So far, their efforts had been fruitless. Klaus was wound as tight as a violin string; he'd been surviving on cigarettes and coffee and very little sleep, and his patience wore thinner with every dead end they encountered. Clearly, the intelligence they'd received was flawed.

This site was their last chance: a derelict factory on the edge of town, inactive for more than a decade. Initial investigation suggested that this time the intelligence might be right. The disused office contained a very up to date high-tech safe, which had to have been installed long after the factory's operations shut down.

Agents A and D came down the stairs after sweeping the building for surveillance devices. A approached the Major. "We've checked everywhere, sir; the building's clear. You can send Eroica in."

"Good. Go and keep watch outside." Klaus ground out his cigarette, and looked around for the thief. His face darkened when he saw him standing by Agent Z, a casual hand on the young man's shoulder. Z listened earnestly to whatever Eroica was saying, then burst into hastily suppressed laughter. Eroica smiled smugly.

Klaus stalked over to them. "Fucking fairy, leave that man alone!"

"It's all right, Major-" faltered Agent Z.

"It's fucking well not all right! Damn it, Eroica, keep your mind on the fucking job and your hands off good German boys! And you - I've told you before: watch your trousers when he's around!"

Eroica pinned the Major with a white-hot glare. "Major, you're his commanding officer, not his nanny!"

"Look, pervert- just do as you're told and get the bloody safe open. The building's clear. Get yourself up to the office and get to work. And try to produce some results this time."

Eroica bristled. "I'll produce results when the results are there to be produced. Don't blame me if this one's empty, too. I'm not your bloody whipping boy. You might do well to remember how much you need me on this operation, Major."

"Need you? Listen, cocksucker, you're more trouble than you're worth. I don't need you." With a last glare, Klaus strode off to join the rest of his men outside the building, an embarrassed-looking Z trailing after him.

Seething, Eroica glowered at their departing forms. The door clanged shut behind them.

Right, he thought. Let's see how you fare without me, then.

Jones and Bonham were poised beside the stairway leading to the upper storey, ready to go up and begin work on the safe. Eroica walked over briskly to join them.

"Change of plan, lads," he said. "We're leaving."

"What?" exclaimed Jones. "We haven't cracked the safe yet."

"No, we haven't. Someone else can worry about that now. We're withdrawing our services. Come on."

Jones and Bonham looked at each other, incredulous.

Eroica was already half way to the door. "What are you waiting for? Let's go."

Bonham shrugged, and the two followed Eroica past the stairs and out through the back door of the building, heading for the car they'd parked out of sight down a laneway.
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The minutes ticked by. Klaus paced back and forth, chain-smoking, waiting for Eroica to reappear with the contents of the safe. His men were getting restless. Agent A looked at his watch for the tenth time.

"Sir? He's taking a long time. Do you think something's wrong?"

"Wrong? What can go wrong? The building's empty. The perimeter's secure. There are no shiny objects to distract the bugger. How long has the lazy faggot been in there?"

"Fifteen minutes, sir. He estimated it would take him between six and eight. Shall I take some men and go in after him to see what's happened?"

Klaus swore copiously, in German and English, with a few of his favourite Spanish curses thrown in for good measure.

"Sir?" prompted A.

"Fuck it all! Yes! A, Z-get in there and see what the useless pansy is up to."

The two agents moved quickly, making their way up the stairs toward the derelict office where they expected that Eroica and his men would be tackling the safe.

Klaus lit a fresh cigarette, and paced.

Less than three minutes later, A and Z were back, looking rattled.

"Where's bloody Eroica? What's the hold-up?" bellowed Klaus.

"Eroica's not there," panted A. "He's gone."

"What!?"

"He's gone, sir. The safe hasn't been cracked. Eroica and his men have disappeared."

Klaus exploded into a volcanic eruption of profanity.
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Eroica and his men drove through the night, taking turns at the wheel. Shortly after dawn, they reached an airport where they caught the first available flight to England.

"Welcome home, m'lord," Peters murmured warmly as Dorian stalked through the front door of Castle Gloria.

"Thank you, Peters. Please make sure I'm not disturbed." Without a backward glance Dorian headed up the broad staircase to his rooms.

Jones and Bonham followed the Earl through the front door, laden with the Earl's luggage as well as their own.

"What's up?" asked Peters in a half-whisper, closing the front door and coming over to help with the bags. "We didn't expect you back for days."

"Can't say exactly," said Bonham. "‘Is Lordship pulled the plug on the operation. Wouldn't say why."

"Obvious, though, isn't it?" Jones said darkly. "The way the Major talks to him sometimes, it's a bloody wonder he ever agrees to work for him. I wouldn't put up with it."

"The Major gives the rough edge of his tongue to his own men, too," Bonham reminded him.

"Are you sticking up for him?" Jones asked, amazed.

"No, I'm not, but-"

"He yells at them right enough, but I've never heard him speak to any of his men the way he speaks to Lord Gloria. Just plain vicious, he is."
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As the week wore on, Dorian's mood lurched wildly from short-tempered to melancholy and back again. His men treated him gingerly, avoiding him when they could. Only James seemed oblivious to the taut atmosphere, behaving just as usual. This provoked a number of screaming matches, with Dorian and James both flinging spiteful complaints and wild accusations at each other. Bonham and Jones were at breaking point, desperate to keep the peace.

There had been no word from Bonn. James began to complain about non-payment for services, but Bonham and Jones both forbade him to mention it in the Earl's hearing. James was shockingly insensitive, but the vehemence of their threats got through to him, and much as it pained him to do so he let the matter rest.

By the end of the week, Dorian had taken to spending most of his time isolated in the library.

Late one night, the week after their return, Bonham was moving about the library quietly, loading a tray with empty brandy glasses and used tea cups. He'd cleared the room the previous evening too, so all these glasses had appeared there in the last twenty four hours. He felt a little alarmed at how much the Earl must be drinking.

"Anything else before you retire, m'lord?" he asked quietly.

"No, Bonham love; but perhaps you could give me a hand with packing tomorrow. I'll be going on a little trip for a while."

"That'll be nice, m'lord," Bonham said, hoping Dorian wasn't planning anything rash.

"Tony fforbes-Russell is going to lend me his yacht. I thought I'd take it for a short trip, on my own. I need to unwind, and relax a bit after what happened in Germany."

Bonham's eyes fell on the book Dorian had dropped onto the coffee table: Sailing Alone Around the World, by Joshua Slocum. Bonham went stiff with fear. Surely not! He can't be! He mustn't!

"On yer own, m'lord?" he squeaked. "Where to?"

Dorian looked indignantly at Bonham, one eyebrow elegantly arched.

Bonham quailed.

"Beg yer pardon, m'lord, but - "

"Bonham, what are you implying? I've been sailing since I was fourteen. I can sail solo."

Bonham's concern for the Earl's welfare surged up. "Tell me you're not plannin' on sailin' solo round the world!"

"Around the world?" Dorian echoed, then noticed Bonham's stricken gaze locked onto the book on the coffee table. "Oh, I see. No, Bonham love, not around the world. I don't have the time. No, I thought I'd take a short trip down to the Canaries. I might even get down as far as Cape Verde. Wouldn't that be fun?"

"M'lord, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"What do you mean, Bonham?" Dorian never liked to be contradicted, and in his present state of mind, he was less likely than usual to listen to other points of view.

The need to keep Dorian calm warred with Bonham's deep-seated desire to protect him.

"M'lord, I know you're a good sailor and you can look after yourself, but - well, it's just that you've been through a lot lately and maybe this isn't the time to take on any more stress. Sailin' solo isn't exactly a piece o' cake, m'lord. Couldn't you take a couple of us along with you to crew for you? Adam and Seth know their way round yachts."

Adam and Seth were also very good looking, and agreeable company. Seth had come to them via a short career in the SAS; he was a good man to have around should any danger arise.

"Come on, m'lord, they're good lads. You'd enjoy it - and they could do all the hard work while you ‘ave a well-deserved rest."

"Thanks, Bonham love - but my mind's made up. I'm going alone. I can handle Tony's yacht perfectly well, and some time on my own is just what I need."

Bonham forced himself to smile. "At least the weather should be good this time o' year. And yachts come fully equipped these days - you'd be in radio contact all the time." He was trying to talk himself into believing this would be all right. "If anythin' did go wrong - not sayin' it will, but if it did - you'd be able to call for help straight away. Coastguard, other vessels-"

"Help might come from anywhere, Bonham love," Dorian responded lightly. "Joshua Slocum got sick while he was crossing the Atlantic and one of Christopher Columbus's men came on board to sail the boat till he got better."

"Eh?"

"He wrote about it in his book." Dorian pointed to Sailing Alone Around the World, lying on the coffee table. "He ate something that didn't agree with him, and spent several days too sick to sail the boat. A man appeared on board who said he was the pilot of the Pinta. He took control of the boat until Slocum was well again."

"Then ‘e must ‘ave been seein' things," said Bonham. "Hallucinations, like."

"Well, possibly. Long distance sailors do have hallucinations at times - it's the fatigue, the sleep deprivation. But who knows? Perhaps it really was the pilot of the Pinta."

"I'd doubt it, m'lord." Bonham's skin crawled. He wasn't a superstitious man, but the idea of ghostly sailors appearing in mid-ocean chilled him.

Amused at the other man's disquiet, Dorian said, "Come on, Bonham, rationality can't explain everything. If I was in trouble at sea, I'd be glad of a helpful apparition."

Bonham shivered. "I sincerely 'ope it don't come to that, m'lord."