A Five Year Plan

Chapter Twenty

Dave was out of breath. A walk to the accommodations block along the narrow side of the ship at night and in a high sea could do that for you. Several times he and Al had to stand still and hang on to the guide-rail until the swell passed and they could move again. Usually the journey took five minutes. This time it took more than twenty. And when finally they reached their objective they were both soaked to the skin. For a moment there passed through his head the thought, ‘What the fuck am I doing here?’ Then he got it together again, and left the question unanswered in case Al should take offense. Both of them realizing the size of the task they had taken on, they parted silently for fear of giving expression to the doubts that each man now felt. Dave headed toward the radio room, and Al made his way down below to secure the engine room.

Outside the radio room Dave pressed his ear to the door, listening long and carefully, making sure there was no one about. Like Raskolnikov, ready to bash the old woman’s head in. Not that he was planning to kill anyone. Least of all Jock. But although it was after twelve, someone was in there. He could hear the sound of a machine in use. If Jock was inside, Dave hoped the Scotsman wouldn’t be foolish enough to try to resist. Then, glancing at his Breitling, he realized that he could wait no longer. They were working to a pretty tight synchronization. The storm had made sure of that. There would be no time for mistakes. Dave had only a minute or two to lock up the radio room and then capture the bridge before Al went into action down below.

He opened the door to darkness and a small green light, like the single eye of some nocturnal animal. The radio room was empty and he saw that the noise was coming from the fax machine spewing a long roll of paper onto the floor. Turning on his flashlight to check on what info was being sent through, in case it affected the rendezvous, Dave saw that it was only the midweek soccer results from England. And Arsenal, whoever they were, had lost again. Dave locked the door from the outside, slipped the key into the pocket of the hunter’s vest he wore over his bulletproof vest, and went along to the bridge.

The watch had changed just around midnight when the third officer was relieved by the second officer, Niven. Normally this was the quietest of all the watches, lasting until 4 a.m., when Niven would be relieved by the chief. But the weather had given the watch crew plenty to do, keeping an eye on the ship’s collision and avoidance program. This involved taking the radar range and bearings with the ship’s ARPA, to get the vector of ships that might be in the area. The Duke was doing 105 revs. Niven had just heard the helmsman say ‘Port One’, and acknowledged the computer’s one degree of helm adjustment to their course, when he found himself staring into the silenced barrel of Dave’s submachine gun. The red light emanating from the laser aiming module underneath the gun barrel confirmed that the bearer meant business.

Dave hoped that the men standing on the unsteady floor of the bridge would hear what he had to say above the beating of his heart.

‘Be dead, or order dead slow ahead.’

Niven did not hesitate, realizing that it was only in films that anyone ever thought to question a man holding a gun on you. Straightaway he picked up the engine room telephone and gave Dave’s order, and waited until it had been confirmed by the second engineer. Still holding the phone, he said, ‘Dead slow ahead it is.’

‘Set the gyro for automatic steering,’ ordered Dave.

‘It’s already set. You can check it yourself if you like.’

Dave grinned. ‘Why would you lie?’

Niven swallowed hard. Dave jerked his gun toward the bridge window.

‘Any crew astern?’

‘Not in this weather.’

Dave took the phone from Niven’s trembling hand and waved him back. He said, ‘Let me speak to the man with the gun.’

There was a short pause and then he heard Al’s voice:

‘Engine room secure.’

‘Bridge secure,’ said Dave. ‘We’re on our way down.’ He tossed the receiver back to Niven who in his fear, fumbled and then dropped it onto the bridge floor.

‘Sorry,’ said Niven, retrieving the receiver slowly and replacing it on the wall cradle.

‘Just be cool and you’ll be OK,’ Dave advised. ‘From here on it’s an attitude thing. Having one could be unhealthy. Follow me?’

‘Like Moses.’

‘Good boy,’ said Dave. ‘OK, let’s go below.’

‘Excuse me, but what about the helm?’ asked Niven.

‘We’re on automatic,’ said Dave. ‘The computer will watch the ARPA.’

‘Yeah, but all the same. In this weather, it’s as well to keep an eye on things.’

Dave didn’t have time to argue. Silently, he waved the gun toward the bridge wing and the stairwell that led below deck. The two men gave the gun and then Dave a wary, attentive look and went through the door. A few minutes later they and the man who had been down in the engine room were meekly stepping into the workshop. Dave watched Al shove the engineer roughly inside with the barrel of his shotgun and then bolt the door behind him.

‘He give you any trouble?’ Dave asked him.

‘He’s alive, isn’t he?’ Al said ominously.

‘Don’t be such a fuckin’ hard ass. Smith and Jones, OK?’

Al shrugged and it was then Dave noticed that he was wearing a crucifix on one of the gold chains around his neck. Al wore a lot of gold, but this was the first time Dave had seen him wearing a crucifix. Grabbing it in his half-gloved hand, he said, ‘What’s this?’

‘What’s it fucking look like, asshole?’

Al tugged the little crucifix out of Dave’s fingers and tucked it behind the hard sternum of his bulletproof vest.

‘You really believe God is going to look out for you with a shotgun in your hand?’ laughed Dave.

‘Who are you? Billy fucking Graham? What the fuck do you care what I believe?’

‘I think a man ought to be self-reliant, that’s all. I don’t like the idea that there are any second chances in life. Makes people careless. The only one who’s watching your ass round here is me, Al. Not God. Try and remember that.’

‘You just watch out for your own shit and leave me to mine. I can handle the discordant notes in my set-up. I’m cool to the contraries inherent in my situation. Know what I’m sayin’? So why don’t you get your nose out of my fuckin’ conscience and let’s go and kick some ass.’

With three men locked up that left fourteen others to be accounted for. All the officer and crew quarters were on the same deck. Most of the men were asleep. A few were drunk. Either way they offered Dave and Al no resistance. With the exception of Jellicoe. He was the last to be hauled roughly from his bed at gunpoint. Seeing the rest of his men standing meekly in the corridor under Dave’s armed guard seemed to bring out in him something of his country’s proud tradition of resistance.

‘You know what this is, don’t you?’ he said stiffly.

‘Shut the fuck up.’

‘It’s bloody piracy, that’s what it is,’ Jellicoe persisted. ‘It’s an offense against the law of nations, that’s what it is. Well, mark my words, outside the normal jurisdiction of a state, I’m the law round here. And I can tell you bastards, you won’t get away with this. Regardless of your nationality or domicile you can be sure that I will pursue you, arrest you, try you, and punish you as I am so empowered to do under international—’

Al jabbed the shortened barrel of his shotgun under Jellicoe’s nose and racked the slide, silencing him with immediate effect. Then, wearing an expression of intense irritation, Al looked at Dave as if he held him personally responsible and said, ‘OK, I’m cool to this Smith and Jones shit. But if he gives me any more of the Admiral Halsey I’m gonna pump one up each fucking nostril.’

‘Do as the bastard says, sir,’ said one of Jellicoe’s crew. ‘For Christ’s sake. Or you’ll get us all killed.’

Al turned his malevolent gaze back to Jellicoe and said, ‘You hear that, you fuckin’ fag? It’s good advice. One more crack out of you and you’re gonna be huntin’ Red October, so help me God. Understand?’

Before he locked the workshop door, Dave took Jock aside.

‘Sorry about this, Jock. Look, there are some tools and things on the floor that’ll help you escape. Only I wouldn’t start until around six. It’s likely to make Al nervous if he hears you guys banging away and when he’s nervous he gets trigger happy. Know what I mean? The ship’s going dead ahead slow on auto-pilot, so you’ve nothing to worry about there. One more thing. You’ll find some people handcuffed on the Carrera. The keys to their handcuffs as well as the key to the radio room are in the safe on my boat. It’s a four-digit combination. The first number is keyed in already for you guys. You just have to work your way through the other 999 possibilities. Shouldn’t take you more than a couple of hours. I know, I’ve already tried it myself. Understand?’

‘Aye, I think so,’ Jock frowned. ‘What’s this all about anyway?’

‘It’s like you said yourself, Jock. You make it any way you can.’

Clearing the accommodations block and locking up the crew was the easiest part of the plan. But scrambling from one yacht to another, and moving owners and crews off their vessels and along the dock wall in darkness had always looked more problematic. Now, in a high sea, it looked impossible. As Dave and Al had discovered on their own trip to the block, it would have been only too easy for someone to have fallen from the ship’s dock wall and into the sea, where they would certainly have drowned. But Dave was nothing if not flexible in the way he approached his plan, and stumbling across those FBI shields and IDs had given him an idea how a lot of crucial time and effort might now be saved. And as soon as the ship’s officers and crew were safely out of the way, Dave told Al about the change in plan.

‘Al,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve got a present for you. Now, I don’t want you getting alarmed when you see what it is, OK? Because normally you would be, right? Under normal circumstances you would look at what I’m about to give you and feel very uncomfortable. And I wouldn’t blame you one bit. But with anything creative, if it’s any fuckin’ good, there’s usually a certain amount of improvisation involved. Like good jazz, y’know? Or Jimi Hendrix?’

‘Improvisation?’ Al’s frown deepened. ‘What the fuck is this? What are you talking about, improvisation? Do I look like Lee fucking Strasberg or something? We’re taking down a score here, not some fucking director’s notes.’

They were standing on the empty bridge staring down at a vague outline of the captive flotilla of yachts. Apart from the two lights on the ship’s stern, everything was dark. Dave nodded and said, ‘That’s good, Al. Lee Strasberg is good. A much better example than Jimi Hendrix because there is going to be some acting involved. Did you ever see yourself as an actor, Al?’

‘I hate fucking actors.’

‘That’s good too. See if you can hang onto that. Because the best way of manifesting your contempt for actors would be to demonstrate just how easy acting is.’

‘Get to the point, motherfucker.’

‘OK, here’s your part.’ Dave unfolded Kent Bowen’s FBI identification wallet and handed it over. He hoped that in the half-light of the bridge Al wouldn’t recognize Bowen from his photograph. ‘Your name is Kent Bowen and you’re an Assistant Special Agent in Charge with the FBI.’

Al scrutinized the card. ‘Where the fuck did you get this shit?’

‘Never mind that now. That and the other one in my pocket are going to save you and me a lot of legwork.’ He glanced at his watch. The change in plan was now looking essential. ‘Dangerous and time-consuming legwork,’ he added. ‘Just look down at those boats and think about this. That it’s a lot of fuckin’ boats to be gettin’ on and off of in the pitch dark, and in this fucking weather. Right? This FBI thing is just a way of streamlining this particular phase of the operation. You dig?’

Less effort for the same return was OK with Al. ‘I guess so.’

Dave took back Bowen’s FBI wallet and tucked one half inside the strap of Al’s vest, so that the badge was hanging out in the front.

‘There you go,’ he said. ‘You look just like Al Pacino. Right, now here’s the set-up. You and I are going to board these boats posing as a couple of Feds. We’ll tell them that we’ve been keeping one particular boat on this ship under surveillance because it’s smuggling drugs. Only now we’ve got to move in and make the arrest before they transfer the stuff onto another ship. So we’re asking everyone to stay in their cabins in case there’s any shooting and to be real quiet. Think you can handle that?’

Al glanced at the badge he was wearing. He shook his head, and said, ‘Jesus, this feels weird. I can handle this shit, yeah. Acting. Nothing to it. If Arnie Schwarzenegger can do it, then anyone can. I’m Jack Webb, no fucking problem. When I was a kid I watched Dragnet all the time.’

‘Now you’re talking,’ said Dave.

‘Who am I supposed to be again?’ asked Al and before Dave could distract him, he had the wallet out of his vest and was scrutinizing Bowen’s ID. ‘I’d better get into character here.’

‘Your name’s Bowen,’ said Dave, hoping to distract Al, worried about how he might react to the presence of three real Feds on board the Duke. ‘And you’re what the Feds call an ASAC.’

‘Sack of shit more like,’ muttered Al. ‘Y’know, this is pretty good ID. With these fuckin’ creds I could—’

‘Yeah, yeah, c’mon Al, let’s get moving.’

‘Wait a minute,’ Al frowned. ‘Wait just a fuckin’ minute. I recognize this joker. This is the guy on that broad’s boat. That broad you’ve been—’

‘Al, there’s really no time to explain.’

‘It is, isn’t it? That’s where I’ve seen this character. And this ID. This is Coca-Cola. This is the real thing.’

‘None of this is relevant.’

‘The hell it isn’t. Show me your ID.’

‘These really are going to make things easier for us, Al, if only you’ll let them.’

‘Hand it over, asshole.’

Dave could see there was no point in arguing. He handed Al Kate’s ID and watched the big man’s ugly face wince with horror.

‘Jesus, she’s a Fed too. You fucked a Fed, didn’t ya? I don’t believe it. You fucked a Fed. What the hell were you thinking of? Didn’t it make you feel nervous or nothing?’

‘I didn’t know she was a Fed when I fucked her,’ lied Dave. ‘I was snooping around her pantie drawer and that’s when I found her wallet.’

‘What about the other guy? The tall guy with the glasses? Is he a Fed as well?’

‘No, he’s with the Coast Guard.’

‘Did you fuck him too? Or is it just Feds you’ve got a thing for?’ Al shook his head in wonder. ‘Jesus Christ. I can’t believe this. Doesn’t it make you feel nervous? It makes me feel like running for Mommy’s tit.’

‘Relax will you? Everything’s cool. They’re no threat to us, believe me. For one thing they’re working under cover — keeping Jellicoe under surveillance. They suspect him of smuggling drugs or guns or some shit like that. It’s nothing to do with us. Nothing. You understand? And for another thing, I took their guns at the same time as I took their IDs and threw them over the side, just in case.’

Dave thought the story about Jellicoe was better for Al’s peace of mind than saying he really had no idea who was under surveillance, or why, except that it certainly wasn’t the two of them.

‘They had guns?’

‘Well of course they had guns. They’re FBI, not fucking Bay-watch?

‘I still don’t like it.’

‘You don’t have to like it, Al. All you gotta do is act, for Chrissakes.’

‘And what about them. The Feds. What are you going to do about them?’ Al threw Kate’s ID back at him.

‘Chill out. I’ll handle them.’

‘Romantic goodbyes, is that it?’

‘Something like that.’

‘I gotta hand it to you, pal. Fucking a Fed. That’s quite a pelt for any guy to have on his bedpost. But for someone like you. An ex-con, straight out of the federal joint. Wait till I tell Tony. He ain’t gonna believe it. You. Dave Delano. Mister Sang Freud. That’s French,’ explained Al. ‘Means you got composure. Like there was ice running in your veins.’

Kate lay on the gently rocking bed in her stateroom, drifting in and out of sleep. The prints and photo fits of vague thoughts piled up in her head; but she couldn’t concentrate on any one of them. What was she going to do? She could hardly ignore Dave for the remainder of the voyage. Suppose he was involved with the mob? Was that better or worse than being a jewel thief? Was there anything he had said that she thought she could actually believe? Yes. He loved her. Even wanted to marry her. That much she did believe. And not because she wanted to, but because she just knew that it was the truth. In which case, since she felt the same way about him, did anything else really matter? What was being in the Bureau and staying on in Florida really worth compared with what she felt for him? And hadn’t she wanted something like this? Something out of the ordinary? What did it really matter that she didn’t know him? As Dave had said, people who didn’t know each other fell in love and got married every day. Were their marriages any less successful than anyone else’s? She and Howard, for instance. They’d known each other for three years before getting married. And look how that had turned out...

It was not so much sleep that she awoke from. More like returning from oblivion. As if something had disturbed her: something other than the storm still lashing at the porthole window. As if someone had come into her cabin. Kate rolled across the bed toward the lamp and found a hand pressed over her mouth before she could reach for the switch.

‘It’s me, Dave. Don’t scream.’ The next second he took his hand away and replaced it with his mouth.

For a minute or two she gave herself up to his kiss, pushing all her doubts to the back of her mind. He was here with her now and that was all that counted. Putting her arms around him she tried to draw him down on top of her, wanting him to make love to her, regardless of what she now knew about him. She whispered, ‘Jesus, Dave, you’re all wet. Is there something the matter with the ship?’

‘No.’

‘Well, I’m still glad you came.’

‘Kate, I have to talk to you.’

‘I’ve been avoiding you, I’m sorry. I guess you’ve swept me off my feet. I didn’t know how to respond... What are you wearing? Here, let me turn the light on.’

But Dave held her still, and sensing that he didn’t want the light, she began to think that something might be wrong.

He said, ‘I want you to know I meant everything I said. About loving you. About wanting to marry you.’

‘I know you did, I know.’

‘And?’

‘Can’t we talk about this after we’ve made love?’

He sighed and moved away from her in the darkness.

‘I’d like to, really I would. But you see, I’m getting off the boat. Tonight.’

‘Getting off? Dave, what are you talking about? What’s happening?’

‘Listen carefully. Two things.’

Kate reached across and turned on the light. At a glance her eyes took in the bulletproof vest, the .45 automatic, the submachine gun, the night sights, and the walkie-talkie. He looked like some kind of navy commando. Or maybe something worse.

‘Jesus.’

Dave shrugged apologetically and said, ‘Well, that’s the first thing.’

‘What the hell’s going on here?’

Dave started to answer, but she silenced him as quickly. Her mouth narrowing with disapproval, she said, ‘No, don’t tell me. I think I can guess. This is a hijack, isn’t it?’

Dave said, ‘Sure you don’t want to change your mind and come along with me?’

Kate laughed with contempt. Only the contempt wasn’t for him. It was for herself. To have been proved wrong about this man, the man she loved, and by Kent Bowen of all people. He would never let her forget it, the bastard. She heard herself say, ‘Me, on the lam with a drug hijacker? I don’t think so.’

‘That’s too bad,’ said Dave. So he had been right about there being drugs somewhere on board the ship. That’s what she thought he was planning to steal. ‘Because I meant every word.’

‘Yeah, you said that.’ She smiled bitterly. ‘You said a lot of things that don’t mean a thing now. And me? I really fell for that millionaire routine, didn’t I? Then the gentlemen jewel-thief bullshit. You had me dangling on a string, and how.’

‘So, I’m a liar,’ admitted Dave. ‘Everyone in this world is pretending to be something they’re not.’ He paused, hoping she might volunteer something about her own deception.

She said, ‘No worse? Don’t fool yourself, Dave. If that’s your real name. You’re just another cheap recidivist from Homestead.’ Kate smiled at the look of surprise on Dave’s face. ‘Yes, I know all about that.’

Dave tried to figure how she made him an ex-con. She was still uncertain of his real name, but could somehow connect him with Homestead.

‘You want to be more careful whose books you steal.’

So that was it. There must have been something in one of his books. A bookplate or something. He should have been more careful. Dave realized he had underestimated her.

‘I guess you think you’ve figured out all the angles.’ Kate slipped slowly off the bed and onto the floor. ‘Well, I’m not going to wish you luck. Your kind isn’t interested in leaving things to luck. You want a sure thing. But there is something I’d like to give you, in the way of a keepsake. Something to remember me by. When you’re doing time again.’

Dave watched her coolly lift the bedspread, admiring the way she was handling herself. Him armed to the teeth and her, dressed only in pyjamas, still going for it, undeterred, thinking she still had a chance to nail him. Reluctant to admit defeat. There was no doubt about it, he had picked a really special one. Kate Furey was one hell of a woman.

Slowly she pulled out the bed drawer and said, ‘A little souvenir, of our love. So you’ll always know exactly what you missed when you lost my good opinion of you, Dave.’

Smiling, Kate reached into the drawer, all the way to the back where she kept her identity card and the Ladysmith .38. The way he was sitting there, legs akimbo, arms folded, smiling slightly, like the score was already in the bag. The last thing he was expecting was a weapons-trained federal agent coming out of that drawer with a gun pointed at his balls.

Dave watched her search become more urgent and the sly little smile she had been wearing quickly disappear. ‘Looks like you’ve missed something yourself,’ he said. And taking her ID out of the pocket of his huntsman’s vest, he flipped it open over his forefinger. ‘Is this what you’re looking for, Agent Furey?’

Kate lunged for her wallet.

‘Uh-uh-uh,’ he said, and returned it to his pocket. ‘This and the gun that was with it. What would you have done if you had found it? Would you really have shot me?’

Kate sat back and folded her arms calmly. ‘We’ll never know, will we?’

‘Agent Furey. I prefer that name. It suits you a lot better than Parmenter. Agent Furey sounds like something the Army might have used in Vietnam. A defoliant, maybe. You certainly shook the leaves off my tree, I don’t mind telling you. They’re all over the grass.’

‘Parmenter is my married name.’

‘That part true? About you and he getting divorced?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is he FBI too?’

‘No, he’s an attorney.’

Dave nodded.

‘When did you find out?’ she asked.

‘Oh, I could ask you the same question. But I’m afraid we’re out of time.’ Dave reached into his vest then tossed a pair of a handcuffs onto the floor. ‘Just on the one wrist please, if you don’t mind.’

‘And if I refuse to comply? Do you think you can shoot me?’

‘Nope. I couldn’t even point a gun at the contents of your closet. But I wouldn’t mind betting I could give that boss of yours, Kent Bowen, a good crack on the ear.’

‘That makes two of us.’

‘And Al — well, Al is capable of just about anything where a Fed is concerned.’

‘I figured.’ Kate snapped the cuff on one wrist. Much as she disliked Kent Bowen she really hadn’t the stomach to see any harm come to him.

‘Just in case you were wondering, Bowen and the other fellow are safely handcuffed in the luxury of their own staterooms.’

Kate held up the wrist wearing the cuff. ‘Can you get me the earrings to match?’

Dave pointed inside the head. ‘In there, please.’

She got up and went through. He told her to sit down on the floor and to open the closet underneath the sink where the reel-to-reel tape machine was hidden.

‘Nice stereo,’ said Dave. ‘By the way, who was it that you guys were really after?’

‘What? You expect me to finger the dope for you, is that it?’ Kate assumed he was being flippant. That this was just another way of taunting her. ‘You. We were after you and your friend, Al.’

He said, ‘No, you weren’t. I already listened to your tape.’

‘Then why are you asking me?’

‘You’re right. It doesn’t matter. Now reach around the waste pipe and manacle the other wrist.’

When she had done it, he dangled the keys and said, ‘I’ll put these in my safe. I assume you know where that is. My guess is you already tried to open it when you searched my room. The key to the radio room’s there as well. It’s a four-digit combination. The first number’s keyed in. It takes about two hours to work your way through the 999 remaining possibilities. The ship’s crew are all locked up in the workshop, but it shouldn’t take them more than a few hours to break out. I’ve told them you’re here, so you shouldn’t have long to wait. Of course, we’ll be gone by then.’

He took out a roll of surgical tape. Just in case she started hollering and putting the crews on the Russkie boats on alert.

‘I’m sorry about this,’ he said. ‘Really I am. You have the most attractive mouth—’

‘Save it for the judge, asshole.’

‘Anything I can get you first? A glass of water, perhaps?’

‘How about a glass of water and a goodbye kiss?’

‘Easy.’ Still apologizing, Dave fetched her some water from the faucet and helped her to drink. She swallowed most of it but as he moved closer to kiss her, she squirted a jet of water right back in his face.

Laughing she said, ‘There you go. There’s your kiss. A big wet one you’ll always remember me by.’

Dave picked up a towel and wiped his face. Trying to smile he said, ‘In the next life you’d better come back as a fountain.’

‘You should thank me. You may never feel this clean again.’

When he had finished taping her mouth he asked her if she could breathe all right. She nodded sullenly.

‘Sure you won’t change your mind? Come with me? We could be good together.’

She shook her head.

‘OK, if you should ever change your mind...’

Kate looked the other way.

‘Then keep an eye on the Tuesday editions of the Miami Herald. Classified section. Lost and Found. Look out for, "Lost at Sea. Siberian Husky. Answers to the name of Rodya." It’ll say No Reward, just to stop any cowboys from telephoning. There’ll be an answering service. You can leave a message. If you want.’ Dave paused and let out a long sigh. ‘I hope you do.’

Kate kept her head averted. A second or two later she heard the door close behind him.