Judy frowned, puzzled at the question. “It’s a public corporation.”
“But somebody has to call the shots. Who’s got the votes that count?”
“Well... I think my father had.”
“And he left them to you?”
She nodded again, still puzzled.
“Who is the chairman of the board?”
That one she knew right away. “Mr. Pell acts in my behalf. Daddy always told me to do it that way when he was alive.” He got that frown again, then, “Why do you ask?”
He picked up one of the canapés from the table and tasted it. “Because he acts like the big boss.”
Her chuckle had a sincere note to it. “Oh, Mako, that’s just his way. He has a very big job and the movie company has made oodles of money, so I have nothing to complain about at all. Whatever he wants to do with Lotus Productions has my full approval.”
“You don’t veto anything?”
“Really, there’s nothing to veto. After The Lost King and Mineshaft were top Hollywood productions, then our own Anthony Pell produced Escarpment New York, and Lotus was one big, bustling company. I have good accountants and good lawyers,” she added.
“And you’re wondering why you’re telling me all this personal stuff, right?”
“As a matter of fact... yes,” she admitted.
Mako grinned again and threw her a fastball. “How come you’re not married? I know you’ve been asked.”
“I’ve been begged,” she smiled back. “On bended knee. Many times. Some were rich, some were poor, but I had to turn them down.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t like them that much.”
“How much money did the poorest one have?”
“He was practically poverty-stricken,” she told me. “A couple of million was all he had in the world.”
“Tough.”
“Quite.” She let a little pause come in, then flicked her eyes at Hooker. “How much money do you have, Mako-the-shark-man?”
“That depends on what you pay us for our fish,” he said.
“Now, before they start talking about us, do you mind if I go speak to my guests?” She smiled.
He nodded his head in a regal gesture. “By all means, go, my dear.”
She said “Idiot” very quietly, masking it with a small grin.
Watching her walk away gave him the same sensation as when he lost a nine-hundred-pound marlin in the tournament out of Miami. He had lost the fish, not because he had made any errors in getting him to the boat, or because the great marlin was smarter or even more experienced in breaking loose from a deadly situation, but simply because it wasn’t to be. One day that fish would be caught, but the person on the end of the rod would be somebody else and all he would have would be the memory of that sleek, wet body arcing sensuously in the air, beauty and power rippling in the morning light. It stayed with the boat and played with the line until it was ready to go. It was in close, the leader was almost within reach and everybody was watching.
Suddenly everyone in the room got hungry at the same time. Outside, the delicious smells coming from the fire pits drew everybody to the table to pick up a stainless steel tray that had seen military service during World War II. The lines formed on either side of the table and the island boys dished up the delicacies Billy had cooked up; from the satisfied sounds everyone made, you would think they were eating at a five-star restaurant.
Hooker caught Billy’s eye and gave him a “well-done” wink, but he didn’t need it at all. Give him a fish and a fire and he was in culinary heaven.
Without realizing it, Hooker had gotten edged in line right behind Chana Sterling. She was so engrossed with a soft-shelled crab that she didn’t notice him until he said, “Beats the fast-food places in Miami, doesn’t it?”
But she recognized his voice and turned so he could catch all the cold in her eyes and the smile that wasn’t a smile. “It did,” she said. Her voice had a hiss to it, making sure it emphasized the past tense.
“Don’t tell me I’m spoiling your fun.”
“You certainly don’t improve it.”
“Well,” he said, “don’t take any guilt trip for that bullet you put in me, kiddo. Sometimes I get teed off when I think of it, but it bought me a ticket back to civilian life.”
This time there was a small light in her eyes. “I radioed Washington about your status, Mako. Nobody seemed to agree on just what happened to you. The head office won’t talk, of course, but the scuttlebutt seems to be that you are simply on a hiatus of some sort.”
“And what do you think, Chana?”
“I think the agency is smarter than I gave them credit for. They saw something coming up and assigned you a deep cover to wait it out.”
“So, what’s wrong with that... if your supposition is correct?”
“It’s crap, that’s what!” Her voice went low, tinged with suppressed violence. “You’re a slob, Mako. You’ve been in the field too damn long. You’re washed up and you know it. All you do is stand in the way of more competent personnel and make it harder for all of us!”
“Not you, Chana. I wouldn’t stand in your way. You shoot people.”
“I sure wanted to shoot you when you poked around Scara Island!”
This time he didn’t answer her. He gave a tight-lipped grin and took another bite of his fish sandwich.
“Don’t pull that on me, Mako. You know damn well it was you on the other side of that island. Just let me tell you something... you keep away from that place. There are American munitions washed up there and that place is strictly off-limits.”
Mako’s face changed. A new hardness creased his eyes, and his lips hardly moved when he spoke. “You listen hard, Chana. That island is not a piece of the good old U.S.A. It was formally assigned to the native government of Peolle on March 9, 1949. If you forget the date, remember that it was the anniversary of the battle of the Monitor and the Merrimack in Hampton Roads, Virginia, 1862. It’s just a collection place for all the junk in the ocean, but it’s a junkyard that belongs to the people of Peolle, and believe me, they can boot you out of here anytime they want.”
“We have an agreement...”
“To tie up at the dock you built, that’s all.”
She sensed the implied threat but let it roll off her. Chana was a woman totally devoted to her job and what she couldn’t conquer immediately she put in abeyance for later. Her voice took on a degree of stability and she said, “Whose side are you on, Mako?”
“I didn’t know we had a game going.”
“It’s no game.”
“You mean something is really eating those boats?”
“What’s happening, Hooker?”
“What are your orders, Sterling?”
For a moment they just stood there looking at each other, then realized the foolishness of their attitudes. Finally, giving away nothing, Chana said, “We were taken off a routine patrol to look into all the excitement here. The media in the States have been playing it up harder with every incident.”
“The incidents have no proofs so far.”
“Some powerful forces can influence the government to investigate any action, you know that.”
“No names, of course,” Hooker said.
“Of course.”
“Then what you ought to do, Chana, is enjoy your assignment. Look at the great weather, all the good food and the exciting company you have around here. And nobody’s even shooting at you.”
“No,” she said, “all they want to do is eat me.”
Mako looked at her and grinned, and when her face got red he grinned and walked away.
The island help was starting to clean up, so they’d be leaving soon, and Hooker didn’t feel like doing any boat-handling with even a mild high. There was one other man at the bar rail nursing a drink, and without turning around the guy said, “How’s it going, Mako?”