by Derek Fee
The boats around them were sounding the klaxons and shouts of ‘Forza’ resounded on all sides. The spectators were going crazy and most of their attention was centred not on the crew of the winning boat but on Kane and Morweena. Adrenaline poured around Kane’s body. He wanted to shout and scream. This was living with a capital L. He eased the boat into the Piccolo Porto and a huge roar came from the crowd lining the wall of the jetty.
I could get used to this, he thought and waved back to the crowd.
Morweena lifted her head and smiled. “My God but that was some bloody race,” she said softly. “I’ve never been so scared in all my life. You and Barrett going head-to-head only two hundred metres from the buoy. Don’t you ever do that to me again!” She pulled off her helmet and shook out her hair. The tautness had disappeared from her face. She put her hand on the throttle and dropped the speed to a crawl.
“You were pretty cool out there,” Kane said.
“I wasn’t cool, I was petrified. But I wasn’t half as scared of dying as I was of answering to you and Dad if I’d throttled back.” She eased herself forward and winced at the pain in her back. “I need a massage and a lovely long bubble bath to ease away most of the bruises this monster gave me.”
Tom and David were waiting along with Doc, Reg and Bill at their slot on the wooden marina.
“You bloody stupid reckless bastard!” Reg stepped in front of David before he reached Kane. “That’s my daughter in that boat and you could have bloody killed her. Don’t you have any sense in that thick skull of yours?”
“Doing my job as best I could, boss.” Kane stood his ground.
“But not at the cost of a life, you silly bugger.” David watched Morweena climb unharmed out of the cockpit. “If you want to kill yourself, go ahead. But leave my daughter out of it.”
“Take it easy, David, you’ll have a heart attack.” Tom held his arm. “Nobody’s hurt. Everybody’s safe and you’ve come third in your first race. There’s no need to make an additional spectacle for the spectators.”
“You’re right of course,” David said. “I have to admit that he did drive a hell of a race.”
“That was some action.” Tom pulled Kane away from David and shook his hand. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Davenport was right. You are something else. But it wasn’t part of the bargain; you being killed in your first race wouldn’t have fitted my plan at all.”
“And what about this girl?” David smothered her with a hug. “What guts. My God when I saw you and Barrett screaming into the third buoy on the last lap I exploded with fear and excitement. What bloody brinkmanship. Totally unacceptable of course. Nearly killed you. But third in our first race. I don’t believe it.”
“I’m okay, Dad. There was never any real danger. It must have looked a damn sight worse than it actually felt.”
“Perhaps,” David said, holding her. “But I wouldn’t like to see that happen again.” He cast a look in Kane’s direction.
“Tom brought me in to win races,” Kane said, returning David’s look. “I intend to do that.” He patted Morweena on the back. “I hope I didn’t scare you too much?”
“Me. Scared?” Morweena turned to face him. “Not on your life. I loved every second of it.” She pushed her face into her father’s chest. “Can we go back to the hotel, please?” she said.
“No sleeping yet.” Hakonen strode down the marina towards them with what appeared like half the crowd in tow. “Tonight, you and I will drink champagne.”
“Well done.” Kane extended his hand and Hakonen shook it warmly. “Great race.”
“Thanks.” Hakonen was smiling from ear to ear. He kissed Morweena on the cheek. “But I understand that most of the real excitement took place behind me. I win the race but you are the one who makes the big impact with the crowd and the television.” Hakonen was swept away towards the edge of the marina by his team, reporters, TV crews and assorted hangers-on. “Don’t forget,” he shouted over his shoulder. “After the awards ceremony, the champagne flows on me at the Sorrento Palace.”
“Someday soon that will be you, Mark,” Tom said from beside him. “I know that it’s bloody stupid but I was excited as a young boy during that race. I’ve made a pile of money over the years but I bet I’ve never had half the thrill you had today. I envy you.”
“You bloody bastard.” Graham Barrett strode purposefully towards the Penhalion team, his blond hair plastered to his head. Lines of red emanated from his neck and streaked his tanned face. “You cost me that bloody race. You took my water.”
When he was about three feet from Kane, he threw a punch with his right hand. Kane sidestepped the punch easily, caught Barrett’s hand in mid-air and flipped him flat on his back on the wooden marina.
“Take it easy.” Kane put his boot on Barrett’s throat. “Didn’t your father teach you that bad losers aren’t appreciated and that counts double for aggressive bad losers?”
“You bastard,” Barrett croaked. He moved his head from side to side but the pressure from Kane’s boot only increased. “You made the biggest mistake of your life today.” His thin mouth was twisted into a grimace. When the pressure of the boot was released, Barrett stayed prone on the ground. “Nobody but nobody fucks with me. At least not more than once. That’s the second time you’ve assaulted me. I’m calling the police and you, my friend, will spend the evening in some Neapolitan hellhole.”
Kane’s boot was back on his throat. “I told you before that I wasn’t your friend and if I go to jail, the next time I might do some real harm.”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen.” Safardi moved into the ruck surrounding Kane and Barrett. “Please, we have been privileged to witness a wonderful race. Don’t spoil the occasion with this unpleasantness.” He put his hand on Kane’s arm. “Please.”
Kane took his boot off Barrett’s throat.
“Thank you.” Safardi reached his hand down and helped Barrett to his feet. “Mr Kane is right, Graham. You must learn to be gracious in defeat. Now no more talk of police and jail.”
“Let’s all calm down a minute,” David said in his most placatory voice. He stood facing Barrett. “If you’ve got any complaint about Mark’s driving, you can lodge it formally with the race stewards. From where I was watching, you’ve got nothing to bitch about but you’ve still got that option. What you don’t have is the right to burst in here, throwing your weight around and trying to assault my driver.” David put his hand on Kane’s arm.
Barrett rubbed his neck. “Don’t think that it’s over because it isn’t.” His blue eyes were spitting fire. “There’s a long way to go in this championship and powerboat racing is a risky sport. Anything can happen. And probably will.”
“I don’t take kindly to threats.” Kane took a step forward.
David stood between him and Barrett.
“That wasn’t a threat…” Barrett said.
“Enough.” Safardi pulled Barrett away towards the end of the marina.
“It was a promise,” Barrett said over his shoulder.
“I never liked that man,” David said. “It looks like you’ve made an enemy today. He’s quite capable of carrying out his threat.”
“I’m quaking.” Kane stared at Barrett’s retreating figure.
“Nice show.” Doc winked and pumped Kane’s hand. “I think that our driver can handle himself, don’t you Mr Penhalion?”
“It certainly looks that way,” David said. He looked around and saw that the crowd were looking at Kane with something akin to hero worship.
The Penhalion crew weren’t allowed to dwell on the fracas with Barrett. The race organisers were rounding up the first, second and third-placed crews and moving them towards a podium which had been erected at the back of the marina directly below the cliff. Kane, Morweena, and David made their way through the crowd flanked by two stewards.
“A most impressive debut.” Tadeka stepped forward and shook Kane’s hand.
“Thank you.”
Tade
ka bowed slightly. “One can improve the design of the boats and the engines but there is one element that cannot be manufactured. That is skill and courage. You displayed both today.”
“There is a world of difference between courage and foolhardiness,” Morweena said.
Before Kane could reply, he was borne along with the crowd towards the podium and he, Morweena, and David were deposited along with Hakonen’s crew, and the Italian crew of the Benneton boat. They stood in a cluster while the chairman of the race sponsors extolled the virtues of his company’s product whether mixed with orange or soda. The speaker finally called on Hakonen to receive his trophy which would have required the assistance of a weightlifter to hold aloft. Hakonen quickly passed the one-metre-high piece of metal to one of his teammates and concentrated on accepting the cheque for first place. The ebullient Finn shook the magnum of champagne the sponsors had provided and showered the people nearest the podium with the frothing white liquid. The Benneton team were presented with an equally impressive trophy and a more modest cheque. The mainly Italian crowd were ecstatic with their favourites. The sponsor went into another long rambling introduction before presenting the Penhalion team with a metal trophy and a cheque for $100,000. Kane cradled the trophy while Morweena kissed the cheque for the cameras.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tom and Kane stood on the balcony of the Sorrento Palace watching the string of lights along the coast. The weather had cleared and the evening was balmy with a warm breeze blowing from the ocean.
“This sport could get hold of you.” Tom leaned over the wrought-iron guard rail. “You know you could have got yourself and Morweena killed out there today.”
“This is your gig.” Kane stared ahead. “You called the shots and everything that happens is down to you. It goes with the territory. And so do people like me. I don’t give a rat’s ass what happens to me. That’s my edge when I go undercover. Whoever we’re after has got to believe that I’m his kind of man and the only way that I can convince him of that is by being extreme. That’s my forte. Didn’t Davenport tell you that?”
“I don’t want to be responsible for something bad happening to you or Morweena.” Tom looked out to sea.
“You didn’t bargain for that, did you?” Kane let his tall frame rest on the guard rail beside Tom.
“No, I didn’t. But if you can live with it, so can I. If I were using a powerboat to smuggle drugs and if I saw your performance out there today, you’d be the man that I’d want at the wheel of my boat.”
“Good old Tom. There’s nothing so single-minded as a man bent on revenge. You must complete your mission. Otherwise, it would eat away at you. If we succeed, you’ll learn that the accomplishment won’t take away the pain of your child’s death. You might be elated for a few minutes, hours, or days, knowing that you have avenged your daughter’s death. But in the end, she’ll still be dead and you’ll miss her for the rest of your life.”
“You paint a dark picture.”
“I’ve been there. I’ve experienced the darkness. It’s another part of my edge.” He was tired. He’d been pissing blood over the past few hours but he knew that was par for the course. If it didn’t stop by morning, he would have to visit a doctor. He wondered whether Morweena had the same problem. It was a long time since he’d wondered what was happening to another human being. Hopefully, she was tucked up in bed sleeping the sleep of the just. He’d gone too far during the race. She had been scared out of her wits and it hadn’t been fair. He tried to drive the thought of her from his mind. The adrenaline rush of the race had left exhaustion in its wake. He had eaten and drunk and now there was only a drowsy feeling replacing the high of the late afternoon. Hakonen had been as good as his word and the champagne had flowed like water in the bar of the hotel. The winning cheque had been displayed to all and sundry. A glass-encased monument to the Finn’s hour of glory. Winner’s cheques could not be bought for money and people like Hakonen already had enough cash. A few more glasses of bubbly and he could toddle off to bed.
“A penny for them,” Tom said.
“They’re not even worth a penny. My mind’s an empty vessel. When you’re hyped up like that for hours, the comedown leaves both your body and mind drained. I’m only a simple copper so I haven’t had a worthwhile thought for years.” He smiled.
“Do you ever stop feeling sorry for yourself?” There was an edge to Tom’s question.
“How come everybody wants to be my psychiatrist?” Kane turned to face him. “I do one of the most high-risk jobs on earth to keep you and people like you away from the guys who want to take all your money or kill your children by ramming shit chemicals down their throats. What did you expect? Bozo the clown? A smiling happy face? Or maybe a well-adjusted family man who puts his feet up in front of the television after helping the children with their homework? Well, that’s not me. Because I’m the guy you send out after the bogeyman while you stay behind in your nice, detached mansion. Do you mind if I feel sorry for myself occasionally?”
“Touché. But the work that you do matters. You save lives. You put the criminals away.”
“Big fucking deal. The people in prison all come out, Tom. And when they do, they’re a damn sight worse than when they went in. They’ve networked. They find out the names of the crooked lawyers. They’re more ruthless. Some of them have been de-humanised by what’s happened to them inside. I’m a glorified streetcleaner. I sweep your street this week but I’ve got to come back next week and do it all over again because the dirt is always there.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself.”
“Maybe so. But I’m not the one that began the amateur psychology session. If I wanted to open my heart to the public, I’d go on the Oprah Winfrey Show. I’m tired and I need to go to bed because I’ve got a sneaking feeling that our team boss thinks that we can do better than third next time and he’ll be at me from early tomorrow. So goodnight.”
“What if I said that it was all over?”
“Then you’d be lying. You didn’t build a business by letting people walk over you. Those poor misbegotten smugglers walked over you. Oh, they didn’t mean to but they did. You’ve built your life by taking out the people who walked over you and kicking them to death.”
“But what if I did say that it was over and that you could walk? Would you?”
“That’s one hell of a good question. But it’s not one that I can answer. I don’t determine my own future. I delegated that responsibility to Superintendent Davenport. If this operation closes, Davenport will simply find another.” He didn’t feel so happy about accepting that. Much as he had tried to avoid human feelings for Penhalion and his crew, he would not be at all happy to leave them at this juncture. It wasn’t only the buzz of the racing. It was the contact with honest-to-God ordinary human beings. Not good guys, not bad guys. Just humans with all the feelings and foibles that that included. So ask Davenport your hypothetical question.” Kane turned to walk away.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It is what it is.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was like a social history of the world, Doc thought, as he looked around the faces of the mechanics gathered in the Charlie Chaplin pub in the Via San Cesareo. The drivers and managers were in the Sorrento Palace quaffing the champagne while the hired help slugged beer in less salubrious surroundings. Doc was playing the drunk and had gradually brought the conversation from the accepted subject of marine engines to the more controversial subject of drivers and managers. He was surprised by the result. According to his colleagues, there wasn’t a decent man in the ranks of the bosses. The managers were universally slavedrivers while the drivers were always laying the blame on the crews. The boat-owners/drivers were exclusively drunks, lechers with strings of mistresses, penny-pinching bastards, and barely short of the devil himself as far as misdeeds were concerned. Doc threw in a few whoppers about Kane to play along with the game. After listening to an hour of bitching, he h
ad a list the length of his arm of possible candidates for the man that they were seeking. And the top of that list was undoubtedly Barrett. However, Barrett wasn’t alone. As the stories of misdeeds resounded it appeared there were others equally qualified.
“Your boss might be a bastard,” Doc slurred at Barrett’s mechanic. “But at least he has the balls to stay in there. Imagine the amount of money he lays out from his own pocket to keep the team going.” He slurped down some more beer.
The mechanic tossed his eyes up to heaven. “I don’t think that everything comes directly out of his pocket. Sometimes other pockets are involved.” He tapped the side of his nose knowingly.
“Is that so?” Doc waved his hands in the air to attract the attention of the barman and signalled another round. He didn’t appear to have heard a word the other mechanic had said. “And whose pockets might they be?” he smiled stupidly.
“Mum’s the word.” Barrett’s mechanic was beginning to slur. “Loose lips s-s-sink s-ships. You can get yourself hurt by talking about certain people.” The smile suddenly faded from the mechanic’s face and it was replaced by a puzzled drunken look. He leaned towards Doc breathing whisky and beer into his face. “You’re a bloody curious little bugger aren’t you? I think I said too much. What did I say by the way?”
“Damned if I know.” Doc paid for the round of drinks and immediately tasted his beer. What I do in the line of duty, he thought as he poured half the glass down his throat.
“Mr Barrett is a gentleman and one of the best bosses I ever had. Did you hear that?” Barrett’s mechanic shouted at the men around the table. “The best boss I ever had and a gentleman. That’s all I know.” He stood up from the table and ignored the beer that was sitting on the table before him. “I’m going now. I s-said too much.” The mechanic staggered away from the table.
