Филип Керр - A Five Year Plan

Pleased to change the subject himself, Al laughed and said, ‘Yeah. You should have seen the two of them party. They licked each other from end to end. I love to see that. That is such a beautiful sight. Man I bet Michelangelo would have painted that if he could have gotten away with it. What about you? Kind of a time did you have yourself?’

‘Good,’ said Dave. ‘They were good.’

Al waited for details, but when none came he frowned and said, ‘OK, here’s the deal, wiseguy. We’re down here on a repo. Fucker who owns the boat I’ve chartered? Guy by the name of Lou Malta. Malta owes Tony a shitload of money. What with the vig n’all it totals over a million bucks. Six months ago Malta was in Fort Lauderdale, paying his bills and everything was cool is the rule. Then next thing? He floats his ass down here without so much as a fuckin’ postcard to Tony. Like he disappeared without a trace. But how’s this for a co-fucking-incidence? Day after you pitch your outline to Naked Tony? The private dick he hired to find Malta’s dumb ass e-mails Tony with the full longitude and latitude of his exact whereabouts. Like it was ordained that you should have this boat for your caper. Now Malta doesn’t know me from John Doe but it would be best if we didn’t tell him we just flew in from Miami and other eyebrow-raising shit like that. You keep your mouth shut and help me out here and the boat’s yours for the long hot summer ahead.’

‘Malta. You going to kill him, Al?’

‘Not unless he makes it necessary.’

‘Only I won’t help you kill him.’

‘Believe me, blood is not on today’s menu.’

‘Not even as a tool for learning?’

Al shrugged. ‘Like I say, not unless he obliges me to do it.’

‘What if I don’t help you out?’

‘Then I got a boat with no one to sail it back home. And you got no boat to pull your caper. Not to mention no ticket home.’

Dave nursed the cold cerveza in his hand for a moment wondering if he really had a choice.

‘What kind of boat is it?’

Al took out his wallet, unfolded a black and white photocopy, and handed it over. ‘A real beauty. Eighty feet, twenty beam, six draft. Powered by two 1,500-horsepower engines, she’s got a top speed of about thirty-five knots.’

Dave noted the name painted on the stern in the picture. ‘The Juarista,’ he said. ‘Vera Cruz. It figures.’

‘That’s all I know. That and the color. She’s white.’

Dave said, ‘White is good.’ He chugged some beer down his throat. ‘Shows the dirt, but still, it’s good camouflage. It’ll help us to blend in with all the other boats.’ He smiled and folded up the picture. ‘Can I keep this?’

‘Be my guest.’

‘So how d’you wanna play this, Al? You know, Malta might not be willing to give up his boat without a struggle. Then there’s the paperwork. We’ll need proper paperwork to get this boat onto SYT’s next transatlantic voyage.’

‘Paperwork was all taken care of when the boat was still parked in Lauderdale. Collateral for Malta’s loan from Tony. Tony lent Malta the money when none of the banks would touch him. However I take your point. We’re a long way from home and Malta might figure that gives him some liberties. I tell you what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna get out to sea, just like we was a couple of tourists. We’ll get away from shore, somewhere secluded I hope, put down some bait, like we really are going fishing. And then I’m gonna give him the Forbes Fact and Comment on how much his ass will be worth if he thinks he can fuck with Tony’s portfolio.’

‘Kind of like an investment analyst. I get it.’ Dave finished the first beer and started the second. ‘OK, I’ll help you out with this on one condition.’

‘I thought we already had that. No killing.’

‘This is as well. I want you to let me do the talking.’

‘What the fuck for? You don’t think I can handle the dialogue on a simple repo?’

‘I think you can handle it just fine. I just worry about all that fact and comment bullshit.’ Dave shrugged and lit a cigarette. ‘You’re much too confrontational.’

‘This is a repo we’re talking about, not an AA group. Give me one of those cigarettes.’ Al lit up angrily.

‘Yeah, but you gotta understand human psychology, Al. You lip the guy and he’ll react badly, just the same as if you were to put a gun to his head.’

‘He’s lucky I’m not gonna blow his fucking brains all over the deck.’

‘But don’t you see? You talk hard to him maybe you provoke him to do something dumb. He does something dumb, it almost guarantees a violent outcome to the situation.’

‘What are you, a shrink all of a sudden?’

‘I saw it a lot in prison. The way the guys got mad and the way some of the guards could talk them down. We want to do this thing peacefully, which is the way I want it. Then we’ve got to be subtle.’

‘Oh yeah, yeah.’ Al was laughing. ‘This is the guy who blinded Willy Barizon in one eye with a fucking fountain pen. That was very subtle.’

‘Haven’t you heard the expression the pen is mightier than the sword? Well Willy wasn’t armed with a sword, but with two guns. I’d say I was just about as subtle as I could be.’

‘Tell that to Willy, next time he almost sees you.’

‘Those are my conditions.’

‘OK, OK, you do the talking. What do I know? Maybe you’re Warren fucking Christopher or somethin’.’

They ate lunch and then went outside. On the short walk along to the Vera Cruz offices, Al spotted something he wanted to buy for his son, Petey, in the gift shop. It was a baby hammerhead shark specimen, about a foot long, preserved in a jar of formaldehyde.

Dave watched Al hand over twenty colons for the curio and asked, ‘What’s that? A tool for learning?’

‘He’ll love it. Petey loves sharks.’

‘Does that mean you’re planning to give it to him, or eat it on his birthday?’

Al smiled thinly. ‘That smart mouth of yours. It’s a wonder you lasted out the five.’

The Juarista was indeed a beauty. Lou Malta explained her construction history inside the enclosed flybridge while they were getting underway.

‘Sh-she was built in San Diego,’ he explained in his stuttering drawl. ‘The way the hull’s constructed means she has a low center of gravity and a deep V-entry in the water. Producing a very comfortable ride for you people, whatever the sea’s like. I never knew anyone to get sick on this boat. Not even from Pepe’s cooking. Of course we’ve got the thrusters and stabilizers to simplify handling, but it’s the hull that makes the difference. And a reverse sheer below the transom there makes backing down as smooth and d-dry as if you were standing on the sh-shore. Where’d you say you boys were from?’

Dave said, ‘LA.’

‘LA, huh? Which part?’

‘All over.’

‘Mmmm. All over. My favorite place.’ He giggled. ‘Just ask Pepe. Well, you picked a pretty good time of year to come after marlin and sailfish. January’s usually our best month.’ He gave them a searching north to south look. ‘How much sport-fishing experience have you boys had anyway?’

‘Enough,’ said Al.

Malta shrugged. ‘W-well whatever. Pepe and I? We get all levels of experience on this boat. Just a few weeks ago, we were fishing for yahoo with these three types from New York. And I swear I found one of them trying to kill the fish with his cellular telephone.’ He giggled again. ‘I swear, it was the funniest thing I ever saw. Wasn’t it, Pepe?’

Pepe grinned and said, ‘Yes, Lou.’

Pepe was a beautiful black boy of about thirteen, wearing a navy blue T-shirt with a white Nike swoosh logo and a pair of baggy Guess jeans. He was down on the cockpit, tying off ropes and smiling broadly at Malta whenever their eyes met. CR had a big gay scene and Al and Dave could see that Pepe was Malta’s cachero. Malta himself, wearing a pair of sky blue Lycra cycling shorts and a white T-shirt with Garfield the cat on it, was a curious-looking man. Fortyish, Rod Stewart haircut, pink Pilsbury Doughboy face, rimless eyeglasses with blue frames, and a large gold earring with a cartouche to match the one hanging around his pudgy neck, he looked more hairdresser than fishing skipper.