“
Just conferenced with the partners by satellite,
”
Blondie-san was say
ing,
“
and the best offer is three per unit.
”
“
Maybe I
’
ll go back and reenlist,
”
muttered Joaquin.
“
Make more off
of the bonus than I will this.
”
“
He
’
s only being emotional,
”
Cookie said.
“
We
’
ll take it.
”
“
You take it,
ése,
I ain
’
t gonna take it.
”
“
I need not remind you,
”
said Blondie-san with sinister amusement,
“
that this is the Golden Fang.
”
“
Best we not be messin with no Golden Fang,
”
Cookie agreed.
“¡
Caaa-rajo!
”
Joaquin in a violent double take,
“
what are those chicks
doin
over there?
”
SEVEN
DOC CALLED SAUNCHO NEXT MORNING AND ASKED IF
H
e
’
d
EVER
heard of a boat called the
Golden Fang.
Sauncho grew strangely evasive.
“
Before I forget—was that a diamond ring on Ginger last episode?
”
“
You sure you didn
’
t, like—
”
“
Hey, I was on the natch, I just couldn
’
t get a good look. And how
about all those googoo eyes at the Skipper? I didn
’
t even know they were
dating.
”
“
Must
’ve
missed that,
”
said Doc.
“
I mean I always figured she
’
d end up with Gilligan, somehow.
”
“
Nah, nah—Thurston Howell III.
”
“
Come on. He
’
d never divorce Lovey.
”
There was a pulse of embarrassed silence as both men realized that this could all be construed as code
for Shasta Fay and Mickey Wolf
mann and, incredibly, even Doc himself.
“
The reason I was asking about
this boat,
”
Doc said finally,
“
is, is that—
”
“
Okay, how about,
”
Sauncho a little abrupt,
“
you know the yacht harbor in San Pedro? There
’
s a local fish place called the Belaying Pin, meet
me there for lunch. I
’
ll tell you what I can.
”
From the smell that hit him when he walked in, Doc wouldn
’
t have ranked the Belaying Pin as one of you
r more health-conscious seafood
joints. The clientele, however, were not as easy to read.
“
It isn
’
t new money exactly,
”
Sauncho suggested,
“
more like new debt. Everything they own, including their sailboats, they
’
ve bought on credit cards from
institutions in places like South Dakota that you send away for by filling
out the back of a match cover.
”
They threaded their way among plas-ticratic yachtsfolk seated at tables made from Varathaned hatch-covers to a booth by a window in back looking out on the water.
“
The Pin
’
s
where I like to take very special clients, and I also figured you
’
d want to
see the view.
”
Doc looked out the window.
“
Is that what I think it is?
”
Sauncho had a pair of ancient WWII field glasses on a strap around his neck. He took them off and handed them to Doc.
“
Meet the schooner
Golden Fang,
out of Charlotte Amalie.
”
“
Where
’
s that?
”
“
Virgin Islands.
”
“
Bermuda Triangle?
”
“
Close enough.
”
“
Sizable vessel.
”
Doc regarded the elegantly swept yet somehow—what would you call it,
inhuman
lines of the
Golden Fang,
everything about her gleaming a little too purposefully, more antennas and radomes than any boat
could possibly use, not a flag of national origin in sight, weather decks of teak or maybe mahogany, not likely intended for relaxing out on with no
fishing line or can of beer.
“
She has a tendency to show up unannounced in the middle of the
night,
”
Sauncho said,
“
no running lights, no radio traffic.
”
Local sophis
ticates, assuming her visits to be drug-related, might lurk hopefully for a
day or two but would soon drift away, muttering about
“
intimidation.
”
By whom was never quite made clear. The harbormaster went around in a
state of nerves, as if coerced into waiving all the fees applying to transients,
and every time the office radio kicked in, he was seen to jump violently.
“
So who
’
s the mob kingpin that owns this?
”
Doc saw no harm in asking.
“
Actually, we
’
ve considered hiring you to find out.
”
“
Me?
”
“
Off and on.
”
“
Thought you guys
’s
all dialed in on this, Saunch.
”
For years Sauncho had kept a watchful eye on the yachting community of Southern California as they came and went, at first feeling
the unavoidable class hatred such vessels, for all their beauty under sail,
inspire in those of average income, but evolving after a while into fantasies about going in with somebody, maybe even Doc, on a boat, some little Snipe or Lido-class day-sailer at least.
As it turned out, his firm, Hardy, Gridley & Chatfield, had been keenly, almost desperately, curious about the
Golden Fang
for a while now. Her insurance history was an exercise in mystification, sending bewildered clerks and even partners clear back to nineteenth-century commentators like Thomas Arnould and Theophilus Parsons, usually screaming. Tentacles of sin and desire and that strange world-bound karma which is of the essence in maritime law crept through all areas of Pacific sailing culture, and ordinarily it would have taken no more than a fraction of the firms weekly entertainment budget, deployed at a carefully selected handful of local marina bars, to find out anything they wanted to know from nightly chatter, yarns of Tahiti, Moorea, Bora-Bora, dropped names of rogue mates and legendary vessels, and what had happened aboard, or might have, and who still haunts the cabin spaces, and what old karma lies unavenged, waiting
it’s
moment.
“
I
’
m Chlorinda, what
’
ll it be,
”
A waitress in a combination Nehru jacket and Hawaiian-print shirt, just long enough to qualify as a minidress, and with a set of vibes that didn
’
t help sharpen anybody
’
s appetite.
“
Ordinarily I
’
d go for the Admiral
’
s Luau,
”
Sauncho more diffident than Doc expected,
“
but today I guess I
’
ll just have the house anchovy loaf to start and, um, the devil-ray filet, can I get that deep-fried in beer batter?
”
“
Your stomach isn
’
t it. How about you,
l’
il buddy?
”
“
Mmm!
”
Doc scanning the menu,
“
All
this goodeatin
’
!
”
while Sauncho kicked him under the table.
“
If my husband dared to eat
any
of this shit, I
’
d throw him out on his ass and drop all his Iron Butterfly albums out the window after him.
”
“
Trick question,
”
Doc said hastily.
“
The, uh, jellyfish teriyaki croquettes I guess? and the Eel Trovatore?
”
“
And to drink, gentlemen. You
’
ll want to be good and fucked up by the time
this
arrives. I
’
d recommend Tequila Zombies, they work pretty quick.
”
She stalked away scowling.
Sauncho had been gazing out at the schooner.
“
See, the problem with this vessel is trying to find out
anything
People back off, change the sub
ject, even, I don
’
t know, get creepy, head for the toilet never to reappear.
”
Again Doc thought he saw in Sauncho
’
s expression a strange element of
desire.
“
Her name isn
’
t really the
Golden Fang!
’
No, her original name was
Preserved,
after her miraculous escape in 1917 from a tremendous nitroglycerin explosion in Halifax Harbor
which blew away most everything else in it, shipping and souls.
Preserved
was a Canadian fishing schooner, which later during the 1920s and
‘
30s
also picked up a reputation as a racer, competing regularly with others in
her class, including, at least twice, the legendary
Bluenose.
Shortly after World War II, as fishing schooners were giving way to diesel-powered craft, she was bought by Burke Stodger, a movie star of the period who
not long after got blacklisted for his politics and was forced to take his boat and split the country.
“
Which is where the Bermuda Triangle comes in,
”
recounted Sauncho.
“
Somewhere between San Pedro and Papeete, the ship disappears, at first
everybody assumes she
’
s been sunk by the Seventh Fleet, acting on direct
orders from the U.S. government. Naturally, the Republicans in power
deny all involvement, the paranoia keeps growing, till one day a couple
years later, boat and owner suddenly reappear—
Preserved
in the opposite
ocean, off Cuba, and Burke Stodger on the front page of weekly
Variety,
in an article reporting his return to pictures in a big-budget major-studio
project called
Commie Confidential.
The schooner meantime, instantly, as if by occult forces, relocated to the other side of the planet, has been refit
ted stem to stern, including the removal of any traces of soul, into what
you see out there. The owners are listed as a consortium in the Bahamas, and she
’
s been renamed the
Golden Fang.
That
’
s all we
’
ve got so far. I
know why I
’
m so interested, but how come you are?
”
“
Story I heard the other night. Maybe some kind of a smuggling angle?
”
“
That would be one way of putting it.
”
The ordinarily lighthearted attorney seemed a little bummed today.
“
Another way of putting it is, is better she should have got blown to bits in Halifax fifty years ago than be in the situation she
’
s in now.
”
“
Sauncho get that weird look off your face, man, you
’
ll wreck my appetite.
”
“
As attorney to client, this story you heard—it didn
’
t happen to include Mickey Wolfmann?
”
“
Not so far, why?
”
“
According to scuttlebutt, shortly before his disappearance every
body
’
s favorite developer was observed going on board the
Golden Fang.
Took a little excursion out into the ocean and back again. Like what the Skipper might call
‘
a three-hour tour.
’”
“
And wait, I
’
ll bet he was also accompanied by his lovely companion—
”
“
Thought you were done with that sad bullshit, here, let me order you a boilermaker or something to go with that Zombie, you can start the whole sordid thing over again.
”
“
Just asking. ... So everybody got back okay, nobody pushed over the side, nothing like that?
”
“
Well strangely enough, my source in the federal courthouse claims he did see something go over the side. M
aybe not a person, it looked to
him more like weighted containers, maybe what we call lagan, which is
stuff you sink deliberately so you can come back and get it later.
”
“
They, what, put out a buoy or something to mark the spot?
”
“
Nowadays it
’
s all electronic, Doc, you get your latitude and longitude fix from loran coordinates, and then when you want to zero in closer, you run a sonar scan.
”
“
Sounds like you
’
re plannin to go out and have a look.
”
“
More like a civilian on a ride-along. People at the courthouse who know I
’
m
...
”
He tried to think of the word.
“
Interested.
”
“
Putting it kindly. Long as you don
’
t call it obsessed.
”
If it was a chick, maybe, Doc thought, hoping his lips weren
’
t moving.