"Not until we've returned it, with a fee for its use."
Li Chin flipped cigarette ash out the window and looked businesslike.
"We'll have to discuss that fee thing, Carter," she said. "I've been going a little overboard on my expense account lately."
"I'll take it up with my accountant," I promised her. "Meanwhile, we both need some sleep. Tonight. Do you know where the yacht basin is?"
She nodded.
"At the eastern tip, there's a cafe called the Puerto Real. I'll meet you there tomorrow at midnight. Do you have a place to stay until then?"
"Of course," she said. "The Chin clan…"
"I know, I know. The Chin clan is a very big clan. All right, Gonzalez can drop me near my hotel, then buy you some clothes, and drive you to where you want to go."
"Okay," she said, flipping the cigarette butt out the window. "But. Carter, about those clothes…"
"They'll go on my expense account," I assured her.
She smiled.
Well, what the hell. It was worth buying some clothes, to have seen her take the others off.
It was daybreak by the time I let myself into the San Geronimo suite again, and Michelle was still soundly asleep. She wasn't exactly overdressed, either, even for sleeping. All she was wearing, in fact, was the corner of the sheet, which modestly covered about four inches of her thigh. I showered quietly, but thoroughly, using some carbolic soap I'd brought along for just that purpose, and slid into bed beside her. I was tired. I was sleepy. All I wanted was to close my eyes and snore heartily. At least, that's what I thought until Michelle stirred, opened one eye, saw me, and immediately rolled over to press her lush breasts — so different from Li Chin's small, firm, up-tilting ones — against my bare chest.
"How did it go?" she murmured, one hand beginning to stroke my back, up toward the base of my neck.
"Aside from battling a regiment of contagious lepers, armed with knives and clubs, there was nothing to it," I responded, my own hands beginning an exploration of some interesting terrain.
"You must tell me about it," Michelle said huskily, her entire body now pressing to mine, molding itself against me.
"I will," I said. And then didn't say anything more for a while, my lips being occupied in a different fashion.
"When will you tell me?" Michelle murmured, in a minute.
"Later," I said. "Much later."
And it was much later. That afternoon, in fact, as we once again lay on the white sand beach, soaking up some more of the hot Caribbean sun.
"But do you really trust this Chinese girl?" Michelle asked, spreading warm suntan oil over my back, kneading the muscles of my shoulders.
"Of course not," T said. "Which is one of the reasons I'd rather have her where I can keep an eye on her."
"I don't like it," Michelle said. "She sounds dangerous."
"She is," I said.
Michelle was silent for a moment.
"And you say she stripped naked in front of you?" she demanded suddenly.
"Strictly in the line of duty," I reassured her.
"Hunh!" she snorted. "It sounds to me like she's an expert in a few things besides Kung Fu."
I grinned. "It might be interesting to find out."
"Not while I'm around you won't!" Michelle snapped. "I don't like the idea of having her with us."
"You've already told me that," I said.
"Well, I'm telling you again," she responded sulkily.
And she did tell me again. While we were having more of those damned Piña Coladas before dinner. And while we were pretending to be lions during dinner. And while we were in the cab after dinner, driving to the casino.
"Look," I said finally. "She's coming with us and that's that. I don't want to hear about it again."
Michelle subsided into a sulky silence, which grew even sulkier as we left the casino and got into the rented car I'd had delivered. I ignored her, concentrating all my facilities on driving in, through, and around San Juan, until I was sure I had lost anyone who might be tailing us. It was almost midnight by the time I parked the car several blocks from the yacht basin, and we changed into the dungarees and sweaters Td brought along in a briefcase.
"Where do we meet this Kung Fu champion of yours?" Michelle asked, as I took her arm and propelled her through darkened, silent streets toward the yacht basin.
"In a dirty, dark, thoroughly disreputable dive," I told her cheerfully. "You'll love it."
The Puerto Real was a dive. And it was dirty, dark, and thoroughly disreputable. It was also a place where people minded their own business, and made very certain not to look too closely at strangers. In other words, it was the best meeting place I could think of. I brushed aside the bead curtains which hung over the entry and stared into the dingy, smoky interior. A long bar made of cracked tile ran the length of the room, and half a dozen seedy looking characters were drinking at it, some playing dominoes with the bartender, some just staring into space. Across from the bar, set against the crumbling stucco wall, some rickety tables hosted a noisy dice game, a few solitary drinkers, and one drunk who was literally crying in his beer. The whole place smelled of stale beer, stale cigarette smoke, and rum-laden breaths. Michelle grimaced with disgust as I led her to a table.
"This is worse than Tangier," she muttered to me. "How long do we have to wait for that girl?"
"Until she shows up," I said. I was just about to go to the bar for drinks when one of the solitary drinkers got up from a table at the other end of the room and half staggered toward us, carrying a bottle and some glasses. A drunk, obviously, and down on his luck, from the incredibly dirty, paint-stained dungarees, the ripped wool sweater, and the wool cap which half hid the face.
"Hey, amigos," the drunk said, leaning over our table, "lesh have a drink together. Hate to drink alone."
"Beat it, buddy. We…"
I stopped in mid-sentence. Under the cap, one familiar Oriental eye was winking at me. I pulled out a chair.
"Li Chin," I said, "meet Michelle Duroche."
"Hi," said Li Chin, grinning, as she slid into the chair.
"Good evening," said Michelle. And then, in a voice dripping with sweetness, "What a lovely outfit you have."
"I'm glad you like it," Li Chin replied. "But you should have seen the one I had last night. Carter can tell you."
Michelle's eyes flashed dangerously. "I'm surprised he even noticed," she lashed out.
Li Chin just smiled.
"Confucius say," she said, putting on the hokey accent again, "good things come in small packages."
"All right, ladies," I cut in. "Save the friendly conversation for some other time. We have work to do, and we have to do it together."
Li Chin immediately nodded. Michelle suppressed her glare. I took the bottle Li Chin had brought, and poured drinks all around. Li Chin drank hers in one easy swallow, then sat looking at me, waiting. I took a sip of mine and almost exploded.
"Good God!" I gasped. "What is this stuff?"
"New rum," said Li Chin casually. "Kind of raw, isn't it?"
"Raw!" I said. "It's… all right, look. Down to work. What we need is a boat big enough for the four of us, with enough power to get us to Martinique fast, but not big enough to attract a lot of attention and require a deep-water harbor."
"The Lady Day," said Li Chin.
I looked at her questioningly.
"It's anchored about a quarter mile out in the harbor," she said. "Owned by an American millionaire name of Hunter. He hasn't been near it in about three months. Just one man aboard, to take care of it, and he's in town getting drunk."
"You've kept busy," I said approvingly.
"Sitting around bores me," said Li Chin. "Anyway, I only sleep four hours a night, so I had to have something to do, and I happen to like boats anyway. This one is a beauty, Carter, especially for what we have in mind. It's an eighty-foot brigantine with reinforced hull and rigging, three masts, built low for strength on open water and in high winds. Looks like it sleeps at least four, maybe more. And the harbor master here says it packs a twelve hundred-horsepower engine, not just for getting in and out of harbor, but for speed on the open water, even under sail. It's a beauty, a real dream."