The Five Year Plan (1998)

'And why is that, sir?'

'To combat crime. This is the crime capital of the United States. Didn't you know that?'

But Bowen wasn't waiting for an answer.

'Mostly on account of all the scum who've come to settle here from places like Cuba, Haiti and the Dominican Republic'

'I think that's all a little--'

He said, 'Titusville. That's up the coast, isn't it?'

'Yes.'

'Were you always into boats?'

'Ever since Gemini #.'

' Gemini 8? What's that got to do with anything?'

'When I was a kid we used to go out on the ocean aboard my daddy's boat and watch the launches from the Kennedy Space Center. It was best view around for miles. Yes, I've been around boats nearly all my life.'

Bowen said, 'Well, you know boats. But I know law enforcement. You probably heard I was deputy sheriff of Dodge City before I joined the Bureau.'

Kate nodded wearily.

'Of course this was quite a few years ago. And Dodge was cleaned up before I ever got there.' He uttered the familiar little chuckle that Kate had learned to detest.

'Old Wyatt Earp saw to that. One of the reasons I joined the Bureau in the first place was to escape from there. But not before I learned the job the hard way. On the street. Only place you get to develop a nose for it. And right now my nose is telling me that we ought to at least check out this theory of mine. About the boat hull bein' made of cocaine n'all. You say you know boats?'

'Yes sir.'

'Then I want you to speak to some boat-builders and see if it can be done. I hear what you say about fuel tanks, Kate. But I think you're down a gator hole. Those boys have got a lot more ingenuity than you give 'em credit for, Kate. Never underestimate your opponent.'

Kate smiled back at him as he tapped his temple with a forefinger. Underestimating her boss was beginning to look almost impossible.

He said, 'Think big. That's what they do. That's what I do. These bastards don't conform to the common order. Neither do we, Kate. Neither do we. And when you've seen if it can be done -- and frankly I'd be very surprised if it couldn't -- well then maybe you can organize some kind of covert team to go into that dry dock and take a closer look at that hull. I'm willing to bet you'll find some kind of an anomaly.'

'Anomaly, yeah.' Kate restrained herself on the edge of a remark she knew she would later regret. She wanted to tell him, yeah, there's been some kind of an anomaly, all right. I normally get an ASAC for a boss with a brain in his fucking head.

Driving home that night, through the banyan-lined streets of North Miami, she was tuned to Magic 102.7, an oldies station, and there was an early Rolling Stones song she had always loved. And although she had heard the song a thousand times before and knew the words by heart she still found herself thinking of Kent Bowen and how she was going to prove him wrong as she sang along. Time was on her side.

Chapter NINE

In Dave's suite, the telephone rang. It was Jimmy Figaro.

'Got a passport?'

'You've got it,' said Dave.

'I have?'

'I had to surrender it before the trial. Remember?'

'If you say so. Still valid you think?'

'Should be, yes.'

'OK, let me get Carol to find it and then I'll come back to you.'

'You know, I'm glad you reminded me. I was going to have to call you about it anyway. Does this mean the job is on?'

'I don't know anything about a job.'

'Oh yeah, I remember. You're on a need to know basis.'

'All I know is what Al Cornaro told me.'

'And that is?'

'That you and he are flying down to Costa Rica.'

'Costa Rica? What's in Costa Rica?'

'Some pretty good coffee, last time they looked. Maybe you could bring me back some beans.'

'What am I, Jimmy? Starbucks or something?'

'That and a boat. Al said to say that he's found you a boat.'

'Great. He say what kind of boat?'

'The love boat. How the hell should I know? I'm a lawyer not Herman Melville.'

'Yeah, well, call me back, Ishmael. About that passport, OK?'

San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica, was a thousand miles south of Miami and a two and a half hour flight aboard an American Airlines jet that was full of tourists in search of difficult surf and easy sex.

Dave returned to his first-class seat from the toilet and said, 'This flight. It's like Big Wednesday back there.'

'Big what?'

'Surfing movie. John Milius. All about the perfect wave.'

Al grunted and settled back with his third vodka martini. He said, 'You know what that means to me? The perfect wave? It's Madonna saying goodbye as she takes the kids on a six-week vacation with her mother.'

'Madonna's your wife, right?'

'Right.'

'Do you mind me asking you a personal question?'

'Not if you don't mind a slap in the mouth if I think you're out of line.'

'Why do you stay married to her? I mean, you make jokes about her all the time.'

Al said, 'It's a husband thing. You wouldn't understand. We get along pretty good, she and I. She asks no questions, which means I tell her no lies. Like going down to Costa Rica. What I do when I'm down there? Maybe find a couple of nice little ticas and get myself laid? She won't ever ask. Won't even sniff my fingers when I get home. There's an understanding there. A modus vivendi, know what I'm sayin'? Sides, even if I wanted to get rid of her, I wouldn't. I'm a Catholic. Marriage is for keeps. Like herpes.' Al laughed obscenely and finished his drink.

Dave said, 'Nice to know that true romance is not dead.'

' True Romance. Now that's what I call a fucking movie.' Al waved his empty glass at the stewardess and laughed some more. 'That's what a lot of the beach bums back there are really after. True romance. Surprising as it might seem. Local classifieds in CR are full of ads from soft-headed Americans looking for a cute little tica to settle down with.'

'Then you've been before?'

'CR? Yeah. Lots of times.'

'And what are you looking for, Al?'

'Me, I'll settle for getting my cock sucked.'

Dave looked out of the window.

'Sa matter?' Al demanded. 'Somethin' wrong with that?'

'No, nothing at all.'

'Y'know prostitution's legal in CR. Country's a regular pussy K-Mart.'

Dave took the New Yorker he had bought at the airport out of the seat pocket and started to turn the pages.

Al frowned and said, 'Y'know, most guys out of Homestead be quite interested in gettin' theirselves laid. You turn fag or somethin' while your ass was in there?'

Dave said, 'No. I did not turn fag while I was in there. But people who've got something against fags are generally trying to cover up their own fears that they might be gay themselves. Well how about it, Al?'

Al shrugged and said, 'You're right. I am gay.' Another obscene laugh. 'I'm a lesbian trapped inside a man's body. Means I'm interested in seeing two girls partying with each other before they party with me. I think that about covers my sexuality.'

Dave laughed and said, 'Me, I'm more like one of those soft-headed guys you were talking about. In the local classifieds. The ones looking for true romance? I guess that covers it for me.'

'Your fuckin' loss.'

Al opened the copy of Penthouse he had bought at the airport and began to pick his nose. Absently he inspected his forefinger and frowned as he caught sight of the blood on it. The next second there was more blood dripping in large bullet-hole-sized gouts onto the magazine and his cream polo shirt and pants.

'Fuckin' nosebleed,' groaned Al.

He made a futile attempt to stanch the flow using first his own paper napkin coaster and then Dave's, stuffing one up each nostril, but it was not until the stewardess, arriving with another drink and a napkin, had tipped Al's seat back in the reclining position that the bleeding finally stopped.