The Five Year Plan (1998)

'Tell that to Willy, next time he almost sees you.'

'Those are my conditions.'

'OK, OK, you do the talking. What do I know? Maybe you're Warren fucking Christopher or somethin'.'

They ate lunch and then went outside. On the short walk along to the Vera Cruz offices, Al spotted something he wanted to buy for his son, Petey, in the gift shop. It was a baby hammerhead shark specimen, about a foot long, preserved in a jar of formaldehyde.

Dave watched Al hand over twenty colons for the curio and asked, 'What's that? A tool for learning?'

'He'll love it. Petey loves sharks.'

'Does that mean you're planning to give it to him, or eat it on his birthday?'

Al smiled thinly. 'That smart mouth of yours. It's a wonder you lasted out the five.'

Chapter TEN

The Juarista was indeed a beauty. Lou Malta explained her construction history inside the enclosed flybridge while they were getting underway.

'Sh-she was built in San Diego,' he explained in his stuttering drawl. 'The way the hull's constructed means she has a low center of gravity and a deep V-entry in the water. Producing a very comfortable ride for you people, whatever the sea's like. I never knew anyone to get sick on this boat. Not even from Pepe's cooking. Of course we've got the thrusters and stabilizers to simplify handling, but it's the hull that makes the difference. And a reverse sheer below the transom there makes backing down as smooth and d-dry as if you were standing on the sh-shore. Where'd you say you boys were from?'

Dave said, 'LA.'

'LA, huh? Which part?'

'All over.'

'Mmmm. All over. My favorite place.' He giggled. 'Just ask Pepe. Well, you picked a pretty good time of year to come after marlin and sailfish. January's usually our best month.' He gave them a searching north to south look. 'How much sportfishing experience have you boys had anyway?'

'Enough,' said Al.

Malta shrugged. 'W-well whatever. Pepe and I? We get all levels of experience on this boat. Just a few weeks ago, we were fishing for wahoo with these three types from New York. And I swear I found one of them trying to kill the fish with his cellular telephone.' He giggled again. 'I swear, it was the funniest thing I ever saw. Wasn't it, Pepe?'

Pepe grinned and said, 'Yes, Lou.'

Pepe was a beautiful black boy of about thirteen, wearing a navy blue T-shirt with a white Nike swoosh logo and a pair of baggy Guess jeans. He was down on the cockpit, tying off ropes and smiling broadly at Malta whenever their eyes met. CR had a big gay scene and Al and Dave could see that Pepe was Malta's cachero. Malta himself, wearing a pair of sky blue Lycra cycling shorts and a white T-shirt with Garfield the cat on it, was a curious-looking man. Fortyish, Rod Stewart haircut, pink Pilsbury Doughboy face, rimless eyeglasses with blue frames, and a large gold earring with a cartouche to match the one hanging around his pudgy neck, he looked more hairdresser than fishing skipper.

'Pepe will fix you up with some tackle. We've got more or less everything you'll need, although you two are the lightest travellers I've ever seen down here. Talk about the accidental tourist. Don't you think so, Pepe?'

'Yes, Lou.'

'Like I said,' Al growled. 'We got a lot of our gear stolen in San Jose.'

'CR is a very pretty country,' said Malta. 'But the thing about the country is that it's just so impossibly p-pretty that it seduces you into a false sense of security. There are thieves all over.'

Dave said, 'That's true of everywhere.'

'Well yes. But really.' Malta tutted and sighed loudly and shook his head in apparent despair. 'A man's fishing equipment is something sacrosanct. Isn't it, Pepe?'

'Yes, Lou.'

'You boys were insured though?'

'Yeah, we got insurance,' said Al. 'You got insurance?'

Malta picked up the slight note of threat that was carried in Al's remark.

'Oh you boys'll be safe enough on this boat, won't they Pepe? We've got every creature comfort. TV and VCR in every cabin. Air-conditioning. We've even got a misting system to keep those rippling muscles of yours cool when you're in the fighting chair. It gets pretty hot out there when you've got a big one. I even put a little patchouli oil in the mist reservoir just to make the air smell nice. I don't know about you, but fish isn't my scent of choice. And Pepe's a pretty good little cook, despite what I said. And I don't just mean he knows how to use the microwave. He can cook up pretty much anything you want. Pepe knows what men like to eat. We have plenty of s-supplies. You just tell him if there's anything in particular takes your fancy. Just as long as it's fish.' He giggled again. 'Just joking. We've got lots of steaks in the freezer. And plenty of beer. You boys want a beer?'

'Beer'd be good,' admitted Dave.

'But what am I thinking of? You'll want to see your cabins. Naturally you each have your own head and bath. Go on, take a look around while I get the beers. Only pay particular attention to the salon. I'm kinda prouda that. Designed it myself. It's ornamented with custom-made glass by Lal-Lalique.'

Al and Dave went below. The boat was as luxurious as Lou Malta had promised. And with the headroom reaching seven feet in the salon and in the staterooms, it had an impressive amount of interior volume. Dave didn't much care for the taste -- it was too fussy -- but it was plain to see that no cost had been spared in fitting her out with every conceivable extra.

Dave said, 'Hey, Al. This boat's worth a lot more than a mill. Say not much change out of three and you'd have been more accurate.'

'So?' Al was more interested in investigating Lou Malta's sleeping arrangements than his own. Inspecting the cedar-lined drawers and closets he sneered and said, 'It's like I thought.'

'What is?'

Al glanced up at the mirrored ceiling and then spat onto the black silk sheets that covered Malta's double bed.

'He's fucking that kid. My Petey's not much younger than that Pepe kid.'

'What of it? Those two girls you were with in Key Largo last night weren't much older than Pepe. They were maybe fifteen or sixteen at most.'

'Bullshit. But even if they were it's different for girls. Number one, girls mature quicker. And number two, that was straight sex.'

'I thought you said you had them going down on each other?'

'That was for my benefit, not theirs. That kind of sex don't count. That was just like a couple of actresses playing a gay part for a movie. With me being the camera. It don't make them queer. But this--' He bent down to pick up a magazine from the cabin floor and Dave caught a glimpse of older men having sex with younger boys before Al flung it aside in disgust. 'This is something else.' He looked angrily at Dave. 'What?'

Dave shrugged. 'I still think this is a lot of boat to repo for the loan of a million.'

'Yeah, well that's the nature of collateral. Ain't you heard? We're in a recession. Money's tight.' He laughed cruelly. 'And I bet that's a lot more than I can say for that faggot's ass.'

'I'd better go and give him the bad news before we get too far offshore,' said Dave.

'You do that. Sooner those two fags are off this boat, the better I'll feel. There's magazines and videos in that creep's fuckin' drawer that would give Hannibal Lecter a nightmare.'

Lou Malta wrung his hands and wept, 'What am I going to do?'

Dave and Malta were sitting at opposite ends of an L-shaped sofa in the now stationary boat's salon. Malta was on his second pink gin, although it looked large enough to have been a third and a fourth as well.

'Get some things together,' Dave told him. 'And the thousand bucks we paid you up front for the charter? Keep it. We'll turn the boat around and head back towards Quepos.

When we get in sight of the CR coastline, you and Pepe can take the inflatable and row ashore.'