CHAPTER NINE
The Bellarion moved majestically into the little cove at the southernmost end of Lecayano. It was near sundown, and the blue waters were tinted with orange and a brooding darker blue where the reef lay in waiting. Around the horizon for miles, there was not so much as a speck of life, neither plane nor ship. The Albanian yacht captain, Mirko Drago, nodded with a smile to Francis Saltiel. "A prosperous voyage and a safe landing, Mr. Saltiel. That's what you're getting."
"Very nicely done, Captain. You'll have dinner with us tonight, and I'm sure you'll find a pretty girl to share your rooms. You'll go back at once to Miami, and then go down to Baton Rouge. I'll get you a message on the ship's radio when I'm ready for you again."
"How long do you think you'll be staying here
