yours.”
“I still don’t see where we’re gong,” Parker said.
Cathman looked out at the river, apparently to gather his thoughts. The river was wide here, and moved briskly. It was a hundred miles from here to the harbor and the sea.
Cathman said, “Gambling fever has struck the politicians, I’m afraid. They see it as a safe form of taxation, a way to collect money from the people without causing discontent or taxpayer revolt. The lottery does it, and OTB does it, and casino gambling can do it. Three resort areas in New York State have been designated by the state legislature for legalized gambling. This area is not one of them.”
“Then they’re lucky,” Parker said.
“Yes, they are, but they don’t know it. Foxwood in particular has driven them wild. It’s so close, and it’s so profitable. So a new bill has worked its way through the legislature, and will be signed before the end of the month, which adds a fourth gambling district in New York State.” He gestured outward: “The river.”
“A casino boat?”
“Yes. There are any number of them around America, and they tend to be migratory, as laws change, state by state. The boat which will be used on the Hudson, between Poughkeepsie and Albany, which is at this moment steaming up the Atlantic coast toward its new assignment, was until recently called the Spirit of Biloxi.But there are so many casinos in the Biloxi area now, the competition is so fierce, that the owners of the boat had no problem with the idea of changing its name to the Spirit of the Hudson.”
“Loyalty,” suggested Parker.
“They have nailed their colors to a weathervane,” Cathman agreed. “At this point,” he went on, “because there is a strong anti-gambling faction in the legislature or, that is, several anti-gambling factions, some religious, some practical, some spiteful approval has been given only for a four-month trial period. And, since they have learned from OTB and elsewhere that people will, if given the chance, spend far beyond their income when the gambling bug strikes, for this four-month trial period only, no credit will be allowed.”
Parker frowned. “They can’t do it. It doesn’t work that way.”
“Nevertheless, that is the compromise that has been struck. If the four-month trial is considered a success, and the boat continues to be the Spirit of the Hudson,then credit wagering will be permitted. But during the trial period, no. No credit cards, no checks, no letters of credit.”
“Cash,” Parker said.
Cathman nodded. “A boat swimming in cash,” he said. “Through my access to various government departments, I can obtain virtually any information you could possibly need. Blueprints of the boat, details of security, employee backgrounds, locations of safes, schedules, security arrangements at the two ports where the ship will touch land, being Albany and Poughkeepsie, the turnaround points. The details of any robbery that might take place on the boat, of course, are your concern.”
“And what do you want for this?”
Cathman shrugged inside his expensive topcoat. “I’m a little tired,” he said. “I would like to live in a state with less severe winters, pick and choose my clients with more freedom. If you proceed, and if you are successful, I would like ten percent.”
“You’re gambling,” Parker told him.
Cathman’s smile was wan. “I hope not,” he said. “If I am dealing with professionals, and I know myself to be professional in my own line of work, is that gambling? I don’t think so. You’ll have no reason to begrudge me my ten percent.”
“You’re the inside man,” Parker pointed out. “The law will be looking for the inside man.”
Now Cathman laughed outright. “Me? Mr. Parker, no one in New York State government would suspect me of so much as taking paper clips home from the office. My reputation is so clear, and for so long, that no one would think of me as the inside man for a second. And there would be dozens of others who might have been the ones who helped with inside information.”
Parker nodded. He thought about it. On the river, a black barge full of scrap metal was pushed slowly upstream by a tug, the water foaming white across its blunt prow. Parker said, “When does this boat get here?”
5
Claire said, “What are you going to do?”
“Find out some things,” Parker told her. “Talk to some people who might maybe like to come along. Take my time. It’s at least three weeks before the boat opens for business.”
“There’s something you don’t like about it,” Claire said.
Parker got to his feet and started to pace. They were on the screened porch on the lake side of the house, the chitter of a light spring rain filling the silences around their words. The lake surface was pebbled, with little irruptions where the breeze gusted. Usually the lake was quiet, glassy, reflecting the sky; now it was more like the river he’d been looking at yesterday.
“I don’t like boats,” he said, pacing, looking out at the lake. “To begin with. I don’t like anything where there’s one entrance, one exit. I don’t like a cell. A boat on the water is a cell, you can’t just get up and go away.”
“But the money,” she said.
“Cash.” He nodded. “Cash is the hardest to find and the easiest to deal with. Anything else, you have to sell it, it’s two transactions, not one. So the idea of the cash is good. But it’s still cash on a boat. And besides that, there’s Cathman.”
“What about him?”
“What does he want? Why is he doing this? There’s something off-key there.”
“Male menopause.”
