Sitting next to her at the helm position, Jack Jellicoe nodded his nervous agreement. Smiling thinly as the boat surged forward, he said, 'Yes, she's a real thoroughbred. I should think this boat is capable of near competition speeds. Am I right?'
Stanford dropped heavily down in the second co-pilot seat and said, 'Knock it off and just give me the story to date.'
Kate started to tell him about the Britannia being used to smuggle cocaine and how she and her FBI colleagues had been working undercover.
'Cut to the chase, will you?' insisted the actor.
'This is it, guy,' Kate told him. 'The FBI has requisitioned your boat and we're now in hot pursuit of the bad guys.'
'No shit. The real cops n'robbers thing?'
'The real thing.'
'So where the hell are they?'
Jellicoe, scanning the horizon with his battered binoculars, said, 'There's no sign of them yet, but we're pretty sure they're on this general bearing.'
Stanford gave Kate an up and down look of appraisal. 'I'll say one thing for you, Mrs J. Edgar Hoover. You sure know how to handle a boat.'
'Thank you.'
'Mind if we have some sounds?'
'Your boat. Your rules,' said Kate.
Stanford flicked a switch on the control panel that turned on the CD player. He grinned and said, 'Rock music for a boat chase, don't you think?' The next second a pair of giant speakers behind the helm position kicked in with a Guns n'Roses track.
'They'll probably hear us before we can see them,' winced Jellicoe.
'Yeah. Sorry it's not Wagner. If you know what I mean Captain Willard.'
'Not really,' admitted Jellicoe. 'And the name's Jellicoe actually.'
'Film reference,' drawled Stanford, shaking his head. 'Scares the hell out of the gooks, n' shit like that.'
'Still not with you, I'm afraid.'
'Forget it, Captain Willard.' Stanford looked at Kate. 'You know, I was kind of blasted last night. I have a vague recollection of a nocturnal visit by someone carrying heat? Was that you guys, or was I outta my mind?'
'That was one of the bad guys,' said Kate. 'They visited all the boats and took away the radio handsets to prevent anyone from calling the Navy.'
'Which disposes of my next question,' said Stanford. He looked back at Jellicoe and asked, 'How's it comin' there, Willard? Any sign of Mister Christian and those other mutineers?'
'No.'
'Like the music?'
'Music?' Jellicoe snorted.
'Guns n' Roses. How do you like them?'
'Not much.'
'On the subject of guns,' said Stanford. 'Am I going to need to be packin' a piece, or what?'
'Do you mean to tell me you've got a gun?' asked Kate.
'Hindsight is always twenty-twenty,' said Stanford. 'The Hollywood community is full of nervous people and prey to others who make them that way. Being a movie star has some significant bio-hazards. Stalkers. Shit like that. My own life has been threatened on any number of occasions. So yes ma'am, I am licenced to carry firearms. Fact is, there's a gunsafe on this boat. If you're short of a weapon I can probably fix you both up. Highway Patrolman. Glock. Smith & Wesson Sigma. All chambered for cartridges with gravitas. You dig? Easy Andy, I'm not. But when
you're on my boat, mi arma de fuego, su arma de fuego.'
Kate nodded enthusiastically. She said, 'A gun would be nice.'
'How about you, Captain Willard?'
'No thanks.'
'Please yourself,' said Stanford getting up carefully from the co-pilot's seat. The speed of the boat made the deck difficult to stand on. But clearly Stanford was used to it.
Jellicoe said nothing as the actor went below to fetch the handguns. He was still sweeping the bright blue horizon for some sign of the Britannia. From time to time he would glance down at the open-scan radar screen. It was a similar system to the ARPA on board the Duke, except that the screen had two displays: the radar image of the general vicinity, and the adjacent chart display -- instant confirmation of their position and any hazards that might be in the area. Something on the small screen caught his experienced eye and he touched the instrument's zoom button to take a closer look.
'There,' he said excitedly. 'On the screen. Something to the north-west of us. Less than five miles away.'
