see a ship hunting us." He looked around the main cabin. Nothing he saw gave him hope. The polished teak aglow in the soft golden light of the brass lamps, the dark mahogany cabinets, the leather-bound books, the banks of expensive electronics were all vivid reminders that Will Spark was a very wealthy man who was accustomed to getting his own way. While Jim Leighton was a lopsided cross between employee and guest with less say in important matters than a house pet.
"Look, Will. A deal is a deal."
"I thought you were on watch." He went back to the sink and resumed pulling foil, and the plastic wrap under it, from the frozen lamb.
"You can't just change everything like this. I have a right to be dropped off where you promised."
"I told you. That is no longer possible."
"Will, I don't want to be hard-assed about this. Don't make me force you to turn the boat around."
"Force?" Will Spark looked up from the sink. He dropped the leg of lamb and moved quickly toward him.
Jim backed up, startled.
"You may be younger and stronger, sonny. But suburban college boys don't learn street fighting in health clubs."
Jim had wondered about the scar tissue on Will's fists and the boxer's white ridges over his brow, and the time-bleached U.S. Marine Corps Semper fi tattoo on his biceps, none of which fit the Yale-man image. What was new was the suddenly implacable expression on his face. Well, fuck
him. Jim was younger. Lots younger. And much stronger. Health clubs taught kickboxing, and the places he worked in now featured the Brazilian martial art capoeira. Will seemed to read his mind. He stepped closer and tapped his chest, hard. "You have muscles like a pocket Schwarzenegger. But you're really a little guy. You have lousy bones. You're built too light in your knees and your wrists and your ankles. It must have taken twice the work to bulk up like that. What kind of problem drove you to put on all that muscle?"
"It comes in handy. At times like this."
"Go ahead. Take your best shot."
"Come on, Will."
"Makes me wonder what a bright kid like you is avoiding to shift all that effort into bodybuilding."
"Turn the boat around."
"Or what?" Will shot back. "Even if you could take me, how will you sleep? You going to watch me twenty-four hours a day? What's to stop me from bashing your head in when you close your eyes?"
"Come on, Will," Jim said. But he couldn't help glancing at the pilot berth where he usually slept between watches. The weird thing was, he could almost see it in his mind: Will creeping down the companionway with one of the heavy chrome winch handles.
"You could always tie me to my bunk," Will mocked. "Except, how are you going to sail home alone?"
"All I'm saying is I want to go to Rio like you promised."
"And I'm saying I apologize for disappointing you, and I also apologize for dragging you into this mess. But the fact is, you're with me, so you're in it. I've got no choice but to run. So you've got no choice but to run with me. Remember, if they catch me, they've caught you too. Lotsa luck explaining that you're just along for the ride:'
" 'They' are in your head, Will. There is no 'they.' I'll prove it to you. Let's look on the radar."
"We can't chance using the radar."
"Why not?"
"What if they have ECM?"
"Excuse me, what's ECM?"
"Electronic countermeasures. I can't take a chance they wouldn't lock onto my radar pulse."
"Just for a second. We'll just turn it on, look, and turn it off."
"They'd have our bearing and range in a microsecond?' Jim slipped into the leather bench built into the bulkhead beside the nav table. "One quick look."
"No."
The electric panel had a triple array of switches. Running lights, work lights, interior lights, stereo, TV, VCR, microwave, washing machine, three radios, sat phone, electronic autopilot, water pumps, bilge pumps, fire pump, fuel pump, electric windlass, freezer, global positioning system, computer, radar. As Jim groped for the right one, Will reached past him
"Look, Will. A deal is a deal."
"I thought you were on watch." He went back to the sink and resumed pulling foil, and the plastic wrap under it, from the frozen lamb.
"You can't just change everything like this. I have a right to be dropped off where you promised."
"I told you. That is no longer possible."
"Will, I don't want to be hard-assed about this. Don't make me force you to turn the boat around."
"Force?" Will Spark looked up from the sink. He dropped the leg of lamb and moved quickly toward him.
Jim backed up, startled.
"You may be younger and stronger, sonny. But suburban college boys don't learn street fighting in health clubs."
Jim had wondered about the scar tissue on Will's fists and the boxer's white ridges over his brow, and the time-bleached U.S. Marine Corps Semper fi tattoo on his biceps, none of which fit the Yale-man image. What was new was the suddenly implacable expression on his face. Well, fuck
him. Jim was younger. Lots younger. And much stronger. Health clubs taught kickboxing, and the places he worked in now featured the Brazilian martial art capoeira. Will seemed to read his mind. He stepped closer and tapped his chest, hard. "You have muscles like a pocket Schwarzenegger. But you're really a little guy. You have lousy bones. You're built too light in your knees and your wrists and your ankles. It must have taken twice the work to bulk up like that. What kind of problem drove you to put on all that muscle?"
"It comes in handy. At times like this."
"Go ahead. Take your best shot."
"Come on, Will."
"Makes me wonder what a bright kid like you is avoiding to shift all that effort into bodybuilding."
"Turn the boat around."
"Or what?" Will shot back. "Even if you could take me, how will you sleep? You going to watch me twenty-four hours a day? What's to stop me from bashing your head in when you close your eyes?"
"Come on, Will," Jim said. But he couldn't help glancing at the pilot berth where he usually slept between watches. The weird thing was, he could almost see it in his mind: Will creeping down the companionway with one of the heavy chrome winch handles.
"You could always tie me to my bunk," Will mocked. "Except, how are you going to sail home alone?"
"All I'm saying is I want to go to Rio like you promised."
"And I'm saying I apologize for disappointing you, and I also apologize for dragging you into this mess. But the fact is, you're with me, so you're in it. I've got no choice but to run. So you've got no choice but to run with me. Remember, if they catch me, they've caught you too. Lotsa luck explaining that you're just along for the ride:'
" 'They' are in your head, Will. There is no 'they.' I'll prove it to you. Let's look on the radar."
"We can't chance using the radar."
"Why not?"
"What if they have ECM?"
"Excuse me, what's ECM?"
"Electronic countermeasures. I can't take a chance they wouldn't lock onto my radar pulse."
"Just for a second. We'll just turn it on, look, and turn it off."
"They'd have our bearing and range in a microsecond?' Jim slipped into the leather bench built into the bulkhead beside the nav table. "One quick look."
"No."
The electric panel had a triple array of switches. Running lights, work lights, interior lights, stereo, TV, VCR, microwave, washing machine, three radios, sat phone, electronic autopilot, water pumps, bilge pumps, fire pump, fuel pump, electric windlass, freezer, global positioning system, computer, radar. As Jim groped for the right one, Will reached past him
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