Chapter 12

The knock on the door came a couple of days after I spoke to the Everyboat Insurance receptionist ... who assured me that Mr. Arbuthnot was perfectly fine.

“There wasn’t anything he struck on the way down, Miss Flintkote. He just ‘wilted.’ I’m calling our Hong Kong office. An adjuster will contact you soon. May I have your current address?”

“Mr. Kwan? Would you speak to the lady?”

Information soon passed, the call disconnected and I resumed fretting.

Oh ... I wasn’t brooding over the boat ... Winnie. Ah, yes. Winnie. Winnie hadn’t called ... visited ... or messaged me by bicycle courier. I did receive a dozen red roses the morning after ... no card. Probably sent by his appointments secretary ... if by Winnie at all. Nor had Lady Victoria called.

Mr. Kwan answered the door.

“I’ll see. Wait here.”

“Miss Flintkote?” He handed me a card.

Everyboat Insurance Insurance for Murphy. William W. McWilliams Agent. There was an address that made no sense to me other than Guangningmen, (the seventh gate) Beijing.

William W. McWilliams, “Call me Billy” was a six foot five inch tall Scot wearing the Black Watch Argyll jacket, vest, black satin bow tie, wing collar cotton shirt, sporran and chain, kilt pin and Sgian Dhu, black leather kilt belt and buckle, tartan flashes, kilt hose, black ghillie brogues and kilt hanger of a Scotsman without clan.

Oh ... the Gods! He certainly was pretty! Mr. McWilliams and his coal black hair impressed the daylights out of me. And then he spoke. A deep bass.

“Miss Flintkote?”

Winnie who?

This was a man ... MAN.

There’s no doubt about it, girl. You need to get laid! I thought. And soon! I spritzed in my nether parts.

“Yes.”

“You’ve had an accident with your boat?”

“I suppose.” I replied.

“Bump something? Scratched the gel-coat?”

“We should go look. JW?! I’m going to look at the boat. Want to come with?”

I heard a slight commotion and JW appeared in the doorway. “I’ll stay,” he said. He had the tyke seated on his shoulders, Zoe looking on protectively. The tyke had her hands clutching JW’s ears with a death grip. She was giggling.

My surprise.

When at sea ... eventually someone forgets and it only takes one missed day...

JW ... a daddy. Who’d a thunk it?

Cyn appeared in the doorway ... took one look at the Hunk and said, “I’ll go. Don’t leave without me.” She disappeared and reappeared in minutes ... fifteen ... if anyone was counting ... and I was.

Soon, we three ... and the guard detailed to, “Keep an Eye on Things” rounded the corner and I stopped.

Mr. McWilliams, “call me Billy,” looked around ... finally I pointed down.

All that was seen was splinters and powder peeking out from under the two warships.

He crossed himself and exclaimed, “Iosa Criosd, eireag naomh!”

“I don’t know what you said,” I said, “But ... yeah. Holy shit!”

“What happened?”

“Terrorists ... the police think ... or pirates.”

“Is that covered?”

I’d been carrying a notarized copy of my policy hoping someone would ask.

I passed it to him. He read it ... right down to the lack of fine print.

“Where’s the original?”

I pointed at the pile.

“Oh,” he said.

“I can get it as soon as the Saudi Prince moves his trash,” I motioned at the slightly crushed pair of warships.

He opened his mouth to speak...

I cut him off at the knees. “A 76 foot ten year old owners model catamaran is four million two hundred thousand,” I said, “And change. I have no idea how much a hundred foot identical replacement would cost.” I pointed at the pile, “I know the splinters were 14 million when they were assembled. It WAS four years old.”

“But your policy is for repair or replacement. How are we going to replace that?” He pointed at the pile.

“Not my problem.”