Several weeks past by quickly. Preparations for the sailing were well underway and the pair could not be happier. Excitement for the long awaited journal was growing on them and every new instalment increased the surreal feeling of the adventure close at hand.

Their ship had been purchased and they could not be more satisfied with the craft. They had chosen an older model of a Belgium sailer to keep true to the history of the Unicorn. It's bows were sleek and thin, to ensure optimum sailing speed. The colour of the primed metal was sky blue and it matched the caramel wooden ledges and masts perfectly. The ship was outfitted with sturdy cotton sails, a large polished ships wheel and more rope than Tintin had ever seen. Below the decks, there were eight large rooms, three of which would be used for sleeping areas. One of the five remaining rooms was the engine room which would be manned at all times. The other four were being saved for the storage of the treasure. The Tintin and Haddock would be sharing the captains cabin and the rest were for the sailors, functioning as mini barracks. The ship itself was not as large as the Karaboudjan and definitely not as tall, but the ship was a history piece for the pair and they could not be happier with the design. There was no butting ship head, but they planned on building one when they got home. The ship was was 15 drafts from keel to the sea-line, meaning that distance would decrease by no less than 8 by the time a crew and 400 tonnes of treasure were onboard, meaning the voyage back would be slower, but safer in the long run. Tintin could not be more pleased with the ship finally in their procession. This was their ship, even after this adventure, they could use it for countless others. He was no longer tied down, the freedom of adventure called his name and Tintin was thrilled.

Everything else had been taken care of thoroughly. Haddock was in charge of securing the 32 crew members they would need and was well underway. A cook and food supplies were in tow and everything was accounted for. The diving equipment as well was set and locked in the ship. All and everything was set and the adventure sat before the pair in just a days time.

It all would have been perfect if Tintin could not shake his feelings on the disappearance of Aurora. After he had received the check Mr. Stanton, Tintin had made up his mind at last to make amends to Aurora. So, a few days after the meeting with her father, he knocked on her door. But there had been no answer, even after several more attempts. At first Tintin wondered if Mr. Stanton had changed his mind and brought Aurora back home with him. He had seemed adamant that she would be allowed to stay though and Mrs. Finch had said nothing of Aurora leaving. After a few more tries over time and several dismissals of kicking her door in to check on her, Tintin had given up. He decided from this point, there was little he could do, so he did all he could. In a small packet, he left Aurora the coordinates of their voyage, the time estimate, date of departure and a letter of promise that he would give her a small part of the treasure for her own use.

He had not seen her since, even now five weeks later.

He was sitting on the dock now, right beside their ship, an iced water in his hand, as the sun was viciously hot. He was waiting for the return of Haddock with the crew.

The dock owner, who he'd met before, approached him from behind.

"Mister Tintin!"

Tintin startled, turning around quickly, relaxing slightly when he saw who it was.

"Hello Mr. Stag, what can I do for you?"

Mr. Stag, a heavier set man with a blading head, took out a small ledger and a black fountain pen from his suit pocket.

"I need a date of departure and an estimated time arrival from yourself,"

Tintin squinted out at his ship.

"We plan to leave tomorrow, as everything has been taken care of and Haddock has just today finished building our crew. I plan on a 3 month voyage, but I'm only allowing for any inconvenience. It may be closer to a month and a half to two months. So from now, the closet I'd imagine is mid July," He looked back at Mr. Stag who seemed to be writing out everything Tintin said word for word. Looking back up at Tintin, he smiled broadly and tipped his hat.

"Thank you Tintin, I hope nothing ails you. I hear from the up and up that you're after a treasure, Red Reckham's if I'm not mistaken,"

Tintin smiled, nodding his head, the excitement of the adventure coursing through him once again, despite his misgivings about Aurora.

"We are indeed. It's been a long time coming"

Mr. Stag nodded and checked his pocket watch aimlessly.

"Well, I must be off, other ships to check. Have a wonderful journey Tintin and a safe return. God speed!"

Tintin waved after him.

"Thank you Mr. Stag! Have a pleasant afternoon,"

Just as Mr. Stag disappeared, Captain Haddock took his place in Tintin's line of view. He smiled happily and waved some papers over his head.

"I've got them Tintin!"

Tintin stood up and approached his old friend.

"Excellent Haddock. You looked them over? Checked their records?"

Haddock handed him the papers and saluted lightly.

"Aye, it's all there. You've loaded the diving equipment without me?"

Tintin smiled as he looked over the papers.

"You were taking too long,"

Haddock smiled as well, looking out a that ship with his hands on his hips. Sighing happily he could not help but close his eyes wistfully.

"If only we could celebrate with a nice bottle of whiskey," He looked at Tintin out the corner of his eyes. The young red head hardly looked at him, gazing at the ship, seemingly lost in thought. Haddock sighed and relaxed his arms.

"Tintin, you can't let that wee miss taint our adventure. We've worked too hard for it. What have I told you? If you meet a wall, push through it,"

Tintin sighed softly and looked back at Haddock.

"She was the one who made all this possible,"

Haddock nodded, turning to look fully at the sail ship before them.

"I know that, but you did try to reach out to her. You told me yourself you've not seen her since that day. You did all you could. Her father is right,"

Tintin looked sidelong at him.

"What do you mean?"

Haddock sighed again.

"Her daddy was right not to let her go. I wasn't going to say this. But the sea is no place for a women. It's a man's place and it's too dangerous,"

Tintin turned around to face the captain.

"Dangerous for Aurora? She's braver then some men I've met in my past. She's been looking forward to this all her life and we owe her this adventure for making it possible!"

"Tintin, we can't go against her daddy's wishes now can we? Not only for the possibility of having this taken away, but we have to respect he knows what's best for Aurora. You can't take that away from him!"

Tintin sighed and hung his head.

"I know, but I can't help but feel guilty,"

Haddock turned back to him, grabbing hold of his arms roughly, shaking him none to gently until he looked up.

"Listen Tintin. I know you feel guilty about this. But you can't fix it and you can't solve this for her. This is between her and her father. You cannot get involved. Understand? You've got to respect the will of a man if you want to be considered his equal!"

Tintin sighed as he relaxed and shook off Haddock's arms.

"It's still difficult,"

Haddock put an arm around his shoulders.

"No one said it was easy, boy. Just let it go for now. When you come back, I'm sure Aurora is going to be the first one to see you back. Maybe after its all said and done, we can take her on a little adventure of our own, mmm? Something closer to home and less dangerous. We can sail down to the Mediterranean Tintin! Or up to the North Sea! This is our ship and we can go where we will now! This isn't a one time deal, this is ours for life. My own ship, once again," his voice trailed off as he looked once more at the ship. Tintin could not feel glum after a speech like that. He knew Haddock was right, Aurora could still sail when they got back and he knew she would love it still. Smiling, Tintin looked over at Haddock.

"Why don't we celebrate with one glass of whiskey?"

Haddock's squinted momentarily as he looked over at Tintin, who met his gaze.

"You're not playing with me are you boy?"

Tintin shook his head and Haddock's eyes flew wide.

"God bless your soul Tintin! My treat, lets go!"

Tintin rolled his eyes as he laughed, following the ecstatic captain off the dock.

"Only one, you great empty barrel!"

The dock lay quiet, all the seamen having turned to the pubs, drinking away the fine evening together. The ships were tied up and bobbed gently on little burbles of waves; soft winds rustling the canvas sails. There was only one thing that disturbed the graveyard like death of the docks.

The dark skinned man.

He stood on the edge of the farthest dock from the little village; having waited patiently for all to settle. Stealthily, he crept across the wooden boards, past every the ships until he reached the little office of the dock owner. The door was locked of course, but it did not faze the man, who happened to be known for his lock picking skills back home in Spain. Without so much as a hitch, the door came free and the man slipped inside the deserted space. Fortunately for him, the dock owner was not one to pass up a cup of brandy after all was said and done around the docks. Smiling, the dark skinned man approached the desk, not wishing to waste any time. As he rummaged through the ledgers on the desk and some of the spare papers floating around, he finally landed on his prize. He almost laughed out loud at how easy it all was. Flipping open the notebook, he ran his finger down the neatly printed letters until he landed on one. His smile grew wider as he took out his own little note book and scribbled down something before returning the notebook in its place. Making sure everything was once again as it should be, the man left the office in perfect shape, even locking up after himself. He chuckled manically as he skulked off in the direction of the alley, making his way down to the darker part of Brussels.

He did not meet many people along the way and those he did looked to be in no mood for friendly chit chatting. These men were in the same boat as him, skulking around for someone higher up in the hopes of a bigger prize. They were his brothers in crime.

After another 20 minutes or so of dodging any respectable looking human being, avoiding the light as much as possible and by all mean, avoiding the police, the dark skinned man reached the building he was looking for. But before he could go inside, he saw something out of the corner of his eye and groaned, rolling his eyes before ducking behind a trash can at the end of the alley, crouching as much as he could. The two most inept detectives on the force were walking up the street toward him.

Thompson and Thompson.

Although he knew they would never figure him out to be a criminal, he did not want to take any chances of having a witness to him in this part of town and remained still as they passed. Why they were in this part of town, he had not a clue, but he never put anything past the pair. As they neard, he picked up their conversation.

"I say Thompson, it's getting dark, it must be near on 10 o'clock by now!"

The other Thompson looked at his watch carefully.

"It is indeed, 9:56 to be precise, my dear Thompson,"

"Oh I do beg your pardon Thompson,"

The first Thompson passively looked over the trash cans the man hid behind as they passed, but seeing nothing out the ordinary, the pair continued,

"What do you say to a spot of tea when we clock in?"

"Oh indeed, Thompson indeed!"

The two continued up the street, quite in sync with bowler hats tilted to the left and canes held on their right arms. They were chatting together aimlessly about the prices of quality British teas when they finally passed out of earshot and sight and the man could not help but chuckle again at the pair of them. To think that they were paid to detect. After ensuring the coast was clear once again, the man scouted out of the alley and made it into the building as quickly as he could. Once inside he ran up the stairs until he reached the 4th floor and from there walked down a small and draughty hall to the last door on the right. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the rotted wood three times with a fourth landing harder then the first.

"Enter," a voice on the inside answered him and he smiled and relaxed, it was the same voice as before. He opened the creaking door as quietly as he could and shut it with the same care. Turning around, he closed his eyes to a dense cloud of smoke, catching his breath so as not to cough on inhale. He had not realized that he was a smoking man. Taking a deep breath of as clean air as he could get, he took out his notebook and lay it on the table in front of him. From the cloud of smoke coming from the other side of the table, a hand reached out and took up the book. The dark skinned man cleared his throat.

"There's the information, just like you wanted. Those two have got their ship with her help from as far as I can tell. They leave tomorrow,"

"I can read," the voice was measured and the dark skinned man ducked his head. After a moment of nothing, he spoke up again.

"When will I get paid for all of this?"

"Patience, Carlos. There will be plenty of time for that. In the mean time, do you know where she is?"

Carlos, the dark skinned man from Spain, shrugged his shoulders, looking around the room passively

"She seems to be out and about quite a bit since they met with that brother of yours. You were right, he forbid her from going with them,"

After a moment, the smoke cleared and Carlos saw his boss sitting on the other side of the table. His hair was oiled and combed to a perfect curl and his wire rimmed glasses sat on his nose regally. He smiled at Carlos with a long trimmed cigar in his hand.

"I know my brother. Though he does not know of my existence, I can describe him to a tee. A no nonsense man, stuck in the old ways and altogether boring. Never letting my niece have any freedom. She also knows naught about me, but that is all for the better is it not? Makes the game all the more fun,"

Carlos swallowed heavily.

"I guess so,"

The man took the cigar in his mouth once more, breathing in deeply before taking it back out, blowing another cloud of smoke. He looked once more at Carlos.

"There is still much to be done, though the hard part is behind us. This girl will be easy to fool. I have the letters written and sealed. We have only to deliver the letters to her and follow them hence forth. No doubt she was given the coordinates or told them; it will not cross her mind not to give them up to her daddy. She really is a stupid girl, pretending to be brave. She does not know real pain. The plan is set and all we must do it wait. There is only one small kink,"

Carlos blinked nervously.

"What's that?"

The man sitting before him flicked the fingers of his free hand. A taller man in a turtle neck sweater and a sailor's hat stepped out the shadows. He had a long face and nose. It was Allan, the elusive and treacherous first mate of Captain Haddock himself. He smiled at Carlos and he gulped, looking back at his boss, who simply stared directly at him, his face grim.

"You've lost track of her,"

Carlos shook his head.

"No, no I haven't. I I've seen her around, she moves quickly and sometimes she's hard to follow. Last I saw her she was.. uh.. she was down by the, no she was… ," his voice trailed off and his boss sighed, tapping his finger slowly on the cigar, the flame dying. Carlos gulped as the man before him laid down the cigar in an ash tray.

"I told you not to loose her, we still need her,"

"I did not, I swear! She must be at her home now, she never stays out late. She has to be there, I will check again," He was about to leave when Allan stepped around the table, a gun held in his closed hands. Carlos's eyes widened and he looked desperate. "Please, I will find her. I promise," His voice cracked as Allan stepped forward.

The man at the table stood up and Allan stopped. The man leaned forward.

"You better,"

Carlos bowed low, his hands before him, backing up to the door, fiddling with the knob before he turned it and stepped out the room, shaking as Allan watched him with eyes that never wavered. Carlos looked once more at the man behind the table, his eyes filled with fear.

"Thank you Sakrahine,"

And with that, he was gone.

Ivan Ivanovich Sakrahine, the descendent of Red Reckham, smiled devilishly.

"This time Haddock, the treasure is mine!"

Surprise! It's Sakrahine. I know that was kind of lame, but I will have more of him and how he plays into the story. Feel free to review. Cheers!