Qs. He ran his finger down the page. “Here it is. ‘Quint.’ That’s all it says. No first name. But it’s the only one on the page. Must be him.” He dialed the number.
“Quint,” said a voice.
“Mr. Quint, this is Martin Brody. I’m the chief of police over in Amity. We have a problem.”
“I’ve heard.”
“The shark was around again today.”
“Anybody get et?”
“No, but one boy almost did.”
“Fish that big needs a lot of food,” said Quint.
“Have you seen the fish?”
“Nope. Looked for him a couple times, but I couldn’t spend too much time looking. My people don’t spend their money for looking. They want action.”
“How did you know how big it is?”
“I hear tell. Sort of averaged out the estimates and took off about eight feet. That’s still a piece of fish you got there.”
“I know. What I’m wondering is whether you can help us.”
“I know. I thought you might call.”
“Can you?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On how much you’re willing to spend, for one thing.”
“We’ll pay whatever the going rate is. Whatever you charge by the day. We’ll pay you by the day until we kill the thing.”
“I don’t think so,” said Quint. “I think this is a premium job.”
“What does that mean?”
“My everyday rate’s two hundred a day. But this is special. I think you’ll pay double.”
“Not a chance.”
“Good-by.”
“Wait a minute! Come on, man. Why are you holding me up?”
“You got no place else to go.”
“There are other fishermen.”
Brody heard Quint laugh — a short, derisive bark. “Sure there are,” said Quint. “You already sent one. Send another one. Send half a dozen more. Then when you come back to me again, maybe you’ll even pay triple. I got nothing to lose by waiting.”
“I’m not asking for any favors,” Brody said. “I know you’ve got a living to make. But this fish is killing people. I want to stop it. I want to save lives. I want your help. Can’t you at least treat me the way you treat regular clients?”
“You’re breaking my heart,” said Quint. “You got a fish needs killing, I’ll try to kill it for you. No guarantees, but I’ll do my best. And my best is worth four hundred dollars a day.”
Brody sighed. “I don’t know that the selectmen will give me the money.”
“You’ll find it somewhere.”
“How long do you think it’ll take to catch the fish?”
“A day, a week, a month. Who knows? We may never find him. He may go away.”
“Don’t I wish,” said Brody. He paused. “Okay,” he said finally. “I guess we don’t have any choice.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Can you start tomorrow?”
“Nope. Monday’s the earliest. I got a party tomorrow.”
“A party? What do you mean, a dinner party?”
Quint laughed again, the same piercing bark. “A charter party,” he said. “You don’t do much fishing.”
Brody blushed. “No, that’s right. Can’t you cancel them? If we’re paying all that money, it seems to me we deserve a little special service.”
“Nope. They’re regular customers. I couldn’t do that to them or I’d lose their business. You’re just a one- shot deal.”
“Suppose you run into the big fish tomorrow. Will you try to catch him?”
“That would save you a lot of money, wouldn’t it? We won’t see your fish. We’re going due east. Terrific fishing due east. You oughta try it sometime.”
“You had it all figured out, right?”
“There’s one more thing,” said Quint. “I’m gonna need a man with me. I lost my mate, and I wouldn’t feel comfortable taking on that big a fish without an extra pair of hands.”
“Lost your mate? What, overboard?”
“No, he quit. He got nerves. Happens to most people after a while in this work. They get to thinking too much.”
“But it doesn’t happen to you.”
“No. I know I’m smarter’n the fish.”
“And that’s enough, just being smarter?”
“Has been so far. I’m still alive. What about it? You got a man for me?”
“You can’t find another mate?”
“Not this quick, and not for this kind of work.”
“Who are you going to use tomorrow?”
“Some kid. But I won’t take him out after a big white.”
“I can understand that,” said Brody, beginning to doubt the wisdom of approaching Quint for help. He added casually, “I’ll be there, you know.” He was shocked by the words as soon as he said them, appalled at what he had committed himself to do.
“You? Ha!”
Brody smarted under Quint’s derision. “I can handle myself,” he said.
“Maybe. I don’t know you. But you can’t handle a big fish if you don’t know nothing about fishing. Can you swim?”
“Of course. What has that got to do with anything?”
“People fall overboard, and sometimes it takes a while to swing around and get to ’em.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
“Whatever you say. But I still need a man who knows something about fishing. Or at least about boats.”
Brody looked across his desk at Hooper. The last thing he wanted was to spend days on a boat with Hooper, especially in a situation in which Hooper would out-rank him in knowledge, if not authority. He could send Hooper alone and stay ashore himself. But that, he felt, would be capitulating, admitting finally and irrevocably his inability to face and conquer the strange enemy that was waging war on his town.
Besides, maybe — over the course of a long day on a boat — Hooper might make a slip that would reveal what he had been doing last Wednesday, the day it rained. Brody was becoming obsessed with finding out where Hooper was that day, for whenever he allowed himself to consider the various alternatives, the one on which his mind always settled was the one he most dreaded. He wanted to
He cupped his hand over the mouthpiece and said to Hooper, “Do you want to come along? He needs a mate.”
“He doesn’t even have a mate? What a half-assed operation.”
“Never mind that. Do you want to come or not?”
“Yes,” said Hooper. “I’ll probably live to regret it, but yes. I want to see that fish, and I guess this is my only chance.”
