the Spanish police or mount some kind of undercover operation of our own.' He paused and glanced around. 'What do you think, Kate?'
Kate cleared her throat and tried to struggle out of the sea of resentment in which she had suddenly found herself. But when she answered him it still came out bitter and sarcastic.
'Me? What do I think?' A hollow laugh tumbled out of her mouth. 'What? I tell you, so you can tell me later? Is that the kind of what-do-I-think you mean, sir?'
Bowen frowned and said, 'Something bothering you, Kate?'
Even when she was being offensive he didn't pick up on it. Kate shook her head, pitying him as she would have pitied a dog left in a car on a hot day.
Only Bowen managed to misinterpret that too. He said, 'Good. Because, you know, March is just around the corner. There's no time to lose here.'
Kate wondered exactly how Kent Bowen had got to be an ASAC in the first place and considering the possibility that there existed within the Bureau some kind of affirmative action policy on behalf of dumb deputy sheriffs from Kansas. Quietly, she said, 'I've got some ideas.'
'Well, I want to hear them.'
She led him through to the sitting room next door, waved him toward a big horseshoe-shaped sofa and went over to the mini-bar.
'Want something to drink?'
'Just a Diet Coke.'
Kate came back with two regulars on ice and put them down on a table that was a sheet of round glass atop a Corinthian capital. It wasn't just the Pier Top that looked tacky; it was the furniture as well. But this was true of nearly everywhere in Florida. You just had to look in the copy of Luxury Florida Homes Kent Bowen had with him to know that.
'Mind if I smoke?' she said. She picked up a pack of Doral and lit one without waiting for an answer.
'Go right ahead,' said Bowen and winced in response to her first inhalation.
Still holding her cigarette she pushed her dark hair clear of her face and marshalled her thoughts. She said, 'OK, this is my idea.'
Bowen nodded and said, 'You made your point, Agent Furey.'
'I did?'
'It slipped my mind that you were the one who predicted Rocky would use the yacht transport. I apologize.'
Kate shrugged. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all. 'Forget it,' she said. 'It's not important. What's important is that we nail the perps. Here, and in Europe, right?'
Bowen looked doubtful. He said, 'Can't say I give much of a shit what happens in Europe. But please don't tell any of those liaison officer friends of yours I said so. It would be bad for diplomatic relations.'
'I wouldn't dream of telling any of them anything I wasn't supposed to,' she said, aware of how earnest she sounded, but wondering if Bowen still harbored any suspicions about a relationship with the Dutchman. She took another life-threatening drag on her Doral and added, 'Nevertheless, the Assistant Director has recently gone on record to say that he believes helping the Europeans win their war on drugs may be one way of helping us to win ours.'
This was news to Bowen. 'He did, huh?'
'It was in the FBI Foreign Intelligence Coverage folder last month.'
Bowen smiled, dismissively. 'Oh, that.'
'And in response, there was a Miami SAC memo. Presley Willard wrote to the Director just a couple of weeks ago, assuring him that Miami General Investigations would do everything it could to support this initiative.'
Bowen, who had no knowledge of this memo, closed his eyes briefly and said, 'I remember that.' He swallowed some of his Coke and began to crunch on a piece of ice as if it were peanut brittle. It was her turn to wince now.
'I take your point, Kate.'
'Then as I see it, we need to keep the narcotics under surveillance for the duration of the voyage. It's no good just waving goodbye to the yacht transport when they exit Port Everglades.' Kate pointed out the window. 'That boat should never leave our sight. Which means we have to book a boat of our own aboard the same transport. Crewed by two FBI agents, in radio contact with a US Navy submarine and, when we cross the Atlantic, the British and the French navies too. While we're aboard the transport it will give us a chance to get a closer look at Rocky's boat, which, so far, we've been unable to do. Moreover, we can keep a close eye on things just in case they try to unload the dope while they're still at sea. Maybe even transfer it to another boat on the same transport, just to put us off the scent.'
Bowen, who hadn't thought of that, swallowed the icy shards and pulled a face.
'This idea of yours. It sounds expensive. Number one, where are you going to get a suitable boat? And number two, who's going to pay the costs of transportation? You heard how much it costs. Ninety thousand dollars. I can't see the SAC authorizing that level of expenditure.'
Kate smiled and said, 'As a matter of fact, I've found a boat. Or rather Sam Brockman's found me one. Seems like the Coast Guard boarded an abandoned boat off Key West the other day and found it full of dope. Eventually, of course, it will go into government auction, but right now it's moored in Miami and available for a covert operation. The Coast Guard were planning something themselves, only it fell through and now they're offering it to us. It's ideal for our purposes, sir. Eighty-four feet long, twenty-two knot cruising, and all state-of-the-art facilities. I'm talking about a really luxurious yacht, here. As for the money, well I've an idea where we can get that too.'
Bowen said, 'You're going to suggest that latest tranche of Gulf Stream money, aren't you?'
Operation Gulf Stream had been another undercover Miami Bureau op in the early 1990s, mounted against one of the biggest money-laundering machines in Florida. A Miami gold and jewelry business run by one of the larger Colombian cartels had laundered millions of dollars through the Bank of Credit and Commerce International, shut down by the Bank of England in 1991. Weeks before BCCI's collapse, the jewelry business had withdrawn large sums of cash and placed them in safety deposit boxes throughout the state. Even now, several years afterward, boxes full of cash were being discovered by Bowen's own department -- the latest, just a few days ago in a Liberty City bank, containing 200,000 British pounds sterling.
Kate shrugged and said, 'Why not? It's not as if it's even been entered in the report yet.'
'It'll have to be accounted for.'
Kate said, 'Sure. Eventually.'
'What's a British pound worth these days?'
'About a dollar fifty.' Kate pursed her lips and looked thoughtful. '$100,000 worth of that versus the European street value of a 1,000 keys of coke? I'd say that was money well spent.'
'And I suppose you're going to tell me that you're the best person to handle this little operation?'
'Sure. Why not?'
'Well for one thing, you've never worked undercover before.'
'I was a pretty good actress in high school.'
'I don't doubt it.'
Kate said, 'Undercover's just about being a good liar. How difficult can that be? Men do it all the time.'
'And for another, you're a woman.'
'Is that an objection, or merely an informed guess, sir?'
'Now don't go bristling like a hairbrush, Kate. It's just my impression that it's mostly men who crew and captain these motor yachts.'
Kate took a long drag of her cigarette with eyes narrowed against the smoke and the sexual prejudice. Since when did the captain of a boat have to be a man? Women had sailed solo around the world. There had been female pirates. These days there were even a couple of female admirals in the US Navy. Kent Bowen, on the other hand, didn't look like he could have captained a chair around his own desk.
'As a matter of fact,' she said acidly. 'It so happens that one of the other vessels booked onto the SYT transport this March is captained and crewed entirely by women.'
Bowen grinned. 'What are they, Amazons, or something?'
'Boat's owned by Jade Films.'
