The man who was waiting on the shore looked like a farmer. He wore the right kind of clothes, and his van, which was parked on the dirt road above the beach, was suitably covered in mud.
It was midnight on the first Monday in October, and for the next thirty minutes he had to wait there. He stared out to sea.He was alone, as he knew he would be; it was planned that way. This beach was always empty at this time of night. No cars drove along the dirt road. The clouds were low and thick. It would be difficult to see the boat until it was close. That was planned as well.