“There’s not a man alive who can order me to do anything,” Zander said. He accepted the whisky as Graham handed it to him, and downed it.
“I need to know what’s happening.”
“I’ll tell you what’s happening. There’s a fucking great shoal of killer fish out there, and by God, I’m going fishing.”
Before Powell could stop him, Zander stood up straight, nodded at Jack, then ran out of the bar.
Chapter 30
On the way to his boat, Zander took out his phone and called his crew. He didn’t tell them what it was about, just asked them to meet him at the boat, and to come armed. There was no way he was going to let them sail with him unless they knew the truth, but he couldn’t explain over the phone.
The fog had all but dissipated, but the clouds made the darkness seem absolute. The globe shaped harbour lights provided the only illumination, their radiance broken up into fractal patterns on the water’s surface. The wind made the wooden shutters on Zander’s outbuilding clatter and the waves drove Storm Bringer repeatedly up against the dock, making her antennas, masts and winches jangle and clank.
He had left the engine running, leaving Brad down below to make sure everything ticked over. Once on board, he skipped down to the galley and made a pot of black coffee, a cup of which he took back up to the wheelhouse while he waited.
The first to arrive was the first mate, Muldoon, his brown hair sticking up all over the place and his chubby cheeks flushed. He jumped aboard and scurried up to where Zander sat waiting.
“You do realise I was just about to get down and dirty with Jill,” Muldoon said as he dropped his duffel bag. “So you’d better have a good reason calling me out here in the middle of the goddamn night.”
“Let’s wait for everyone to arrive. I don’t want to keep repeating myself. There’s a brew on down below,” Zander said. He ignored Muldoon’s inquisitive glare and sipped the coffee, which was hotter than lava and just as thick.
A couple of minutes later, Jim arrived. He clambered aboard and stepped into the wheelhouse, muttering something about the weather. He had a habit of talking by hardly moving his lips, an act made worse by his facial hair.
“So what’s the problem?” Jim mumbled.
Zander nodded. “Get yourself a coffee, and I’ll explain.”
Jim scratched his beard and scuttled away, muttering to himself.
About to take another gulp of coffee, Zander saw a car’s headlights sweep into the harbour. He instantly recognised McKenzie’s black BMW and he cursed under his breath. The drug dealer was the last thing he needed.
He watched as the car stopped, its engine cut out and its headlights extinguished. Next minute, McKenzie stepped out of the vehicle. A cigarette drooped from the corner of his mouth and he thrust his hands into the pockets of his black jacket. He walked towards Zander’s boat, shoulders hunched and barrel chest thrust out.
When he reached the side of the boat, McKenzie motioned with his head that Zander should come down.
He really didn’t need this shit, but he stood up and exited the wheelhouse to stand on deck with his foot on the railing.
“You’re early,” Zander said.
McKenzie spoke without removing his cigarette, “Don’t fuck with me. Where’s my stuff?”
“Slight problem,” Zander replied.
“Problems are for Dear Abby. Do I look like fuckin’ Dear Abby?”
This wasn’t going to go down well, but Zander wasn’t about to start lying. “You’d better come aboard. We’re about to set sail, and if you come with us, then you’ll see what the problem is.”
“Do I look like I’ve come to go fishin’? You’re wastin’ my time. You know what happened to the last man who wasted my time? I took him fishin’, fishin’ without a fuckin’ rod and with him as the bait, you know what I mean?”
“I understand. But you aren’t going to believe me if I tell you, so you’d better come and see for yourself.”
McKenzie exhaled a cloud of smoke. “You fuck with me and I’ll introduce you to a world of pain you didn’t know existed, you get me?”
Zander nodded. “Yeah, but just keep our business deal between us. Now come aboard and I’ll show you what’s happened.” He hated kowtowing to this city punk, a man who was only a go-between, but he knew that if he didn’t pacify him, then those who swam in the higher echelons would rain down with fire and brimstone. He really had gotten himself in too deep, and no amount of regret would help. Now that he’d had time to think about it, he knew that young lad, Jack, hadn’t stolen his drugs. No, it was the creatures. Perhaps intrigued by the contents of the pot, they had torn it open. Now all he could do was show McKenzie what had happened–show him what was lurking in the ocean.
McKenzie narrowed his eyes and looked the boat up and down. “You sure that old tub’s not going to sink?”
“Not while I’m at the helm it’s not.”
Looking less than convinced, McKenzie stepped warily aboard just as Muldoon stepped out of the wheelhouse and clambered down onto the deck. He looked at McKenzie with a challenging expression.
“You got a fuckin’ problem,” McKenzie snarled.
Zander saw Muldoon bunch his fist. “Hey, Muldoon, it’s okay, he’s with me.” He knew Muldoon could handle himself, had fought beside him, but the likes of McKenzie were a different kettle of fish. People like McKenzie didn’t just swim with sharks, they were the sharks. Suburban predators.
Muldoon gave Zander a look that said, ‘you’d better have a good reason for not letting me hit this piece of shit’, and then he skulked away to the stern to busy himself with preparing the boat.
Zander led the way to the wheelhouse, and when Jim reappeared, McKenzie had seated himself in a chair at the back of the room. Jim hardly glanced at him. The same couldn’t be said of McKenzie.
“You sure these men know how to sail this piece of shit?” he said, looking Jim up and down with disdain.
Zander saw Jim bristle and mumble something under his beard, which McKenzie thankfully didn’t notice or hear. He was taking a big enough risk allowing McKenzie on board–apart from Brad, his crew didn’t know about his sideline–but it was a chance he had to take. Now if only he could get the jerk to shut his trap.
Next aboard came Robinson, looking as though he had jumped straight out of bed as he rubbed his knuckles into his eyes, his blond hair uncombed.
Brad climbed up from the engine room, wiping his oil covered hands on a piece of dirty rag.
Brad smiled broadly, displaying a couple of missing teeth between his large lips. “Jim,” he boomed, slapping him on the back.
Just then, Muldoon entered the wheelhouse. Saltwater dripped from his oilskins and he shook himself and nodded a greeting at Robinson and Brad.
“Good weather for it,” Muldoon said.
Brad stared at McKenzie as though he were someone he had caught breaking into his house.
Zander looked at each of his crew in turn. “Okay, I’ll not lie to you because we’ve been through a lot, but tonight, Brad and me, we saw something I’ve never seen before.”
“A bit of pussy. Good for you,” Muldoon said, laughing loudly. Everyone apart from McKenzie joined in.
Zander waited for the laughter to subside, fanning his hands to quieten the men down. “If only I was that lucky.”
“Don’t tell me, she were a large one,” Muldoon said, shaking his head in amusement. “No trouble, I’ve had a few, but you’ll get over it, hey boys. As long as there’s grass on the playing field.” He winked.
Zander exhaled loudly. “Listen, this is important. Tonight Brad and me, we saw something in the sea.”
Brad wrung his hands, his face pale. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”