There is a fair amount of distance between their current location and the Omani shoreline. Given the current wind conditions, the power of the tide, and the oomph of the Zodiac's motor, it takes them approximately twenty-six minutes to make their way across the skipping waves. On the way, whether through necessity or an unmentioned understanding, neither of them speak. There is danger here, still.
When they are fifty yards out from a sheltered cove, Sherlock cuts the Zodiac's engine and reaches underneath the seat for a pair of oars, passing one to her. He raises one arm, palm turned sideways, and indicates a specific place on the shoreline. A single nod. He then lowers his oar soundlessly into the black water and begins to stroke toward shore. Under their combined power, they make landfall in less than three minutes. Sherlock splashes out into water that is shin-deep, looping the bow ropes around his forearms and pulling the boat onto the sand. He waits for Irene to disembark before he fetches both "go"bags from beneath the seat, swinging them up over his shoulder. Producing a serrated knife from a hither-to-unseen holster on his hip, he punctures the inflatale side of the Zodiac and gives it a good kick back into the water, tossing the oars after it.
The beach around them is dark and silent, an ebony loop of sand at the base of the jeweled Omani skyline. Nearby, a dilapidated Four Runner sits hunkered down over its wheels. Sherlock approaches the vehicle and sweeps a hand beneath the driver's side wheel well, scooping an ignition key into his palm. He unlocks the car and gestures for her to climb in. Once inside, he drops the bags into the back seat and starts the engine, navigating the Four Runner along the surfline and down the beach, up a boat ramp, and into the flow of late night traffic.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2020-09-02 12:27 am (UTC)When they are fifty yards out from a sheltered cove, Sherlock cuts the Zodiac's engine and reaches underneath the seat for a pair of oars, passing one to her. He raises one arm, palm turned sideways, and indicates a specific place on the shoreline. A single nod. He then lowers his oar soundlessly into the black water and begins to stroke toward shore. Under their combined power, they make landfall in less than three minutes. Sherlock splashes out into water that is shin-deep, looping the bow ropes around his forearms and pulling the boat onto the sand. He waits for Irene to disembark before he fetches both "go"bags from beneath the seat, swinging them up over his shoulder. Producing a serrated knife from a hither-to-unseen holster on his hip, he punctures the inflatale side of the Zodiac and gives it a good kick back into the water, tossing the oars after it.
The beach around them is dark and silent, an ebony loop of sand at the base of the jeweled Omani skyline. Nearby, a dilapidated Four Runner sits hunkered down over its wheels. Sherlock approaches the vehicle and sweeps a hand beneath the driver's side wheel well, scooping an ignition key into his palm. He unlocks the car and gestures for her to climb in. Once inside, he drops the bags into the back seat and starts the engine, navigating the Four Runner along the surfline and down the beach, up a boat ramp, and into the flow of late night traffic.