Chapter 3
I stared at the open side pocket of my duffel bag.
I had zipped the main compartment myself, but I hadn't touched the side pockets since I left my apartment.
Luca had packed my phone charger.
He had coiled the white cord and tucked it away while I brushed my teeth.
I reached out and picked the white square up.
It felt heavier than it should have.
I turned it over in my palm.
I ran my thumb along the bottom edge.
A thin, jagged gap broke the smooth casing, slightly wider on one corner than the other.
The plastic was warped, the seam stressed.
Someone had pried it open and snapped it back together.
The electronic lock on my door chirped twice.
The door swung inward before I could even set the charger down on the mattress.
Two men in dark suits stepped into the cramped cabin.
They didn't knock.
They didn't ask permission, and they didn't look at my face.
One man lunged forward and grabbed my wrist.
His grip was hard enough to hurt.
He twisted my arm just enough to force my fingers open, while the other man snatched the white plastic block from my palm.
He didn't hesitate or ask what it was.
He drove the tip of a black folding knife into the widened seam of the plastic and twisted his wrist.
The casing split with a sharp crack.
A small black device and a coil of wire fell into the man's palm.
"What is that?" I asked.
"A tracker," the man said.
Luca stepped into the doorway.
Sofia stood quietly in the passage directly behind him.
The man holding the device held out his hand. "It was in her bag."
Luca looked at the device, then at me.
I looked straight at him. "You packed it, Luca."
Luca froze.
His eyes moved from the tracker in his man's hand to the open side pocket of my bag.
Then he looked at Sofia, and finally back at me.
He didn't speak.
He just stared.
Sofia looked at the tracker.
Her face didn't change.
"One of our escort boats was hit twenty minutes ago," Sofia said. "Someone has been sending out our position. She's the only guest here who wasn't cleared by both families."
Luca looked at the men in my cabin.
"Search every cabin," Luca said. "Take every phone. Nobody leaves the lower deck."
The two men moved immediately.
One grabbed the rest of my duffel bag and tipped it upside down over the mattress.
The clothes I had neatly packed tumbled out.
He swept his hand through my toiletry bag, dumping my toothbrush, a bottle of ibuprofen, and my hospital ID badge onto the floor.
My stethoscope, the one I had left in the bottom out of habit, hit the linoleum with a heavy clatter.
They tore the sheets off the narrow cot, throwing the pillows into the corner.
They didn't treat me like a guest.
They treated me like a crime scene.
"Arms up," the second man said.
I turned to look at him, but he didn't wait for my compliance.
He grabbed my shoulders and forced me around, pushing me toward the wall.
He patted down the pockets of my black slacks and ran his hands over the hem of my gray sweater.
His movements were rough and impersonal, his hands searching for weapons or secondary transmitters with practiced efficiency.
Luca watched another man put his hands on me.
He didn't tell him to stop.
I pulled away from the wall as soon as the man stepped back.
I smoothed down my sweater, forcing my hands not to shake.
"Search my apartment," I told Luca, keeping my voice level. "Check the hospital cameras. Question anyone you want."
Luca didn't answer.
He watched his men rip the canvas lining out of my duffel bag with a folding knife.
I looked at the ruined bag on the bed. "Who touched my bag after I boarded?"
Nobody answered.
The men kept pulling the room apart, their boots stepping over the clean clothes I had packed for an anniversary trip.
Luca stood in the doorway for another long second.
He looked at the broken charger shell on the floor.
"Tell the captain to change course," Luca said to the man by the bed.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
He walked out without answering.
The electronic lock chirped behind him.
A few seconds later, the engine note changed beneath my feet.
The silver medal slid across the dresser and tapped the wall.
The yacht was turning.
"Where are we going?" I called again.
The guard outside my door said nothing.