Peter Benchley - Jaws

“As long as they’re not causing any trouble.”

“Nope. Over.”

“Okay. Hey, Leonard, you don’t have to say ‘over’ all the time. I can tell when you’re finished speaking.”

“Just procedure, Chief. Keeps things clear. Over and out.”

Brody waited a moment, then pushed the button again and said, “Hooper, this is Brody. Anything out there?” There was no answer. “This is Brody calling Hooper.

Can you hear me?” He was about to call a third time, when he heard Hooper’s voice.

“Sorry. I was out on the stern. I thought I saw some thing.”

“What did you see?”

“Nothing. I’m sure it was nothing. My eyes were playing tricks on me.”

“What did you think you saw?”

“I can’t really describe it. A shadow, maybe. Nothing more. The sunlight can fool you.”

“You haven’t seen anything else?”

“Not a thing. All morning.”

“Let’s keep it that way. I’ll check with you later.”

“Fine. I’ll be in front of the public beach in a minute or two.”

Brody put the walkie-talkie back in the bag and took out his sandwich. The bread was cold and stiff from resting against the ice-filled plastic bag that contained the cans of beer.

By 2.30, the beach was almost empty. People had gone off to play tennis, to sail, to have their hair done. The only ones left on the beach were half a dozen teenagers and the family from Queens.

Brody’s legs had begun to sunburn — faint red blotches were surfacing on his thighs and the tops of his feet — so he covered them with his towel. He took the walkie-talkie out of the bag and called Hendricks. “Anything happening, Leonard?”

“Not a thing, Chief. Over.”

“Anybody go swimming?”

“Nope. Wading, but that’s about it. Over.”

“Same here. What do you hear about the ticket seller?”

“Nothing, but nobody’s giving me tickets any more, so I guess somebody ran him off. Over.”

“What about the TV people?”

“They’re gone. They left a few minutes ago. They wanted to know where you were. Over.”

“What for?”

“Beats me. Over.”

“Did you tell them?”

“Sure. I didn’t see why not. Over.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you later.” Brody decided to take a walk. He pushed a finger into one of the pink blotches on his thigh. It turned stark white, then flushed angry red when he removed his finger. He stood, wrapped his towel around his waist to keep the sun from his legs, and, carrying the walkie-talkie, strolled toward the water.

He heard the sound of a car engine, and he turned and walked to the top of the dune. A white panel truck was parked on Scotch Road. The black lettering on its side said, “WNBC-TV News.” The driver’s door opened, and a man got out and trudged through the sand toward Brody.

As the man drew closer, Brody thought he looked vaguely familiar. He was young, with long, curly hair and a handlebar moustache.

“Chief Brody?” he said when he was a few steps away.

“That’s right.”

“They told me you’d be here. I’m Bob Middleton, Channel Four News.”

“Are you the reporter?”

“Yeah. The crew’s in the truck.”

“I thought I’d seen you somewhere. What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to interview you.”

“About what?”

“The whole shark business. How you decided to open the beaches.”

Brody thought for a moment, then said to himself, What the hell: a little publicity couldn’t hurt the town, now that the chances of anything happening — today, at least — are pretty slim. “All right,” he said. “Where do you want to do it?”

“Down on the beach. I’ll get the crew. It’ll take a few minutes to set up, so if you have something to do, feel free. I’ll give a yell when we’re ready.” Middleton trotted away toward the truck.

Brody had nothing special to do, but since he had started to take a walk, he thought he might as well take it. He walked down toward the water.

As he passed the group of teenagers, he heard a boy say, “What about it? Anybody got the guts? Ten bucks is ten bucks.”

A girl said, “Come on, Limbo, lay off.”

Brody stopped about fifteen feet away, feigning interest in something offshore.

“What for?” said the boy. “It’s a pretty good offer. I don’t think anybody’s got the guts. Five minutes ago, you were all telling me there’s no way that shark’s still around here.”

Another boy said, “If you’re such hot shit, why don’t you go in?”

“I’m the one making the offer,” said the first boy. “Nobody’s gonna pay me ten bucks to go in the water. Well, what do you say?”

There was a moment’s silence, and then the other boy said, “Ten bucks? Cash?”

“It’s right here,” said the first boy, shaking a ten-dollar bill.

“How far out do I have to go?”

“Let’s see. A hundred yards. That’s a pretty good distance. Okay?”

“How do I know how far a hundred yards is?”

“Guess. Just keep swimming for a while and then stop. If it looks like you’re a hundred yards out, I’ll wave you back.”

“You’ve got a deal.” The boy stood up.

The girl said, “You’re crazy, Jimmy. Why do you want to go in the water? You don’t need ten dollars.”

“You think I’m scared?”

“Nobody said anything about being scared,” said the girl. “It’s unnecessary, is all.”

“Ten bucks is never unnecessary,” said the boy, “especially when your old man cuts off your allowance for blowing a little grass at your aunt’s wedding.”

The boy turned and began to jog toward the water. Brody said, “Hey!” and the boy stopped.

“What?”

Brody walked over to the boy. “What are you doing?”

“Going swimming. Who are you?”

Brody took out his wallet and showed the boy his badge. “Do you want to go swimming?” he said. He saw the boy look past him at his friends.

“Sure. Why not? It’s legal, isn’t it?”

Brody nodded. He didn’t know whether the others were out of earshot, so he lowered his voice and said, “Do you want me to order you not to?”

The boy looked at him, hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “No, man. I can use the ten bucks.”

“Don’t stay in too long,” said Brody.

“I won’t.” The boy scampered into the water. He flung himself over a small wave and began to swim.

Brody heard footsteps running behind him. Bob Middleton dashed past him and called out to the boy, “Hey! Come back!” He waved his arms and called again.

The boy stopped swimming and stood up. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I want to get some shots of you going into the water. Okay?”

“Sure, I guess so,” said the boy. He began to wade back toward shore.

Middleton turned to Brody and said, “I’m glad I caught him before he got too far out. At least we’ll get somebody swimming out here today.”

Two men came up beside Brody. One was carrying a 16 mm. camera and a tripod. He wore combat boots, fatigue trousers, a khaki shirt, and a leather vest. The other man was shorter and older and fatter. He wore a rumpled gray suit and carried a rectangular box covered with dials and knobs. Around his neck was a pair of earphones.

“Right there’s okay, Walter,” said Middleton. “Let me know when you’re ready.” He took a notebook from his pocket and began to ask the boy some questions.

The elderly man walked down to Middleton and handed him a microphone. He backed up to the cameraman, feeding wire off a coil in his hand.

“Anytime,” said the cameraman.

“I gotta get a level on the kid,” said the man with the earphones.

“Say something,” Middleton told the boy, and he held the microphone a few inches from the boy’s mouth.