by Ed Lacy
“And get yourself killed!”
“No, we're giving them what they want. Working out that part will be a breeze. The big decision is how much dough do we want for it.”
Rose was silent for a long time. The sun started to streak the horizon. She stood up. “The sea looks pretty... and so calm. After that Cape storm—it seems ages ago— I never thought I'd want to be out here. Can you heave-to, put out a sea anchor, or something? Let's us sleep on this.”
“We're too near the coast for that, much as I want to. You go down and get some shut-eye, then take the wheel and I'll get in a few hours.”
I let her sleep until 10:00 A.M. and she took the wheel with instructions to call me the second another ship came in sight or the wind changed. I managed to catch several minutes sleep in the next few hours. The sun was out clean and strong as we were having an early afternoon lunch in the cockpit, both of us eating like pigs. Rose asked when we'd make port? I told her, “Sometime tomorrow morning we can be in Norfolk or Cape Charles. Why?”
“I've been thinking about the diary, how we can best wash our hands of it, return to the peace of Ansel's island. I don't mind the island now. I don't think I ever will. Once we get this done with, we can move on to the larger island town if we wish, but I doubt if I'll ever want to return to the States. Well, island living doesn't cost much, we have enough money to last us the rest of our lives. We didn't ask for the dough we have and there's no one to return it to, even if we wanted to give it back. But to... get more dough... I don't know, it smacks of blood money. You said Colette and this Frenchman are do-gooders. The thing is, Mickey, we're all do-gooders at heart. Even you, or you wouldn't have picked me up on the Key. Now it's...”
“I was only thinking of doing myself some good then.”
“Maybe that's why people are do-gooders... all that stuff about doing unto others. Somehow I have the feeling if three hundred people were killed, we ought to do something about it.”
“Meaning?”
“Oh, at least try to see that whoever is responsible is caught, and stop another village from being wiped out. How would we feel if Ansel's island had been in a massacre?”
“Rose, are you saying you want to get involved in all this?”
She shook her head. “No, mainly I'm playing it safe. If we sell it to the oil companies we don't know what they'll use the diary for. Also we don't know how to get in touch with the other groups, say the Algerians, or which is the good one. This Jacques might be a bastard, too, but I have to go along with him. If an ordinary housewife like Colette okays him, then I have to bet on Jacques. I think we should send him the letters.”
“All right, only it means a loss of about ninety grand, the kind of green we'll never have a chance at again, so be sure in your mind.”
“Mickey, I don't want any money. For one thing it can be a trail to us, in case Jacques is a wrongo guy. And if he's on the level, then taking the ten grand is blood money. Having that kind of dough wouldn't make for happiness. If we're getting rid of a dream-buster, let's not take on another one. What do you think?”
“I'm with you. But when it comes to passing up a hundred thousand bucks, you make the decision.”
“When we make port you send it to him registered mail, with a false return name and address. And a letter telling him to do what he wants, but to let it be known he has the letters, even if they contain a lot of slop. What do you think Josef wrote? The truth?”
“Maybe. Maybe it's a novel, or a bunch of outright lies.”
“Happily we'll never know. I feel relieved already, sort of clean,” Rose said, kissing me.
“A hundred grand bath,” I mumbled.
“The big bubble bath we... You louse, you have me making the decision so you can throw it in my face when we're broke!”
I pulled her to me. “That's the idea. When we're about seventy and so ragged we have to steal a coconut for eats, I may mention it.”
“Mickey, do you agree with me about giving it to Jacques?”
“Sure.”
“For true? You sound too casual.”
“How do you think you sound? Whatever you decide, Rose, goes for me. I mean that.”
“Then we'll do it.” She kissed me again. “I'm glad you see it my way.”
Holding her with one hand, the other on the wheel, I really did mean it. For a guy like me to have a movie beauty for a wife and a boat like the Sea Princess: it figured I could dismiss a hundred thousand as if it was a popcorn ball... I think.
FB2 document info
Document ID: c131ed6e-48fb-4fa1-9b8a-44f05e07e7b0
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 1.8.2011
Created using: calibre 0.8.10 software
Document authors :
Ed Lacy
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