Philip Kerr - The Five Year Plan (1998)

Dave grinned. 'I don't have an abdomenizer,' he said.

'Well, how d'you do it, then? I mean, get the old six-pack stomach?'

'You have to be able to isolate the muscles when you exercise them,' said Dave. He might have added that the best way to do that was to isolate the man at the same time. Like maybe keep him in prison for five years. Homestead was full of guys with torsos that looked like they'd been drawn in an anatomy class.

Both men looked around as one of the pink ladies from the Jade came up on deck and walked off toward the bow of the ship. Generously hipped, she looked even more Amazonian than her captain. Bert grinned wolfishly and said, 'It's not bellies with

women, is it? It's their bottoms they worry about. Not that there's anything wrong with her butt. But for all I know, the buttockizer already exists. To give women smaller butts.'

As the Amazon finally disappeared, Dave shook his head and said, 'Now why would anyone want to do a thing like that?'

Bert laughed. 'Yeah,' he said, 'who'd want to do that, eh?'

Dave and Al watched as a diver came up from under the Juarista, having made sure that she was safely secured to the special support welded to the floating dock floor. Lashed tightly to the dock wall and carefully fendered against the boats to starboard and to stern, it was a snug fit and the boat looked as immovable as if she'd been mounted on a trailer and parked on a hard deck.

'Naturally you brought scuba gear,' Al said sceptically.

'Naturally.'

Al frowned, surprised at the apparent extent of Dave's efficiency. He said, 'Just don't expect me to go down. Takin' a bath's the only time I go in the water.'

Dave sniffed the air loudly. He said, 'Not so as you'd notice.'

'Wiseguy. I suppose you noticed how boxed in we are here. I thought you said we were going to try and be at the back of the boat so as we could make a clean getaway?'

'You go where that man and his clipboard tell you. A computer figures out all the positions according to the length and breadth of your hull. It would have looked kind of odd, us going up against the computer. Don't you think?'

Al said nothing.

Dave said coolly, 'It's like I told you already. When we're ready to rumble we'll just steal the boat that's nearest to the stern of the ship. That's what we call the back of the boat. You know, if you're going to pretend to be a boat captain it would help if you get a handle on the way we talk about this shit.'

'The only thing that's going to get a handle on it is your fuckin' head, wiseguy.'

'Relax will you, Al? The only thing's not under control round here is your temper. Take my word for it. We're cool.'

'I sure hope so. Tony don't appreciate hearing about the unexpected. I gotta tell him anything that happens out of the ordinary.'

Dave shook his head. 'Forget it, Al. It's radio silence from now on. Like we're in a submarine with Clark Gable, and some Japs are trying to get a sonar fix to drop a depth charge on our ass. You give Tony the broadcast news on our progress and I guarantee there are sixteen other boats in this man's navy who will pick it up on their radios. The same goes for your cellular phone.' Dave tossed him a quarter. 'You want to tell Tony something? Then I suggest you go ashore now before we set sail and use a pay phone. Because on this ship, it's silent running. Understand?'

Al glared at him.

Dave said, 'Look, I've got this all figured out. All the angles are in our control. About the only thing that can go wrong here is that you'll fuck it up with this "Tony don't appreciate" routine. What's got to happen here is that you and I have to get along and trust each other so that when the time comes to make the score, we're working as a team.' Dave shrugged. 'And if the unexpected does happen, we'll improvise. Flexibility is the key to our success here. Steady can go to random at any time. From our side, you and me Al, we're covered. Outside of that we've got the sea, we've got the weather, and we've got other people, all of which adds up to quite a lot that's random. We have to appreciate that and be ready for it. OK?'

'OK.'

'Now why don't you and I do something constructive? Like maybe take a little stroll around and acquaint ourselves with the layout of this oceangoing marina?'

'Good idea.'

'And try to look a little more user friendly and less like an argument for genetic engineering. Got our story straight?'

'I think so. You're some financial hotshot, right?'

'Right.'

'And a big motor-racing enthusiast. So we're on our way to Monte Carlo, for the Grand Prix they got down there. After which we're heading to Cap d'Antibes, in the South of France, where you've rented a house for the summer. Got some business associates from London coming down to join you there. Maybe take in another couple of races while you're in Europe, depending on how the business goes.'

'OK, what kind of financial hot shot?' asked Dave.

'Commodities. But I'm supposed to be a little vague about this, right?'

'Right. If anyone asks you just say it's some kind of metal, maybe copper, and leave it at that. They won't expect you to know any more.'

Dave moved toward the gangway and then turned back. He said, 'One more thing. The Coast Guard and Customs people will board us when we're ready to sail. So just so as I know, where'd you stash the Alamo?'

'They got enough to worry about what's comin' into Miami without giving much of a fuck what's going out.'

'True. But I'd still like to know.'

'It's in the fish-box. Under a shitload of ice. And you can take it from me. Improvisation won't ever come into it. Gunwise, we are covered against every eventuality. Steady. Random. Whatever the world may throw at us.'

Dave had never told Tony or Al the names of the boats that would be carrying the money. It was understood that this was Dave's best guarantee of trust between himself and Tony. And even now, as Dave and Al picked their way along the starboard side of the ship toward the smokestacks in the stern, Al saw him give no sign which of the boats now loaded and lashed within the high walls of the Grand Duke's extraordinary hull were carrying cash bound for Russia and the purchase of a whole bank.

'Ya see 'em?' asked Al. 'The boats? Our boats?'

'All three. Just like I said.'

'Yeah? Which ones? Where are they?'

'When we're at sea, I'll tell you. But not before.'

Al laughed bitterly. '"Get along and trust each other," he said. Like fuck.'

'You wouldn't want me to make those guys feel self-conscious, now would you? Pointing them out like some kind of tourist attraction? "Hey look, there are the boats that we're going to rip off."' Dave tut-tutted and shook his head. 'I bet they're nervous enough as it is. Besides, these are heavy guys, Al. They've probably got a fish-box just like ours. Let 'em relax, think they're on a summer cruise. Better for us, better for them.'

They turned as a white boat with an angled red racing stripe came alongside the Duke. It was flying the Stars and Stripes in contrast to the ship's British Red Ensign.

'Customs?'

'Uh-uh,' said Dave. 'Coast Guard. We must be getting ready to leave port.' Dave glanced at his watch. It was five o'clock in the afternoon and it had taken the best part of a day to float the Duke's peculiar cargo on board. A couple of seconds later they heard an announcement over the ship's tannoy in the unmistakable voice of the chief officer.

'Crew to close all hatches and stow all gear.'

Al smacked his lips.

'I'm goin' back to the boat to make myself a sandwich. Want one?'

'No thanks. I'll be along in a few minutes. I'm going to the stern. To take a look at our getaway boat. See what we've drawn in the lottery.'

But Dave had another mission in mind. Of necessity he had lied to Al, to reassure him. Al was enough of a pain in the ass already without alarming him any further. But now he wanted to reassure himself that the last information he had received from Einstein Gergiev had been correct and that the boats were indeed on board the Duke. He already knew that none of them was on the starboard side. So he waited until Al was out of sight before walking round to the port side of the ship, all the time turning over in his mind the names of the three boats he was looking for like a mantra. His heart gave a leap as he spotted the first boat; then the second; and then the third. Just like he'd been told. He could hardly believe it, but the three boats carrying the money were in a line along the Duke's port wall. And, like the Duke, they were all flying the Red Ensign which meant that they were registered in the British Commonwealth -- somewhere like Bermuda, Antigua, Gibraltar or the British Virgin Islands. There was a 100-foot raised pilothouse, cockpit motor yacht called the Beagle; a 70-foot Burger Cruiser called the Claudia Cardinale; and a 112-foot triple-decker custom Hatteras called Baby Doc.