The Selfless Gene

Chapter 30

The fierce gush of heat that hit Thame when he first got off the plane in Miami lingers around his every move, heavy on his shoulders and cloaking his face. Recharged by passing out on the flight, he drives down through the Keys to Key Biscayne. Parking up at the Ritz Carlton in the middle of the afternoon, he finds that the coastal wind takes a slight edge off the humidity. After checking in for a week and gulping hard at the cost, he takes a long shower and gets changed into his only summer-appropriate gear. He has not only three days of dirt and sweat to wash off, but also the bitter memories of his night with Mbozi and argument with Isabella.

Thame walks on the white sand beaches, around the rich green vegetation that intertwines with the human settlement and finds himself wandering in the State Park towards their famous lighthouse. Standing erect in front of the rich blue sky, he sits and calms himself. Now to make a plan, Ormr. I can sense that we're in the right place. Start with the boat.

Thame gets out the picture of Seymour with his father on the boat. It's quite obviously a younger version of The Monk and asking around with this old photo will alert people unnecessarily. Then in the corner of the picture, Thame starts to make out a name on the emergency life saving ring. He'd been so obsessed with the people and the words on the back that he didn't really look at it all. It's only half a name but enough to start with. Marie. Marie something. I wonder what his dad's wife name was.

He gets up, sunglasses on and heads back to the hotel. That night he would head to the yacht club and see if anyone moored there had a similar name.

At dinner, Thame sits alone with a map of Key Biscayne and the internet. The yacht was a lead but if he was here, common sense could narrow it down. He had hoped that upon landing he'd be drawn to his kin but so far there was nothing and the amulet was just a lifeless rock. Thame looks over the map. Despite hiding and running away, Seymour's arrogance would demand a high status place that still showed power and wealth. It would need security and views. Thame looks over the map and identifies a cluster of roads near the west coast away from the tourist crowds and the beaches. He remembers what he was like when they first met. Not just a view, but the sea view. Thame identifies two roads, South Machta and Harbor Drive. That would be the place. One of those. He still wanted to try the boat for confirmation but needed darkness to slip into the club without too much fuss.

After a dinner and a couple of beers whilst staring aimlessly at Sports Center's stories that he couldn't make himself care about, Thame set off for the yacht club. He knew it would have security and perhaps people hanging around the yachts themselves, so he really had to be stealthy. The club itself was veering towards the end of a dinner service, a few stragglers at the bar. Its car park was full of mainly expensive convertibles and gas guzzlers, with a few less conspicuous staff cars on the edges. He loops around the building, away from prying eyes, and jumps over a fence.

Staying low to the ground, Thame snakes around the building, past the swimming pool and onto the decking that leads out to the yachts. For a venue used by such affluent people, he thought the whole thing disappointingly plain and a touch tacky. Slowing to a normal walk, giving the impression he belonged there, Thame notes the names of the moored yachts. He walks past all of them but no sign of The Monk's vessel. At the end of the jetty he stops. Stupid idiot. He lives here, with likely a sea view. He'll have his own mooring. The realisation now seemed so obvious he wanted to hide from himself in embarrassment. He would have to do some harder work and show his hand to some locals.

The next day, Thame spends the morning on the beach outside his hotel tanning, enjoying the ocean and trying to come up with a cover story. He has only four more days and if this didn't work, he'd have to do something far more reckless or ask The Order for help, very much the last resort. He devises a plan to use the picture as a family photo and leave it in his wallet. He'll allow people to see it and then use that to start a conversation to see if people knew Seymour. The place wasn't that big.