Covert Action

Now was the time. The Flying Dutchman would set sail in the morning. Worm slips out of his hovel and into the night with a leather satchel. Keeping to the shadows, he quietly finds his way to the darkest edge of the inlet and dangles the satchel over a support post just above the water.

Without a splash he slides into the inky Black Sea and emerges next to his jet ski, the white light of the moon, flitting off of the ripples. Doing his best to keep his head down, Worm takes a moment, feeling his way in the darkness, and unties the chest of dirt from beneath the vehicle. Once it is free, he straps it around himself and swims underwater toward The Flying Dutchman, rising every now and again to keep an eye on his current heading.

At last he reaches the ship. It towers over him like some kind of great creaking water bird. He listens to the sounds of Murdock snoring as he searches for a place beneath the hull to secure the chest, all the while, his heart was on his throat. Worm makes sure the knots are tight and the net is still in good shape before heading back to the dock.

Once he reaches the pier, he removes his waterlogged clothes, wrings them out, and lays them in the dock. He then climbs onto the pier butt naked and removes a net, a pair of dry sandals, and a loose robe from his leather satchel and swiftly dons the dry stuff. Placing the wet ones inside the net, he grabs up his leather satchel and retreats to the safety of his hovel just as stealthily as he left.

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