Chapter 5 - The Power of Positive Thinking

"Lee." A familiar voice chimed behind him. He whirled around and pulled her into his arms, almost pulling her under.

"I thought you were dead." He brushed the tangle of wet hair out of her eyes. "I thought . . ."

Teeth chattering, she smiled at him. "Nope. Gosh, Lee, you can let go now--you're going to sink us."

Lee pushed her toward the life jacket bobbing several yards away. Inexplicably, she fought him when he tried to pull it around her. "Lee, what about you?"

Ignoring her, he fastened it around her thin frame. "You wear the jacket, and I'll hold on to you. If we don't move too much, it should keep both our heads out of the water."

He turned Amanda around and pulled her close, until their noses were inches apart. "You scared me to death. What happened to the ropes?"

"Survival swimming."

"Wh-at?"

"Survival swimming," she repeated. "Dean and I took a course once, you know--how to survive if your fishing waders fill up with water and you s . . . sink to the bottom of a lake, or . . . um . . . what to do if you are pulled overboard by a sailfish and t . . . tangled in the line--and other things."

"Wha-aat?" she sputtered. "Don't look at me like that, you knew we used to go fishing."

Lee smiled at her exasperation. "And just where did you learn these useful survival skills?"

"In the pool at the YMCA. They have these classes--"

"Maybe the Agency should send all its agents to the 'Y,'" he said, shaking his head. He brushed her cheek with his fingers, then pulled his fingers away. Her skin was so cold.

"I started to . . . to panic, you know, and I thought the ropes were really loose, but when they got wet . . . "

After a moment, she took a deep breath and continued as he nodded encouragement, "Well, then I remembered the class. They teach you not to panic. It was harder than I thought, but once I relaxed, I got the ropes off. I saw you looking down at me . . . I'm so sorry I scared you, I thought that they . . . they . . . might shoot me if they knew I was loose, so I swam next to the boat. They would've had to lean over to see me. I pu--put the rope in my pocket so it wouldn't float out and give me away."

"I stay--stayed there until the engine started, then I swam over to you." She added, almost as an afterthought, "It's pu--pretty cold, isn't it?"

He pulled her closer. "Yeah. It is. They said you got to the radio."

"Yeah, I sent out an SOS, but I don't know if . . . if . . . it will reach anyone, or even if it all went through. Yuri found me before I could finish. Will the Agency be looking for us? I thought that the message I left on the voice mail system would have brought help." Amanda leaned into his embrace.

Lee told her the truth. "I don't know. It's not just about us, though--I failed. They got away with the Phial. Maybe the Agency will be able to stop them, but . . ." Doubt rested on his shoulders, pulling him down. "I failed."

"Maybe the boat will come back."

Lee heard the familiar optimism in her voice. The unsinkable Amanda King. The truth could be hard, sometimes. "I don't think so, Amanda. I can't think of any reason why they would do that."

"Well, I can think of one."

She reached under the life vest, into her shirt, and dug around, then raised her hand out of the water. The Phial nestled on her palm. "They should know better than to leave stuff just lying around."

"Where did you find it?"

"On the bridge, after I got out of the closet."

"What were you doing in the--oh, never mind, you can tell me later." Lee plucked the Phial from her palm and gazed at it for a moment, then tucked it into his shirt. He wrapped both arms around her and squeezed. When she hissed and flinched away, he loosened his grip. "Amanda, are you okay?"

"Just hurts a little, that's all," she said. "It's okay, really."

He shifted his grip away from her ribs and grasped the lifejacket instead. "You're amazing. You know that?"

Amanda pulled a lock of sodden hair away from her eyes. "Gee, thanks, 'bout time you noticed."


Francine finished tearing strips out of the new operator. "Forget the excuses--just forward the message to Mr. Melrose's office. No, here, let me do it." She leaned across the desk and batted the flustered woman's hands away from the switchboard. "Billy," she called, as she spotted him crossing the Bullpen. "Emergency--your office."

After giving the operator a final "I'll deal with you later" glare, she almost ran to join him, all decorum forgotten.

"Sir," she started, as he shut the door to his office. "Amanda left a message on the secured voice mail line, requesting backup at the Bayside Docks, Number3c. The timestamp places the call at eight-seventeen p.m."

Billy glanced at his watch. "It's eleven forty-five p.m. now. Get that backup rolling. Grab a pilot--you and I'll take the chopper."


"Amanda?" Lee's insistent voice cut through the fog. "Amanda, pay attention. You said your class taught you other things. What other things?"

"Hmmm?" Why was everything so fuzzy? There was something important, something hovering just on the edge of her memory. What was it? "Huddle!"

"What?"

"H-u-d-d-l-e." It was important for Lee to understand. "It's cold."

"Amanda, I know it's cold."

"I . . . I mean, it's really cold. Cold enough . . . hypothermia. If . . . if we stay very still and huddle together, we'll last longer."

His strong arms pulled her close. "No problem, I think we can do that. What else?"

It was getting harder to concentrate. Was it the cold? She'd often wondered what it would be like to be engulfed by these arms, for more than a brief moment. This wasn't exactly how she'd envisioned it.

"What else, Amanda? Come on, stay with me."

She was with him. "Um, the life jacket can ... can keep you going fifty percent longer. Lee, you don't have one. I have to . . ." She fumbled with the straps, until his hand closed over hers.

"No, leave it." His breath was warm against her ear. "It's okay. You're feeling the cold more than I am."

"'Cause I'm smaller. Thin cools faster than fat."

"See, it evens out." He snuggled even closer. "Hey, lady, are you calling me fat?"

She shook her head. None of this would do much good. She knew how long they had.


Ordering a final pass over the deserted dock, Billy Melrose felt the familiar lump in the pit of his stomach--his agents were in trouble. Again. Even with Amanda's steadying influence, the Scarecrow seemed hell-bent on self-destruction. Popping a handful of Tums into his mouth, he stared at the water rushing below.

Francine tapped his arm.

"The Coast Guard is relaying an S.O.S.," Francine turned her head and covered her other ear, trying to hear over the thump of the helicopter's blades. "It's Amanda and Lee! They're on a yacht called 'Wild Witch' headed for international waters to rendezvous with a Russian freighter." She pulled a pad of paper from the pocket behind the pilot's seat and began to write. She tore off the top sheet and handed it to the pilot. "These are their last co-ordinates."

The pilot shook his head, shouting over the noise, "It's going to be difficult to spot them in the dark. We can try to triangulate their projected position and travel along the same path."

"Do it," Billy ordered.


Lee jumped when Amanda's icy fingers fumbled with his belt. "Wha-aat . . . what are you doing?"

She gave his belt another jerk. "I just remembered . . . rope . . . in my pocket, and I want to tie . . . us together. Help me . . . get it tight."

He pulled the cord through his belt, up through a loop at the bottom edge of her life jacket, and tugged, stopping when his weight began to drag her lower in the water. Feeling some relief from the constant downward drag, he tied it off.

"Good," she whispered. "I was worried . . . I don't want you to get too tired. Don't want us to drift apart."

He was feeling the cold now, too. Body and soul.

Her eyes closed, and he felt her tension drain away. He was almost surprised when she added, "I waited in the car--this time." She drooped in his arms.

"No! No, you don't. Amanda, you need to stay awake for me. Understand?"

"M'not so cold anymore," she said. She was no longer shivering.

"Amanda, stay with me." He shook her until she opened her eyes. "Listen to me. I need you to do something for me. Please?"

"'Kay."

Her voice was too weak. How could he keep her connected? "Listen, I want you to think of something positive. Just one thing, understand?"

"Why?"

"Just do it, okay?"

She snuggled closer and rested her head on his shoulder. He was about to panic, when she whispered, "Mr. Positive, huh?"

"You know me. All right, do you have one?" He waited for her answer. As the seconds turned into minutes, the cold pierced his heart.

"Mmm, okay."

Some of the ice must have melted, because his blood pounded in his chest. She was still with him. "Now keep that in your mind and forget about everything else. No cold, no fear, just that one image." As she relaxed in his arms, a ghost of a smile played across her lips, and he wondered what she was thinking.

"How 'bout you?"

"I'm working on it." Lee rested his cheek on the top of her head. Why couldn't he think of anything? Just one positive thing. He couldn't focus. Give it up, Stetson. Why fight it? You failed her, just like you failed Jacob. And Dorothy. He thought of the women he'd dated and the places he'd seen, the excitement and duty--his entire life in an instant. But he couldn't fix on one positive thought to carry him through.

So, he stopped trying and just concentrated on holding Amanda. Just that. He emptied his mind, trying to let go of the guilt and fear. It no longer mattered, really. In the silence, from the murky depths of his despair, one thought formed in his mind, pushing back the cold. Strange. Why was that image so strong? It didn't make any sense, but he gave himself to it.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. And dreamed of warm oatmeal cookies.


Billy re-focused his binoculars and squinted through the eyepieces. Still nothing.

"This is like searching for a needle in a haystack--a cold, wet haystack." Francine scanned the water below. "Traveling on a line from the docks to these co-ordinates, we should've seen something. What does Amanda know about navigation, anyway? Do you think she could have made a mistake?"

"No."

"Billy, so far we've seen four sailboats and a barge, but nothing like the yacht Amanda described."

"Keep looking."

The helicopter's spotlight swept back and forth ahead of them, and they trained their binoculars on the wide expanse below.

There, this one seemed to match the description. Its size was right, and its location would place it within the projected search grid, but it was heading in the wrong direction. He signaled the pilot to drop down and re-focused.

"Billy, it's going the wrong way--it can't be the right one. Why would they turn around?"

"Just humor me," he said, ". . . a little closer."

Resting the binoculars on his knee, he leaned back into his seat and nodded. "It's the 'Wild Witch.' How close is the Coast Guard?"

"Less that a mile away."

"Good, let's get our people."


The cold water had drained most of his strength and all of his hope. Supported by his link to Amanda's life jacket, Lee had just enough strength to keep his arms around her frigid, still body and hold on. He resettled her against his chest, trying to ignore the blue tinge around her lips, just visible in the reflected moonlight. Brushing a lock of wet hair away from her forehead, he nestled her head against his shoulder and closed his eyes, treading water with his last whisper of strength.

Faint at first, then with increasing strength, the insistent thump and whir of approaching blades invaded the silence. The music of angels, coming to guide them home.