Something’s Down There

Chapter Thirteen

The seaplane with the navy markings landed three hundred yards off the Sentilla, taxied halfway back to meet the launch the ship sent out, discharged its sole passenger, then, when the launch was clear, turned into the wind and took off again.

Five minutes later the tall, middle-aged man was shaking hands with the captain, handing him his ID papers, then letting his eyes roam the deck until he spotted Mako leaning on the starboard rail. “That’s him, isn’t it?”

“That’s him,” Watts repeated.

“Damn, he hasn’t changed. Haven’t seen him for twelve years and he still looks the same.”

“Nice fellow.”

Helmut Wilkins said, “Yeah?” The tone of his voice made Don Watts look at him sharply. “That nice fellow was the Company’s top shooter. He took out more unfriendlies than you can count, and some friendlies too. The director was glad he retired. So were our enemies.”

“He hasn’t taken out anybody around here,” Watts said.

“Don’t worry,” Wilkins said, “he will, he will.”

Hooker let go of the rail and walked up to the pair, his hand out. He said, “Hello, bean counter. How goes it?”

Wilkins’s smile was noncommittal. He was glad to see Hooker again but didn’t seem to enjoy the reunion at all. “Can’t quite quit, can you?”

“Things seem to follow me around.”

“Sure, like major crises.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Hooker told him.

“You don’t watch television or read newspapers anymore, either.”

“There’s enough excitement right here.”

Wilkins addressed the captain with “Someplace we can talk privately?”

“Plenty of that during working hours. Come on with me.” He took them to a small library with books stacked along each wall and a half dozen comfortable chairs scattered around. There was a desk in one corner with an electric typewriter and a fax machine, a jar filled with ballpoint pens and pencils. “Lock the door and make yourselves comfortable,” he told them. “Nobody will bother you.”

Hooker locked the door, then sat down facing Wilkins, who already had his attaché case open and was extracting several sheets of paper. The red printed CONFIDENTIAL stamped at the top indicated only moderate security, not worthy of being transported by a top-level agent like Wilkins. So he waited. Wilkins was playing that damn fool amateur routine of trying to get him talking first, but Hooker didn’t buy it.

Wilkins knew what Hooker was doing. He smiled indulgently and stated, “You made a request from the Company.” His eyes flashed up to Mako’s for confirmation.

“The Becker Bank,” Hooker said.

This time Wilkins waited.

“And any Durant connection.”

“Yes.” He paused, reread the information on the sheet in his hand and made another one of those meaningful nods. “Becker and Durant had been friends for some time. According to Becker’s business records, they met several times, in Europe and the Americas. It is assumed that these were business meetings.”

“Why an assumption?”

“Because Becker’s pleasure was gambling and Durant’s was fishing. You couldn’t get Becker on a boat or Durant in a casino but they both were business tycoons.” Suddenly he stopped and asked, “As a matter of curiosity, would you mind telling me why you want this information?”

“They’re both dead.”

“True.”

“Murdered, both the same way. An ocean apart.”

“Street muggings,” Wilkins muttered. “They happen here, they happen in Europe.”

“Neither one was guarded.”

“That’s not unusual. Millionaires walk all over the cities these days.”

“Not in unlikely places where these two were killed. Neither one had much cash in their pockets.”

“They weren’t wearing cheap clothes, Hooker.”

“Nobody stole the clothes either. They got a watch off Durant. What was Becker missing?”

“A watch, two rings and a diamond stickpin.”

“Glad you noticed,” Hooker said. “Now you know as well as I do that something was fishy.”

“It wasn’t big news to us, pal. The French have a pretty good spook system going for them too, and sometime back a money courier from the States opened a sizable account with the Becker Bank. Sheerly by accident, that courier was identified as having close association with mob figures in New York. Unfortunately, the person who made the ID died in a car wreck.”

“What are the big numbers, Wilkins?”

“The Company and the French police did one hell of a thorough investigation. Our side ran the lead down and a bundle of francs from our contingency fund dug something out. Becker had a male secretary, a little on the cute side, but nobody accused him of any sexual deviation. It didn’t take much pressure to make him mention that just before Durant’s death, Becker had sent him a fax message to meet Durant on a certain date in a certain place in Miami.”

“How did Becker send the fax?”

“The memo was on the secretary’s desk where Becker dropped his usual requests when he was going out.”

“Okay, got it.”

“The guy did what Becker had ordered. He sent the fax. A copy was in the files. The date and place of the meeting were when and where Durant was killed.”

“Wasn’t the secretary a little suspicious of the deal?”

“Not a bit. He said that Becker often did that. He thought they were assignations Becker had arranged.”

“Pure sex, huh?”

“I told you, the guy was cute.”

“But you didn’t tell me all of it.”

Wilkins grinned again and said, “Just before Becker was killed, the secretary died in a car accident. The police said it could have been arranged.”

“The usual mob touch,” Hooker said.

“That’s still speculation, Mako.”

“Then try this. That supposed courier opened an account. What’s wrong with that? Was it big enough to warrant Becker’s attention?”

“It must have been, because not long afterward Becker met with his advisors about a sizable loan to a U.S. client. There were no specific details given, but it seemed acceptable to all. Not that it mattered, since Becker called all the shots, but he wanted to have other thoughts on it before he moved.”

“Did it happen?”

“A two-hundred-million-dollar loan was negotiated, the money transferred to a bank in Grand Cayman, the account owned by a corporation that got lost in the maze of paperwork those slick deals entail.”

“The U.S. client who requested the loan, then, would have been the one who owned the account opened by the courier?” Hooker suggested.

“Right.”

“And the identity of the courier was guaranteed by the passport he carried.”

“Yes.”

“Easy to counterfeit, of course. No need to go into a security check when he was putting money in, not taking it out.”

Wilkins agreed with a motion of his head. “Money talks, Mako.”

“Hell, it yells. What security was given for the loan?”

Wilkins said, “The twenty-million bank account and a carton of bonds as good as gold and not traceable to anyone. We assume they are stolen.”

Hooker let it all sink in before he asked, “Is there anybody who could identify that courier?”

“There were three who saw him. The descriptions were all identical but, when you look at it, all very ambiguous. He was tall, well built, well dressed, had stylishly cut gray hair, rather heavy eyebrows and a dark mustache and beard. He wore heavy reading glasses, kept them in the breast pocket of his suit coat, and was very pleasant.”

“What about his coloring?”

“They all noticed that he had a tan, not unusual for Americans at that time of the year.”

Hooker said, “The guy was clever. Great descriptions, but nothing that couldn’t be faked. Anything about his voice?”

“Yep. Well modulated, well spoken and very American.” Wilkins leaned back in his chair, watching Hooker closely. “You have somebody in mind for this caper, Mako?”

“Not really.”

“You’re lying, pal.”

Hooker shook his head. “I’m just playing a close hand.”

“Look, dammit, you got everybody all shook up with your contact...”

“Quit the crap, Wilkins. I’m an old retired hand. Right now the Company is down in the garbage heap and is ready to do anything to claw its way out of the mess it got itself into. It needs restructuring, re-financing and respect, and they’re looking for that big touchdown pass to win the game for them, and this eater business popping up like a publicity hound’s best dream and me being on the scene have given them one big last-ditch chance to get back in the lineup. Just don’t try to crap me, old buddy.”

For a full minute there was silence between them, Wilkins folding the papers back in his attaché case. Hooker swung around and asked, “What’s new on the mob scene in the States?”

“Quiet. When the bosses start to go to prison things get stale for a while. Not that that means much. They’ve been going legitimate for a long time now and let the families that handle drugs, prostitution and all that stuff take the heat.”

“What’s the scam on the drug scene?”

“Nothing new. The poorer countries grow it with their government’s protection and the affluent places buy the junk. Our narcotics agencies confiscate tonnages of the stuff, but that’s only a drop in the bucket.”

“Think it’ll ever change?”

“Not in this system of things.” Suddenly Wilkins stared at Hooker, his eyes half closed. “You think drugs are involved in this mess?”

“Nope.”

“What, then?”

“Money, pal. It’s always money. It’s what makes this old world go round.”

“Yeah.”

“One other thing, Wilkins.” The agent paused in snapping the lock on his attaché case. “Becker had his own investigative group working for him, didn’t he?”

Wilkins said nothing, just nodding slightly.

“He would have had them look into that loan, wouldn’t he?”

“It was standard procedure.”

Now Hooker let the grin develop slowly. He wanted the uptown spook across from him to know that the old-time spooks could still mix up the batter and make a pie. “I bet you, old buddy, that Becker had some second thoughts about that loan and was going to recall it before it went through.”

He waited. Wilkins licked his lips, grimaced slightly and pulled at his earlobe.

“Yes. Something happened that Becker didn’t like. He could have put an order through canceling the check, but he was mugged and killed before that happened. The deal went through.”

Hooker leaned forward, propping his chin on his hands. “One more quickie, Wilkins. How did the loan pan out? If anything big had hit the bank, the financial pages would have broadcast it.”

“The debt was paid off. It was legitimate from front to back.”

“Except for the killings.”

Without bothering to answer him, Wilkins stood up and both of them went back on deck. Captain Watts came out to join them and see the agent into the launch that took him out to the seaplane, and they both watched it take off back to its Florida base.

They could hear the sound of the party long before they reached the side of the cruise ship. Decorative lights turned the decks into a rainbow of colors, the music of the band crisp and clear, the dancers a flowing swirl of vivacious animation. Two large bars had been set up, mainly for the men, the ones who gave orders to the captains of industry in faraway places. Their shipboard uniforms were gleaming-white and the fading sun still glinted off the medals some of them wore.

Billy Bright surveyed the excitement ahead and said, “Is this like a marriage thing the stateside people do in Miami?”

“Not this party, buddy. Something has happened we don’t know about.”

“They catch the eater, maybe?”

Hooker shook his head. “Nope. Lotusland is still dark. They’d be out photographing if they had the eater.” He pulled the glasses out and scrutinized the faces on the deck. “Hell, Billy, the whole crew from Lotusland and Tellig are there too. Chana’s at the bar with Colbert... and there’s Judy with Pell and...”

He stopped there. Billy gave him that curious look again and said, “You hate that Pell man, sar?”

“Just don’t like him, Billy.”

“Think you’ll knock him on the head, sar?”

Mako let out a snort and grinned at his mate. But Billy Bright’s expression was serious.

“Sar, why don’t you like him?”

“A long time ago he was bad. Very bad. Now he’s far worse. Now it doesn’t show and nobody knows just how bad he really is.”

“You know this for sure, sar?”

“No,” Hooker said, “I don’t know... but I do know.”

Billy Bright’s eyes had the wisdom of the world in them. He nodded very slowly and very deliberately and answered, “Sar, I know just what you mean.” While Hooker was still amazed at his understanding, Billy pointed off the side and told Mako, “There he be again, sar. He be waiting for his name back.”

The huge shape of the mako shark rose to the surface again, rolled slightly, eyeing the boat, then slid back into the depth below.

“He follow us,” Billy said.

“There’s a lot of them around here.”

“This big mister, he stay close.”

“You just threw that bucket of bait fish over the transom.”

“He has a fight scar on his head. His tail has two notches near the tip.”

Hooker let out a soft “Damn” under his breath because Billy had spotted the same thing he had known. That mako was the same fish they had seen days ago. And it was looking. It was traveling at its own pace, knowing that sooner or later it would get what it wanted. The grin was hard and deadly. That mako shark was just like him.

As if he heard Hooker’s thoughts, Billy said, “Yes, you are brothers, sar. Different from the way we are brothers.”

Judy had spotted the Clamdip coming alongside the cruise ship and wormed her way through the happy crowd to get down the gangway to welcome Hooker aboard. Billy practically pushed him into her arms as he was climbing over the side and Judy thanked him with a wink. While they went up to the deck, Billy took the Clamdip out to anchorage, dropped the hook and came back to the cruise ship in an inflatable.

Judy led him to the nearest bar and, knowing what he liked, called for a Miller Lite. The bartender said, “And you, ma’am?”

“I’ll have the same.”

The toast was brief and Mako put half the beer down, wiped his lips and asked Judy, “Okay, doll, what’s the party all about?”

She gave his arm a squeeze and waved to the well-dressed man further down who was laughing with the group around him. “Suppose I let Marcus Grey give you the details.”

Marcus saw the wave and excused himself, coming to Judy’s side. “Ah, my dear, you haven’t been mingling. After all the great news I’d think you would be enjoying yourself more.”

“I was waiting for my... friend to get here, Marcus. You remember Mako Hooker.”

“The name I could never forget.” He held out his hand and Mako took it. It was pudgy and soft and he wanted to squish it but didn’t. “Haven’t seen much of you since Judy’s party.”

“Well, I’ve been a little busy, Marcus. That eater out there has been giving us fits.”

“So I’ve heard. Too bad, it only brings bad publicity. Rumors like that...”

“They’re not rumors,” Mako interrupted.

“Surely you don’t think...”

“Something’s out there. It’s done a lot of damage.”

Marcus Grey made a noncommittal gesture with his head. “Well, it’s unlikely that it will interfere with our project any longer. Has Judy told you the good news?”

“She hasn’t had time. I just got here.”

“Well, then, we just got a radio confirmation that four other islands have opened up ports for our cruise ship landings. Certain corporations have agreed to fund the casino operations, other retail groups are bidding for exclusive commercial rights. The big thing is, we have the backing of the local governments, and with what we have, the value of our holdings will be over a billion dollars.”

“I thought you were considering Peolle and Ara Islands.”

“Unfortunately, that idea has been discontinued. This story about that... that eater had gone worldwide and been embellished in the tabloids and foreign television... it just wouldn’t do, you understand.”

“Those islanders were counting on that project, especially since it was already under way.”

“Well, Mr. Hooker, all I can say is business is business.” He looked at Judy and added, “Wouldn’t you say, my dear?”

“No, Marcus, I wouldn’t say that at all. Nor would Daddy if he were alive.”

“Unfortunately, that is not the case, but fortunately for all these people here who have shares in the company, and me... and you too, my dear, I have control of the Midnight Cruise line and all that it entails and that’s just the way it has to be.”

At no time did Marcus Grey lose his smile. He took Judy’s hand and kissed it and said to Hooker, “Good evening, sir. It was nice talking to you.”

Watching him walk away, Mako wanted to put his foot up his tail. This time Judy got as bad as Billy Bright and read his thoughts. “Why didn’t you do it, then?” she asked him.

“Do what?”

“Kick his fat behind.”

“I didn’t want to get anything on my shoe,” he told her. “Has he really got that kind of control?”

“Yup, and there’s nothing that I can do about it. I have shares and they’ll pay off, but the control is his. Daddy didn’t want me bothered by business details. To him women were for being taken care of, not laboring for money.”

“He should see you now.” Hooker laughed. “Supplying fish to Miami restaurants isn’t a very ladylike occupation.”

“But you should see the money it makes.” She pulled free a moment and looked at the dancers on the floor and the bunch gathered at the bar and said, “I’m not like them, Mako. I’m damned independent. My inheritance is still in the bank. It grows and grows and never gets touched. If I want something I buy it with the money I earn myself.”

Behind her, Mako grinned. “Nice speech.”

She spun around, a frown on her face. “I meant every word of it!”

“I know you did.”

“And you have the same feeling for the islanders and Peolle and Ara as I have.”

“You’d better believe it, doll.”

“Then why...”

“I said it was a nice speech.”

The way she folded herself into his arms was so natural he could hardly believe it. Women were something he had never needed. They were always there, but he had never felt the desire to keep one around very long. On occasions they were very useful, but generally speaking, there was very little they could do that he couldn’t do better and faster, without having to be perpetually obligated.

The smell of her hair was fresh, salt-air fresh, and there was the smell of flowers from some distant place, soft and pleasant, that made him think of being off the Florida Keys on a warm spring night, going someplace, yet no place special, just enjoying the long, soft moments.

“What are you thinking of, Mako?”

“The Clamdip,” he replied.

She tilted her head up to look at him.

Mako said, “You were there, doll.”

“What were you doing?”

“Just what I am now.”

His hands could feel the warmth of her body and under his fingers a tiny pulse was racing much faster than he would’ve expected.

“Mako...”

“What?”

“This is all Billy’s fault, you know. He’s been telling me about you ever since you moved to the island.”

Mako blew some strands of dark hair away from her ear and nodded. “I got the same treatment.”

“Were you interested?” she asked him.

“No. Were you?”

“No. I had enough society types running after my money.”

“What about now?”

Judy rubbed her head against his chin, then turned her head to look up at him. “I’m just crazy about your boat.”

“And about its captain?”

“Ummmm.”

The dance music on the deck suddenly changed tempo. Ravel’s Bolero came in with its sensuous beat and nobody dared put movement to it. Instead they all headed toward the bar or their tables.

But Judy moved. In his arms her torso did things that were hardly noticeable, but Mako felt every one. Muscles in her stomach rippled against his hands, saying quiet things that he could hardly believe. She wouldn’t stop, swaying exquisitely in tempo with the driving throb. Very subtly, Mako turned so his back was to the dance floor; she gave him a hungry smile as her spine arched and she pulled him to her as the wild song pounded to its wild climax.

When he kissed her it was a warm touch that began to blaze and when he pulled his mouth away he could say nothing at all for a full minute. He could still taste her and her eyes were watching him, waiting for him to speak.

“Think we could make it, Judy?”

“Uh-huh.” It was spoken very softly.

“Would your dad have approved?”

“He would have been delighted.”

“You can take your money and shove it, you know,” he said.

“Why? It’s only money.”

“I got enough for us, pretty girl.”

“And we have everything we want right now.” She smiled at him again, an inquisitive, questioning kind of smile that only women in love know how to do.

But Hooker was an old pro in the game too. He had seen life and death, been part of situations that blew up like a time bomb, and he was in one right now. He knew it, he could feel it, the way the cold wind blows in ahead of a violent storm.

“Soon, doll. When this is over and we’re still here, I’ll say what you want me to say.”

“Mako...”

He shook his head, his eyes emphasizing his decision. “There are some pretty big things going on, Judy. There are only a few of us against one hell of a lot of power and money. The chances are that they’ll win, but when you play that game the nasties always make mistakes and they can never quite cover them up. Some might get away with it, but sooner or later the ax comes down.”

“And you’re the ax?”

“I’d like one more shot at it,” he said simply.

“Think you can do it?”

“Until now, I always have, kiddo. I’m not a new boy in the game.”

This time she kissed him, a light, wet kiss that told him to go to it, but hurry.

From the opposite side of the deck, in his white shorts and Hooker’s Hawaiian shirt, Billy Bright was grinning more broadly than he ever had before. He heard some voices shouting from the deck below and peered over the side. Three big lights were playing over the surface of the water, and in the middle one the huge, sleek form of the mako shark emerged, his dorsal fin cutting the ocean, the tail slicing neatly eight feet in back. Billy saw the familiar nicks on the tail before the shark submerged.

It was Hooker’s brother. He was still waiting.