Through one of the portholes, Casey sees the green Luhrs and the white Bayliner that corralled him a few days ago now approaching just two hundred feet off the trawler’s starboard flank.
“I’m gonna, like, take my dog and go,” he says. “I’ll be honest. I think you people suck. You broke nature’s law by slaughtering those sharks for their fins. For your dang soups. But you take Mae and threaten to let her drown? Then steal twenty-five thousand of ours for ransom? Even greedy, small-minded people like you should be ashamed of that. But you’re not. You don’t know anything. You are toys in the devil’s hands.”
“You’re not a moron,” says Bette. “You don’t really think we’d hurt your dog, do you?”
“You said you would.”
“You are naïve. That’s ridiculous. To you, we’re just evil Chinese who brought the plague to the world. And communism.”
“You’re pirates who threatened to kill my dog. Come on, Mae. Mom — we’re leaving now.”
“Sit down, Casey,” says Bette. “My father has a very interesting offer for you.”
Danilo steps away from the bulkhead, crossing his hands before him, spreading his feet.
Casey sits and Jen follows suit. Mae stands, tail wagging, looking toward the galley exit.
“An offer for what?” asks Jen.
Jimmy Wu purses his lips and glances at Benitez. Then back at Jen. “Okay, now you listen. Simple offer. We supply restaurants but we want a restaurant where there is much money. We want to buy the Barrel in Laguna. It is, very actually, the best restaurant location in Laguna Beach, and Laguna Beach is the best coastal city in California. This is very true and factual. My partners back home are very wealthy businessmen and hungry to invest in a very championship location. Mr. Benitez expert in dining and hospitality. He is a graduate of Harvard Law School. He has written the contract for you to sell to us. We keep the name the Barrel. You still manage the Barrel. Casey is still the bartender and assistant manager. You both get a big salary from me — more than what we estimate you declared to IRS last year. Very generous.”
Benitez takes a file from his briefcase and opens it, thumbing the metal clasp at the top.
“Ninety-six thousand dollars annually for Jen Stonebreaker. Sixty-eight for Casey, with raises determined by the Wu family. Hourly staff and contractors will get what they’re getting now, and whatever increases they have been promised in writing.”
“How much for my restaurant?” asks Jen.
Jimmy smiles. “It brings me pleasure to offer two million dollars. One half is cash, in the bait tank, fifty feet away from you right now. It is bundled and, of course, we have a good scale. The other half will be wire-transferred from First Taiwan Bank into whatever secure and private account you wish. Swiss, I would suggest, or Grand Cayman. And, if you sign right now, we return to you the twenty-five thousand for your idiot dog. Quite a nice payday for you!”
Jen does not smile back. “Two million? That’s what a small house costs in Laguna. The Barrel lot alone is worth three times that. The structure adds another two million, and the established business even more. My answer is no. And if you came up with ten million dollars I’d still say no. Twenty million I’d say no again. The Barrel is my life. My family. I’d set it on fire before I’d sell it to you.”
“Jen Stonebreaker! We think so much alike!” says Wu with a jolly smile. “Oh, funny, funny, when I say Barrel and you say fire!”
Casey meets the incredulous look on his mother’s face with one of his own.
They stand again, as if helping each other up with their locked eyes. Mae heads for the galley door as before.
Casey looks at the piles of money on the table, thinks about the gun in the lawyer’s briefcase, and Danilo’s gun, and he can’t imagine how he can get his money out of here without getting himself and his mother and maybe Mae shot.
Through a rusty porthole he sees that the Luhrs and the Bayliner have eased closer. Through another he sees two red Cigarette boats, Dragon and Bushmaster. Remembers Lieutenant Tim’s description of the pirate fleet. The speedboats are center consoles, and Casey sees two men in each, standing and focused on Empress II.
Jimmy smiles, as if he’s hearing Casey’s anxious thoughts.
Benitez collects another folder from his briefcase and offers it to Jen.
“You should sign this offer now,” he says pleasantly. “Casey is your witness. I will notarize. The offer is fair and reasonable in this current real estate market. You will not lose the Barrel or your history there. You will still be a part of it, and it of you. You will gain two million dollars and who knows? Retire? Open another restaurant? Somewhere other than Laguna Beach, of course.”
“Go to hell, counselor.”
“Many years from now, I hope. Casey?”
Casey shakes his head and backs toward the door. He senses Danilo’s movement behind him.
“No, thank you. No.”
“Ask your mother to sign this,” says the lawyer. “You can then leave here with good money for an aging restaurant, a wonderful dog, and your twenty-five thousand in ransom — a gift from the Wu family. Bette would also like to give you an additional twelve hundred dollars for a new phone. To replace the one you threw into the ocean.”
“Never,” snaps Jen, striding toward the exit behind Mae and ahead of her son. Stops and turns. “You people don’t scare me one bit. If I see you anywhere near the Barrel I’ll set you on fire.”
Before following his mother out, Casey hesitates and studies Bette Wu. “God forgives you.”
“I don’t care, but thanks for putting in a good word for me.”
Casey can’t tell if Bette is scowling or amused. He senses in her face something beyond the wickedness that surrounded her on Moondance and had just minutes ago seemed so obvious here. Now there’s something more, something alien and difficult to know. Something not him.
“Casey, you are a beautiful, weak man,” says Bette Wu. “Be strong about our offer. You and I would be partners. We can discuss details and I can point out the many benefits of partnership with us.”
“Nothing to discuss or point out,” says Casey.
“You’re missing a great opportunity.”
“To be swindled. I’m not stupid, you know.”
Bette gives him an assessing look. “You’re very smart, in fact. So, two million. Think. And good luck at Mavericks. I think you will win.”
“I think my brother will.”
Suddenly, through the galley door stumbles a small man in white Polo warm-ups, his long black hair wrapped around one of Brock Stonebreaker’s big knuckled, tattooed fists. Brock’s other hand holds a big pistol firmly to the man’s temple. Brock’s dreadlocks sprout from his head, dark little stacks. Casey thinks he looks kind of evil but knows he’s not.
“The lawyer’s got a gun, Brock!” Jen yells.
Danilo draws his pistol but Brock already has his gun trained on the man’s chest. Danilo drops his sidearm and looks at Brock with frank hatred. Then raises his hands.
Polo struggles but Brock clenches the knot of black hair and the man yelps.
A big Asian woman barges in next, hands apparently tied behind her, the even bigger Mahina with the pistol-grip, short-barreled scattergun inches from her back.
Brock and Mahina point their guns deliberately and patiently at Jimmy, Bette, Danilo, and Benitez.
“Be calm, everybody,” says Brock. “Lawyer man, you go for that briefcase, they’ll have to clean your brains off the bulkhead.”