The Five Year Plan (1998)

'You have a beautiful boat,' said Dave. 'What's her displacement?'

'Come again?'

'The tonnage.'

'Forty. Forty tons.'

'Really? I'd have said she looks nearer sixty, myself.'

'You're probably right,' grinned Bowen. 'I'm just the owner. If you want full specifications, you'd have to ask Kate. She knows everything there is to know about this boat. Me, I just enjoy having her.' Saying that gave him an idea. Maybe he could put this guy off in his own way. By just dropping a broad hint that she was already spoken for, in the form of a joke -- the kind a real owner would have made. He winked at Dave. 'And the boat.'

Dave smiled thinly while Bowen got off on his own joke. Somehow he couldn't see Kate fucking this guy. 'Is Kate around?'

'Let me go and fetch her,' he said, happy to leave the skylounge before Dulanotov asked him any more questions about the boat that he couldn't answer. Even Bowen thought you could play the dumb owner too far. 'I think she's down in her room. Help yourself to a drink, if you want one.'

Dave sat down in one of the black leather wheelhouse pilot chairs, smoothing his hand over the black lacquer tops on the maple units. Right away he noticed that the touch control handset for the radio was still warm, as was the transceiver's slimline, diecast aluminium casing. It was only a few minutes since he had been in the radio room with Jock, since they had both heard the sound of another digitally scrambled broadcast from one of the boats on board the ship. Dave had no way of telling if the Carrera's radio was fitted with a scrambler. All radios looked a little unusual after you'd been out of circulation for five years. But there could be no doubt, someone had been broadcasting from the radio on this boat. And if not to a submarine, then to what?

All of which begged the question. Who was Kent Bowen? And, more importantly for Dave, who was Kate Parmenter?

'Hi there.'

Dave turned around and frowned. Kate looked like she'd been crying.

'Are you OK?' he asked.

'I had something in my eye,' she explained. 'I'm fine. But I must look like I just sat through Gone with the Wind.''

'Kind of.' Dave grinned. 'Is your boss coming back up?'

'I don't know. He comes and goes, y'know?' Realizing Dave probably wanted to be private with her, she said, 'Tell you what. I've a mind to go and see those ceremonial cannon. The ones that Captain Jellicoe stole from whoever it was. Shall we go and take a look?'

They crossed over onto the Juarista and then climbed up onto the Duke's dock wall. Coming along the starboard side of the Jade, Dave said, 'The reason I stopped by was to find out if you were going to the party tonight.'

'Only if you are,' she said. 'Not that Kent would let us miss it. Ever since he found out what kind of films they make, his tongue's been hanging out. The man has a libido that's as big as his boat. Except he probably thinks a libido is something the French wash their feet in.'

Dave laughed and led the way up the gangway to the accommodations block.

'Are you and he--?'

'Jesus, no. Whatever gave you that idea?'

'As a matter of fact, he did.'

'What? You're kidding.'

'Just a remark he made. Nothing specific. But he seemed to imply there was something going on between you.'

'That bastard. The only thing that's ever been going on between us is me putting up with all his bullshit.'

'What does he do anyway?'

'You mean when he's not being an asshole?'

Kate had given some thought to Kent Bowen's cover story. Bowen had wanted to claim he was something glamorous like a film executive, or even a writer. But Kate had managed to persuade him that it should only be something he actually knew about. Maybe she could also persuade him to throw himself overboard and save her the trouble of doing it.

'He owns a string of shops selling security and counter-surveillance merchandise. You know the kind of thing. Bugs that look like electrical plugs, and little safes that are inside a dummy can of Coke. Paranoid shit for paranoid times.'

Kate paused to light a cigarette and then followed Dave all the way forward to the bow of the boat. The sun-lounger was still there, but the cool-box and Jellicoe were gone.

'He wants to open a chain of spy stores across Europe,' she lied smoothly. 'Tech Direct. That's what the shops in the States are called. Anyway, there's this big trade fair for all kinds of electronic gadgetry in Barcelona in two or three weeks' time. Kind of every man his own James Bond. That's where we're headed, after we get to Mallorca.'

Dave nodded, asking himself if any of this might help explain why Kent Bowen had been using a digital scrambler on his radio. Meanwhile Kate thought it was time she changed the subject.

'What about you?' she asked. 'What takes you to Europe?'

'The Monaco Grand Prix,' Dave lied with equal facility. 'I like to watch motor racing. After that we're sailing to Cap D'Antibes. I've rented a house there for the summer.'

'By yourself?'

'Some friends'll probably drop by. From England.'

A gentle breeze stirred Kate's hair and Dave found himself reaching to touch it. Her hair felt like silk against his hand. There was her perfume to think about too. After Homestead, all women smelt good to Dave. But Kate smelt especially good. Like something rich and luxurious.

He said, 'You should come by, yourself. That is if you can get away from Q, Miss Moneypenny.'

'I wonder, how many other girls you've invited down there.'

'You're the first,' said Dave. 'In love's affairs, I'm a sweet beginner.'

'That I don't believe.'

'I feed on hope's uncertain dinner.'

Kate checked herself, realizing he was reciting something again.

'For me the object on life's chart is mysterious and enticing, something to think hard about, suspecting that wonders will accumulate. And so I'm sure, a kindred spirit will be joined to me by fate.'

She could hardly help but feel impressed.

'Who's that? she asked. 'Van Morrison again?'

Dave shook his head. 'It sounds better in Russian. No, it's Pushkin. Freely rendered.'

Kate smiled and said, 'I wasn't offering to pay. But it's nice. Did Pushkin find his kindred spirit?'

'Yes, but it wasn't a happy ending.'

'What happened?'

'Someone shot him. Guy called D'Anthes.'

'No gun law can stop a madman,' she shrugged. 'If, as you said, I can get away from Q, I'd love to come visit. Cap D'Antibes, huh? I guess it's very chic down there.'

'Like Valentino.'

'That's the part that worries me. Alone, in a foreign country, without even a native guide. Anything could happen.'

'Last night it almost did.'

Kate smiled and said, 'Last night? Oh, that wasn't anything at all. That was just sex. Today it feels more like a subject on Oprah. A whole show. How the two of us met. Or some stuff like that.'

'Don't worry,' said Dave. 'I feel the same way.'

'D'Antibes. D'Anthes. Don't worry. You're a regular red light, you know that, Van? Anyone would think you're trying to send me some kind of signal.'

'Hailing on all frequencies, Lieutenant Uhura.'

'Go ahead, Captain.'

'It sounds kind of stupid, but I'm falling in love with you. Maybe it wasn't exactly love at first sight. If that's what it was I'd have said so yesterday. But it runs a pretty close second.'

'Photo-finish, I'd say.' Kate stroked Dave's cheek with the back of her hand. 'Besides, it's having second sight that counts. Ask any fortune teller. You know something, Van. You remind me of my lawyer.'