Chapter 9

The shocker came when we reached the boat, she was in a custom cradle tucked away between a pair of some country’s Navy ships. Genuine military hardware undergoing modifications to civilian life. No one was ever going to redesign them to be anything but what the pair truly are ... greyhounds of the sea. Fast moving hunter-killers put out to pasture that won the lottery of life. Long, narrow and fast looking sitting on the hardstand. Too small for drydock but almost too big for the land ... Sand Tiger Sharks rather than Great White. Kept alive by some man with too much money and an urge to frighten the shit out of his competitors ... I’d bet anything they’ll be armed and dangerous.

The cat was being polished to within an inch of her life. The media-blasting and recoat was finished. Cyn was on deck ... supervising the deck crew while JW was inspecting the bottom paint for imperfections.

He wasn’t finding any.

“Hi JW.”

“Sup Mel? Hello, Winnie.” he said. “Does she look better?”

“First time I ever saw her ... except for pictures,” I said, “I’ve never seen her ... and most of those photographs were while the boat was under construction.”

Cyn turned to look, saw who was with me ... struck a pose and said, “Winnie ... you couldn’t resist.”

“Hell no, Cyn,” said Winnie. “I escorted Miss Flintkote so she could find the boat.”

He turned to me, “8:00 at Starship House?”

“What should I wear?”

“Fancy ... Ming Court, ask Mr. Kwan,” Winnie suggested. “8:00 Miss Flintkote. I’ll come up.” He took my hand and kissed it.

When my heart slowed I turned to my brother, “Ok, JW. Show me the boat,” I said.

“Sister mine, as much as I’d like to show the boat ... you need to get back to Starship House. I know you don’t have anything worthy of Ming Court.”

I walked ... ran actually. Elevated breathing from the exertion probably gave me away.

“Miss Surprise,” said Mr. Kwan, “I wasn’t expecting ... where is your brother?” He looked at me in horror. “You didn’t ... oh gods ... you did...”

“Never mind that, I have a dinner engagement at Ming Court.”

Mr. Kwan stopped in mid harangue, “What time?”

“8:30. He’s picking me up at Eight.”

“With?”

“Winnie ... Mr. Kwan. Who is Winnie?”

“Winnie?” Mr. Kwan held his hand in a reasonable representation of his height, “Handsome, rugged ... carved ... aristocratic chin? Coal black hair, blue eyes?”

I nodded.

“Alexander Windsor,” Mr. Kwan said. Then he actually shouted, “Amelia? The car. Mary? Attend.”