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So Theodosia pulled as Drayton wriggled and rattled the fence. But, finally, after another few minutes of huffing, grunting, and ungainly contortions, Drayton got the rest of himself through.
“That was awful,” he said as he stood up and dusted his hands together. He was filthy, exhausted, and his jacket was completely askew as he tried (unsuccessfully) to put himself back together.
“It’s ripped,” Theodosia said. She was staring at a pocket that hung by barely a few threads.
“I know it’s ripped.”
“I meant your jacket,” Theodosia said. Drayton was wearing an ice-blue cashmere jacket that had basically been shredded.
Drayton looked down at himself. “Good heavens. My pants and jacket are in tatters and I’ve got grease stains all over me. I look like the proverbial hobo.”
“But you’re wearing a Sartorio jacket, so at least you look like a successful hobo,” Theodosia pointed out.
“You’re not helping.”
“Sorry.”
Drayton pulled out a hanky, swiped at the oil stains on the front of his jacket, then finally gave up when he made no visible progress. “What now?”
“Now we take a look at the boats.”
They moved stealthily past dark warehouses, creeping along in the shadows like a couple of ninjas. Sometimes their feet crunched on gravel, sometimes it was broken blacktop. But, inch by inch, they crawled ever closer until they could hear the Cooper River slapping hard against the shoreline and the docks.
And there were boats bobbing there. Lots of boats. Most were moored to the old wooden docks that had been fixtures there forever.
“There’s a boat coming in now,” Drayton whispered. They were hunkered down behind a stack of giant wooden spools, hidden deep in the shadows.
“Fishing boat,” Theodosia said. In the dark, with light reflected on the water, she could just make out a mast and rigging.
“What about that one?” Drayton asked as another boat cut its engine to a low sputter and bumped toward the dock.
“Same thing.”
“Maybe we should get closer,” Drayton said.
So they duckwalked another fifteen feet until they found an even better hidey spot behind a stack of old tires that were probably being held in reserve for use as dock bumpers.
“Can you make out the names of the boats that are already tied up there?” Drayton asked. “Do you see one with the name Dragon on it?”
Theodosia squinted into the darkness. “I see Sea Lady and Narwhal. Even one called Jinx, but nothing that says Dragon.”
“So we wait?”
“Right. And if Usher really is running an illegal salvage operation, we watch for a boat that’s coming in without running lights,” Theodosia whispered.
“No lights. Right,” Drayton said.
But there were no boats like that.
Drayton squirmed around, trying to get comfortable. “How long are we going to hang out here?”
“Until…”
“Until when?”
“Just until,” Theodosia said.
They sat there for another twenty minutes, Drayton peering at his watch every five minutes. Then, just as Drayton had finally settled down and closed his eyes, when his breathing had become deeper and more even, Theodosia saw it.
