Crash Course

by Derek Fee

  “Men!” Amanda said. “If only women were left to run the world, we might all be better off. And will you forever stop calling that young man Kane? His name is Mark and you’d better get used to it.”

  At that precise moment, Kane entered the office and dripped water on the floor.

  “David,” Amanda said sharply. “I presume that there was a very good reason for not providing Mark with the proper equipment.” She turned to face Kane. “You look like a drowned rat. For God’s sake get those clothes off and put them on the radiator in the corner.”

  Kane peeled off his sweater and undershirt to reveal a perfectly formed torso replete with rippling muscles. Amanda allowed her gaze to rest on him. However, when he began to remove his jeans, she considered that a strategic retreat might be in order.

  Kane stood in his boxer shorts and draped his sodden clothes on the radiator Amanda had indicated. The clothes hissed as they touched the heated metal.

  “Tom, why don’t you and,” David hesitated a second, “er, Mark,” he continued, “stay here. It’ll take a while for those clothes to dry out. I need to discuss some matters with the mechanics.”

  “Don’t you think that you’re layin’ it on a bit thick, lad?” Bell said as soon as David was out of earshot.

  “You asked for a bastard and you’re getting a bastard,” Kane said, moving behind the desk.

  “I thought that poor bugger would have a heart attack when you told that joke.” Bell smiled at the thought. “You’re a right shit-stirrer.”

  “Everybody knows that the army hates the ‘hats’. He tried to wind me up and got a little of what he was dishing out.”

  “I’ve bloody done it now, lad,” Bell said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Created a bloody monster. I don’t need David being carted off to the local infirmary with a heart attack before he makes a powerboat driver of you. Ease up on ‘bastard’ stuff. Man’s already got a bee in his bonnet because you’re on the team and what we don’t need is to balls up the whole plan with you two going on at each other.”

  “I didn’t realise that you were looking for a kind of Jekyll and Hyde performance.” Kane turned his clothes and the steam rose out of them. It would take some time before they were completely dry and he’d had enough of David for one day. “You set the game afoot but it’s up to me now to decide how I play it from here. I’m like an actor that can never get out of his part. I’ll only be myself with Watson and when I’m asleep. For the rest of the time I’ve got to be the character Davenport has created for me. Because if I’m not, I’ll be seen through and your little quest will be at an end. I don’t want to end up like your French detective.”

  Bell nodded.

  Kane removed his jeans from the radiator. They were still wet but at least the water in them was now warm. It would take hours for them to dry.

  “Point taken, lad.” Bell stowed his overalls and boots in the locker. “Point taken. Poor old David.”

  “Wow, I like it.”

  Kane turned his head at the sound of the female voice. Amanda and a woman who was a younger version of her stood at the door. The younger woman was staring very obviously at the bulge in the front of his shorts.

  “Very impressive, don’t you think, mother,” the younger version asked Amanda who simply smiled. “I didn’t know you were holding auditions for the Chippendales here today. But I’m certainly glad I came.”

  “Morweena lass, you look lovelier every time I see you.” Bell strode across the small office and shook the young woman’s hand. He nodded in Kane’s direction. “This is my nephew, Mark Kane. Mark meet Morweena, David’s daughter.”

  Kane removed his jeans from the radiator and pulled them on with difficulty. They could have done with another twenty minutes or so.

  “So, this is the famous Mark Kane.” Morweena cast an appraising glance over Kane. “Well, at least he looks the part. I like the deeply tanned, muscled body and his hard, gaunt face. And those eyes could tell a story.” She stared at his chest. “Nice tats, who are Joe and Amie?”

  Kane looked down at the two names tattooed over his heart. “My parents,” he lied. “I’m always happy to put on a show for an appreciative audience.” He returned the young woman’s stare. Nobody would ever mistake Amanda and Morweena for anything other than mother and daughter. Morweena wore her blonde hair as short as her mother’s and she had the same oval-shaped face and Nordic cheekbones. He let his gaze fall to her body. She was tall and statuesque with curves in all the right places and a warm smile that would melt ice. He looked at her left hand and saw that there was no tell-tale golden band. This was something that he hadn’t counted on. He was instantly attracted to her and that could become a problem if he let it. These days he took his women where and when he could but was always careful to ensure that business didn’t mix with pleasure. “Morweena, is that Mo for short?”

  “No,” she replied. “It’s Morweena for short as well. And before you ask your next stupid question it’s the name of an ancient Cornish queen.” She turned towards Tom. “I don’t suppose Dad is anywhere about?”

  “He’s down in the shed. He’ll be back in a few minutes,” Tom answered.

  “I take it you and Mark have been indulging in water sports this morning,” Morweena said.

  “Aye, you could say that,” Tom said smiling. “David’s tried to give Mark a run around the bay in a speedboat.”

  “And how did he do?” Morweena dropped her bag on the floor. She went to her father’s desk, sat down in his chair, and nonchalantly crossed her long legs.

  “He,” Kane laid a sarcastic emphasis on the word, “is sitting in the room with the two of you. And he doesn’t like the stupid practice of speaking about the servants while they’re present.”

  Morweena raised her eyebrows.

  “I think that your father was impressed enough,” Tom said quickly. “Although I don’t think the silly bugger will ever admit it.”

  Morweena shook her short blonde locks. “I presume our new driver knows the value of keeping your cool when driving a two-thousand-horsepower speedboat. If he does, he certainly isn’t displaying it here. But what he did display seemed pretty alright to me.” She smiled her dazzling smile.

  “That’s enough I think, Morweena,” Amanda said sharply.

  “Darling, great to see you.” David pushed his way into the crowded office and hugged his daughter. “I see you’ve already met our new driver?”

  “Yes, I’ve had that somewhat dubious pleasure,” Morweena said.

  “I can see that we’ll all be one big happy family.” Amanda smiled broadly.

  Tom laughed out loud.

  “I’m impressed with your man Watson.” David turned to face Tom. “Very impressed in fact. He seems to know a considerable amount about marine engines. We’ll need him later in the week when we’re fitting the drives. Any idea when we can expect delivery?”

  “I checked with the factory yesterday,” Tom answered. “They’re being dispatched today so you should have them tomorrow at the latest.”

  “That’s splendid.” David clapped his hands. “With a little luck we’ll have the engines and drives installed in three days and we’ll be ready to put the boat in the water for testing.”

  “What about the throttleman?” Tom asked. “There’s still one slot on the team to fill.”

  “Yes.” David looked distinctly ill at ease.

  “You haven’t told him, have you, Daddy?” Morweena said looking into her father’s face.

  “Not exactly.” David’s cheeks were beginning to redden. “Tom,” he said drawing in a deep breath. “It appears that we are both guilty of putting our own men on the team. My daughter has prevailed on me to nominate her as our throttleman. In effect, our team is complete.”

  Bell raised his eyebrows and smiled. “That’s wonderful.”

  “However,” David continued. “I hasten to add that in her case her inclusion in the team is justified by the fact that she
took part in all last season’s Class Two offshore races and her performance was of the highest level. It was assumed by all and sundry that she would receive an offer from a Class One team and move up a grade. She received an offer from me. She’s in the team on merit not because of her last name.”

  “And you don’t find that hypocritical?” Kane said.

  “I’ll ignore that remark.” David’s red colour deepened.

  “To hell with that.” Kane stuck his chin forward. “I’ll manage the driving and the throttle.”

  “You don’t seem to understand, Kane,” David said. “A powerboat normally has a crew of two. The driver steers the boat and takes care of the navigation. The throttleman, as the name implies, mans the throttle and provides the trim for the boat. Perhaps until you’re a little more familiar with the sport, you would prefer to keep your mouth shut and your ears open. That way Tom and I might be able to recoup the investment we’ve made in the venture. And I can assure you that after your first outing, you’ll agree that enormous though your powers of concentration undoubtedly are, there is no human being alive who can control both the boat and the throttle. That’s why when you take your place behind the wheel, Morweena will be across from you manning the throttle. I think that we’re all agreed that we need at least one person in the boat who knows what they’re doing.”

  “That’s telling him, Pops,” Morweena said from her chair.

  “I’m getting a bit fed up with your attitude problem.” Kane stood up. “And I’ll solve it for you if you’re not careful.”

  David stood his ground.

  “I’ve had about as much of this rubbish as I can take.” Amanda moved between the two men. “This is day one of a long trip that we all have to make together. If we’re to succeed then we’ll have to work hard for each other. Now, if you two children are quite finished, I think we should get on with the task at hand. It’s apparent that Mark will drive the boat while Morweena will be throttleman, or woman. Let’s all forget our bruised egos for a second and remember what’s at stake here.”

  “Well said, Amanda,” Tom said. “I know nothing about racing powerboats but I’ve been on the planet long enough to know that it’s a team sport. So let’s start building some team spirit.”

  “I think that men are very sexy when they’re angry.” Morweena burst out laughing and Amanda and Tom joined her.

  Kane wanted to join the rest of the company but that wouldn’t fit with his ‘bastard’ image. He finished dressing and scowled before leaving the room.

  “Mark appears to have quite a temper,” Morweena observed staring at the retreating back. “And a hell of an ass.”

  Chapter Ten

  Kane was halfway across the yard before Tom caught up with him.

  “Hold up there a minute.” Tom caught him by the shoulder. “I’m bloody bushed out by all this aggravation. You’ve managed pretty well to piss off both David and Morweena.”

  “You paid for it now you’re getting it.” Kane turned to face him. “The bastard always meets aggression with aggression. David’s game was to take me down today. If I’d been any less of a bastard than I’m supposed to be, I wouldn’t be on the team right now no matter how much insisting you did. I’ve had dealings with men like him before. If you allowed him to, he’d walk all over you. He put his daughter on the team.”

  “I don’t think you can question her inclusion. She’s already an experienced throttleman. She also has an enviable resumé in the marine world and she’s crewed on the British America’s Cup yacht. She’s been in boats since she was old enough to walk.”

  “She’s also a distraction. I would have preferred another guy or a less attractive female.”

  “I sensed the sexual tension. Will it affect our plan?”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “Don’t overplay the bastard game with David and Morweena. We don’t want David to work himself up into a state where you and he won’t be able to get along. Because then you’ll be out of the team whether I like it or not. That would ruin the whole reason I brought you here. So you’d better tone it down because believe me, Mark, nothing will get in the way of me finding the bastard who killed my daughter.”

  Chapter Eleven

  David Penhalion flicked on the desk lamp and held the sheaf of papers directly below the beam of yellow light. He sat alone in his elegantly furnished office. The appointed hour for dinner had come and gone and he remained sitting in the half-light as though riveted to the captain’s chair which was his great-great-grandfather’s contribution to the furniture. He looked again at the masses of figures which had been produced by his accountant. The Penhalions had always hated accountants. Boatbuilding in their tradition was all skill and craftsmanship while accountancy was the manipulation of numbers to produce a profit or loss picture. “Bloody bean counters,” he muttered under his breath as he tossed the pages aside. Thirty pages of detailed figures but only one salient point. His company was doomed. A business that had straddled two hundred years and six generations would end with him. He turned slowly and let his eyes move along the portraits which lined the office wall. Six stern-faced, bearded Stakhanovites stared back at him. Each ex-owner of the boatyard glared accusingly at him, the unasked question hanging on their lips. Why did you ruin what we had built? He had no answer to offer them. How had it happened? While he had been trying to uphold their proud traditions, the market had imperceptibly passed him by. The Japanese and the Koreans were snapping up the high end of the market and had left them high and dry. It was a new world and David was not made for it. He was a microcosm of the malaise which had affected the whole British shipbuilding industry. The two yachts currently being completed at the yard would probably be the last to bear the name of Penhalion as fabricator. The order book was empty and he would soon have to close the yard doors and dismiss the few remaining staff. He ran his hand through his thick curly grey hair before picking up the photograph which sat on the desk before him. The owner of the almost defunct business stared at the black-and-white image. It had been taken twenty-five years previously. The picture showed a smiling young officer wearing the dark blue uniform of a lieutenant commander in the Royal Navy, his beautiful young wife by his side. He’d had the distinction of being the youngest ever lieutenant commander. Everybody, including the top brass, had predicted that he was going straight to the top. That was until the day his father called and asked him to take over the company’s reins. There had been no decision. The family tradition had to be upheld even at the cost of a potentially glittering naval career. It was a sliding doors moment. What might have happened if he had refused the poisoned chalice? Maybe he would have gone on to become an Admiral of the Fleet as so many of his superiors had predicted. He could feel the glares from his venerable ancestors beating down on him. The powerboat venture was his last-ditch hope of saving the business but when he considered what they faced he knew it wouldn’t work. It would be the last nail in his coffin.

  He was aware that over the horizon the vultures were gathering waiting to descend on whatever flesh was left on his company. Over the past few months, he’d received a steady stream of them passing through his yard, ostensibly to look at his wares; their real objective was assessing how long he could keep afloat and how much the pickings would be worth. In the vanguard was Dinos Karakatis, a Greek merchant prince and one of his future rivals on the powerboat circuit. Karakatis had for many years coveted a big-name boatyard to build his range of powerboats and he’d heard from his merchant banking friends that the Greek was already scavenging on the outskirts of his company. He was damned if he would let his business fall into the hands of vultures and pirates.

  He suddenly felt a pair of eyes on him and looked up quickly to see his wife standing in the doorway.

  “How long have you been there?”

  “Long enough.” She moved into the room. “Feeling sorry for ourselves, are we?”

  “I’m going over these bloody figures.” He picked up the accounts be
fore tossing them back onto his desk. “According to the bean counters, we’re in even worse shape than we thought we were.” He nodded at the row of portraits on the office wall. “Trust me to ruin everything that those poor bastards built up through the years. I’m a bloody failure.”

  “Don’t talk such rot.” She moved to his side and held his leonine head to her breast. “Men are such idiots. You’ve got the body of an ox but an ego as fragile as the newest-born baby.” She motioned to the pictures on the wall. “They’re all dead so they’re quite beyond giving a damn. As to you being a failure, you can put that right out of your head. You’ve succeeded brilliantly at what really counts. Morweena and I both adore the ground you walk on, you silly fool.”

  “I should have stayed in the navy. I would have been an admiral by now. And I’d be able to sleep at night.”

  “David, darling,” Amanda said patiently. “We’ve been through this a thousand times and more. You weren’t going any further and we both know it. There’s no place at the top of the tree for men with the courage to voice their own opinion. You were a first-class naval officer but you were somewhat lacking in the diplomacy area. That was fatal for your career.”

  He looked up into her still beautiful face. “But you were such a perfect naval wife.”

  “Rubbish, I hated every second of it. My heart jumped for joy when you told me you would take over the boatyard and I’ve loved every moment that we’ve been here.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “We’ve been over this ground more times than I can count and you still need my affirmation that you made the right decision.”

  “And how do you feel now that I’ve almost ruined us?”

  “If the worst comes to the worst, and it won’t, then we can always sell up and buy a small cottage somewhere. There’s still some equity in the yard?”

  “And now for the bad news.” He rose and held her in his arms. “The offers will only cover our liabilities. I’m afraid that everything we have is sunk in Kernow. So it won’t be a little cottage that we’ll be retiring to but the local workhouse.”