Sweat

endlessly, and twice Jake saw her lift one cheek and casually pull at what he hoped was a wedgie.

“Jake, the senator and I have some more business to discuss. We’re going to head over to the Presidential Club on Fourteenth Street for cigars and brandy. My driver will take you and Dana home.” It wasn’t a question or a request, and Jake didn’t care. He was looking forward to falling asleep on the sofa in front of ESPN’s SportsCenter.

“That’s fine. I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

“That’s what the working world will do to you,” his father answered. His father looked at the senator and the blonde bimbo who was chewing a piece of gum with vigor. “I forgot to mention, Jake started working for me today at Winthrop Enterprises.”

“That’s great. Good for you. If you feel like getting an early start on a political career, I can always pull a few strings for you,” the senator said with a wink. “Good looking young man like yourself could go far in politics.”

“Thank you, Senator. I appreciate the offer. I’ll let you know if things don’t work out where I am,” Jake said, winking back.

Peter paid the check and the four stood and pushed in the high-back wood chairs. The restaurant was still full, families and dates stuffing their faces with the best Italian food in the city. The waiters, cooks, and busboys wouldn’t get off for hours. For at least two of the patrons, the heartburn from overeating would last well past closing.

As Peter and the senator walked out the door, a platonic couple in matching his and her suits watched through the window of the restaurant as the two men got into the politician’s car.

“Now what?” the woman asked, her red hair glowing under the recessed ceiling lights that ran along the front of the restaurant.

“For today, we let him go,” her date said before cursing under his breath.

Chapter 6

Half a world away, the good doctor’s morning routine rarely changed. He was up at dawn, downed two cups of coffee with the morning paper, and was out the door with a banana in hand forty minutes later.

It was a half-mile walk to the beach and another quarter of a mile to the small marina where he rented a boat slip for a hundred dollars a month. The walk took a little over ten minutes, no slower than driving his red Jeep convertible down the winding roads. When the weather didn’t cooperate, the doctor used the time on his boat to clean his fishing equipment and tidy up the cabin, which was immaculate most of the time anyway.

It was a brilliant summer day on Saipan and the doctor walked down the beach at a leisurely pace, eating his banana in slow bites and greeting familiar faces of expats who, like himself, couldn’t force themselves to leave the island. He could see The Sea Nurse from a point on the beach where the currents from the south headed further out to sea. The twenty-five-foot, twin-engine boat was among the largest in the marina. She was a beauty and the good doctor loved her more than he loved any woman in his life. Sure, the boat was more expensive to take care of than any woman, but it also gave him a lot less shit.

He climbed on board and checked the moorings, pulling firmly on every line. He unlocked the door to the cabin and stepped down the three stairs into the small but comfortable one-room suite. He changed into his swimsuit and grabbed his mask, snorkel, and fins off the floor before heading back into the light of the world outside. He untied the boat and started the engine with a single turn of the key.

The Sea Nurse never let him down.

It was a fifteen-minute ride to his favorite spot off the coast where he alternated days between snorkeling and spear fishing, depending on whether he wanted to catch the night’s dinner. The Cortez Reef area was one of the most beautiful on the island. Its status as a protected marine-life zone kept most of the tourist boats away. The restriction on boats in the protected area made it nearly impossible to get a permit, and the few who were lucky enough to have one tried to influence local powers to keep others from getting theirs.

The doctor spit in his mask and washed it around like fine wine in a glass. He jumped overboard and forced the water from his snorkel with one mighty blast. He checked his watch and set the bezel on his Rolex Submarine for forty minutes. He had to be at work in an hour. He held his breath and went under. ***

The two men on the stolen speedboat looked at the map again. The compass read due north and, according to their best guess, the Cortez Reef was nearby. They putted along carefully, trying to maintain an equal distance between the boat and the shore. The one thing they didn’t want to do was get lost. The driver knew boats. The navigator knew neither boats nor how to read a map. The chance of getting truly lost at sea was near zero, but running out of gas was a possibility. Their possession of the boat, and the dead body of its owner lying in the small hull, would be impossible to explain. The fewer people they had to interact with on the island, the better.

They had arrived the night before, stayed in a cheap hotel, and paid with cash. They had walked out of the hotel lobby down the street and caught a cab in front of the Hyatt. It was easier to be anonymous among the crowd at a hotel with three hundred rooms. But the major hotel chains asked for identification and that was something the men weren’t willing to flash around. Catching a cab from the busy hotel would at least provide another step of mystery for the police, should it be needed.

The good doctor swam without incident for thirty minutes. There was surprisingly little activity in the reef for a day with ideal weather conditions. He saw the usual assortment of reef inhabitants—triggerfish, clown fish, sea urchins, and crustacean representatives from every family. No octopi, no reef sharks, no moray eels. It was odd not to see the bigger fish, but every day was different, and the good doctor knew that no matter what he saw, a bad day spent on and below the water’s surface in a life-size aquarium was better than a great day on land.

The speedboat on the water above cut directly between the good doctor and The Sea Nurse. Tourists. As required, the doctor had marked his diving spot. On the surface of the water, four orange buoys bobbed on the calm sea. Not even a quiet corner of Saipan was insulated from the occasional asshole. The good doctor was willing to give twenty-to-one odds that the boat ignoring his safety was being driven by Americans or Australians—the two most offensive tourist nationalities on God’s green earth.

The doctor surfaced for air in the wake of the speedboat’s pass. He kicked his legs hard and propelled his body out of the water just enough to see the boat turn around. He waved his hands frantically in the air as the boat completed its turn and made a beeline for his position. He removed his mask and snorkel and waved them above his head, yelling at the top of his lungs. The driver of the speedboat glared ahead, pushed the accelerator forward, and gave no indication he was going to steer clear. The doctor wasn’t about to wait to see if the boat would change course. Without his snorkel or mask, he took a deep breath and dove. It was a hundred yards to The Sea Nurse, and he was going for it in one breath.

The good doctor heard the boat make one pass and then another. His lungs were on fire and his eyes burned as he headed toward the submersed white outline of the hull of The Sea Nurse. Twenty yards away, he knew he wasn’t going to make it. He stopped himself three feet below the surface and swiveled his head to the left and right. He saw nothing. He heard the muffled sound of the motor somewhere above and made a judgment decision. One more quick breath. He broke the surface of the water for the most oxygen-deprived breath of his life and gasped for air. The thud of the speeding boat against the side of the physician’s skull was the last sound the good doctor ever heard. ***

Peter Winthrop’s car pulled up to the curb and picked up his passengers. A large black man in a dark black suit got out from behind the wheel, introduced himself as Shawn, and shut the door behind his patrons as they settled in the back seat. Ten minutes later, Dana got out of the car, hit her head on the doorframe, and stumbled on her high heels.

“Cute girl,” the driver said to Jake in the back seat as they both watched Dana walk toward her apartment building’s entrance.

“You didn’t have to sit through dinner with her.”

“That bad?”

“Let’s just say that she was fine when she was chewing her food.”

The driver laughed. “Where to?”

“Twenty-Seventh Street NW. Two blocks from Nell’s Cafe.” The small restaurant was a mainstay for quick cheap meals and Jake was sure the driver knew where it was. “Have you been driving for my father long?”