Elmore Leonard: Djibouti

Xavier said, "Yeah…" like he understood what Billy was saying. It didn't matter, long as he knew the ship was gonna blow.

"We're upwind," Billy said, "the gas vapor seeping out away from us and the ship. I set it off with another explosive round, light it up and the fire gushes back to the ship."

Xavier said, "All hell break loose?"

"Like you've never seen in your life. The ship goes up with flames reaching six hundred feet into burning air. Makes the Hindenburg disaster look like a weenie roast. But don't tell Helene that. She cries every time she watches the zeppelin burn up."

Xavier said, "You seen this happen to a gas ship?"

"My information," Billy said, "comes from studies of LNG fire hazards, thermal radiation damage, impact scenarios, all by guys with PhDs in chemical engineering, the top names in the liquefied natural gas field."

"But you haven't," Xavier said, "actually seen a LNG gas ship set afire."

"It's never happened at sea. TV will be all over this one, but I'm not looking for credit. I squeeze the trigger, chemistry does the rest."

"All we do," Xavier said, "is watch, huh?"

"You're gonna see an explosion with a force of energy," Billy said, "fifty-five times more powerful than the bomb we dropped on Hiroshima." BILLY GOT READY TO leave the pool, picked up all his papers and handed the binoculars to Xavier to keep an eye on the gas ship out on the horizon. "You see it move, call me. I'm having a Donzi 26ZF brought to the hotel pier, five hundred horsepower. Ready to go tomorrow." He said, "I'm gonna get some room service and take a nap."

Xavier watched him walk off, going to the glass doors to the hotel. He opened one and stepped back and now Xavier saw Dara appear to stand talking to Billy, Billy doing the talking at first, Dara listening. Now Dara was talking, Xavier would bet setting him straight about something in her nice way. She even reached up to give Billy's cheek a pat. She came over to Xavier taking off the robe. Now he was looking at her in her yellow bikini showing her tan. Xavier remembered her tan lines last night, the light on. Now as she reached him he said, "That's the most clothes I've seen on you lately."

Dara bent over and kissed Xavier's mouth, Xavier looking at her lollies right there in the tiny bikini top. She stood up adjusting the bra, telling Xavier, "You know what Billy was doing? Hinting around, trying to get me to say we slept together last night. I know he thought I'd make up something, so I said, 'Yeah, we got it on and then went to sleep. What else you want to know?'"

"And you gave his cheek a pat."

"Did you like that?"

"Loved it," Xavier said. "Billy wants you on his go-fast boat when he blows up the gas ship. Wants you right there filmin it."

"Perfect," Dara said. "We won't have to rent Buster again."

UBU KALID, AN ASSISTANT at Djibouti Marine, drove Jama in a golf cart out to the pier where several trawler yachts were tied up. He said, "This first one we see is the Coaster 40. It has two staterooms and is designed for comfort and not paying too much money."

Jama said, "How you know I speak English?"

"From words you use with Arabic. You say you don't want a fucking dhow, you want a small vessel with a cabin. I think fucking is a good word you can use different ways in speech, angry, being critical, or simply to say it. Or you want to show you have surprise, you say, 'What the fuck am I doing?' I know French since I was a boy. My boss say I have to learn English too, for doing business with Americans."

"I see you wear a white shirt and a necktie," Jama said, "dressed for business. Your glasses, good. Make sure your fingernails are always clean too." He said, "What's that one down there has orange trim on it?"

"Oh, Buster 30," Ubu said, on the pier now. "Buster is one tough little power cruiser. It has a Saab engine that will produce two thousand five hundred rpms a minute."

"What's that get you," Jama said, "ten knots?"

"If I tell you six and a half," Ubu said, "will you be disappointed? Two travelers were out in Buster for a month and return very happy with her."

"Tall black dude and a white chick name Dara? They friends of mine," Jama said. "Told me, take her out for a shakedown, she's all the boat you need."

Ubu said, "A shakedown?"

"A trial run. See she behaves, easy to maneuver around."

"But you want her only one day. This is for pleasure?"

"I'm taking my girlfriend out for a night cruise. See if we can set off some fireworks."

Ubu didn't like the sound of that.

"You mean explosions?"

Jama said, "No, man, like in the movies. Grace Kelly and Cary Grant are fuckin on the sofa and out the window you see the fireworks goin off, the same as what's happening in the room."

Ubu said, "They have fireworks, Grace and Cary?"

Ubu staring at him, trying to get it.

"Fireworks," Jama said, "you shoot off Roman candles, rockets that burst in the air, it's meant to be the same as fuckin, what the two major stars are doin the same moment. Does Grace get up and go in the bathroom? You know Cary Grant ain't wearin a slick. See, what should be the real part ain't even real."

Ubu frowning now, trying hard to understand.

Jama said, "Forget it," and went aboard with his bag over his shoulder. He wore his kikoi in the streets, his head scarf. He had on his jeans and a cotton jacket now, visiting Djibouti Marine. He stood on Buster's deck watching Ubu coming from the golf cart with life jackets and Jama's cardboard box of provisions.

Jama went below to look around. He didn't care about any of it, the galley, the head; he'd be on the boat twenty-four hours, no more than that. Still, he kept looking. The mattress in the bow…He tried to see the two sleeping together. Couldn't do it. Not with that high-ass nigga, that old man. She was polite, didn't use any tone of voice on you. She'd give the old man some shit how he was her best friend, her buddy, her protector…her employee. He was pretty sure they'd cleaned the boat. He started looking in drawers. There were papers in one they'd missed, a pamphlet had her picture on it…He closed the drawer as Ubu came below wearing a yellow life jacket and the box of provisions he placed on the counter.

He said, "You know the rental charge for Buster is four hundred dollars a day."

"Let's get going. I'll pay when we get back."

"You have the rental fee?"

Jama reached in a back pocket and brought out his roll of bills. "You want your money?" He peeled off four hundred, said, "Here," and handed the bills to Ubu.

Ubu said, "Thank you, sir, for the fucking money," grinning at Jama. THEY WERE OUT IN the Gulf of Tadjoura now, Buster chugging along. Jama said, "I want to see how close we can come to that ship." Jama had the wheel, pointing Buster toward the LNG tanker now.

Ubu had come in from the deck using his shirttail to wipe his glasses. He put them on and said, "No, you get close they tell you to give way, get away from the ship."

"You think we're being watched?"

"Yes, of course, from the sky. Soon a boat or a helicopter approaches you don't turn away."

Jama cocked the wheel and they headed off to starboard.

He said, "I don't have to be too close. I phone a cell number and the ship blows up like that, boom. Becomes the biggest fire you ever saw in your Arabian life." He saw Ubu thinking but didn't know if he got it.

Yeah, he did. All eyes now.

"You going to blow up the LNG ship?"

"And haul ass out, man, fast as this love boat'll go."

"You don't return Buster to us?"

"If I have time."

"I become fired from my job."

Jama saw panic setting in and cut the engine. He said, "Let's go out on deck while it's quiet," and pushed the young guy in his shirt and tie, his clean glasses, saying, "Go on. I'm right behind you." Ubu stepped out of the wheelhouse and Jama came after him, taking his Walther from the bag hanging on his shoulder.