family, should you ever have a chance to meet them."
Knowing she most likely would never meet his English cousins, she held her tongue. Now wasn't the time to argue. If looks could burn, she would have scalded quite badly. His eyes were fire as they held hers.
"You can trust me Julian. Whatever it is you're going to tell me, it won't go beyond this room." She found his hand and squeezed gently. "I promise. You have my word."
Somewhat satisfied, he leant back in the chair once more, as a spasm of pain flickered across his face. Taking a deep breath, he went into detail the sad history of Mycroft, Sherlock, and Eurus.
"Our family is unique, in that we all share vastly high intelligence quotients. Mycroft, and to a lesser extent, Sherlock were both considered remarkable. As I recall, he was only two points less than his older brother. But Eurus.. Her numbers were astronomical. No one was ever sure what her true IQ score was. Described as an era defining genius beyond even Newton, her propensity for violence was also as high. Early on, it manifested itself even before the age of five. It was around that time that Eurus set a series of events in motion, destined to shape my two cousins into the men they are today."
Julian paused, his hand shaking slightly as he took a rather large sip.
"What were their IQ's? How high do those tests go?" she asked.
"Ah. Well the higher a person scores, the higher the genius bracket. In our case, it gets a bit fuzzy at the top, as there are, to my knowledge, none like us." The way Julian said it made this sound like a curse. "You see, when there are no other people in that group to compare it with-"
"There is no yardstick to measure it to," she interjected.
"Precisely. At the time, the highest possible score was 200. I was also evaluated at that age; my number was around 196. When the cousins were tested, Euros was five, Sherlock seven, and Mycroft fourteen. Mycroft's was 198, his brother 196, and Euros.. well, she surpassed them both well into the 220's and possibly higher. Unfortunately for my cousin's family, she turned that terrible genius into something lethal." He went on to describe the disappearance of Victor Trevor, the fire, and at last, her incarceration at Sherrinford.
"Mycroft always blamed himself for that boys death. Victor died before we could ever solve her little riddle. It was only after she began referring to him as 'drowned Red Beard', that we made our deductions and came to the conclusion it was too late."
Joanne wasn't sure which was worse: the drowning of Sherlock's friend or the fire, though awful, did not claim any lives. What Julian said next shocked her even more as he described the brother's memory palace, and how, with the help of Mycroft, Sherlock had rewritten his memories of the traumatic events. "You dealt with your own traumatic memories in a similar way, didn't you?" he said, looking levelly at her.
"How could you possibly know about that? I never mentioned the Ice Pond or any traumatic event during the counseling sessions."
"Ice Pond?"
"That's what I call it, yeah. It's a reverse memory technique unlike the Mind Palace you described. I put the bad ones inside to forget. Unfortunately, I can still see vague shapes below it. I do know something happened, but I couldn't tell you what. All I know is that it was around the time of my mother's ectopic pregnancy, which I didn't know about until years later. The night it happened, I was sent to a baby sitters, one I'd stayed at a couple times before. As to what happened there, no clue. I don't even know if it was that same night, or later on during a different day. I do know the Synesthesia syndrome really took off about that time, and has only gotten worse." She paused, breathless and took a long drink from the glass before bringing the topic back to the beginning.
"So, what kind of drugs does Sherlock take?"
"The bad kind. Believe me, they are not prescription like yours, and have no medicinal value. Mostly cocaine, and sometimes heroin." Julian didn't elaborate, and Joanne didn't push him.
Changing the subject, he inquired again about the picture codes.
"Oh. Those. Not much to tell, really. Like I said, the syndrome got worse at that time, I think I was five?" Julian nodded.
"I was also being bullied in school, why I never knew. The pictures helped because there was a message in there that only I knew about and could see. When I was in second grade, it was encouraged that the classes make something for their teachers on Teachers Day. I was going to do up a nice one, right, but a few days before she'd taken my doll away." She paused as Julian chuckled. "No! I didn't play with them like a normal kid, I created different clothing designs at the time: the dolls were my test models. Anyway, she ticked me off and I colored a nasty message inside. Right before I was due to give it to her though, I chickened out and tossed it in the trash before we came back from recess. I was terrified she would somehow be able to read it. It didn't cross my mind that she didn't know the two ciphers.."
"Two ciphers?" Julian sat back, incredulous. Even with his background in Cryptography and Intelligence, he'd never heard of such a thing.
"Yeah. The first is the actual code. That's just the letters of the alphabet and numbers zero through nine in each of their colors."
Julian was up in a flash and rummaging around in a nearby drawer for a pen and paper.
"Here; write it for me?" he asked, setting them in front of her. "I don't have any markers, I'm afraid."
Joanne looked up from her writing, hearing Julian rapidly texting someone. "It's almost eleven! Who are you texting this late at night?"
"You will have a plentiful set of colored markers by tomorrow waiting at Patos, as well as a few of those intricate coloring books," he said, tapping out a last reply.
"No way! How'd you manage that?! There are no charter boats out to Patos that I know of."
"A combination of Amazon Prime, Henry, and our Captain Louis," was the cryptic response. Was there anything this man couldn't do?
" Now koritsi mou,let's see what we have here," Julian said as he studied the code. Above each letter was written a letter with a number beside it:
y1 b1 gr1 br1 r1 br2 p1 gr2 pr1
I...
"I take it the letters above the alphabet correspond to certain colors?"
"Yes, but rather than write the whole color out, I abbreviated them. The numbers are the sequence they appear along the alphabet, as the colors repeat a few times. Take the letters D and F. Both are almost identical colors in my mind, the same shade of brown. In order to differentiate them in a code, I need to know which one I'm using, hence the 'br' for brown number 1 on D and again for F, but number two."
"Very interesting indeed. And how is this incorporated into a picture?" Julian's eyes gleamed, all traces of their previous sad conversation forgotten. He seemed intent on learning these new ciphers and codes for some reason.
"Well, it's easier to show you..." she began, and was cut short by a large involuntary yawn.
Tamping down his excitement, Julian relented as he folded up the code and tucked it into the pocket in his jacket. "I'd rather you keep this just between us, if you don't mind, Joanne. You never know, it may be needed some day," he added playfully.
Although Joanne hadn't known him very long, she sensed Julian could be an awful tease. Shrugging, she quickly put it out of her mind. It was only later that she realized he hadn't been teasing, after all.
They decided to retire for the last hour and a half to their own quarters for nap, which went by too quickly for Jo. The bed was firm but soft against her back, and the rocking motion of the craft had put her to sleep as soon as she her head hit the pillow.
She was awakened by a soft knock at the door. "Miss Hartwell? Are you up?" It was Henry.
"Yes, coming." Announcing they were arriving at their destination, she hurriedly grabbed her backpack, and despite Henry's protests, helped him up lug it up the stairs. Joanne wasn't used to people doing things for her, and besides, it was heavy with three day's worth of clothes and other things inside - that, and Henry was at least twenty years older than her.
Joining Julian, they watched the crew prepare to dock at the long pier. The Aurora Borealis had also come down to greet them. Normally it wasn't seen this far south, yet here it was. The lights danced by in greens and oranges, blues and yellows. In the dark night sky, it reminded Joanne of a kind of black rainbow.
Another light caught her eye in the distance. It was the lighthouse, perched on the rocky peninsula that jutted out into the waves. Flashes from the brilliant lamp at the top illuminated parts of the while the Northern Lights created a perfect backdrop behind it. She couldn't wait to explore everything.
The gangway clanged as it touched down. "Welcome to your home away from home", Julian murmured, taking her arm in his as he led her onto Patos Island.