Unknown Location
Grim faces stared back at Peter. Eyes gazed straight ahead. Clenching and unclenching fists and set jaws betrayed unease and uncertainty. In Peter's hand gleamed a silver bracelet. It was Robin's tracking bracelet.
"This was buried under her pillow," said Peter. "How did it come off?"
There was no response from Jerry, Ben or Hilda.
"She's been planning and scheming all this time. All under our noses," said Peter. His voice was hoarse from yelling and screaming orders. "I suppose she lost enough weight to slip this off her wrist. Not without pain but possible. And, using Greta's card on the door was opportunistic. What else has she done to prepare for this? What else?"
Jerry the guard said, "We will examine her quarters and-"
"What you will do is scour the city. Have watches at the hospitals, bus and train stations, the ferries and the airport," said Peter.
"She has no papers to leave," said Ben. "Where could she go?"
"She has a plan. I can feel it," said Peter. "We mustn't underestimate her."
"She will be weak and tired soon like before," said Jerry.
Peter shook his head. "I can't wait for that. Not this time. Go back out there. Look for her. Use dogs. Use scanners. Don't stop until she's found." No one moved. "What are you waiting for? Go!"
Robin jerked awake. Her heart raced. She gulped in air as a swimmer on the last lap of a race. One by one her senses registered her surroundings - the moonlight filtering through the grimy window, the combination of oil and dust that made her nose twitch, the pelting patter of rain on the roof that serenaded her ears, the pervasive chill that made her skin prickle. Her escape had been no dream.
She shivered yet she smiled. A part of her wanted to sing and shout for joy while another part craved rest. The situation being what it was she couldn't indulge either impulse too much. Her body began to tremble.
"Too cold. Get moving and warm up. Have to find a blanket or something," said Robin. She'd seen a light switch earlier but caution made her hesitate to turn on the lights or listen to the battered radio sitting on the bench. She took out the penlight. Its beam aimed at a corner still left unexplored.
She opened a tall metal cabinet. Inside, she found hand tools, powered tools, work gloves, folded canvas tarpaulins, small cans of paint, a large fire extinguisher and at the very bottom several coarse and thick woolen blankets. She took a pair of gloves and the two woolen blankets. The gloves were too large for her small hands but they were better than nothing.
Robin found a narrow closet tucked into the rear wall of the shed. Inside were stored oil stained coveralls, spare clothing and assorted boots. The coveralls were far too large for her. She tried on a plain gray wool vest. It hung low on her frame but it was warm and that was more important. In a pocket, she found three folded up currency bills and some coins. One with a large number five on it and the other two had the number ten. The two coins were both marked with the number five.
"This may be handy," said Robin refolding the bills and returning them to the pocket.
On a high shelf she could make out something sticking out over the shelf's lip. Robin positioned a chair in front of the closet and investigated the top shelf.
"Look what we have here," said Robin. She examined a half loaf of dark rye bread, a full packet of sunflower seeds and an unopened flat bar wrapped in foil. She sniffed the bar cautiously. She knew the smell. "Chocolate." Next to the chocolate was a folded blue bandana and on top of that a plastic wristwatch. The watch's digital display said eleven thirty.
She took down all the items and placed them on the bench beside her backpack. She added the items she found in the bin. Robin glanced out the window again. If the watch was right, then she could expect the driver to return in four to five hours. She had to be ready to move at a moment's notice.
Her wet shoes she stuffed with newspapers she'd found under the bench. It wasn't in English and the alphabet seemed Cyrillic to her but that was pure speculation. She wrapped the shoes in more newspaper and put them on the bottom of the backpack. She added the bread, the second bottle of Baikal, seeds and chocolate bar. It wasn't much but sufficient for emergency rations. On top of the food items, she added the smiley face tee shirt and socks. She wrapped her own wet socks in some newspaper and stuffed that into the bag.
Next, she lay one of the woolen blankets on the bench. She lay her still wet cardigan and long scarf in the blanket then rolled it. From the tool closet, she found some short pieces of thin nylon rope. She tied the rolled up blanket tightly then affixed the blanket to the underside of the backpack.
Robin turned her attention to her clothing. With the wool vest layered over her tee shirt and turtleneck, she felt warm enough inside the shed. She wrapped the bandana tight around her head. The knit cap went over that. The gloves and round sunglasses were stuffed in a pants pocket. The watch was too big for her bare wrist. She affixed it to a belt loop. She put on the brown corduroy jacket.
Robin faced the truck and she spotted the license plate. She memorized the plate. "I'm going to pay you back for everything I took. I will."
She threw the remaining wool blanket, some newspapers and her backpack into the truck. She laid out the newspapers on the floor behind a stack of boxes. It made a cozy nesting spot. She squeezed in with her backpack. Robin draped the blanket over her head and body. She moved and adjusted her body trying for the most comfortable position to doze in.
Something sharp stuck her in her thigh. Robin dug into her front pocket. She came out with Greta's card. Holding it brought forth a rush of dread and suspicion.
"Damn!" Robin turned the card over. She remembered what it looked like. It was a plain blue card with a magnetic stripe on one side and a hologram of a stylized gold hourglass on the front. "Is there a tracking device on this thing?"
In growing panic, Robin hopped off the truck with the card in hand. She was locked into the shed. How could she rid herself of the card? Her eyes searched the shed for a solution. She opened the tool closet and removed a chisel and a mallet.
On the bench, she brought the mallet down on the chisel's handle over and over. Little by little, the chisel's sharp tip tore the card into sharp tiny shards of plastic.
Scooping up the pieces in her hand, Robin opened the window as much as she could. The gusting wind slapped at her face. She stuck her hand out up to her elbow. She felt the wind accept her offering. Shards glittered as they cut through the air in every direction.
Bump!
At the sound, Robin's eyelids fluttered open. They opened fully when she felt a large heavy hand on her shoulder. She recoiled.
"Get away from me!" she cried out. She got to her feet ready for a fight. She berated herself for oversleeping.
The stranger held his arms up and palms open showing her he held no weapons. He backed away. She recognized him. It was the driver. He began to talk but she couldn't understand.
"I don't speak your language," she said. She held out her own hands and open palms to show that she meant him no harm. "I'm American. English."
The grizzled man man in his crumpled coat got off the truck with the agility of a much younger man. Robin watched him as he flipped through a paper. She could hear him muttering. Her nose perked up at the smell of strong coffee.
"Ha!" said the driver. He folded the paper several times before presenting one page with a picture on it to Robin. He pointed at the picture then at Robin.
Robin looked at the picture and smiled. It was a picture of a building with American flags on the outside. The caption said three words she understood 'American consulate Vladivostok.'
"I'm in Vladivostok? Where IS Vladivostok?" She mimicked his earlier sign language by pointing at herself then the picture and nodding. Robin scanned the paper for any more words she understood she had no luck.
The driver looked at her then the picture. He went over to his workbench and sat down on a stool. He seemed to be thinking. Robin put the paper on the bench and studied the driver. She remembered that she was wearing his vest. She fished inside her waist bag and pulled out her bag of currency. She pulled out a wad of euros.
"This ... this is for the vest," said Robin. She held the money in one hand and tapped the vest with her other hand. She repeated it one more time and the driver smiled and nodded. He took the euros. She had a feeling it was more money than he'd seen in a long time.
The older man rummaged in a drawer and came out with a small mug. He opened his thermos and poured coffee into the mug. He slid the mug towards Robin. With his hands, he mimicked drinking the mug.
She took the mug gratefully. Her hands trembled around it's warm comforting base. The first sip was heavenly. Warmth and sensation spread through her body.
The driver pulled the front doors closed and locked it. He placed two fingers across his lips in the universal sign of quiet and secrecy. He tapped his hand on his chest and said "Semyon." He pointed at Robin and quirked an eyebrow.
"Okay, Semyon, I get it," said Robin. She tapped her own chest and said "Robin. Ro-bin."
"Robin Ro-bin," repeated Semyon. His expression was so comical it made Robin laugh.
Semyon showed her the picture in the paper. He pointed at Robin then at the picture. Robin nodded understanding.
With two hands in the air, Semyon pretended to be holding a steering wheel and turning it left and right. He stomped his left foot then his right.
Robin smiled. "Yes, take me to the consulate. Thank you!"
Vladivostok, Russia
Robin gazed out the window of the delivery truck. Semyon had given her a brimmed hat that fit over her knit cap and served to hide enough of her face. She kept her eyes peeled for any of Peter's personnel. They would be scouring the area looking for her by now. She was sure of that.
Idly, she ate some dark bread and cheese that Semyon had given her. It was delicious. Ever since Semyon had watched her take her many pills, he'd plied her with food believing she was very ill. Robin thought it was a sweet gesture and ate and tasted whatever he gave her. Two apples found their way into her pockets for later consumption.
The truck rounded a corner and Semyon pointed at a large building on the right. It was unmistakably the consulate of the United States in Vladivostok. Robin's smile turned to a frown as she spotted the silvery hair of Dr. Peter Sinclair and behind him was Hilda. They were exiting the consulate accompanied by someone likely to have been a consular official.
Robin ducked and slid to the floor of the truck. Frantically, she motioned for Semyon to drive past. Semyon looked puzzled but did as she mimed him to. He drove past the consulate without pausing or even glancing at the imposing building. He was just a normal driver doing his normal job.
Beside him, still crouched on the floor, Robin stewed. Peter had told the consular about the escape of his ill and unbalanced wife. If Robin appeared at the consulate, she had no doubt that she would be turned over to Peter immediately. If one consulate knew, then all the rest of the American consulates and embassies would be informed of the same information. She could not count on help from that corner.
She glanced at her unlikely rescuer - Semyon. She didn't like the thought of what Peter's men would do to the elderly driver if they found out he had helped her. For his own safety, she could not stay with him for very long. She had to get away from Semyon.
From outside the truck window, American voices drifted in. Robin looked out cautiously. A row of tourists were walking along the sidewalk following an animated guide talking non-stop and pointing at various building they passed.
"How perfect," said Robin. She used sign language to tell Semyon to stop so she could get off. She opened the door to get off but stopped herself. She gave Semyon a hug first and a heartfelt "Thank you!" Robin jumped off the truck, shouldered her backpack and checked her waist pack before following and catching up to the tour group.
She heard Semyon's truck rumble away and forced herself to not look back. She had to blend in with the tour group. As they walked, Robin scrutinized the tourists. Fortunately, they were too busy taking pictures, talking and following their guide that they paid little attention to the new addition to their party. Robin noticed many things - purses left unzipped and open, cell phones in back pockets, wallets in obvious places. She didn't want to be a thief but survival was more important.
The group entered a dim church. There were a few people sitting or kneeling in pews. The church's aisles were narrow. The tourists were sometimes bunched close together as their guide led them around the church pointing out artifacts and other items of interest. Robin took the opportunity to filch a wallet from a woman's purse and a cell phone in a case that peeked out from a man's jacket pocket. She said a quick prayer for forgiveness before making her way to the back of the church and the exit.
Outside, she saw no signs of Peter's men. She looked first down one side of the street then another. A sign with a boat on it caught her eye. It was pointed to the right. She turned right and began to walk copying the pace of the other city dwellers. While not a sunny day, the temperature was bearable for her but she had to find a shelter for the night. She stopped at a corner for the traffic light to change. Her hand fingered the cell phone in her pocket. The urge to call someone was overwhelming.
Robin passed a store with finely dressed mannequins in the windows. She went inside and found herself in a department store. With eyes watching everything around her, Robin took the stairs to the second floor then to the third floor. The third floor housed shelves of books. Posters in various languages were tacked on the wall by racks of compact discs. A few people milled around browsing. Robin walked around until she found a secluded corner by the window.
She took out the cell phone. She checked out the most recent outgoing calls and was relieved to see that the phone's owner had called an American number previously. The phone stored the correct dialing prefix codes. Robin took a deep breath then dialed a number she had long ago memorized.
With her back pressed against the window and her eyes scanning the book area for danger, Robin waited as the phone rang once then twice.
"Port Charles Police Department. Jardane speaking," said Sergeant Walter Jardane.
Robin fought hard to keep her voice calm. "C-c-commissioner Malcolm Scorpio, please."
"He's not in yet. Would you like to leave a message?"
"No. Yes. Um, tell him that ... that his niece Robin called from ... from this number."
"Miss, I don't know who you are but this is a bad joke, right?" said Jardane.
"No. Please t-t-tell him the message. Please."
"His niece just died. Don't prank this number again or you'll be seeing an officer at your door. You got that?" Jardane did not wait for a reply. He ended the connection.
Robin looked at the phone in shock and fear. "The other me is ... is dead. Did Peter have her killed? Is Mom safe?"
She punched in the number of Anna's cell phone. A robotic voice on the other end informed her that the number was disconnected. Heart hammering and fingers trembling, she tried another number. One ring. Two rings.
"C'mon, answer Uncle Mac," said Robin.
On the third ring, it connected. Mac's familiar voice answered. "Mac and Dia can't come to the phone right now." A female voice melodious but unknown to her said, "Leave a number and message for us to call you back."
At the beep, Robin whispered, "Uncle Mac, are you there? It's me Robin. I need-" A sound from across the room made Robin look up in panic. She ended the call. She looked out the window at the people passing in front of the store. She didn't see anyone she knew but that didn't mean anything. Peter had many resources he could use to find her. She had learned that the hard way.
"It's not going to be easy this time, Peter," muttered Robin. She pulled some books from the shelf and placed the stolen cell phone behind the books. If the phone was traced, it would show up in the store and nowhere close to her. Confusion to the enemy, that was a sound strategy, she thought.
She shouldered her backpack and left the warmth of the store. She saw another sign with a boat logo on it. She followed its direction. As she walked, she kept a close eye on her surroundings while making sure to appear as ordinary as possible. Every now and then she ducked into stores and diners to warm up and to check if she was being followed.
Robin had walked for nearly two hours when she entered a bakery drawn in by the delicious smells wafting out of its doors. She drew out the wallet she had stolen. Inside were several ruble bills. She took out one marked with the number one hundred on it. She snagged a bottle of what looked like juice and pointed to a coarse looking bun in the display case. WIth a shy smile, she gave the clerk the ruble note and prayed that it was enough. To her delight, the clerk handed her change and smiled back.
Shoulders sagging with relief, Robin took a table in the back. She downed her afternoon pills with what turned out to be orange juice. The bread was dense but sweet. She liked it. Her eyes swept around the tiny shop. The walk and the sense of freedom, no matter how terrifying, had increased her appetite. Counting the change she received, she figured out the cost of the juice and bread. She bought another set and put them in her pack.
Now, all I have to do is find a place for the night, she thought.
Robin head snapped up as she heard the sound of a boat whistle. Growing up in Port Charles, she knew the sounds of ships. The sound she'd just heard was from a big boat - a freighter or a cruise ship. There was dock or a harbor around. She was sure there was. She picked up her things and left the shop walking briskly but not running towards the direction of the sound.
She knew she was getting closer to a dock area as establishments universal to any port began to be more and more numerous - bars, taverns, news agents, small souvenir shops. She saw more and more people dressed in coveralls and seaman coats. She heard the horn again. She hurried.
Robin found herself in a seedy dock area. Two large freighters were being unloaded and another freighter had cargo being loaded on to it. Her feet brought her closer to the outgoing freighter. From a distance, she watched as cargo was loaded on by hand or by forklift. She watched those men and woman who were moving cargo by hand or with a wheeled dolly. They seem to come out from one building, head for the boat, leave their cargo and return to the same building. She snuck into the building.
Small as she was, people seemed to not pay her much attention. She selected a light box that was half empty with something small and metallic jangling inside. She put her backpack inside the box and lifted the box in her arms. She waited until another woman was set to go to the ship with a dolly. She followed the woman close enough to be thought to be a companion but far enough away for the woman not to pay her any attention.
Robin held her breath as she followed the woman through the giant freight doors of the boat. She drifted toward the shadowy areas of the cargo hold slowly finding her way deeper and deeper into the ship. She was tempted to use her penlight but she didn't want to draw attention to herself. She held the box in front of her as a ready excuse for any questioning crew person. As she explored, the walls became dirtier and the dust more plentiful.
The hold had many rooms of different sizes and shapes. Some rooms were fully empty and others seemed full of junk and miscellaneous items. One hold door was dusty. She opened it and peered inside. It wasn't the smallest room but it had the only port hole she'd seen so far. She tried to lock the door from the outside but it didn't seem like it could be locked though it could be closed shut. Good. She couldn't be locked in.
She entered the hold. Dust covered the contents. Shelves on one wall was full of large machine parts. They were oily and grimy. Mysterious shapes were covered by heavy tarpaulins. Through the porthole she could see the coming of late afternoon.
Robin put her pack down. She swept the beam of her penlight around the room. By the location and condition of the room, she was fairly sure that it wasn't visited often. She shut the door and put several crates across as a barrier.
"At least I should hear the door opening," said Robin.
The hold was warm and dry. It seemed like a good hiding place for the night. Here she would rest, take stock of her resources and hope the next day bought her better fortune.
Dust motes floated in the light beam streaming into the cargo room from the small porthole. Robin pushed up the heavy tarpaulin to reveal part of the mysterious lump underneath it. She smiled seeing a half built dune buggy resting, not on wheels, but on two wooden pallets.
"How did you get here?" Robin pulled off more of the tarp revealing one side entirely. "Unbelievable."
She stepped into the driver's seat. It was a good, snug fit. "At least I'm not sleeping on the floor tonight." She leaned back and sighed. Her eyes went to the porthole and murmured. "I get to see the real sky tonight."
Author's Note: This story was begun and posted on September 2010 on my home page. Any similarity to any current GH storyline(s) is coincidental. This is a direct sequel to The Telltale Lie which is partially posted here on FFN. Though it's not necessary to read that previously, it would be helpful. Please see my profile home page on the status of this series. More chapters are posted on my home page. Like it or hate it? Please leave a comment or review.