The five-mile trip down to Barley’s Marine Refitters took eleven minutes, and he tied up at the finger pier next to Dry Dock One. John Barley was up near his office and had the hood off of a big Merc outboard motor. The motor was mounted on a small ski boat sitting on a trailer behind a GMC Suburban. The boat’s owner stood by anxiously as Barley probed for the solution to some fault in the motor.
McCory waved at him, and Barley waved back. Spit a wad of chewing tobacco in a twelve-foot curve.
McCory entered his rented building and locked the door behind him. He turned on the lights.
God, she’s beautiful. Like you knew she’d be, Devlin.
He walked down the side dock, reached out, and opened the hatch.
Thought about the articles in the Sunday paper.
Thought about Ted Daimler.
He tossed the cardboard tube aboard the boat and went back to the telephone over the workbench. He had to check his wallet for the phone number of Daimler’s home in Chevy Chase.
“Daimler residence. This is Ricky.”
“Hi, Ricky. This is Uncle Kevin.”
“Hey, Mac! How you doing?”
“I’m doing just fine. How are you?”
“Somebody stole Dad’s boat. You know that?”
“I heard about it. You’ll have to come down here and go fishing with me.”
“Neat. When?”
“Maybe later this summer. We’ll talk about it. Is your father around?”
“Yeah, hold on.”
Daimler picked up the phone a couple of minutes later. “You trying to steal my boy, now?”
“Must have picked up a new habit.”
“Jesus. That’s all Reba and I will hear about for the next two months. When can I go, when can I go? By the way, get rid of the habit.”
“You read the papers, Ted?”
“Read the papers! For Christ’s sake, Mac! I’ve been calling you for two days.”
“Yeah, I saw some notes Marge left. I’ve been busy.”
“Get yourself an answering machine. Then answer it.”
“I’ve got an answering service. She’s a nice lady.”
Daimler paused for a moment. Maybe composing himself. Then, he asked, “You get that thing hidden away?”
“Yep. In fact, I’m standing here looking at it right now.”
“This is getting way out of hand, Mac.”
“I know. Shit, I feel awful.”
Surprisingly, Daimler didn’t chastise him. “I don’t know that you need to feel too badly. The guy was a real asshole. The CIA links him to the murders of some twenty people, Mac. We probably did the world a favor.”
“It may take me a while to come around to that point of view. What have you heard?”
“The Pentagon’s in an uproar. The White House is alarmed. The FBI is investigating me.”
“What!”
“Probably checking my story. They talked to one of my partners and a couple clients, but it got back to me. Reba said a strange sedan was poking around the neighborhood, checking our house. She thinks they’re burglars casing the joint. So far, I’ve kept her from calling the cops.”
“Damn. I’m sorry I got you involved, Ted.”
“Well, let’s not worry about the history. Let’s worry about you and me. What are the plans?”
McCory told him about his original scheme, including the press conference.
“Not a good idea, not now,” Daimler said.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“Time is our best bet. Let’s let it blow over, drop back to page fifty in the papers. As long as the Navy thinks the Arabs have both boats, we’ve got some breathing room. Hell, maybe they’ll catch them.”
“It’ll be tough, Ted. That’s one fine boat.”
“Keep in mind that I was the second civilian to ride in one, Mac.”
“Yeah. I want to find some solution that keeps you out of it.”
“Hey! You’re my kind of man.”
“I mean it.”
“Well, you wouldn’t be surprised if I told you the same thing has been on my mind? Keeping me out of it?”
“I’m not surprised,” McCory told him.
“I’m still working on it. There’s a conflict of interest, since I was part of the caper, unwilling participant though I was. We don’t want to be in court, where the wrong questions could come up, the kind I’d have to answer. At some point, we’re going to have to negotiate a settlement, but let’s not rush into it until we’re ready. Send me a check for a hundred bucks.”
“What for?”
“Retainer. I want the attorney-client privilege locked in.”
“Hell, you’ve always been my lawyer,” McCory said. “You settled the insurance deal.”
“Earned my fee, too.”
“Took you four years.”
“Did it right.”
“Debatable.”
“Fuck you.”
“You think I’m in deep shit?” McCory asked.
“Of course. What else? But send me the check. I want it formalized.”
“Then what?”
“Then we wait and watch. There’ll be a place where we can jump in.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“What are you doing now?” Daimler asked.
“I’ve got Devlin’s drawings, and I’m going to start comparing them to the craft.”
“Okay. Take your time. Stay out of trouble.”
“I intend to. I’m maintaining my normal schedule.”
“You have a normal schedule? Look, Mac, not a word of this to anyone. Got that?”
Involuntarily, McCory cleared his throat.
“Oh Christ! Who’d you tell?”
“Ginger.”
“Ginger? She’s the dream girl we met last time we were down?”
“Hey, you dreaming about my woman?”
“You planning on marriage?” Daimler asked.
“It hasn’t been discussed.”
“Start discussing it.”
“What the hell? You my social advisor now?”
“We don’t want her testifying against you.”
“You just said we weren’t going to court.”
“Just in case.”
After he hung up, McCory spent an hour lifting the spare rotary engines out of the cargo bay with an overhead engine hoist. He parked them in one corner of the dock-head, stacked the cardboard boxes of parts with them, and covered everything with a paint-splattered tarpaulin. Then he inserted several clean sheets of paper in a clipboard, found a tape measure and a roll of black electrical tape, and climbed aboard the SeaGhost.
First things first. McCory went forward to the helm and used his pocket knife to cut a small piece of plastic tape. He carefully pressed it in place on the instrument panel, covering the title, Sea Spectre. She was the SeaGhost, and he was going to prove it.
He pulled Devlin’s drawings from the cardboard tube and started at the stern. There was a small access door in the aft end of the cargo bay. He had to stoop to get through it.
He found a light switch and flipped it on. Four small bulbs lit up, and he looked around. Most of the space was taken up by four individual fuel bladders. There was an electronics compartment that contained another radar antenna, a camera, and a few black boxes. He skipped all of that, since Devlin hadn’t included specifics about the electronics in his drawings.
In the decking was a large hatch. He pulled it up and found the jet housings below. The rotary engines were mounted forward of them, under the cargo bay. It was a nice installation. Everything was clean, painted gray. There was a sheen on the housings, and when he tested it with his finger, he discovered light oil. A leak somewhere, but then, there were always leaks.
Spreading the large drawings on the deck near the hatch, McCory extended the tape measure and started by measuring the width of the keel.
If he stayed busy enough, he wouldn’t think about Coast Guard lieutenants questioning his employees or prison or dead Arabs.