Marina Hunter

Nearly a dozen boats were visible from Matthew's vantage point. Each vessel boasted a tiny white light that marked its location like pins on a dark wall map. So, Christopher, which one is you? Matthew also pondered the possibility that his opponent had sailed to some far off destination, but immediately put it out of his mind. Christopher Gilbert was a family man. He was a conservative. He would not attempt such a daring trip - especially one that would take him so far from the people he loved.

No, Christopher was drifting aimlessly directly in front of him, no more than a mile away. Matthew smiled. I'll be joining you soon, my friend. The millionaire pulled a miniature pair of black binoculars from the inside pocket of his nylon jacket and studied the various boats. The only thing revealed to him were blurry lights and dark masses on top of other dark masses, so he scanned the beach instead.

Nothing there piqued his interest either, and he walked north. A long fishing pier had drawn his interest earlier, and he wanted to check it out. It was always good, he mused, to take note of possible witnesses. The fewer the better. Besides, he still had a little time before the rented boat was due to arrive.

The humid night air slowed his steps and, even though he was close to the finish line, he could combat the fatigue no longer. The contest had taken more out of him than he ever anticipated. After all, he was not as young as he used to be.