[b]Hatteras Island[/b] The small crowd gathered around the stage clapped as the couple took the stage. The young man had a guitar in his hands, the young woman a fiddle in her right and a bow in her left. They looked at each other for a moment, a half smirk on the man's lips and the woman's eyes filled with warmth as some unsaid inside joke or thought passed between the two. She softly counted down from three as he nodded at her and started to strum. They sang in harmony, their voices ringing out clear in the small bar. [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V7TAOyU8OeU]Music[/url] [i]"Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum, hoist the mainsail here I come. Ain't no room on board for the insincere. You're my witness, I'm your mutineer. I was born to rock the boat. Some may sink, but we will float. Grab your coat, let's get out of here. You're my witness, I'm your mutineer."[/i] In the corner of the bar, Sam Hall watched with rapt attention. Sam had been coming to the Undertow for years now. Live music was something they occasionally had, but not like this. It was almost always somebody plucking on a banjo or a rusty harmonica. There was something Sam found striking about the song. It was the singers, he finally realized. They projected to the crowd, but they never once took their eyes off each other. The song was being sung at the Undertow, but it wasn't for the Undertow crowd. It was a private duet between the two young musicians. It was borderline voyeuristic. [i]"Long ago we laughed at shadow. Lightning flashed, thunder followed. They could never find us here. You're my witness, I'm your mutineer."[/i] Someone sliding into Sam's booth finally snapped him from his reverie. The unpleasant hangdog face of Turner Stephens was an unwelcome sight any time, but especially during the midst of the beautiful song being sung on stage. There was also the fact that Sam owed Turner a lot of money, but right now Sam chalked it up to ruining the song. On stage, the young woman was playing her fiddle while her eyes continued to be locked on the guitar player. [i]"I was born to rock the boat. Some may sink, but we will float. Grab your coat, let's get out of here. You're my witness, I'm your mutineer."[/i] "How's tricks, Sam?" Turner asked in a neutral voice. "Tricky," Sam replied with his stock phrase. "How goes the business?" "Trickier still." The slow song turned into an upbeat number. Sam shifted full attention to Turner. He wondered if the fat man was armed. Sam was. Ever since his fuck up six months ago, he made it a habit to carry the old Beretta pistol everywhere. Even to bed with him. If Turner wasn't armed, Sam was sure there were at least two other guys in the bar who were armed and watching this conversation go down. "So what can I help you with, Turner?" "You know exactly what I want, Sam. My fucking money." "I've been doing all that I can," Sam said with his arms spread open. "Turner, the shit that went down made my name mud and I can't get a fucking paying job to save my life." "Whose fault is that?" the fat man asked with a raised eyebrow. "Yours. You fucked up, Sam. You know the risks you take when you run contraband for me. You owe me fifteen thousand." "What?" Sam asked with a scowl. "At most, the shit I lost was five thousand--" "Plus interest." Turner said with a look that had no give to it. "I didn't demand repayment six months ago. I consider that a loan, a loan that I refinanced three months later." "And now you've come to collect?" Now it was Turner's time to spread his hands. Sam balled his fists into his hands and fumed under the surface. When it came to the Outer Banks, men like Turner Stephens ran things. The captains and old timers loved to talk about freedom and the man and the sea and all that bullshit. But the flip side of that was the freedom opened the door to men like Turner and Sam, men who followed that old personal freedom credo to form the criminal backbone of the Outer Banks and the Atlantic coast. They weren't pirates, the Outer Banks ruled piracy a capital offense, but they were just a few steps above it. "If you don't have my money, Sam. I know of a way you can work off the debt." Here was the rub. Sam had little doubt that Turner knew full well Sam couldn't pay him before he even set foot in the Undertow. He also knew the piling on of debt and interest was part of it. Guys like Turner liked money and getting it, but they more often than not liked people in debt to them, people who would do anything to work off that debt. "What?" was all Sam would proffer. "I know a guy on this little piece of land called Cobb Island. He's holding something for me. Get your rickety ass boat and sail up there, get it, and bring it back to me. Simple enough, right?" "Cobb Island," Sam said, mostly to himself. It wasn't a place he was familiar with right off the bat. "Where's it at?" "Maryland," Turner said with a smirk. "Right were the Potomac and Wicomico Rivers meet." Sam felt his guts tighten and a cold feeling start at the base of his spin and slowly work its way up his back. That was nowhere near Outer Banks waters. That was-- "Federal waters," he finished his thought out loud. "I'm smuggling something out of the Old Republic?" Turner winked at him in a smug way. "You got it." Sam had visions of federal gunboats and patrol ships going up and down the Potomac on 24/7 patrols. Each one would be armed and blow anything not flying a federal flag out the fucking water. Turner sensed his hesitation and leaned forward with both eyebrows raised as he spoke. "I'll wipe out all the interest on the fifteen thousand and consider this a pay off on some of the principal. I'm giving you four days, Sam. Two to get up there and two to get back. If you're not back by then, I tack another five grand on your debt every day you're past the due date." "And if I say no?" Turner nodded behind him. Sam noticed the two men who were across the room but kept staring at Sam and Turner. "I get my two guys over there to kick the shit out of you until you cough up the money or die. What do you say?" Sam waved a waitress over and ordered a drink. "Always wanted to see the Chesapeake. Now's my chance."