Chapter 7

It was two more days before Neville called me and told me that he was on his way with a first draft of the contract. While we had waited, Erin, my real estate guru, had me driving all over LA and the surrounding area looking at houses. There were a couple of nice ones, but none that really grabbed me, so she said she was flying in to look for herself. I offered to put her up on the boat but she would be stuck with crew quarters.

She just laughed at me and told me she had a company AmEx.

Hmm ... maybe giving everyone credit cards wasn’t the best idea? Who am I kidding, Terry would have anyway, just to keep him from having to deal with it personally.

Neville arrived, back in his immaculate suit and looked a lot different that when he left wearing Dean’s shorts and USMC t-shirt! His smile was the same though, so it wasn’t too much of a shock.

Cade, being unusually thoughtful, said she was off to get her hair done and would be back in a few hours. I don’t know if she sensed that this was going to be a private meeting or if she just knew, somehow, that her presence would be uncomfortable, but it was appreciated. I hadn’t shared any of this movie business with her, nor the story behind it all.

Neville had supplied the studio with a synopsis of what I could add to the story, both in enlarging the scope and providing detail unavailable anywhere else. The studio had pushed back and, while acknowledging my interest and my valuable contribution, said that since the movie was no longer ‘Based on actual events’ and would be wholly ‘fictitious’, that they were unwilling to give me any real creative control.

The best they would offer was the ability to disallow anything that might inadvertently give away the identity of the people involved, as long as I could explain my objection to legal counsel. This would include anyone trying to get cute with names and dates. This whole thing was going to be recognizable enough that hundreds, perhaps thousands of people would know the truth, but most, if not all of them would have their own reasons to keep things quiet.

While this sounded iffy, they also allowed that they would be glad to accept outside investors for a portion of the production budget. They were nebulous at this stage but guesstimated at around two hundred to two hundred and fifty million, based on other recent action movies like ‘Captain America : Civil War‘ and ‘Quantum of Solace‘, the last Bond movie. The actual numbers would depend on too many variables to accurately forecast at this point in the process. They hadn’t even settled on a director or started to cast the movie yet.

Neville, once we penciled in the changes we thought would work, was off like a shot. It was obvious to me that he was having fun with this and was happy to be involved again. Retiring must suck!

We got a surprise visitor just before lunch, when a stranger called out from the pier below us.

“Hello on the boat! Anyone aboard?”

I looked over the side and saw a guy in a cheap suit, slicked back hair and loafers with those little tassels on them. He had a huge gold watch and an honest to goodness pinky ring. I was looking around the UCLA Marina area thinking this had to be a joke, right? This guy was right out of the casting department over at Fox studios. The script probably said, ‘Mook, 1979’ to describe him.

“What can I do for you?” I called down, trying not to smile.

“Ah, good!” The guy reached for the ladder and started to climb up.

“No.”

I hadn’t even realized Dean was there but his voice stopped ‘Mook, 1979’ in his tracks. Dean had his pistol out, but hidden blow the rail and out of sight of the guy on the ladder.

“Whoa, relax, I was just...”

“You were just attempting to board a vessel without being invited. You can climb back down to the ground and wait to be invited or I can shoot you and you will never get invited.”

Damn, Dean was not joking with this guy and the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

“I think we got someone watching us, Dean, I just got a bad feeling.”

Without hesitating, Dean leaned down and hit the lever the dropped the steps on the gangway, making it flat again, and dumping the mook onto his ass on the pier. With his other arm, was pushing me towards the salon. Cade, who had been standing in the doorway to the main salon, was abruptly pulled back inside by Louisa Lau who was back on duty again today.

Once we were all inside and out of sight, Dean jumped up the internal ladder to the upper deck and hit the controls over the weather bridge. The security cameras came up and he keyed for the external cameras. The mook had picked himself up and was yelling something up at the boat, shaking his fist. In his other hand, he had something about the size of a folded sheet of paper, but with a blue cover like you see on court documents.

Dean was using the mast mounted camera to sweep the area around the UCLA Marina and quickly spotted a guy on the roof of the marina with binoculars. Zooming in as far as he could, I couldn’t see anything like a rifle, so it was just probably just a snoop, not a sniper.

Louisa pulled her cell and made a quick call, then disconnected with a grin.

“I called the LT and he is hanging out with Aaron not far away. Let’s see what happens.”

The mook was pacing around down on the pier, talking to himself, or so it seemed, though he would still yell something indistinct every now and then.

This continued for about five minutes until the pier mook turned sharply to look back at the marina building. With one last glance at the ship, he began a very uncoordinated run towards the parking lot. The guy on the roof was looking back toward Fiji Way, the road in, and then dropped from sight on the far side of the building.

The mook dove into the driver’s seat of an 80’s Lincoln Continental and the guy from the roof appeared around the corner of the building and was soon climbing into the passenger’s side. We could see the vehicle lurch a little when the driver put it into gear, but it was too late for them.

A black Suburban slid to a halt in the gravel lot, stopping right behind the Lincoln and blocking it in. Out of the Suburban poured three men with guns, all of them out and pointing at the occupants of the luxury car.

I bolted for the deck, followed by Dean and watched with my eyes, instead of on video, as the Marines pulled the two men from their car and had them spread out on the hood and trunk of their car.

It didn’t take long before the LT, Greg Banyon, trotted over to the E² and I remembered to reset the ladder so it could be used.

“The smarmy guy is a local lawyer, personal injury type and really scummy. The little weasel works for him as an ‘investigator’. The lawyer had papers.” He said, handing over the document with the blue cover.

I opened it up and it was a blank boilerplate of some kind ... ah, it was a lawsuit for an unspecified amount for an unspecified client because of an unspecified event. In other words, it was garbage and was, I assumed, going to be used to try and bamboozle me, fool me into thinking whatever line of bullshit he was spewing was true.

“Did they say what they were after?” I asked, wondering how far I would have to go offshore to be sure he, they, wouldn’t float back in again.

“They are looking for the girl, Cade.”

Okay, fifteen miles should be enough. Bloody them up first to attract sharks.

Dean must have seen the look on my face because he reached over and smacked me on the back of the head.

“Ow! What the fuck?”

“No! I bet you were thinking sharks, chum...” Dean said, waving his index finger in front of my face.

“You don’t know ... fuck, okay, yes, I was, but...”

He hit me again! He fucking hit me again! He was so fired.

“No! I thought we talked about this. You can’t kill them all. I thought Mexico taught you this.”

FUCK. It was so god-damned maddening when he was right. Asshole. I can’t fire him for being right either. Double-asshole!

“Fine, but I am going to talk to him. If he thinks we are going to make him shark chum, well, I can’t help what his guilty conscience leads him to believe.” I said with a growl. I turned and stepped off the edge, sliding down the rails on the ladder and ending up on the pier in just a second.

Whee!

Ooops ... serious face, this is supposed to be serious business. Seriously though, I love doing that.

By the time I got to the Lincoln, Dean and the LT were hot on my trail. The lawyer and his buddy were seated on the ground by the side of their car. The lawyer was bitching about getting his suit dirty, as if just having him inside of it didn’t warrant burning the damn thing.

I arrived and stood over them, just staring down for a moment. They both looked up, neither of them appearing to be any too confident at that moment, and when I spit on the ground in between them, that just made things worse.

“What did you want here?”

“I am an officer of the court and I...” the lawyer started to say but shut up when I pretended like I was about to kick him.

Turning to Dean, a grin on my face that the two dirtbags couldn’t see, I asked calmly, “How far do we have to be offshore to make sure they don’t float back in? This guy is a lawyer, so he ain’t gonna talk.”

Dean rubbed his chin and pretended to think about it first. “Fifteen miles is good. We’ll have to cut ‘em a couple of times to attract the sharks, but there shouldn’t be enough left to identify even if some did float back in.”

Turning back to the two on the ground, I just smiled and that was all it took. I am not sure what they saw, looking up at me, but it was convincing enough that they began talking, telling me anything and everything I wanted to know.

The lawyer had been contacted by a guy in New York City. His cousin was a personal injury lawyer there and he gave the guy his name. He was to locate a woman named Cade Taylor. She was a pop star, easy to recognize and she was hanging out with a couple of up and coming actresses and some rich guy with a big boat that had three hulls. The guy who contacted them was named Will Jenkins and all they had was a phone number and a five-thousand-dollar retainer wired to his account.

“So, you find the girl, then what? Take her out?” I asked curiously. In my head, I was imagining that guy in Key West, grabbing his hair...

“NO! God no! We were just supposed to call him and forget we ever knew anything about anything. A phone call, I swear!”

A phone call to Detective Sergeant Nelson in San Diego netted us a detective he knew and trusted from the LAPD. The detective was more than happy to take custody of the two trespassers and ask them a few questions.

Cade was seriously pissed off when we told her the whole thing. Will Jenkins was, yep, you guessed it, her ex-boyfriend. We both agreed that it was not a coincidence and maybe, just maybe, he was working with her manager on this scheme.

I guess Cade was going to stay with me for a little while longer and, let me be perfectly honest here, I was okay with that. I was starting to really like the spunky girl.

It didn’t take long for the NYPD to pick up ol’ Will for questioning. One of the unidentified numbers going to a pre-paid cell phone in New York just happened to be in his possession when he was picked up. That gave the DA what she needed to request a search warrant for his vehicle, his home and his place of business.

Can you say Bingo? Forty-eight hours after I had a chat with a mook in Los Angeles, they were rolling up the last of the idiots who had thrown together the amateurish plan in the first place. Cade was going to be able to go home soon.

She was happy about it, even if I wasn’t and I took a chance.

“Cade, look, is there any chance I can get you to stay for a while longer? I ... I really like you and I would like to see if, you know, maybe this could go somewhere.”

“Jack, baby, I adore you and yes, I think this could go somewhere. I don’t know what this is or what we are, but I like you and, just as important, I trust you. Here’s the thing though ... I am not ready for heavy yet and, if I am being honest, what if I never am? But, and this is important, Jack. I am not ready to give you up either. I want to see how it goes, how I feel.

“The other thing is I wouldn’t ask you to give up your baby here, or your business stuff, and you can’t ask me to give up my career either. I have an album to record and I am way behind. Come to New York with me for a while. If not now, then soon. I’ve seen how you live, some of it anyway, so come see how I live. Besides, you owe me a song and don’t you dare forget it!”

I sat her down and told her about the movie. Not all of it, I didn’t want to freak her out, but about some of it. I told her I would come up on weekends, three and four-day weekends whenever I could, but I couldn’t come for long periods until, probably, Christmas what with school starting in September.

“If it is meant to be, Jack, it is meant to be. We’ll work it out. I’ll give you my schedule, you give me yours, we will make time.”

I put Cade on a charter straight into JFK and it hurt, but not like I expected it to. There was hope there too, something I hadn’t felt in a while.

The negotiations with the studio only took a few more days. They met my conditions with some of their own, but nothing I couldn’t live with. One thing they insisted on was my taking all the time needed to give their writers what I knew. I countered with forcing them to hire a real expert, a retired Marine, and actually listen to the man when it came to anything having to do with firearms, firearm terminology, the military and anything tactical.

It was a major pet peeve to have some guy who is supposed to be a hard-nosed Marine Gunny talking about putting bullets in his clip so he could reload his gun. Dean actually cheered when I suggested that amendment to the contract to Neville, so you know how he felt about it!

When all was said and done, I would be into the movie for about seventy-five million and so would Jake. Neither of us wanted one of the courtesy titles they usually awarded to the whales, the big money contributors, but I did insist that any profits from the movie that would be coming my way were paid to the Demeter Trust.

I managed to find a more permanent home for the E² at Dock 52, Basin H in the Marina Del Rey marina proper. Dean and I shifted her over there and got her all tied up, nice and secure, and hooked into shore services for only slightly less than I paid for the Emancipation Key. Good thing I am rich, I guess.

We finished just in time for me to take Dean and my studio-assigned ghost writer, Lisa Farris, and board a chartered jet to Portland. There wasn’t enough time for us to sail or motor up there on my boat and I was not missing the launch of what promised to be a very exciting new ship. Some of the features were revolutionary and I was really excited to see those drawings I saw, so many years ago, finally come to life.

I called Martin before I left, asking about lodging and he told me he would take care of it, and to call him as soon as I was at the hotel. He would have to get me passes to even get in the place before the launch! This was high-security, shoot on sight, secret squirrel stuff and Martin sounded more excited than a kid at Christmas.

Since the flight was a charter, it didn’t last long but, while we were in the air, Lisa took advantage of the down time to interview me.

“Okay, Jack, you and I have to get along. You are cute and all, and built, but I have a boyfriend so no slap & tickle, okay?”

I pretended to mull it over but didn’t push. She didn’t know me yet so I wouldn’t do anything to make her uncomfortable.

“I promise to behave myself.” I said, holding up three fingers in a Boy Scouts salute. “So how does this work, anyway? I mean? Are you going to work from the Cam manuscript or... ?” I let the question trail off, raising an eyebrow. I was getting pretty good at it too, I practice in front of the mirror. Not quite Spock class yet, but I am getting there.

“No. I read it, it’s horrible. I will use bits and pieces of it though, especially the motivations it assigns to Cam in the beginning. I was told the basic story line, the events, I mean, was right though, so I can use the timeline to prompt you.”

“Yeah, more or less, anyway. There were some errors and a lot of stuff she never knew about, but it was accurate enough for what it was.”

“Good!” Lisa paused long enough to pull out a notepad and a pencil. “Let’s start at the sentencing. She seemed to think you popped into being, fully formed, at the trial sentencing.”

We didn’t get any further than Rene visiting me that awful day, and deciding I should come with her, before the aircraft was descending to land in Portland. Once we were on the ground, I took my phone out of airplane mode and immediately got several notifications.

Cade was safely ensconced in a new apartment in NYC. I had the security team find her a nice place, easy to protect, and stay with her for a month or so, see how things went. Cade was annoyed at first, but when I assured her it was because I cared, not because I was trying to control her, and told her to send my team home if she wanted to hire her own. That earned me a warm smile over face time and a sincere thank you too.

Erin was annoyed with me. Now she was in LA and I was in Portland! How was she supposed to show me places if I wasn’t there to look? She had a point. I tapped out a quick note for her to take a vacation in LA at my expense. Bring her hubby or boy toy, or both, and go to Disneyland. Take a tour of stars’ homes. Go shopping on Rodeo Drive on me.

Man ... I think I gave myself a hot seat! I felt my credit card warming up in my wallet as I hit send. This was going to be an expensive holiday that I didn’t take!

Mike had emailed too, saying that Mort had recruited Jason Hui to be the director. Evidently, he was big in action flicks in Japan. Okay, sure. Sounds good?

“Lisa, Jason Hui. Ring any bells?” I asked as we stood and headed to the exit.

“Hells yeah! He’s like the king of the action movies. He’s not all chop sockey either, he does some very cool, action packed psychological thrillers!”

Okay, sure. Sounds good!

We were met by a limo driver at the private aviation terminal and addressed by name. Of course, they looked to Dean.

“Mr. McCoy, do you have any bags, sir? I am your limo driver and will take you to your hotel and then to Christensen Yachts.”

Dean grinned and shook his head. Pointing at me, he joked, “The kid is the big wig, I am just the muscle.” Smartass.

“I am so sorry, Mr. McCoy, I...” but I cut him off, waving my hand.

“Happens all the time. It’s because he’s old. Our bags should be, “I paused to look around and spotted them being wheeled in. “Right there! Out of curiosity, is the hotel here on this side or on the other side? Why couldn’t we fly into Vancouver anyway? All I was told was that it wasn’t possible.”

While the luggage was loaded, he told us about an aircraft crash that had damaged the runway at the little field, lamenting that he wouldn’t be able to get his Beechcraft A36 out of there until they were done fixing it. For the length of the trip to our hotel on the Vancouver side, he regaled us with how easy it was to get your private pilot’s license. Hmmm...

We were booked into a place called the Homewood Suites, a Hilton hotel. Not very fancy, but I was there to see a new boat launched, not to critique room service! It was good enough.

Martin had made the arrangements and the hotel treated us like VIPs. We were whisked away to a huge suite with its own kitchen, dining room and hot tub on the balcony. The whole place looked more like condos than it did a hotel and seemed to cater to longer term stays. Maybe yacht purchasers here for a week to sit with designers or to wait for their boats to be launched.

On the stand-alone kitchen island with a bar-top stood a huge basket of fruit, cheese and wine. Martin had gone all out! Perched in front of the basket was a stiff piece of parchment with Jack written on it in a flowing script.

‘Jack, call me when you get in. I have security passes for you three and I want to be the one to give you the tour. I can’t wait to see what you think! – Martin‘

“Lisa, Dean, you got about five minutes plus however long it takes Martin to pick up the phone. We already have a car and I am going to see this new boat with or without you.” I told them, laughing at Lisa’s face when she saw Dean flip me off.

I know, juvenile, right? I made a mental note to tell her she shouldn’t take him seriously. Except about safety stuff. Then all bets are off. And no, she wasn’t going to be allowed to flip me off!

It only took three, tops, before they were coming out of their rooms again and I was dialing the number on the card he had left.

“Hi, this is...”

“Mister McCoy! We have been waiting for your call. Carl is still outside with the limo and I will be waiting at the door with your security passes. See you soon!” a female voice chirped brightly, then left me listening to a dial tone.

Well, that was interesting!

It is one point three miles from the hotel to the yacht place, I checked it out online while we were on the road. Hell, we were pulling in by the time I got the little ruler thing going!

Without waiting for Dean, which got me a smack on the back of the head when he got out, I had launched myself from the Limo and was almost to the main door when he caught me. He didn’t bother to yell, he just gave me that look that told me tomorrow was probably going to be full contact. Damn it!

Screw it, worth it!

We were met by a guy about my age but dressed in a spiffy suit. He had a big smile on his face, seeing my excitement, and was holding out three lanyards. Each had the yacht company logo on one side, with our names and slashed red stripes on the other, just like in the spy movies. ‘Access Anywhere, Any Time‘ badges!

“Welcome to Christensen Yachts! You are obviously Jack McCoy and you must be Dean. Last, but certainly not least, you are Lisa, yes? Just wear those while you are in the building and the security guards won’t give you a hard time. They’ll get to know you pretty quick anyway, but better safe than sorry.

“We here at Christensen pride ourselves on producing some of the finest yachts in the world. One of the ‘extras’ we provide to our customers is privacy and security. We don’t allow anyone to see the insides of these yachts without the owners’ permission and provide an entire line of security features for those who feel the need for a little extra protection.”

He led us inside and to a very richly appointed conference room. Martin and Phillipe were there, along with two people I recognized from D&D’s Design department. I had spoken to them several times over the years and they were both grinning from ear to ear. There were a couple more suits there, probably from the builders, but I was headed for Martin.

Martin was on his feet and heading my way, hands out and a huge smile on his face.

“Jack! I am so glad you are here. I was just telling them about the E Squared, what a gorgeous boat she is and how you were excited about this when it was at the sketch stage, so would be as excited as I am about seeing her complete!” Martin took my hand in both of his and shook it vigorously, then pulled me in for a warm hug.

As he released and held out a hand to Dean, I had an arm-full of Phillipe who was swishier than ever. At least the kiss he gave me was just the barest touch on my cheek. He knew I was a little leery and even knew why. I had sat down with him in Galveston during a visit last year and told him a bit about me. I felt bad when I made him cry, but he has been super supportive ever sense, no pushing my boundaries in the slightest.

“Jack, you look hunkier than ever! Look, this is Lionel van der Waal and his partner, Hansel Christensen. Lionel, Hans, this is Jack McCoy and I am willing to bet my best tiara that he will be purchasing one of these trimarans.” Phillipe made a grand gesture and, we were shaking hands, spun and wafted off to join up with Martin again, a self-satisfied smile on his face. He was a showman and a flaming queen, but damn he had style!

“Gentlemen! I was checking some of the boats you have built and you have a good reputation.” I said, shaking first one, then another of the partners’ hands.

“Martin told us of the trimaran you have and its fascinating history! I was only able to find a couple of images on the web and they were all distant ones, taken by yacht spotters, boating enthusiasts.” Lionel said innocently, but I could see the curiosity in his eyes.

I had left the iPad back at the hotel but I had some good shots on my phone. Both of them were fascinated by the way she had been put together and both seemed to approve of the various modifications I had done, including the new jet ski docking mechanism and the nests Dean had installed for the Rucki. That alone got them chattering in a language I didn’t recognize, but I thought was related to German.

When they realized I was still standing there, Hans blushed a little and switched to English.

“We have done only one boat with a pair of scooters, but they were restored, vintage Vespas that were as much a display as they were real transportation. I have wanted to do something like this, though I had thought of mopeds instead, or small electric bikes. I really want to make one like a drawing I saw, with a garage for two cars, but the boat, she would be huge!”

I nodded, imagining it. “Even so, you would have issues with the dock or pier not being at a good angle and you would have to be in a protected breakwater to load and unload. I would think it would be a showpiece ... bragging rights.”

Both nodded, and I could tell they were thinking about it, probably designing ways in their head to make it useful. Finally, Lionel scowled at me.

“You are trouble! We are here to show off the most technologically advanced three-hulled yacht in the entire world, and you have us designing a monster yacht for sportscar enthusiasts.” He said, shaking his finger at me but grinning. “Come, I think Martin is ready to show you his pride and joy!”

Indeed, Martin was over by the door, chatting with Lisa but keeping an eye on me. When I turned to face him, he broke off and almost flung the door open.

“Come on, Jack, you are not going to believe the modifications we made. I didn’t tell you, because I wanted it to be a surprise to the whole world!

We climbed up at least two stories worth of stairs and exited the main office building, entering the ship construction bays on an overhead walkway. We could see five yachts of varying sizes and styles in five big bays beneath us, but the far end of the building was completely blocked off by cloth walls that rose to the vaulted ceiling. There was even a cloth over the walkway we were on and a guard up there, keeping people from viewing what lay beyond!

“The guard is new, we had a solid cloth here, tied in with the others. You wouldn’t have been able to get through without cutting it and since everyone in here is an employee, it was enough to keep the curious, and the occasional customer, away.” Lionel said, leading us down the walkway. When we got to the dividing barrier, Martin took a deep breath and nodded to the guard. The man swept back the fabric barrier and let us all pass inside.

I was ... amazed, astounded, awestruck even.

The main hull was an easy one hundred and fifty, maybe a hundred and seventy-five feet long. It wasn’t more than about thirty or thirty-five feet wide at its widest point and looked like it was going a hundred miles an hour just sitting there. The entire main deck was done in a deep mahogany, or appeared to be. The original specs called for composites to add strength and lessen the weight, and I would bet that what we saw was just a luxurious coating over the top.

At the stern, I could see she was deeper than my E², a strong v-structure instead of the gentler, roomier rounded hull of mine. You would be giving up room, sacrificing it for speed. I could see three doors on the stern and a stowable diving platform, though the doors were closed and I had to guess what they held. The main deck had a sleek superstructure and a flybridge that looked like it was transplanted from a jet, at least from up here.

There were what appeared to be metallicized fabric skirts hanging down between the three hulls, spanning the gap from the primary hull to the outriggers on either side. I had no idea what it was or, more likely, what it was hiding. Another bit of mystery tech down there, hidden away from prying eyes?

The two outriggers were attached not by the fixed, sweeping arcs that connected mine to the primary hull, but by two bars on each side, the gaps filled by a fan of metal plates like on a camera iris. It was the oddest thing I had ever seen on a boat until I looked at the other outrigger and everything clicked into place. I saw instantly what Martin had been hiding, an epiphany!