Passenger space was no problem. The ship was practically empty. The Odessa Star was the last choice of sailors looking for a berth. She smelled of leaky fuel, rusting metal and low-end cargo. Sailors called it the stench of death and avoided the ship as if it carried the plague. The crew was mostly wharf rats no other ship would hire. Tovrov could move the first mate into his quarters, freeing up the officers' cabins for passengers. He glanced at the thick envelope. The money would make the difference between dying in an old sailors' home or retiring to a comfortable cottage by the sea.

“We sail in three days with the evening tide,” the captain said.

“You are a true patriot,” Federoff said, his eyes glistening with tears. He thrust the envelope across the table. “This is half. I will pay you the balance when the passengers arrive.”

The captain slid the money into his coat, where it seemed to throw off heat. “How many passengers will there be?”

Federoff glanced at two sailors who entered the cafe and sat at a table. Lowering his voice, he said, “About a dozen. There is extra money in the envelope to buy food. Purchase the supplies at different markets to avoid suspicion. I must go now.” He rose from his seat, and, in a voice loud enough for all to hear, said sternly, “Well, my good Captain, I hope you have a better understanding of our customs, rules and regulations! Good day.”

On the afternoon of departure, Federoff came to the ship to tell the captain the plans were unchanged. The passengers would arrive late in the evening. Only the captain was to be on deck. Shortly before midnight, as Tovrov paced the fog-shrouded deck alone, a vehicle squealed to a halt at the bottom of the gangplank. From the guttural sound of the motor, he guessed it was a truck. The headlights and engine were turned off. Doors opened and closed, and there was the murmur of voices and the scuffle of boots on wet cobblestones.

A tall figure wearing a hooded cloak climbed the gang- way, stepped onto the deck and came over to the captain.

Tovrov felt unseen eyes boring into his. Then a deep male voice spoke from the dark hole under the cowling.

“Where are the passengers' quarters?”

“I'll show you,” Tovrov said.

“No, tell me.”

“Very well. The cabins are on the bridge one deck up. The ladder is over there.”

“Where are your crew?”

“They are all in their bunks.”

“See that they stay there. Wait here.”

The man silently made his way to the ladder and climbed to the officers' cabins on the deck below the wheelhouse. Minutes later, he returned from his inspection. “Better than a stable, but not much,” he said. “We're coming aboard. Stay out of the way. Over there.” He pointed toward the bow, then descended to the quay.