“Our man who is handling this thinks a very large loan was made to somebody in the mob.”
“Come on, the mob doesn’t go to banks for money. What would they use for security?”
“Good question.”
“I have a better one,” Hooker offered. “What would they do with it?”
“Tomorrow,” the voice of the director said, “we are flying in a specialist in this operation. He’ll arrive at nine A.M. and check in on the Sentilla. You talk to him.”
“Good deal,” Hooker said.
The connection was broken and Hooker called in Don Watts to tell him what was going on. The captain nodded sagely, wondering just how high Hooker stood in the chain of command. Then he realized that there was no chain of command in Hooker’s line of work. The last man alive was the top dog.
At dawn Alley Ander’s boat sidled in next to the anchored Clamdip. Billy Bright yelled hello and invited him aboard for coffee, and when Hooker came on deck he said, “You’re pretty far from your bar, Alley.”
“Come on, man, I heard there was lots going on down here. Can’t let you old spooks have all the fun. Besides, I need a vacation.” His eyes went to the Tellig, which was riding at anchor an eighth of a mile away. “She been shooting at you any more?”
“She knows better,” Hooker said. “Come on over and get some java.”
Alley rafted up to the Clamdip rather than drop an anchor and Mako shook his head. “Once a city boy...”
“Hey, buddy, I wasn’t a navy man in my war. I was an old jungle rat who walked and climbed and jumped and clawed my way through everything that had stickers, and my best buddy was bug repellent.”
“Then you’ll love it here, pal. All we have are giant manta rays, an invisible eater, and a shark that’s been tailing us for days.”
Suddenly Alley looked concerned. “Don’t kid around, Hooker.”
Mako said, “Tell him, Billy.”
“Yes. It is right. The shark who had his name stolen by my boss man here, he has followed us. I tell my boss, ‘Give him his name back,’ but my boss, he keeps it. Mr. Shark, he stays close so that he can kill my boss and get his name back.”
“Mako...”
“Billy believes it, Alley.”
“You believe it, Hooker?”
With a light shrug, Mako glanced out at the ocean. “I’ve seen him, pal. He’s been with us all the way since we left Peolle.”
“I didn’t ask you that.”
“Hey, if Billy believes it, so do I.”
“Then why the hell don’t you give it back?”
“How, Alley?”
The bartender gave him a sheepish grin and made a face. “Damn, you’re making me think like the islanders.”
“We think pretty good,” Billy put in as he handed Alley his coffee. “And Mr. Shark, he sure be out there, all right. You look hard, maybe you see he.”
Alley turned his head and took in the ships on the port side. “Doesn’t look like much action going on today.”
“Give it another hour, Alley.”
“What’s happening?”
“There’s another showing of the film we took snagging that giant manta. Want to see it?”
“Yeah, man. I heard about that on the radio! But that wasn’t the thing that ate the boats, was it?”
“No way. The eater is still out there looking. It’s a wonder you didn’t run into him, coming down here at night.”
Alley’s eyes squinted again. Facing a raging fire was nothing for him. Climbing up sixty feet on a ladder into an inferno was commonplace. Being alone at night on a great expanse of water that housed some incredible wild creature was a shattering experience.
Hooker hid his grin and said, “If you’re going to see the showing on the cruise ship, how about taking my passenger with you? I have another appointment.”
“Out there?”
“Guy’s flying in. Business.”
“Oh,” Alley said. “Sure. Who’s the passenger?”
Behind him Judy said, “Me, Alley, or do you object to having women on your boat?”
There was no bikini this time, but the sarong did just as well. It revealed everything, yet showed nothing. Even though you knew this vision was real, she was almost too good to be true. Her dark hair had taken on natural sun-streaked glints, her tanned skin alive with the vitality inside her.
Alley said, “Good grief!”
With another grin, Hooker told him, “Watch it, pal, she’s tough. She went down on that dive that got us the manta. Now she wants to nail the eater.”
Alley slid his coffee cup back to Billy, gave everybody a silly smile, and after one more look at Judy said, “I don’t think I can stand this.”
Chapter Thirteen
The seaplane with the navy markings landed three hundred yards off the Sentilla, taxied halfway back to meet the launch the ship sent out, discharged its sole passenger, then, when the launch was clear, turned into the wind and took off again.
Five minutes later the tall, middle-aged man was shaking hands with the captain, handing him his ID papers, then letting his eyes roam the deck until he spotted Mako leaning on the starboard rail. “That’s him, isn’t it?”
“That’s him,” Watts repeated.
“Damn, he hasn’t changed. Haven’t seen him for twelve years and he still looks the same.”
“Nice fellow.”
Helmut Wilkins said, “Yeah?” The tone of his voice made Don Watts look at him sharply. “That nice fellow was the Company’s top shooter. He took out more unfriendlies than you can count, and some friendlies too. The director was glad he retired. So were our enemies.”
“He hasn’t taken out anybody around here,” Watts said.
“Don’t worry,” Wilkins said, “he will, he will.”
Hooker let go of the rail and walked up to the pair, his hand out. He said, “Hello, bean counter. How goes it?”
Wilkins’s smile was noncommittal. He was glad to see Hooker again but didn’t seem to enjoy the reunion at all. “Can’t quite quit, can you?”
“Things seem to follow me around.”
“Sure, like major crises.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Hooker told him.
“You don’t watch television or read newspapers anymore, either.”
“There’s enough excitement right here.”
Wilkins addressed the captain with “Someplace we can talk privately?”
“Plenty of that during working hours. Come on with me.” He took them to a small library with books stacked along each wall and a half dozen comfortable chairs scattered around. There was a desk in one corner with an electric typewriter and a fax machine, a jar filled with ballpoint pens and pencils. “Lock the door and make yourselves comfortable,” he told them. “Nobody will bother you.”
Hooker locked the door, then sat down facing Wilkins, who already had his attaché case open and was extracting several sheets of paper. The red printed CONFIDENTIAL stamped at the top indicated only moderate security, not worthy of being transported by a top-level agent like Wilkins. So he waited. Wilkins was playing that damn fool amateur routine of trying to get him talking first, but Hooker didn’t buy it.
Wilkins knew what Hooker was doing. He smiled indulgently and stated, “You made a request from the Company.” His eyes flashed up to Mako’s for confirmation.
“The Becker Bank,” Hooker said.
This time Wilkins waited.
“And any Durant connection.”
“Yes.” He paused, reread the information on the sheet in his hand and made another one of those meaningful nods. “Becker and Durant had been friends for some time. According to Becker’s business records, they met several times, in Europe and the Americas. It is assumed that these were business meetings.”