John Mosby's Scenario: Fast Passage by jonwI' August 3, 1999 The deal was complex. Timing was everything. It wasn’t that what he was doing was illegal…. But the way he was manipulating stocks, buying here, and selling there, well, it gave the impression that he knew what the future held. And if he did it JUST right, it would become a self- fulfilling prophesy. The monies involved were trivial…. Well, all right, not exactly trivial, but if it all came apart, it wouldn’t break him; not by any means. The real payoff was not in money, but in prestige. In an enhanced reputation as a financial wizard, a stock-market "seer". And of course, with that, came power. That was the REAL payoff. James had his plan, and in order to get to where he ultimately wanted to be, he had to work his way through several lower levels. And this was one of the levels. Smiling to himself, sipping his glass of late fall harvest Reisling from the Old Country, he pushed the button on his laptop, transmitting the buy order, starting the whole complex thing in motion……. No plan survives contact with the enemy. Haverty watched his computer monitor, tracking the purchase and the sale of different stocks, and noted the block of Aquarius Aerospace. Frowning he shook his head, and called up another screen. Scrolling down through the transactions, he nodded, and then directed his computer to do a search. A carefully crafted search. After all, all transactions were supposed to be public, weren’t they? But even so, there were guises, and dummy corporations, and blind trusts that weren’t so blind…. It would take a while to ferret out what was going on, but if it was what he thought, well, then, there were things to be done….. “That’s funny” James thought to himself as he looked at the market report his laptop had compiled. “I wouldn’t have expected that much movement in that area…. And those computer tech prices… I would have expected them to hold up better…..” Sitting back, he mused over the figures, the columns of numbers and acronyms that were a stock trader’s language. After a while, as the sun set, and his cabin darkened, lit only by the laptop’s screen, he reached out to take another sip of his wine, a rich Burgundy this time. And then, carefully replacing the glass, he leaned forwards, to start his own series of inquiries. The response was just outside the parameters he’d predicted, and that meant outside interference. Active interference. There couldn’t be more than a half dozen traders, or analysts on the planet that could have detected the pattern of his plan so early, and it would be easy to check, to see if any of them were trying to co-opt his plan for their own purposes…… As he worked, tendrils of doubt began to form in the back of his mind… was he really as good as he thought? Could he have mis-read the system, failed to take everything into account with respect to how the market moved? Could he really NOT predict the future? No, Impossible! It must be someone working against him……. The Lion looked around the Lodge’s dining room as he sipped his morning coffee. Business was moderately good, and the dining room was three-quarters full. Looking over at Sylvia, the resort’s owner and manager, he yawned widely and then murmured; “Wonder where James is today?” Sylvia just shrugged; “Usually he tells me when he goes off into the Island’s interior….. I’d guess he’s just wrapped up in something. I’ll have one of the kids take him some breakfast later……” John nodded, and then grinned; “well if he’s not here….” Reaching across the Table, the Lion stabbed at the plate of bacon, making off with a good third of the remaining rashers….. As they walked towards the dock, Hank looked over at the White Tiger’s cabin; “still got the shades drawn. Must be sleeping in.” John just shrugged; “He’ll turn up eventually. In his own way, he’s a survivor.” The Rabbit just nodded. After a few minutes of companionable silence, the lion murmured; “Now Listen Hank, I don’t want a repeat of last year’s performance. When you see your Son-in-Law, you are NOT to list all his faults, or to tell him how it “should be done.” And above all, you are NOT to try and strangle him, no matter how badly he deserves it!” The Rabbit chuckled; “last time I tell YOU how my “vacation” went! The Lion chuckled; “you didn’t. Your daughter called to tell me, in no uncertain terms, what I could, or I guess what I should do with you. Now she’s giving you a second chance, and I want you to behave, if for no other reason than for your grandkids’ sakes.” Hank shook his head; “Ah, but it was them I was thinking of last year. I just can’t stand how that "wienie" lets them get away with everything! Kids need discipline! They need order! If you just let them run free, they might wind up like… well, who knows WHAT they might wind up like!” The Lion chuckled; “Yeah, I remember my childhood, growing up in these islands….. Hell, Hank, they might grow up to be like ME!” As expected the Rabbit clutched both paws over his heart, spun around on one heel and toppled to the ground gasping “No, Not THAT!” John just chuckled and turned to head on down to the dock, and Kara’s seaplane. Hank had a while before she would be leaving, but they didn’t have all day…….. Kara growled; “John will you get your nose OUT of the port engine! The oil leak isn’t that bad! We’ll make Port Charles with NO trouble at all!” The Lion looked up and with a sigh, closed the cowl. “Yeah, I know, I know; but its my nature to worry.” Kara smiled; “All right, Captain Mosby. Weather report?” John blinked; “Um, High pressure area centered about 200 miles to the east. Its moving slowly, and should be a good three days before there's any interaction with that low pressure zone. Should be clear the whole way, slight headwind.” Kara nodded and crossed her arms over her chest, the Lion’s gaze automatically shifting to follow the motion….. “time since the last overhaul on the port engine?” John guiltily shifted his gaze upwards to her face; “three hundred and, um, twelve hours. Three hundred and thirty since the last overhaul on the starboard engine. Flight rules require overhaul on engines of this type every 500 hours. You’re well within the limits…...” Hank handed Sylvia a sheet of paper; “these are the numbers at which I can be reached in case there’s an emergency. Oh, and please, while I’m gone, Don’t let him eat too much. His cholesterol's getting a mite high. And I’d appreciate it if you’d poke at him every now and then. There’s a lot of work that the schooner needs, and I’m afraid, with me gone, he’ll just drink beer and sleep all day. There’s a to-do list posted just inside the companionway.” Sylvia smiled; “don’t you think he’s old enough by now to look out for himself?” The Rabbit just made a face and shook his head, his ears semaphoring wildly; “Ain’t no way. Without me looking after him, he would have perished decades ago. Probably would have drowned in his own vom… ah, beer.” Sylvia just laughed. Kara nodded; “range to Port Charles?” The lion blinked and frowned slightly at the cross-examination; “two hundred and ninety seven miles. And you have fuel for six hundred. And I checked. No water in the fuel. And the manual fuel transfer pump works, just in case you have a problem with a plugged fuel line. And the fuel filters are all clear.” Kara nodded; “Radios all check out?” Frowning now, the Lion jerked his head up and down. “Radios all function, although the UHF set still tends to shriek a bit more than I like. Liferaft has a functioning hand-crank transmitter, and the EPIRB (emergency position indicating rescue beacon) has new batteries.” Kara nodded; “then don’t you think everything will be all right? Honestly, Hank’s old enough to look after himself, don’t you think?” The Lion shrugged and sighed; “we’ve been watching each other’s backs for so long its second nature.” “What’s second nature?” John and Kara turned to look at Hank as he came up behind them on the dock. The rabbit was wearing an outlandish Hawaiian shirt and baggy shorts that didn’t match at all. It was as if he were trying to make a fashion statement about returning to "Civilization" from the tropical resort……. Turning back to Kara, the Lion sighed; “and no, I DON’T think he can take care of himself…..” James was oblivious to the sliver of light shining under the curtains. He never heard the knock on his door, or the shout about a breakfast tray outside his door. It was as he suspected, as he feared. One of his rivals, possibly his chief rival, had somehow detected the pattern of his trading, and possibly even divined what he was up to. And had taken steps, not so much to cash in on what was happening, but to throw a monkey wrench into the works. But it wasn’t too late. If he moved fast, if he moved SMART, if the market cooperated, he could still triumph…… And have the added satisfaction of burning his rival to boot. Grinning wickedly, he issued his electronic orders…… John stood with Sylvia on the dock and watched Kara’s seaplane skim across the water, a white plume of spray flying behind the twin engines… and then it leapt heavenwards, and banked, the sun shining off its wet hull….. And then it was lost, vanished, a speck against the blue of the tropical sky….. Turning to look at Sylvia, the Lion grinned; “well, I don’t know about you, but I’m going back to bed.” Sylvia couldn’t help but laugh, much to the Lion’s confusion. James scowled. The purchase of that large a block of the Lott Mining stock had sent the ripple through the market that he'd anticipated. Some of the other traders were starting to sense that something was up, although it was obvious that they hadn't put it all together yet. And his rival… that purchase of the block of Manitoba Mining and Manufacturing…. That was just a confusing enough signal to leave the market floundering, unsure of what was happening. At his expense too…. He could counter that, though. He could sell short, and then take out a futures contract on the Manganese. It would cost him, the price was sure to drop, but he could cover it. It would be just another business expense... Grinning, Fangs gleaming in the light, he executed the sale, and then, his fingers tapping rapidly on his laptop's keys, started negotiating for the futures contract…… John smiled as he stood in the schooner's galley. All he heard was silence, and occasionally, that was a very pleasant sound. Grabbing a second beer out of the fridge, he put his lunch dishes in the sink, and turned to climb back up on deck. The Mainmast halyard block had been squeaking, and Hank always pitched a fit when he climbed to the tip of the mast. Good time to replace it, while the Rabbit wasn't here….. Haverty grinned, his face reflected in his computer screen. “Ah, so you want to do THAT do you? Well, I can fix your little red wagon, yes I can! I’ll be darned if I’ll let YOU get the better of me, James the bloody Baron VanAnkat! You just wait and see!” Chortling to himself, he entered his own changes into the system….. "No, that won't do at all!" James growled at his computer. Things had been going so well, all his buy and sell orders coming off just the way he wanted. He was almost done with Phase One……. Phase two would be to let things go quiescent for three days while the market stewed in its own juices, while analysts analyzed and came to the conclusions he wanted them to come to. And now this. "Dammit, I do NOT want Bearer Bonds! I can't move them electronically! I have to BE there to do that!" but there was no other recourse. The only block of Amalgamated Electronics on the market was in bearer bonds and that meant….. "well, at least, when I sell those, I can use them to pay off the futures contract" the White Tiger growled to himself as he rose and stretched stiffly. Looking out the window, he realized it was almost dinner time. Moving quickly, he went looking for his shorts, eager to talk to Kari at the Lodge's dinner table. John ambled towards the Lodge. He'd gotten most of the grease out of his fur, and the bottom antifouling paint was now only a pale green smudge on his left thigh. He'd gotten most of that out too, although it had taken a different solvent. Several of the tasks on the "to-do" list had been crossed off, and he was feeling good about his day's work. Seeing the White Tiger emerge from his cabin, the Lion chuckled. "Hey, James!" The Tiger for his part, gave a distracted wave as he marched resolutely towards the Lodge. John's pace slowed and he grunted to himself; "Wonder what's eating him?" Haverty chuckled; "Oh, I see where you're going, VanAnkat. And a shrewd move it is too. But it ain't going to happen. If I can take you down a notch, that'll make me a better candidate for the board of trustees. I don’t like your traditionalist, antiquated theories, and your hidebound style, and I will not let you … FOUL my “home”….. MY Market! I KNOW about your bearer bonds. And I know what that means, too." Smiling, he reached for the phone…. James was at his usual seat at the dinner table; his back was straight, and both paws were on the edge of the table and he was looking at Sylvia with a look of disbelief; "A Charter in Port Charles?" Sylvia nodded, smiling; "Yes, some sort of float-fishing trip for a bunch of businessmen. She's going to fly them to a half dozen islands, where they'll get a day's fishing at each location. They're going to camp out in her aircraft and fish out the windows." As he pulled out his chair, John chuckled; "and how are they going to cook their catch? Not sure I'd want to grill a fresh filet on an aircraft!" Sylvia chuckled; "You haven't seen her latest attachment for her aircraft? She's got this bowl shaped charcoal grill that fits to a stanchion; it's held about two feet outside the door, where she should be able to cook safely. And when she's done she just lets it rotate and all the coals and ashes dump into the water. Nice and safe." John just chuckled and shook his head; "Yeah, I've seen those before. I remember watching a friend loose two rather nice steaks when the grill dumped when it wasn't supposed to." A growl from James made them both turn to look at him; "An enchanting story, Captain, but if you please…. Sylvia, if there is no way she will be returning here until next week, do you know of any other air charter services that could get me to New Amsterdam post haste?" Sylvia smiled and shrugged; "I know of a few of Kari's …. Competitors. I can give you their names.. the numbers shouldn't be hard to look up. James nodded, and poked fitfully at his salad with his fork. James blinked as he set down the phone. Of all the names that Sylvia had given him, of all the names that those air charter services had in turn given him, every single one of them was booked. In fact, he'd gotten to the point where seaplane pilots were having to decline simply because they were to far away to get there, pick him up, and get him to New Amsterdam in time. And helicopters simply didn't have the range. It was all just too much of a coincidence….. John looked at the Tiger over breakfast; "James, you look worried. Things in the world of high finance not going well?" The Tiger nodded; "I'm having…. Problems. I need to get to New Amsterdam for some…… transactions. But it has to be by Friday. And every air charter service that can get in here is mysteriously "busy"….." The Lion turned and looked at Sylvia and then back at the Tiger; "Do you have….. enemies that would do things like that? Go to those lengths?" The Tiger just nodded; "That, and worse." John stirred his coffee for a moment and then looked up. "I….. might be able to do it, but it would be tricky. Too tricky to guarantee. Perhaps you could charter a hydrofoil? There ARE several such services." James sighed and nodded; "Poseidon services. They have one charter and two of their craft are down for maintenance. Curious thing there…. One was scheduled with a charter, but the other seems to have gotten a load of contaminated fuel. They have to tear down the fuel injectors and clean them all out……" And then Sargasso Services, and Doubletree Brothers….. Same thing. Nothing available." By now the Lion was frowning; "You know, I hate to see something like this done to a friend…… As I said, I can't guarantee anything, but if you want to take a risk on Rusty and me, just say the word.” James stared at his computer screen and shook his head. It had to be Haverty. Had to be. Well, two could play at that game. Smiling he opened a window to one of those anonymous e-mail sites, and flexing his fingers, he started composing a message. The message contained kernels of truth, and a fair amount of supposition, and even a little innuendo. Everyone knew Haverty played loose and fast with the rules; the financial market was rife with stories of how he'd found loopholes and gaps in the regulations, and even in the "customs", to use for his benefit. The furr'd set the stage himself….. In short, the e-mail was marvelous character assassination, building on an existing foundation, with just enough truth in it, that it couldn't be ignored. Sending it off to the securities and exchange commission, he sat back and grinned. That ought to keep Haverty busy for a while. With a sigh, he turned once again, seeking a way to New Amsterdam, in the remaining time…… He couldn’t help but smile. The Tiger was making enough noise for a half dozen furrs his size. His footfalls on the dock were loud as drumbeats, and his grunt as he climbed aboard the schooner might as well have been a shout. And the thump of his bag as it hit the deck….. The Lion remained still, nestled amongst the sailcloth bunched and tied to the mainmast’s boom and yardarm, He’d formed a small nest in the yards of canvas; it was as comfortable as any recliner, and afforded him a good view of the night sky, and the cool sea breezes. As the Tiger stumbled across the unfamiliar deck, to shove back the companionway hatch and in the dark, fumble his way below, the Lion jumped lightly down from his perch, to land noiselessly on the cabin roof. The bottle of whiskey was stashed in one place, and the shotgun in another, and then he was padding forward, silent as a ghost, towards the cleat that held the forward spring line. The presence of the Tiger in the middle of the night could only mean one thing. James growled as he pushed his way through the schooner’s tight corridor; he knew the inside of the schooner had lights, but the switches were difficult to find….. and the few portholes or skylights let in so little light he was having trouble finding his way about. The Captain’s cabin at the stern was empty, as was the galley and the “salon”…. As was the head and the miniscule passenger cabins. Where the Hell WAS that mangy Lion? Finally, he gave up and headed for the steep stairs that led back to the deck. John chuckled quietly to himself as he saw the Tiger’s head emerge from the companionway. The Tiger looked around in confusion for a moment, and then as the Lion hauled on the halyard, his head snapped about, to lock on him like some sort of heat seeking missile. The flying jib rose smoothly, and the Lion made the halyard fast, and watched as the breeze caught it, billowing out the slim triangular sale, moving the ship’s bow away from the dock. The jib went up next, and then the staysail, and then he was hurrying back, past the now thoroughly confused James, to the donkey engine. That coughed to life on the first try, and the Lion threw it into gear, the winch drum turning slowly. The Main halyard went around the drum, and the Lion stood back, to watch as the yardarm rose, pulling the huge sail up behind it. The wind caught it as it rose, and the ship started to gather way… and then the Lion was slipping the halyard from the still turning winch drum, to make it fast as well. Four quick steps and he was at the wheel, easing the ship’s head off the wind, pointing it towards the entrance to the bay. James watched the Lion move, and shook his head; padding over to where he stood at the wheel, looking up at the sails and not watching in the least where they were going, he growled; “Rather presumptuous of you, isn’t it?” The Lion just grinned, fangs shining whitely in the moonlight; “I figured if you hadn’t wanted to go, you wouldn’t have brought a bag. And I figured at this point there wasn’t a moment to loose. Was I wrong?” The Tiger just growled and turned to walk forward along the increasingly canted deck, to sit on the forward edge of the deck house. The Lion just laughed. He’d laid out the charts, and even programmed a few waypoints into the satellite navigation system. Before long, the schooner had rounded the island, and was on course, the windvane autopilot steering the ship as the Lion raised the Mizzen, and then the huge Fisherman. Half an hour from the dock, the head of the ship was porpoiseing up and down, as they cut across the swells. The canvas was bellied out by a fair breeze, and all the lines were bowstring taut. The lion took a last look around the ship and descended the companionway. James watched in amazement; how could he leave the helm? What if something happened? But in a moment the Lion was back, and handing James a cold bottle of beer. “You know I can’t promise we’ll make it in time.” James shrugged; “at this point, it seems the only alternative left open to me.” The Lion took a long swig from his bottle and nodded; “I’m going to head for the Hillsboro cut. If I time it right, we’ll hit it at high tide. That gives us a 50/50 chance of making it through without running aground. If we make it through there, we’ll save a half a day.” “And if we don’t make it through?” James rumbled. The Lion shrugged; “Might have to wait for a storm to float us off.” The Tiger just winced. The Lion's gaze moved from the stars to the sails to the horizon, to the satnav, and back, with an occasional glance at James. The Tiger was resolutely refusing to go below, to sleep, even though it was obvious he was nodding off. John smiled to himself; often, away from the sight of land, sailing was just, well, boring. The windvane autopilot would hold the course, as long as the wind didn't shift, and if it did, the Satnav would scream at him. The ship didn't move so fast that a quick look around the horizon every ten or twenty minutes or so wouldn't reveal surface traffic in time to avoid a collision, and his running lights were on to boot. And the radar reflector had been hoisted to the masthead. His biggest concern was hitting something like a floating log, but that was improbable, and there wasn't much he could do about that in any event. Yawning, he resumed his watch, his eyes roving more to keep him awake, than because there was something to look at……. Dawn broke the way it always does in the tropics. Quickly. Padding forward, the Lion nudged James; "Atmospherics are pretty good, you might want to keep watch." The Tiger blinked bleerily; "what? Watch for what?" John just chuckled and shaded his good eye with one paw, staring at the Eastern horizon; "The green flash. Seen it three times in a lifetime of watching." James looked towards the horizon, the Eastern sky growing perceptibly lighter by the moment; "And what, pray tell, is the 'Green Flash?'" John smiled; "The atmosphere refracts the sun's light. When the air is particularly clear, just as the sun comes over the horizon, for just an instant, the refraction makes it shine green. The Green Flash." James looked at the Lion for a moment, and then got up and padded towards the companionway; pausing he looked back for a moment; "you know, I do think you've been staring at the sun too long." The Lion just laughed and turned to look back at the Eastern sky. In the Capital, the day was not quite so clear, or so bright. A high overcast made the day a bit gray, and Haverty was in a similar mood. The foreign markets, on the other side of the planet were not cooperating, and he was going to have an interesting day trying to come up with a way to compensate. As he entered his office, the look on his secretary's face brought him up short. It was a jumbled look of terror and "I told you so"….. in a quiet voice she murmured; "Mr. Haverty, there are several furrs in your office…… " James shook his head; "how in the WORLD can you eat cold leftover pizza for breakfast?" John just shrugged; "Years ago, I dated this lady Jaguar, who was a nutritionist at some hospital I found myself in. She told me that a good pizza is actually a more balanced breakfast than most traditional breakfasts. And I didn't feel like cranking up the generator to run the microwave. Want some?" James just shook his head in amazement and turned to poke his head into the schooner's refrigerator, grumbling about barbarians……. "Of course you can examine my books. While I won't require a court order, I WILL ask you to keep what you find confidential. In fact I'll require it. These…. Allegations are completely groundless, but I suppose you won't take my word for it….." Haverty watched as the chief investigator for the Securities and Exchange commission slowly shook his head no. It was apparent from the look on the bear's face that he relished such an opportunity to poke through Haverty's business dealings…. With a sigh, Haverty sat in his own visitor's chair, on the wrong side of his desk, and reached across to pick up the phone. One of the Bear's assistants was already in HIS office chair, tromping his way through his personal computer files…… With a sigh, Haverty dialed his Lawyer's number from memory…… The pounding from below woke him. James shifted to a sitting position on the deckhouse roof and yawned. Looking around, he observed much the same scene as before his nap; the sails were all stretched tight, the horizon was free of anything but the dark blue swells of the sea…. The sky had developed a slight…. "opacity" in the east, probably a thin, high layer of cloud…. And the Lion was nowhere to be seen. And then the banging started up again, somewhere below him….. "What in the HELL are you doing?" John looked up into the face of the Tiger, his head and shoulders stuffed through the access hatch to the "engine room." "Oh, just working on my list of chores. You know Hank; when he gets back he's going to want to know what I've gotten done, what progress I've made…. And the light down here hasn't been working. Makes tinkering with the auxiliary a mite difficult when you can't see what you're doing." James blinked and looked; sure enough, the small compartment that housed the auxiliary diesel was lit by a trouble-light, and the bulkhead mounted fixture was dark….. "And that requires pounding?" John sighed and nodded; "I think the wiring's corroded, and I want to get the fixture down to look at it, but the mounting bolts are too badly rusted. I've soaked them in penetrating oil, and now… tell ya what; you hold the wrench while I hit the other end with the sledge. If I can use two paws, I bet I can apply enough force to bust it loose……" James hesitantly took the crescent wrench in one paw, holding it on the offending bolt, while the Lion raised a small sledgehammer, and in the tight confines of the compartment, took aim at the other end of the wrench…. James winced in anticipation of mashed fingers, and wondered how accurate the Lion could be with the lack of depth perception caused by having only one eye….. Haverty nodded to the Bear; "well, I doubt you'll FIND anything in all the files you've copied. Now, Gentlefurrs, if you'll excuse me, I do have SOME business to attend to!" Not waiting for a reply, Haverty closed his office door on them, and grumbling, padded back to his desk. The Market had closed three hours before, the entire day lost. Sitting down at his desk, he rebooted his computer and called up the closing quotes, looking to see how things were going. What he saw did NOT please him……. The horizon was still clear of shipping, and the Lion's one- eyed gaze swept the sky. It was still reflex to look for those bright sparks of light, reflections from aircraft….. airborne hunters that might be searching for his tank, for his unit, but the sky was as empty as the sea….. except for a high overcast, and a halo about the setting sun….. Turning the Lion grinned at James; "Well, lets see what we can scrape together for dinner. How does a shepherd's pie and salad sound?" James looked at the Lion, his eyes narrowing; "you have the ingredients for THAT?" The lion smiled and shrugged; "Got lots of stuff in the freezer; of course, I use dry ice there, and you generally have to thaw things for about three days before you can use it. But that IS what I've got thawed….." James nodded slowly; "Then, Sir, if you want it done right, I suggest you show me to your galley. I shall prepare dinner!" The Lion just shrugged and turned for the Companionway. Haverty scowled; in the last day, there had been no trace of activity by VanAnkat…. What could that obnoxious Tiger be up to? Growling, he reached for the phone, to check a few places…… The Tiger HAD tried to charter an aircraft…. He'd even tried to charter one of the high-speed hydrofoils…… Haverty grinned at that. So far, he'd been one step ahead of the Tiger all the way…. But why the sudden silence. The General Hydraulic stock issue alone should have drawn action from that damn Cat….. and yet it hadn't. So where was he? Surrendered? Withdrawn from the game? Shaking his head, Haverty connected the voice synthesizer to his cell phone, and dialed a number. When he spoke, the person on the other end would hear a female voice, and hopefully, never connect it with Haverty…… The cell phone itself shouldn't be traceable with anything less than the resources of the Freelands Government…… James was bent over, a potholder on each paw, endeavoring to get the shepherd's pie from the Schooner's miniscule oven. The fact that the ship was pitching slowly due to a following sea, and the fact that the oven was gymballed made it difficult. The oven was stationary, but the ship was moving steadily….. And as he made a stab at grabbing the dish, his forearm brushed against the side of the oven. His howl of pain and outrage drowned out the beeping of his cellphone, inside his bag, in his cabin down the corridor…… Haverty scowled. Not answering his cell phone? Most strange, especially for someone in their profession……. Flipping open a notebook, he made another call……. Sylvia smiled; "No, Miss, I haven't seen Mr. VanAnkat in quite a while. No, he didn't mention anything to me about leaving… but he does sometimes go for long hikes across the island. Of course, Captain Mosby's Schooner is gone from the dock too, and HE didn't say a word to me about leaving either….. The Schooner? Oh, its called the "Resurgent," and is for charter….. Yes, I suppose he might have taken Mr. VanAnkat somewhere…… Okay, if I see him I'll ask him to call you. Goodbye. Haverty slowly disconnected the voice synthisizer, lost in thought. So VanAnkat HAD found transportation…. Turning back to his computer, he started a search. How fast was a schooner? How far did they have to go? Could that mangy Cat actually DO it in time? James watched as the Lion took his first forkful of dinner. The lion chewed slowly for a moment and then swallowed; "Not bad. Not bad at all." James chuckled; "Not bad? Sir, its magnificent, given the conditions I was forced to work under! Now if you'd had a decent burgundy on hand, it would have been even better. James took a forkful of dinner and purrred, savoring the taste. "It really is all about knowing how to do things. In this case, how to cook a tasty dinner given…. Adverse conditions." John's eyes wandered to where the oven was still swinging in its gymbals and nodded; "Indeed it is. But if you'll excuse me, I need to check topside. The wind's changed and I think we might be drifting off course……" Pausing half way up the companionway ladder, he turned and grinned back; "In this case, its all about knowing how to sail……. We each have our gifts….." And then he was gone on deck. James was just pouring another glass of the Lion's cheap whiskey when John returned. "Wind's shifted a little, and freshened." The Tiger nodded and regarded the bottle of whiskey; "wherever do you manage to find such rotgut? The Lion chuckled as he resumed his seat; "Its not easy to find rotgut of that calibre. I trade for it on some of the outer islands. Its not all that great, but it does come cheap…. And its about all those folks have to trade with. That and dried fish, and I can sell the whiskey more easily than dried fish….." James shook his head; "I wouldn't think the folks on those outer islands would have the …. Resources to produce a whiskey." The lion just chuckled; "James, you do NOT want to know how they make this stuff……" Haverty didn't like the answers his computer was giving him at all. If that mangy cat got his hands on those bearer bonds, he could liquidate them, and then move on that General Hydraulics stock, the stock who's price just seemed to keep dropping and dropping….. Or he might take a position on the Brewster Aerospace issue……. Or…. Any of a half a dozen other things that would screw up the works. Pulling out his personal notebook, he found an entry and reached for the phone. Going to lengths like this wasn't normally part of the "game"… but then the Tiger had started it, he was sure, when the Securities and Exchange folks had shown up at his door…. Well, there was more than one way to eliminate his competition for that seat on the board of trustees……. The bed was too narrow, and too short, literally built into the side of the ship like an alcove. Or a shelf. There was no way James could let his feet hang over the end of the bed, as that was a locker. And the board on the open side, the board meant to keep you from rolling out of your bed as the ship rocked and pitched, was a pain in his side. Finally the Tiger extricated himself and grabbing, and then dropping a pair of shorts, headed for the deck of the schooner in just his fur. The Lion was by the wheel, the wind whipping his mane to one side, just staring up at the sails. It had to be the sails; the stars were hidden behind a high layer of clouds. "How in the HELL does anyone sleep in those bunks?" the Tiger growled. The Lion just smiled; "Most folks don't, unless they're small. But if you want a larger bed, you could try the forecastle. There's more room up there……" James blinked "The what?" The Lion smiled; "The forecastle is the compartment in the bow of the ship, just aft the chain locker. Its kinda wedge shaped, and is more spacious, and is the traditional lodging for the crew of the ship. Hank sleeps up there sometimes." James nodded and turned, to pace forward. There was a smaller version of the companionway just forward of the forward hold, and pushing back the hatchcover, he descended into the darkness…… In the dim light he made out an almost standard size bed, and with a sigh, he heaved himself down upon it……. John watched as the bow of the schooner crested one swell at an angle and then started down into the trough, corkscrewing a bit as the weathervane autopilot tried to hold it on course. Grinning, the lion made a bet with himself as to how long it would be, before James re-emerged…… James lay on his stomach, arms descending towards the floor on either side of the bed, his claws hooked into its frame. The motion of the ship was much worse, up here in the bows, and he was having trouble staying put. First the bed would drop out from under him, the ship rolling to the left….. and then the bed would surge back up, as if trying to throw him off, the bed rolling to the right…… with the cycle repeated over and over again….. It was like trying to sleep on a bucking bronco….. Finally he gave up, and let the bed roll him off to one side. Moving through the dark, he found the ladder and made his way back onto the deck…… John watched him reappear and smiled; he'd lasted longer than he'd thought. James took a stance on the other side of the wheel and stared at the horizon for a moment, and then he growled; "How does that crazy rabbit sleep down there?" John chuckled; "Hank only sleeps down there when we're in port. When we're at sea, he takes one of the of the cabins astern, if one's available. They're smaller, but the motion of the ship isn't as bad back here. Mostly, though, he just rigs a hammock." The Tiger's eyes narrowed; "Ah, the hammock swings, damping out at least some of the motion……." The Lion nodded; "Got one in a locker below, if you want to give it a try." James just nodded….. The Lion checked the SatNav, and then rose to adjust the windvane autopilot. A few hours ago, he'd spotted the lights of a freighter on the horizon, but that was as close as they'd come. Grinning to himself, the Lion thought the folks on the freighter, with their fluorescent lights and air conditioning, and their 10,000 ton vessel probably didn't even notice how the sea was getting rougher, how the wind was picking up. They probably only knew about the gathering storm from their weather reports and radar images downloaded from a satellite…… Sitting back down by the wheel, he yawned and then grinned. Amongst the wind noise, and the noise of the water rushing by the hull, there was a soft shhhhhhh shhhhhhhhh coming from below. James had rigged his hammock in the corridor just forward of the salon, and as the boat rocked, his tail, dangling from the hammock, was being dragged back and forth across the deck. At least the Tiger wasn't snoring…… James awakened slowly. He’d had the strangest dream. He’d dreamt that he’d been strapped to a bucking bronco made of pillows, and then sent for a wild ride….. As he struggled to wake up, to remember where he was, he almost lost his balance and fell from the hammock. Grumbling, he extricated himself, and disconnecting the hammock, headed for the Schooner’s salon. Just off the Salon, the Lion was busy making omelets, of all things. One fry pan, on a gymballed burner, was swinging slowly, the melted butter surging back and forth through the chopped green peppers and onions. In another pan, eggs surged back and forth, and the lion was carefully lifting the edges of the omlet, letting the juice run underneath. As James watched, he realized that the motions were almost choreographed, a dance learned from long experience. Wordlessly, the Lion ladeled in some of the sauteed vegetables, a healthy pawfull of grated cheese, some bacon chunks, and then, with an expert flip, folded the omelet over the ingredients. A few more moments and he was handing the Tiger a plate, with a grin and a wry; “it IS all about knowing how to cook… in this case in the face of a rising storm.” James took the plate and a fork, and with a sigh, mounted the companionway ladder to the deck. The weather was getting worse. The sky was overcast, the clouds low. James tried to retain control of his plate with one paw and operate his fork with the other as the ship pitched beneath him. After a few minutes the Lion joined him, making eating under roller-coaster conditions look easy. At James’ look he just smiled and shrugged; “Practice.” The galley had been cleaned, the pots and pans and plates scrubbed, and stowed, and secured. John stood by the wheel, the windvane autopilot disconnected. Again, he seemed to watch the sails more than the compass, or the horizon…. And yet whenever James checked, they seemed to be on course. Around 11 AM, dark smudges appeared on the horizon, and by half past Noon, the islands were visible. It was plain that the Lion was making for the narrow gap between two islands. “It gets real shallow in here. Lots of shoals, lots of reefs. Merchant shipping avoid it like the plague….. But we’re just small enough to squeak through. The storm should be helping in that regard as well…..” James just nodded, watching. It was painfully apparent that the Lion was busy, and he didn’t want to intrude. His questions would wait. As the first bits of land started to slip by on the Port side, the Lion would lock the wheel, dash to one side, or the other, and in one occasion, all the way forward to the bows, to just look. Then he’d be back, adjusting sails, or changing course minutely. The Schooner was still under full sail, something James thought rather reckless….. but as they passed a stand of palm trees, and the apparent wind fell off he understood…… they needed as many “horsepower” as possible if they were going to make it through….. Once something ground under the keel, the small ship slowing, staggering, but then continuing on. Another time the fall of a wave seemed to deposit them on the ocean bed…. But then the next lifted them off, washed them forward and they continued. Once something thumped the ship hard, and the Lion dashed below to see if they’d sprung a leak. On his return he just shrugged; “Coral Head” was his only explanation. After a tense three quarters of an hour, the land was falling behind them, and again the Lion was busy on deck, adjusting the sails. By two o’clock, the islands were fading behind them, the ship heeled WAY over, its port rail in the water, leaving a streak of foam behind the ship. The rain started about three, coming in sheets. James retreated for a while to the salon, but the ship was heeled too far over for him to be comfortable. Emerging onto deck, drenched instantly he noted the Lion was now wearing a harness and lifeline, and gesturing for him to do the same. It was strange, being …. “leashed” to the ship in that manner, but as a wave washed over the bow, green water surging across the hatch covers, moving all most all the way to the deck house before it drained off through the scuppers, he realized how easy it might be to get washed overboard. As he finished strapping himself into the harness, he made his way across the wet, canted deck to the Wheel. “This is GREAT” Yelled the Lion. “She’s doing almost fourteen knots! That’s Amazing for a vessel this short!” James blinked and wanted to say that he’d ridden much smaller powerboats that could go much faster, but the wind snatched his words away. Clinging resolutely to a stay, he watched as the schooner surged up one trough, and then down the next, moving as if it wanted to leap from the crest and take wing, in the storm. The winds tapered off, although the seas remained high, and by nine that night, the moon was peeking from behind tattered clouds. The Lion let James make sandwiches as he consulted the charts and the SatNav. Taking a bite of James’ offering the Lion grinned; “we’re fairly well ahead of schedule, thanks to the storm. We ought to make it with a couple hours to spare, morning after tomorrow. Say, what IS this? Its good.” James smiled; “Tuna Fish and Peanut Butter.” The Lion stared at his sandwich for a moment and the muttered; “well I’ll be damned. Never would have guessed!” The Tiger yawned widely. James had slept fitfully in the hammock, and he was sure the Lion was even shorter of sleep than he was. Looking at the Cat he decided perhaps some conversation might help keep him awake. After all, having succeeded in the Hillsboro passage, and having weathered the storm, it would be ironic if they fell asleep and drifted off course now….. Looking up, James cleared his voice and rumbled; “You were amazingly …. Eager to come to my assistance. I do have to wonder why. In this day and age, not many would go out of their way to help.” The Lion just chuckled; “Years ago, in the war, I got very used to rushing out to rescue folks. There was often a time when my unit was the “reaction force,” official, or otherwise, and when folks got in trouble, they called us. We would mount up, crank up the tanks and the tracks, and charge out, the Calvary to the rescue. I guess its just second nature.” James nodded; “well, I appreciate it. I’m afraid in financial circles, its just a bunch of sharks. No one will come to your rescue. You have to outsmart them all in order to survive. In fact, I remember one incident, back in ’93, when the CEO of Transpacifica offered this stock…….. John yawned, fighting to keep his eyes open. He didn’t mind James talking, and he was convinced that the story the Tiger was telling was probably incredibly exciting in the world of high finance, but he was only understanding about one word in three…… “And so, I managed to recoup my gains on the futures market. Disaster was averted, and I even made enough to cover my expenses. THAT’s what I mean about having to fight off the sharks. You see, its all about knowing how to handle your adversaries.” John nodded sleepily; “Well, where I come from, when we have to fight someone off, its usually a little more sudden and whole lot more violent. I remember the time Fire Base Brandi was nearly overrun. Now there was a fight……” James listened to the tone of the Lion’s voice. He seemed almost nostalgic for a battle that by his own admission had cost his unit almost two thirds of its personnel…… As he listened, James wondered to himself how anyone could go through things like that and remain sane…… “You can’t.” James blinked; “wha…?” The Lion chuckled; “you must have been thinking out loud. You wondered how I could ever have survived all that and stayed sane. I maintain no pretense to sanity; I merely claim to be functional. In fact, Schizophrenia has its distinct advantages….. Now Hank, he’s a little more even in his personality…. But more than a touch paranoid.” John turned and took a look at the expression on James face, and laughed. When he’d calmed down, the Lion chuckled; “Oh don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you in your sleep just for fun. Now, tell me; when you get this financial transaction of yours fixed, or settled, or whatever you have to do, what are you going to do then? Going to celebrate? Spend a night on the town before heading back home?” James sat in the bows, watching the water race past. His conversations with the Lion had not come off quite as he'd expected. Yes, the Lion had stayed awake, but he'd…… learned a little more than he really had wanted to. Watching the waves, lost in thought, he wondered, when he'd completed his financial dealings, when he'd settled this affair, or, he thought with a wry smile, when he'd "weathered" this particular "storm," what WOULD he do then? John watched the sun slowly settle towards the horizon. It was about an hour past a simple dinner that he caught sight of the bump on the horizon. As the sun sank slowly, he watched as it got closer, and closer, until his view through the telescope showed it to be a moderately sized power boat. It had the look of a deep-sea sport fisherman, with a tall "tuna" tower. It was well equipped too, from the looks of the antennae, and radar. And it was obvious it was heading for them, steering an intercept course. James was snatched from his reverie by the Lion's shout. Making his way back to the quarterdeck, the Tiger grumbled; "What was that?" The Lion's gaze was on the horizon as he spoke; "Did you call for a fast boat to meet us? Send for any friends?" James scowled; "No, but now that you mention it, it might not have been such a bad idea. Why?" The Lion just handed him the telescope and pointed; "Because we've got company." James squinted through the telescope, and grumbled; "Why can't you use binoculars like anyone else? How do you focus this thing?" The Lion chuckled, bending down, doing something to the deck by his feet; "Why buy binoculars when you've only got one eye? I know, it drives Hank crazy too. Slide it in and out to focus." After a moment the Tiger grunted; "no, never seen them before. I take it they're not friends of yours?" The Lion just grunted; "Don't know yet. Too far away to make out a face. But that'll change quickly. Here, you hold the wheel, I've got a few things to attend to. Oh, and be careful where you step. Course is 279 magnetic." The Tiger's gaze swept from the compass to the approaching boat, to the hustling Lion. A quick trip to a hidden panel in the deck house produced a shotgun, and a quick trip below produced a submachine gun, some larger military-looking weapon, and a ….. life preserver? Taking the wheel back, the Lion growled; "put on the vest. Its made for waterborne commandos, SEALS and Marines and such. It'll keep you afloat, but its also got a layer of Kevlar, and will stop most bullets. Do it NOW." James looked at him for a second and then with a shrug, slipped the vest on; "I take it you're expecting trouble?" The Lion just grinned; "Maybe some of Hank's paranoia is rubbing off on me. I can't think of any reason why that ship would alter course to intercept us. Can you? And I hate "coincidences" like that…… James just nodded. The Rat at the wheel looked at the Coyote and asked; "That them?" The Coyote lowered the binoculars and nodded; "Its them. Mosby's at the wheel, and the White Tiger's with him. Ease us along side; hold us about 50 yards out." The Rat grinned; "Just two of them. This should be easy money……." John squinted as he watched the Coyote raise the Bullhorn. "Well Hello, John! Fancy Meeting you in a Place Like This!" John Nodded, and growled back, "Well if it isn't Major Sanchez. I thought you were down in Finlandia, with Hood's Mercenaries." The Coyote grinned; "I was. Got a little too hot down there, and I decided I'd strike out on my own. In fact, I'm on a job right now. Got a client that has a STRONG interest in your friend, the Tiger there. Tell you what, Captain Mosby, you hand him over, nice and polite, and I'll let you go, for old time's sake." The Lion stared across the water for a moment and then growled; "Can't do that, Nate. Wouldn't be professional." The Coyote shook his head; "John, we go back a long ways. I don't want to have to kill you." The Lion just looked down at the deck for a moment and sighed; looking back up, he growled, "Major, I don't want to kill you either. I'm truly sorry we wound up on opposite sides on this, but I've got a passenger, and a business to protect. I can't let you have him. Point of Honor, you understand……" The Coyote nodded slowly and then motioned to his helmsfurr. Turning back, as the cruiser started to close the distance, he reached below the gunwale and raised an assault rifle. As the Coyote moved, the two other furrs standing near him, at the back of the cruiser also raised weapons. James' eyes flashed from the armed thugs to the Lion and back. The Lion was still looking at the boat, one paw moving on the schooner's wheel…. And one foot was stretching out…. To step down into a recess in the deck. Suddenly, an explosion thundered against the side of the schooner, the concussion knocking James to the deck. For a moment the Tiger wondered what weapon the assassins on the cruiser had used against them? The automatic weapons they held didn't seem big enough to produce such an effect… and then the Lion was stepping down again, the motion followed instantly by another eruption of thunder from the side of the ship. As the bow of the schooner turned, the Lion stomped, the explosions thundered, wreathing the side of the schooner in smoke. Rising to his knees, peering over the side of the ship, Jame's jaw dropped as he perceived, dimly through the smoke, the wreck of the cruiser. It was then that he realized that somewhere during his movement from where he'd fallen to the gunwale of the schooner, he'd picked up the Lion's submachine gun. Looking back at the Lion he mumbled… "how…. How did you DO that?" John shaded his good eye and tried to peer through the smoke as he brought the schooner around; "Hank's idea. Told you he was paranoid. We welded a piece of eight inch channel iron down the side of the ship, and filled it with Claymores. You know, the directional antipersonnel mines? The electrical firing system's brought back to the control box on the deck. I can stand here, with my hands in plain sight, looking innocent and inoffensive, and set them off with a slight motion of one foot. James glanced from the grim Lion to the cruiser, now in flames and settling fast by the stern; "Do you…. Think anyone's still alive over there?" John flipped the cover back over the firing panel with one foot, and then locked down the schooner's wheel as the ship's head came into the wind. Picking up the shotgun, he strode to the port rail, to look; "If there is, we'll pick them up…. But I doubt it." John watched as James, in an only slightly wrinkled business suit, climbed into the limousine. They'd failed to find any survivors, finally giving up at dark. The night's sail had been somber, and they'd made port the following morning. James had two hours and seventeen minutes to accomplish a task which he thought should involve a fifteen minute drive, and five minutes of paperwork. John looked down at the check James had left on the table in the salon; he'd been most generous. Tucking the check into a shirt pocket, the Lion locked the companionway hatchcover and climbed up onto the dock. He had to find the harbormaster, and then a bank…. And then a bar. James settled back into the padded chair and sipped a truly excellent Beaujolais. In the end, it had all worked out just like he'd planned, despite the …. obstacles. The profit wasn't quite what he'd thought it would be, but the market was already abuzz with stories of his coup. As he sat in the four-star hotel's restaurant, awaiting his meal, he swirled the wine in his glass, and wondered where Mosby was, what he might be doing. The events of the past week had left the White Tiger "unsettled". He'd been ruthless in business before. He' had "ruined" men jut for the fun of it. But he had never had men killed, nor had assassins sent after him. The image of the wreckage of the cruiser lingered in his mind as he stared absently at his glass of wine. In addition, he now felt as if he owed Mosby his life. To him this was a debt that had to somehow be repaid. And the check he had left, though generous, would not suffice…… Water rushed under the schooner's stern, the deck canted at a sharp angle. The Lion took another pull from the bottle of whiskey and grinned. The hold was full of barley, molasses, sugar and yeast, and a few other trade goods. There were some islands, not too far off his route home, where the locals loved to brew their own booze. In that place, in those islands, it was almost a religion. And that, he thought, would be a good place to stop off, to do a little trading, and "decompress." A good place to try and shift back to a…. calmer persona. To stuff the "military persona" back into its compartment, letting something a little less ruthless out to take its place. Taking another swig, the Lion chuckled; "You're right, James. It IS all about knowing how to handle your adversaries. And yourself." Sighing, letting his gaze wander over the sails, and the horizon, the Lion took another swig from the bottle; "And you did have a "fast passage," didn't you, James? You've been in combat now, even if you never fired a shot. You've seen that some of YOUR adversaries can act more like mine. And maybe now you'll understand me a little better. Yes, its been a fast passage for you, hasn't it?" James smiled and put down his cellphone, sitting back in his cabin at the resort. Suddenly it hadn't been a problem at all to charter a seaplane to take him home. The board of Trustees had called, and had very generously offered him the open seat. He knew that if he took it, Haverty would be fit to be tied, and making that individual "uncomfortable" was a worthy goal in its own right. But he also knew that if he took it, it would mean leaving Water Wings, and he was not quite ready to leave his "retirement" at the resort, not just yet. Graciously declining, he'd recommended the trading manager from his old company, a furr he KNEW held the respect of many in the market. And having "Friends in High Places" would serve his plans and ambitions almost as well as taking the seat himself…… And the effect on Haverty would be almost as great. He smiled again, as he thought of it. Hank got off the seaplane and stretched. The vacation had been almost pleasant. It was good to see the grandkids again, and his daughter hadn't actually thrown him out…….. Not quite…. Padding down the dock to the schooner, he found the Lion fast asleep in the mass of sailcloth piled on top of the main boom. Chuckling he tossed his bag below and stripped. Diving over the side, the Rabbit surfaced, and leisurely swam out from the ship a bit. Looking back, he frowned a little; the paintwork on the Port side was a little too new, a little too fresh. Wondering why the Lion had decided to paint the hull, he idly swam closer. The first thought was that he'd sideswiped a dock somewhere, but then his eyes caught the channel iron just below the rubrail….. and its half dozen noticeable gaps. Frowning, the Rabbit looked up at the sleeping Lion and wondered what in the Hell he'd missed? This story, Captain John Mosby, and Sergeant Major Hank Schmidt are copyright its author. Sylvia Slipsunder is copyright Todd Sutherland. James the Baron VanAnkat is copyright John Henry. Any comments, suggestions, or complaints should be addressed to hbkhm@huber.com. Flames should be addressed to the nearest drunken Kzinti, Kilrathi, or in a pinch, Klingon.