Ghost Ship

Catarina said, “You called me last night.”

“When?”

“About eight-thirty. It was completely out of the blue.”

“What did I have to say?”

“Not much. Only that you wanted to see me, and that it was really important that we talked in person — face-to-face.”

Sam grinned. “And now I’m here.”

“Yeah, but I have no idea why or what you wanted to talk about.”

“Did we plan for a time to meet up?”

“No. Only…”

“What?”

“You said that you needed to be somewhere in Holland on the fourth. It was vitally important and you couldn’t risk being late, even to speak to me…”

“Do you know where I was going in Holland?” Sam paused, realizing he was using the misnomer for the Netherlands. It was a trivial detail many people overlooked, including some Dutch people who referred to it as Holland, even though it only represented the two provinces of North and South Holland. He suddenly grinned.

She asked, “What?”

“I just remembered that Holland isn’t the country’s real name.”

She shrugged. “Many people call it that.”

“I know. I’m not being pedantic. I’m just surprised that I remembered it. The fact that it stirred some sort of hidden indignation suggests maybe I have some connection to the country. Could that be the case?”

“Not that I know of.”

Sam tried to process the meaning. Failing to do so, he returned to the original question. “Do you know why I was on my way to the Netherlands?”

“No.” She closed her eyes, trying to think back to the conversation. “Wait. You said you had an important meeting at The Hague!”

He arched an eyebrow. “The Hague?”

“You know, the third largest city in the Netherlands?”

“Right,” Sam said, trying to picture the coastal city, but failing to have any visual memory of the place. “The area of the former County of Holland roughly coincides with the two current Dutch provinces of North Holland and South Holland in which it was divided, which together include the Netherlands' three largest cities: the de jure capital city of Amsterdam, Rotterdam, home of Europe's largest port, and the seat of government of The Hague.”

Catarina said, “It’s also inside the traditional region of Holland that has its roots traced back to medieval times.”

“That’s interesting. You think that maybe there’s a connection to why I was so indignant about the use of the country’s misnomer?”

She smiled. “I have no idea.”

Sam asked, “Any chance I mentioned what I was supposed to be doing there?”

She shook her head. “Afraid not.”

“Maybe I was sightseeing?”

“I doubt it. You sounded like whatever it was that you wanted to talk to me about was really important… I tried to talk you into coming here, but you wouldn’t hear of it… you just told me that you had a meeting at The Hague on the fourth, and couldn’t risk missing it.”

“The fourth?” Sam frowned. “What day is it today?”

She paused, as though suddenly considering the date. “It’s the first.”

“Okay, so I have, what… seventy-two hours to find out what’s so important in The Hague?”

“No. It’s already eleven o’clock. That means you’re down to sixty-one.”

Sam thought about that for a moment. “So, I need to find a way to get to The Hague in the next sixty-one hours. It might be difficult without money…”

“I can lend you money for the flight,” she said without hesitation.

“Thanks, but I’m not sure it will do me much good without a passport.”

“No. That might be difficult. We could go down to the US embassy in Florence. We could drive there today and get you an emergency travel passport.”

Sam thought about that. “They’re still going to want to know how I got into the country, where I’ve been, and who knows what I have done since losing my memory? Besides, I don’t have any form of ID. What are they to go on?”

“You sure you don’t have anything? Not even a license in a pocket or something?”

“No. Nothing at all.” Sam paused a beat. “Wait! When I woke up on the rowboat, I was carrying a suitcase.”

“What was in it?”

“I don’t know. It was locked and I didn’t have time to try and break it open with all the… you know, bad guys trying to kill me and all.”

“So where’s the suitcase now?”

“I hid it.”

“Where?”

“There’s a building with a small gap between a bright yellow tower house and a teal one. It was barely wide enough to reach into, and far too narrow to squeeze through. About twelve feet up a horizontal drainpipe blocked one’s vision of the space above — I stashed it up there.”

“All right. I’ll go get it as soon as the morning wave of tourists disappears.”

“Why you and not me?”

“Because no one knows me.”

“Okay, thanks.” Sam grinned. “The tourists… they come in waves?”

“Yeah, the morning train drops off hundreds of tourists at Riomaggiore, where they make their way along the famous Cinque Terra coastal hike. As a result of that influx, and despite your escapades last night leading the polizia to cordon off large sections of Vernazza, there will be hundreds of tourists swarming through the town for the next few hours.”

“So we have a few hours to wait.”

“Afraid so.”