As soon as they stepped outside, they immediately felt a fresh and cold breeze outside the threshold. The first rays of the sun were burning on the horizon, painting the sky in a pink hue. This morning was not like the others, it seemed unusual, even magical.
Jerome walked beside Delia, feeling a strange sense of emptiness and expectation at the same time. Everything that had happened seemed like a dream, and now, as they stood on the threshold of the unknown, a new, mysterious world was opening up before them.
"Aren't you afraid?" Jerome asked, looking at her.
"No," Delia replied, her voice calm and confident. "We can handle anything together. You said you'd be with me until the end."
He smiled, although inside everything was not so simple. Jerome did not yet understand the full seriousness of the situation, but he knew for sure that he would not let it go. No matter what was ahead, he was ready to go through this.
The woman with the suitcase opened the car door and they got in. The noise of the engine, the rapid movement of the car, all these moments merged into one stream. Jerome looked at Delia, who was sitting next to him, her face was serious, but her eyes were confident.
As the car moved smoothly and evenly along the highway, Jerome stole a glance at the back of the female agent's head. Her bob hair did not move, as if each hair was immobilized. She had not spoken a word since she had sat behind the wheel, and her absolute calm seemed even more mysterious to Jerome.
"You know," he said quietly, leaning toward Delia, "this is all... a little weird. Like some movie. Going somewhere with a secret agent... Is this even normal?"
Delia turned to him and smiled her signature enigmatic smile.
"What is "normal", Jerome? Sometimes you just have to trust what's happening."
"Yeah, but..." He lowered his voice, even though the car was quiet. "Do you even know who she is? What's her name?"
"Her name is Jo Thueson," Delia answered calmly. "She works with my dad. Well, with his friend who works for the CIA.
"She's strange," Jerome muttered, still looking at the woman behind the wheel. "Why is she silent? Why does she speak different languages?"
Delia looked at him thoughtfully.
"Maybe she just thinks it's safer. You saw the way she talked to my parents. Everything was businesslike. I think she's just a professional."
Jerome wanted to answer something, but he was distracted by the voice of Jo Thueson herself, which rang out unexpectedly loudly:
"We're almost there. The port is ahead."
Jerome jumped up in his seat as if he had been caught in the act. He stared at Jo, trying to see if she had noticed their conversation. The woman seemed oblivious, her focus entirely on the road.
"Look, Jerome," Delia said, trying to get his attention back, "you decided to come. That means you're part of this story, too. Just relax, okay?"
"Easy to say," he muttered, looking out the window. In the distance, huge cranes and ships were already visible, silhouetted against the morning sky. "But do you know exactly why we're here? You're not kidding about a secret mission, are you?"
Delia shrugged slightly.
"Well... they explained to me that it wasn't exactly a task. More like an important mission."
"An important mission? For an eight-year-old girl?" he asked incredulously.
Delia laughed, but there was something serious in her eyes.
"Sometimes even eight-year-old girls can do things that adults can't. You said yourself that I was special, right?"
Jerome blushed.
"Well, I meant it a little... differently."
"But you were right," Delia said softly. "Just trust me."
The car stopped. Jo Thueson got out first and walked around the car to open the door for the children.
"Let's get out. The liner is already waiting," she said in a flat, cold voice.
Jerome and Delia climbed out. In front of them towered a huge snow-white liner, sparkling in the sun. People with suitcases were scurrying back and forth, and it was hard to believe that this scene was part of some secret mission. Jerome sighed, looking at all this magnificence.
"Well, Jerome?" Delia asked quietly, looking at him. "Are you with me?"
He looked at her, then at the liner. Fear, uncertainty, and the desire to protect her mixed into one strange emotion.
"Of course, with you," he finally said. "Whatever it is."
Jo, Delia and Jerome stopped at a small restaurant by the port to while away the time before boarding. A soft ringing of a bell on the door announced their entry, and a friendly waiter showed them to a table by the window, overlooking the sparkling water and the majestic liner.
Jo sat down first, taking a seat that overlooked the entrance and most of the room. Delia sat opposite her, leaning her elbows on the table and instantly taking an interest in the brightly colored nautical flags outside the window. Jerome carefully lowered himself into the chair next to his sister, trying to look calm, though he still felt a little uneasy in Jo's presence.
"Here is your menu, madam," said the waiter, carefully placing it in front of Jo. "Enjoy your meal."
Jo nodded politely and unfolded the menu. Her face remained impassive, but Jerome noticed the corner of her mouth twitch slightly. As she began reading the list of dishes, her head began to shake slightly from side to side, as if in response to an internal monologue.
"Something wrong?" Delia asked, leaning across the table and trying to peer at the menu. "Do they only have fish?"
"No," Jo said after a pause. "But their choice is... highly questionable."
"Oh, come on," Delia sighed. "You're not going to eat anything supernatural. Just order a pizza or something."
Jo looked up from the menu and looked at Delia appraisingly, her expression serious but her eyes gleaming with something like tired tolerance. Delia just shrugged and Jerome laughed.
"I prefer to choose a place where I know everything is safe," Jo said, carefully folding the menu and placing it on the table.
"Safe?" Delia let out a long sigh, as if the word was from another universe. "We're in a restaurant, not on a secret mission. What could possibly be dangerous about a burger?"
"If you knew how many things could be dangerous even in the most ordinary places, you would change your mind," Jo answered dryly, but there was a hint of irony in her voice.
Delia crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head.
"You're making things more complicated, Jo. It's just food! We're here to relax a bit before we set sail, not to analyze the risks of every dish. Jerome, tell her!"
Jerome, who had been trying not to interfere all this time, finally couldn't help but laugh.
"She's right, Jo. We're in one of the busiest parts of the city. If the food here was dangerous, the restaurant would definitely have no customers."
Jo gave him a doubtful look, but softened.
"Okay," she said. "Just no experiments, okay?"
Delia threw up her hands as if she had won the argument of the century.
"Great! Then I'll order the tuna tartare, and Jerome can have something boring, as always."
"It's not boring," Jerome protested. "It's just... I like simple food. Pasta with sauce, for example."
Jo, watching their lively dialogue, allowed herself to smile for the first time in a long time.
"Okay. Then I'll order a salad. It's pretty 'safe', isn't it?" she said, raising her hand to signal the waiter.
When the waiter arrived, they placed their orders and the atmosphere at the table relaxed a little. Delia, pleased with her victory, began to chatter about how she was going to explore every corner of the ship once they got on board. Jerome, suppressing a smile, nodded as he listened, but Jo's gaze occasionally darted toward the window.
"Are you absolutely sure everything is okay?" he asked quietly, sensing her tension.
Jo didn't answer right away, as if she was weighing whether to share her thoughts.
"Just a habit," she finally answered. "Always checking your surroundings. Better safe than sorry."
Jerome looked at her seriously, but said nothing. Somewhere deep inside he felt that Jo had reason to be wary.
When the order arrived, Delia happily buried her face in her plate of tartare, and Jerome began to pick at his pasta, clearly thinking about something of his own. Jo, slowly stirring her coffee, continued to look out the window. It was as if she were looking out for something, and this look seemed heavy, like the upcoming cruise, which promised to be something more than just a trip.
Time passed slowly. The half hour before boarding seemed like an eternity, especially for the children, who were drawn to the unknown and the promise of adventure. The restaurant was filled with soft light, the smells of cooking hung in the air, and outside the window, the final preparations for departure were underway. The ship stood majestically on the horizon, its silhouette smoothly reflected in the water, and for Jerome the sight was both mesmerizing and unsettling.
Delia, surprised to discover how delicious the raw fish was, calmly skewered another piece onto her fork, enjoying every detail.
"This is amazing!" she said, not looking up from her plate. "You have no idea how glad I am that I tried this!"
Jerome watched her enthusiasm with a smile. He was glad that she found joy in simple things so easily. But he himself was more reserved in his perception. He chewed his toothpaste calmly, glancing now at Delia, now at Jo, who remained in her usual mood: collected and focused.
"Would you like to try some?" Delia suggested to Jo, noticing that she hadn't even touched her salad. "You always say you like it plain."
Jo, ignoring her comment, looked up, a faint expression that might have been sympathy or perhaps weariness flitting across her face.
"I'm not hungry," she answered quietly, but still added with a slight smile: "Although, perhaps when we get to Italy, I'll be ready for something more interesting."
Jerome wanted to say something, but he kept quiet, preferring not to engage in conversations that might set Jo back into a serious mood. He knew her style-she didn't like to discuss details that might bring to the surface the very things they were all probably holding in their heads.
"Look at that ship," Jerome said, nodding out the window. "Is that really where we're sailing? It's so huge..."
Delia quickly raised her head, looking out the window, and her face immediately transformed with curiosity.
"I can't wait to see what's inside! There will be real cabins with balconies, and probably an indoor pool! What if they even give us tours of the islands we'll be visiting?"
"Perhaps," Jo replied, as if thinking out loud, "but you understand that traveling is not just about rest."
Delia looked at her with interest, but Jo did not continue. Instead, she returned to her coffee cup, her eyes briefly clouding over as if she were remembering something. This did not go unnoticed by Jerome, who also felt that there was an implicit threat or just concern in her words.
Meanwhile, the waiter came over, took away the empty plates and brought the bill. Delia didn't seem to care about these little things and simply shrugged her shoulders.
"We're going to Italy, aren't we?" she said, glancing happily at Jerome. "Maybe we'll try some real pasta there? Or are you going to order something 'uninteresting' again?"
"Then why go to Italy?" Jerome chuckled slightly. "They'll definitely offer us the best pasta in the world there. And here... we just needed something to eat to kill time before landing.
Jo, putting her coffee cup on the table, looked at the window again, as if something had caught her attention.
"Time is not something you can just kill," she said quietly, her voice almost inaudible over the noise of the restaurant.
Jerome was about to answer, but he realized that this was probably another one of Jo's preparations, and it would be better not to go into this conversation further. She always spoke as if she was hiding something, although she herself never revealed the details of her thoughts.
Time passed. Life was in full swing outside the port window, but then the moment came when they had to leave the restaurant. They stood up from the table, and Delia, winking cheerfully, pulled Jerome towards the exit. Jo walked last, her steps were smooth, but seemed to be a little slow, as if something was pulling her to linger.
"Come on, Jerome!" Delia cried, looking back at her impatiently. "We can't miss our ship!"
When they left the restaurant, the weather outside was exceptionally sunny, and the hot rays of light reflected off the water in the port, making everything around sparkle and shine. The noise of the port died down, leaving only a light breeze that stirred the hair on Delia's head and gently stroked Jerome's face. He involuntarily slowed his pace, when he suddenly noticed how Jo Thueson, walking in their company, pulled a pistol from under her coat. It was carefully drawn out and glinted in the sun, as if Jo herself enjoyed the moment when the cold weapon glittered in her hand.
She instantly put the gun back in its holster as if nothing had happened and continued walking, not paying attention to the surprised looks of passersby.
Jerome, watching her movements, felt a familiar feeling, as if he had seen something similar somewhere before. And then it dawned on him.
"Wait," he said, pausing for a second, "you look like Jill Valentine from Resident Evil!"
Jo slowed her pace but didn't turn around, just winced slightly at his words. She was always very tolerant of people, but with jokes about herself, it was a different matter.
"Jerome," she said quietly, but with a slight threat in her voice, "don't make me feel like a hero in a computer game."
Jerome was even a little surprised by her reaction. Of course, he didn't mean anything bad, it was just that this association came to his mind on the wave of unexpected impressions from her actions. He always considered Jo a strong and confident woman, but Jill Valentine from the game had exactly the same traits.
Delia, of course, couldn't pass by such a comment. She burst into laughter, which attracted the attention of several passersby.
"Oh, that's brilliant!" she giggled, almost falling over laughing. "Jill Valentine! So that's who you are! You don't really talk to zombies, but otherwise it's very similar!"
Jo continued to walk silently, but you could see on her face how she was holding back a smile, although her gaze remained firm and a little cold.
"I'm not a zombie killer," she finally said, quietly, "and I don't like being compared to video game characters."
"Okay, okay, sorry," Jerome quickly agreed, though his eyes still had that playful twinkle. "I didn't mean to offend you, it's just that you really do look like her."
Delia, still laughing, tried to pull herself together, but her joy was so genuine that even Jo couldn't completely hide her grin.
"You know," Delia continued, bringing some of her enthusiasm back into the conversation, "if you'd just start running around on rooftops and shooting machine guns, I'd totally believe you were Jill Valentine."
Jo rolled her eyes, but her face softened. She didn't mind laughing at herself, although she preferred to keep her serious and professional face in all situations. She glanced at Delia with a small smile.
"If you keep giggling like that, I'm going to start thinking you're ready for an adventure too," Jo teased.
"Oh, I'm always ready!" Delia answered cheerfully, almost jumping up and down. "You didn't think I couldn't be a hero, did you? I've already had experience. Remember when I saved Jerome from the black cat in the park? That was heroic too!"
Jerome looked up at the sky, shaking his head wearily.
"It doesn't count, Delia. Black cats aren't that dangerous, trust me."
"Who said that you know all the secrets of my brave heart?" she answered, winking at him with a smile.
As they continued walking toward the ship, the conversations died down, but there was still a light, playful air. Jerome sensed that this seemingly ordinary trip would turn into something important. Jo's gaze, her alertness, and her demeanor were constantly reminding him that there might be more to this cruise than meets the eye. But he couldn't figure out what exactly this cruise was hiding.
"The ship is there," he said finally, pointing to the huge liner that was standing at the pier, preparing to sail. "Let's not be late."
Jo nodded, her gaze focused again, and she took a step forward, and Delia, continuing her playful mood, quickly ran after her, not forgetting to look back and wink at Jerome.
As they approached the gangway, the sun was already beginning to sink toward the horizon, painting the sky in soft orange and purple hues. The noise of the port was growing quieter, and ahead of them stood a giant cruise liner, its bright lights already beginning to blink, creating a magical glow. Jerome felt excitement and a slight tension growing inside him as he walked along the wooden deck - all of this was new and familiar at the same time.
Delia, unable to bear it, took his hand and pulled him forward.
"Look, Jerome!" she exclaimed, pointing toward the deck. "Just look at how shiny it all is! It looks like we're on a spaceship instead of an ordinary liner!"
Jerome merely nodded, his gaze focused on the ramp they were about to ascend. He was always a little wary in situations like this. But Delia, as always, was full of energy and fun, throwing all doubts aside with ease.
And so they approached a group of people standing in line to check their tickets. The crowd included travelers of all ages: old men with suitcases, young couples, groups with children. But the most striking figures were two gray-haired men standing next to a metal table. Both were wearing white uniforms, with wide moustaches and stern faces, reminiscent of sea wolves.
They eyed the crowd with an invisible wariness, checking tickets with the professionalism of a daily routine. When the line came, one of them took the tickets from Jo Thueson with a curt nod. Her face, as always, was calm, even a little cold, as she handed over the documents.
"It's all right," the grey-haired man said, assessing them with his eyes. His voice was low and hoarse, like a man accustomed to the sea breeze. "Have a nice trip," he added before handing the tickets back.
Jerome didn't like the look in his eyes, but he didn't say anything. Jo didn't seem to notice anything unusual. Delia just mumbled something about how excited she was about the ship and ran up the gangway, pointing enthusiastically at every corner.
"As soon as we're on board, I'll find a place on the top deck!" she said, her gaze sliding over the luxurious surroundings. "I need to see everything from above!"
Jerome followed her with a smile, breathing in the air that seemed to be saturated with salt and wind from the sea. It was like a movie: people were boarding, their faces lit up by the lights of the ship, and there was this special atmosphere of a great journey in the air.
Once on deck, they were greeted by several crew members with friendly smiles and led down the corridors to their cabins. The ship was incredibly majestic, with marble floors and gold trim. Everything was done with exquisite taste, and even Jo's business attire seemed to fit in with the luxurious surroundings.
"Wow, my," Delia whispered, looking around. "It's so beautiful here! We really are in a fairy tale, Jerome! Just look at these crystal chandeliers!"
Jerome looked at her with interest, but his thoughts kept returning to the strange feeling he had when they showed their tickets. Everything seemed too smooth, too perfect. And somehow this mustachioed sea wolf left him with the feeling that there might be more to this trip than just a vacation.
Jo walked ahead, her steps confident and determined. Jerome sensed that she wasn't just walking through this ship like a tourist. She knew that something important was hidden here.
"We'll be in our cabin soon," she said, looking back at her companions. "But for now we need to get acquainted with the ship. All this is not accidental.
Jerome looked at her in surprise.
"What do you mean? Everything is so beautiful here, everything is fine."
Jo tilted her head slightly and stopped, her gaze becoming more serious.
"You see, Jerome, sometimes behind the perfect picture there may be something completely different from what you expect. It's better to be prepared for anything."
Jerome was silent, but his heart began to beat a little faster. As the last passengers boarded, the ship gradually came to life. The first stewards appeared on the decks, helping with things, while others were already actively preparing for departure. The atmosphere on board was filled with anticipation - both among tourists and crew members. It seemed that the whole world, including the blue expanses of the ocean and the proud stature of the ship, was concentrated here, on this huge vessel, ready for a great journey.
Jo, Delia, and Jerome stood at the railing, watching the last of the steel ropes come loose from the pier. The weather was perfect-a warm breeze ruffling their hair, and the lights of Manhattan still twinkled in the distance, giving the illusion that the city hadn't let go of its ship. They were enjoying the moment, preparing for the long voyage, when a naval officer approached them.
His uniform was immaculately cleaned, and a gold epaulette glittered on his shoulder. He was middle-aged, with dark eyes that held a certain mystery. As he approached, his face was tense, as if he were about to say something important. He stopped right in front of Jo and, noticing that all three were listening, leaned forward slightly.
"Can I tell you a story?" he asked, so enthusiastically that his words almost floated like a fresh sea breeze. "About the time in America before television?"
Jerome raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn't expected to meet anyone on board the ship who would dare to tell such a strange, but apparently fascinating story. Delia looked at the officer with interest, her eyes full of curiosity.
"Of course, tell me," she said, smiling. "We've only just boarded, so I think it's time for a good old-fashioned story."
The officer quickly looked around, making sure that no one around him could hear, and then began to speak, almost without holding his breath, as if he was ready to tell everything at once.
"It was the late twenties," he began. "At that time in America there were no televisions or mobile phones. But people had other ways of entertainment, and they knew how to create history in their lives. One day, a very famous illusionist named Merlin Fuller came up with something incredible - he set up a network of secret pirate radio stations that broadcast all over the East Coast. At first, no one knew who he was, and people just laughed when they heard mysterious radio broadcasts about mysterious disappearances of people and ships that disappeared, which allegedly encountered water monsters. But soon it became clear that these stories were not fiction at all. This was the very moment when events occurred that changed the course of history forever."
The officer spoke quickly, as if he did not want anyone to interrupt him, as if every word was valuable and had to find its place in this story.
"One day, Merlin disappeared," he continued, his voice growing increasingly agitated. "He was lost in the heart of the Atlantic, in an area now called the Bermuda Triangle. No one knew where he had gone. But his radio broadcasts continued to be broadcast, even after he had been declared missing."
Jerome stood there, listening to every detail, trying to figure out how believable this story was. Delia was also engrossed in the story, her eyes wide and almost holding her breath.
"So what happened next?" she asked eagerly. "What does it have to do with the ships and the disappearances?"
The officer paused for a moment, as if considering whether to continue or stop. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, almost a whisper.
"It wasn't just a disappearance. The story went on. They say that Merlin actually discovered something that could make something terrible possible - time travel. But no one ever found out what he knew. But years later, in the early fifties, old records were found that said that one of his radios was still working. And do you know what was in there? Two people... two figures whose names are associated with the disappearance of many ships and planes in the Bermuda Triangle. Legend has it that they never returned."
Jerome felt a little uneasy at this story, which seemed to go beyond the bounds of common sense. But something in the officer's tone and his look made him listen further.
"So," he continued, "people often forget that history is not always what we want it to be. Sometimes what we find along the way is far beyond our understanding.
Silence hung between them. Delia was about to ask another question when Jo, who had stood silently until now, finally spoke words that sounded almost like a warning:
"Time is a strange thing indeed. But let's not forget that we're still on this ship, and we'd better get ready for our journey."
The officer nodded, as if getting close to finishing his story.
"You may be right," he said, "but we are all, in one way or another, in search of something more. And sometimes the path we take takes us much further than we might have imagined."
He took one last look at them and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of other passengers, leaving behind only a slight feeling of unease and questions that seemed to have no answers.
As the officer walked away, leaving behind a slight sense of ambiguity, Jo Thueson stood on the deck, watching the liner slowly lift off from the shore. The atmosphere was still tense, although everyone seemed to be enjoying the moment of anticipation of the journey. Delia and Jerome continued to look toward the horizon, where the last lights lingered for a long time against the backdrop of the city fading into darkness.
Suddenly Jo's phone vibrated, breaking the silence. She took it out, glanced at the screen, and without saying a word, was already waiting on the other end of the line.
"Yes?" she said reservedly, there was something cold and decisive in her voice.
The answer came quickly. After a few seconds, Jo frowned, but her face did not change.
"Earl Knight," she said. "Greetings from Bugenhagen... Yes, I remember who he was to you. Major Bugenhagen was a man who meant a lot to our department.
She was silent for a moment, listening to her interlocutor, then nodded and turned her gaze to Delia and Jerome, who seemed to be starting to lose interest in what was happening.
"Everything is fine," Jo continued, her voice calm. "We just boarded. Everything is as you predicted. But there is something important. Look, Knight said to keep our ears open and our ears open. He asked me to report to him over the phone every step we take. Yes, I know that doesn't sound calm, but we won't have any other choice. This isn't just a trip, Jerome and Delia," she looked at them, smiling slightly, "this is an operation."
Delia, seeing how Jo looked after the conversation, came closer with curiosity.
"Who was that caller? Is everything okay?" she asked.
"It's all right," Jo replied shortly, putting the phone back in her pocket. "That was Earl Knight from the CIA. He sent greetings from the late Major Bugenhagen."
Jerome, who had been lost in his thoughts until then, leaned forward, narrowing his eyes.
"So this isn't a coincidence? We're not really just on a cruise?" His voice was full of confusion and growing concern.
Jo nodded silently.
"We're in business. And although it seems like we're just on vacation, in reality, everything is much more serious. Earl told me to be extremely attentive to every detail. He wants me to report to him about our every move."
Delia seemed to take this information with interest and turned to Jerome with a smile.
"Well, you knew that we definitely wouldn't be bored. It's not like this is a coincidence, right?"
Jerome sighed and shook his head, but there was more than just a hint of worry in his eyes now. It was the realization that their vacation had been far more difficult than they could have ever imagined.
"Okay, if we're being taken on some kind of secret mission, then I think we should be on our guard," he said, trying to take control of the situation.
Jo looked at him with restraint.
"It's good that you understood so quickly. We have several days on board ahead of us, and every action we take can affect what happens next."
Then Jerome, having cheered up a little, looked at the sea opening up before them and added:
"So, we won't just be looking at seascapes and enjoying the cruise. It looks like we're in for something much more exciting."
Delia laughed cheerfully.
"Well, I'm still going to enjoy the view anyway! But what you do there is your business."
Jo couldn't help but smile, appreciating her cheerful ease, while she herself felt that more and more responsibility was lying on her shoulders. The operation they had to carry out promised to be much more complicated than a simple walk on the sea.
"We all have to be careful," Jo said, returning to a more serious tone. "Earl Knight is not a man to joke. And if he tells us something, it means it's not just for fun."
While Delia and Jerome exchanged glances, Jo glanced back at the deck again, as if waiting for some signal that would tell her what to do next. But everything around her was the same: the ocean, the wind, and the ship sailing away into the darkness of the night. Everything was calm. Too calm.