Филип Керр - A Five Year Plan

Kate fixed Bowen with a gimlet eye. While she could easily believe Sam, she found Bowen’s show of innocence harder to swallow.

‘Yeah, come on, Kate,’ said Brockman. ‘Chill out. It might be a blast.’

‘Maybe she’s already seen one,’ offered Bowen.

‘I have not.’ Kate was sufficiently well informed about what went on in real hard-core porno to know that Howard’s subscription to the Playboy Channel hardly qualified as the real thing. ‘What do you take me for?’

‘It’ll be an experience,’ urged Brockman.

Kate thought poor Sam was looking more and more like some horny high-school kid. His glasses were a tad foggy, and by now it was obvious that he really hadn’t ever seen a porno movie and badly wanted to remedy this omission.

‘An experience?’ Kate snorted. ‘An experience is generally what you learn to call an error in judgment.’

Brockman raised his glass of champagne.

‘Then here’s to errors in judgment,’ he said. ‘Things would be Dullsville, Arizona without a few of them. Which, so far, has been my own life’s story. Sam Brockman, they’ll say. Exemplary career. No mistakes. But the CEO of Bromide Incorporated.’

Kate smiled sympathetically. She had much the same opinion of her own life, with Howard Parmenter being her only major aberration. Filing for divorce had been the most interesting thing that had happened to her in ages. That, and setting up her undercover operation aboard the Duke. Seeing Dave coming toward her she suddenly perceived an extra dimension to what Sam was talking about. Life was about taking risks. And not always calculated risks either. Maybe even a risk like Dave. Sure, making a mistake was always unfortunate. But not to have the opportunity of making a mistake was a catastrophe.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘Why not?’

‘Attagirl,’ said Brockman. ‘You only live once.’

‘That’s been the prevailing theory,’ said Kate and indicated the staircase. ‘You guys go on ahead. I’ll catch you up.’ She watched them go up the stairs and then turned to face Dave.

‘Hi.’

‘Hi.’

For a moment neither of them spoke. Then Kate said, ‘I’ve been thinking, about what you said.’

‘Come to any decisions?’

‘I haven’t ruled anything out.’

‘The sea’s a pretty good place to float an idea,’ he said. ‘It’s all to do with the freshwater allowance.’

To Kate’s keen perception, Dave looked and sounded just a little distracted.

‘Don’t tell me you have to pay duty on water as well?’

‘Freshwater has a lower density than sea water,’ he explained. ‘Things float deeper in fresh water. There’s an F-mark on the ship’s Plimsoll line. Difference between S and F is known as the freshwater allowance. You and I are nearer S than F. I’m surprised you didn’t know that, you being a boat captain.’

Kate lit a cigarette.

‘What’s this? The Master Mariner’s Certificate? Maybe you’d like to put me through my paces? See if I can fit new impellers in the dark, that kind of thing.’

When Dave made no reply, she smiled and said, ‘Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of impellers?’

Dave looked ready to admit defeat.

‘It’s like a propeller,’ she said mischievously.

‘Oh yeah, I think I know—’

‘Only spelt different. More ‘im’ than ‘pro’. Matter of fact that’s really only as far as the similarity goes.’ She smiled triumphantly. ‘If the impeller packs up, so does your fuel pump and so does your diesel, so it’s important to be able to get it out and fit a new one. Even at sea, in the dark, in a storm. Can be kind of tricky if you don’t know how.’ She blew some smoke across his shoulder and watched the grin spread on his face.

Dave jerked his head toward the top of the stairs.

‘What were you guys talking about?’

‘They’d just finished persuading me to go and take a look at the hard-core action.’

‘That’s where Al is,’ said Dave. ‘He’s a real movie fan. Sees everything.’

‘That’s what’s on show,’ said Kate. ‘Everything. You want to take a look?’

‘Sure.’

Kate was a little disappointed. She had hoped he’d be the type to shake his head at the very idea of watching porno. Instead here he was, taking her by the elbow and steering her toward the movie theater upstairs. He could at least have pretended to disapprove, for a minute or two anyway. She was swiftly coming to the conclusion that all men were probably interested in this kind of shit.

She said, ‘Beats me why more guys just don’t become gynecologists.’

‘Relaxation becomes harder to find when a man’s hobby becomes his work,’ said Dave.

‘Is that an observation based on personal experience?’

‘That and a lot of wishful thinking.’

‘You’re no gay bachelor, I’ll say that much for you, Van.’

She felt his hand in the small of her back as they mounted the stairs. Near the top he stopped and took a step down again.

‘Suddenly I need to visit the head,’ he admitted.

‘I thought that was after you’d seen the movie.’

‘You go on in. I’ll be there in one minute,’ he said.

‘One minute? In a movie like this? You could miss the whole story.’

‘As long as it’s got a happy end, I don’t mind.’

Kate started upstairs again. ‘Happy endings are what this crap’s all about. Lots of them. In slippery close-up.’

Dave thought he had about ten minutes before Kate started to get suspicious. He left the Jade from her stern, climbing straight onto the Juarista and then onto the Carrera. A minute after leaving Kate at the party he was down the circular stair mat connected the Carrera’s salon and dining room with the midship accommodations deck.

The master suite was the full width of the boat and featured a sitting area, a large walk-in closet, and a generous bathroom with a Jacuzzi. Dave guessed this was the cabin occupied by Kent Bowen. Lying on the floor of the closet were some garishly colored sports shirts he thought he had seen Bowen wearing. And there was no mistaking the sweet antiseptic smell of Brut aftershave that always signalled Bowen’s presence. Quickly, Dave opened some of the drawers and almost immediately found what he was looking for: a medium-frame .357 Magnum in a ProPak undercover shoulder holster, and a wallet containing business cards. Dave thumbed one out and read it quickly. The embossed gold roundel in the top left-hand corner of the card was easily recognizable. It identified the Department of Justice just as surely as the printed information alongside. Kent Bowen was an Assistant Special Agent in Charge at Miami’s FBI HQ on Second Avenue.

‘Jesus Christ,’ he exclaimed.

Dave replaced the card, closed the drawer carefully and then went next door to search Kate’s stateroom. This was tidier than Bowen’s. The bed was made, with cushions scattered across the silk brocade spread. Clothes were neatly hung in the closet, but there was nothing in the built-in drawers to interest Dave. Apart from some very sexy underwear.

‘Just the facts, ma’am,’ he muttered and, closing the drawer, he backed out of the closet.

His heel struck something hard underneath the spread. Guessing that there was probably a linen drawer under the bed just like the one in his own stateroom, Dave dropped to his knees, threw back the spread, and grabbed hold of the drawer handle. Hauling it open he found everything he would have expected to find in a linen drawer. He had to reach right to the back to put his hand on the familiar shape he’d been half expecting. The next second he was looking at a Smith & Wesson Airweight .38, holstered in a nice leather Vega, although the gun’s shrouded hammer made it about perfect for a handbag. Attached to the holster’s strap was an ID wallet containing an FBI badge and card identifying Kate, not as Kate Parmenter, but as Kate Furey, Special Agent. She looked younger in the photograph and her hair was different. But there was no mistaking that launch-a-thousand-ships face.