by Lisa Doan
“Seriously, Captain. Are you actually trying to deny those guys are mobsters?” Gunter asked.
“Forget it. We’ve seen too much. We’re on to you,” Charlie said. “I found a note that said ‘take Manthi with you.’ Manthi is an anagram for hit man. And it was signed by ‘the boss,’ as in crime boss.”
“Yeah, Cap,” Gunter said. “We have the evidence.”
The captain stared at them as if they were speaking in Cucuchara. “You found a note, which was conveniently an anagram? And then suddenly I’m on the run from the mob?”
“Exactly,” Charlie said. As he said it, he paused. Hearing it out loud, it didn’t sound like a mountain of evidence.
“They aren’t mobsters,” the captain said. “They’re lawyers.”
Charlie snorted. “They’re not lawyers.”
“Not just any lawyers,” the captain said. “Disney lawyers.”
Charlie and Gunter glanced at each other. “Lawyers?” Gunter said.
“Mr. Flynn and his partner Mr. Manthi, or, as you like to call them, Mr. Hit Men, Esquires,” the captain said. “They’ve got some beef about my cruises. I say, balderdash! I was meticulous in changing the details. Everywhere you look, it’s not exactly the same—Cinderalla, Mickey Mouser with an r, Snowed White, one Dalmatian.”
“Lawyers?” Charlie cried.
The captain nodded. Cankelton whispered, “Disney lawyers.”
That was not possible. Had he and Gunter spent the last few days on the run from lawyers? They had even signed an agreement! They had been working together to save their lives because they were about to get rubbed out.
Charlie paused. It had been the note that had really convinced him that those guys were from the mob. Though, when he had considered what the note might mean, one of the options had been that it meant nothing. It was a red herring.
He’d fallen for a red herring. Charlie felt his face flush as red as it had been the time he’d run out to the car after dark in his underwear to get his homework out of the back seat and set off the Henderson’s new crazy security system. When a siren went off and lights illuminated him on the driveway, he had stood there weakly waving to everybody in the neighborhood who had come out to look.
“Are you kidding me?” Charlie said. “You’re on the run from lawyers? Why not go on the run from the Dalai Lama? Maybe we could worry that we were about to be killed by Santa Claus or the Pope? Who goes on the run from lawyers? My own mom is a lawyer.”
The captain paced the cabin. “You don’t understand, son. They’re Disney lawyers! They’re the Leviathans of the legal field. They’re Supermen, without the Kryptonite problem. They’re Yodas, only taller. They’re Captain Marvels without the shazam. They’re Spidermen, weaving a web of motions and petitions. They are ruthless purveyors of ceases and desists.”
“Really?” Gunter said. “We figured the mob was going to put you in cement shoes. Are Disney lawyers that kind of ruthless?”
“Worse!” the captain said. “If somebody put me in cement shoes and I found myself sinking like a stone to Poseidon’s lair, I might still have a chance. A friendly dolphin might come along and nose me to a buoy. A whale shark might give me a ride. A mermaid might decide I was handsome. All long shots, but they could happen. Nobody has any shot with a Disney lawyer! Their papers are deadlier than a great white, they’ll sting you like a box jelly, they’ll sink their teeth into you like a moray eel, and they’ll roll you like a saltwater croc.”
Charlie folded his arms. Lawyers. They had been on the run from lawyers. It was ridiculous, no matter what the captain said about moray eels and saltwater crocs.
“They’ve been trying to serve me papers for a month,” the captain said. He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. It’s all up with me now. The renowned Captain Ignatius Wisner is about to go down with his ship. Long may he rest.”
The captain looked defeated. It occurred to Charlie that the whole Disney-like gambit wasn’t just to rip off cheap tourists like his dad, but was an act of desperation from a very desperate sea captain.
“Well,” Gunter said, “at least we’re not in any danger of dying.”
“Don’t count on it,” the captain muttered.
“Wait. What did you say? What do you mean, don’t count on it?” Charlie asked.
Chapter Fourteen
“Don’t count on it means, my boy, that we left the TC so fast that we didn’t get fuel,” the captain said. “On top of that, we didn’t properly exit with immigration. How are we supposed to arrive anywhere else if, according to the passports, we’ve never left Turks and Caicos? Not that we have enough fuel to get anywhere else. And, I may have gone a little skimpy on the marine radio front—the range is not what it could be should one wish to call the Coast Guard after one has drained the fuel tanks. I’m over a barrel! I only have enough fuel to get back to the TC, but if I go there, those danged lawyers will pounce on me!”
“You’re low on fuel?” Charlie asked.
“But why didn’t you get fuel at the marina?” Gunter cried.
“That was the plan!” the captain said. “I thought I had all the time in the world and, also, I may have accidently taken a nap. Those lawyers weren’t supposed to figure out that I’d gone to Provo; it was off my usual route. Somehow, they figured it out. Then they were poking around the marinas, spotted the hullabaloo on the road with that danged pastor, and followed everybody back to the boat. Dodging Disney lawyers is hard enough, but how was I to know that I’d get Pennypackered?”
Charlie winced. Olive’s exploits were dragging down the whole family’s reputation.
“So we are floating somewhere off the Turks and Caicos with not enough fuel to get anywhere else,” Charlie said. “We’re not on the run from the mob, but we are on the run from Disney lawyers. And if we don’t get our passports stamped as exiting the TC, we’ll be on the run from immigration officials, too,” Charlie said.
“That’s about the size of it,” the captain said. “Welcome to Wisney Cruises.”
“And when you say your marine radio is not great at calling the Coast Guard, exactly how bad is it?” Gunter asked.
“Might as well be shouting into the wind.”
Cankelton rocked himself back and forth. “Get out,” he whispered.
“You don’t have any choice, then,” Charlie said. “You’ll just have to go back and face them. Anyway, it’s not our problem. Though thanks for letting us live in terror all this time, thinking we were on a hit list.”
“I can’t help your bizarre imaginations!” the captain cried. “And, I will just point out, it is more your problem than you think. Do you imagine those lawyers will let your parents off scot free? Your father knew this wasn’t a real Disney cruise. I clearly explained, on AbsolutelyWayCheapestCheapestCaribbeanVacationsCheapestImACheapskate.com, that it was Disney-like only. My whole pitch was ‘why pay through the nose when your kids won’t even notice the difference?’ As far as the lawyers will see it, everybody who bought tickets participated in the fraud. They’ll take him for all he’s got.”
Charlie froze. Gunter shrugged and said, “My dad wasn’t even here and I don’t see what anybody has on Mr. Pennypacker. He’s just cheap. Really cheap.”
“They’ll get him for being an accessory to the crime,” Charlie said softly. He knew from his mom that a lot of innocent, or nearly innocent, or hoping they were innocent, people got swept up in crimes as an accessory. If his dad got sued for all his money, their life at home would descend into madness. They’d probably sell the house and start camping in the woods. Mr. Pennypacker would teach them how to hunt and gather for dinner—pizza would be out and squirrel would be in. They’d huddle around a campfire through the long winter. They’d be wearing clothes made out of tree bark and take baths in a stream.
They would never, ever go on vacation again. The Pennypackers would spend the rest of their lives on one long holiday in the forest.
Cankelton’s sanct
uary was silent. The captain alternated between sighing and narrowing his eyes at the lava lamp.
Charlie paused. Why was he giving up so easily in the face of lawyers? He had been willing to take on the mob and now he was making plans to move to the woods without a fight.
“Okay, so we’re low on fuel and have a useless radio. If we go back to Turks and Caicos to get our passports stamped and fill up the tank, this vacation will come to a screeching halt and we’ll all end up in court,” Charlie said.
“There’s no way out of this mess,” the captain said. “Nobody outfoxes a Disney lawyer.”
“We’ll see about that,” Charlie said.
“We will?” Gunter asked.
“We will,” Charlie said. “The first thing we have to do is get back to the Turks and Caicos, get fuel, and get our passports stamped.”
“Manthi and Flynn will be there,” Gunter pointed out. “What will we do about them?”
“Right,” Charlie said. “They’ll be there looking for the Aladdin’s Dream, that’s the key. We have to make sure it’s impossible to find the Aladdin’s Dream. Look at all these pictures,” Charlie said, waving his hand around at the Sanctuary signs. If you’ve been wondering what Cankelton’s good at—”
“Many times,” the captain said.
“He’s good at lettering,” Charlie said. “It’s like he knows every font on the internet. He can repaint the name. He can put it back to the Kingfisher.”
“Ah,” the captain said, perking up, “hide in plain sight. Is that the angle?”
“Repaint the name?” Cankelton said. “How am I supposed to repaint the name when we’re in the middle of the ocean?”
The captain rubbed his chin. “Ropes,” he said. “We’ll dangle you over the side.”
“Dangle me over the side,” Cankelton cried. “What if I fall in?”
“We’ll put you in a life jacket,” Charlie said.
“I’ll throw out the sea anchors so that we’re moving along slowly. If you fall in, I’ll haul you out lickety-split,” the captain said.
“I’m coming down with bubonic plague from a rat bite,” Cankelton said. “So it’s not a great time.”
“My good man,” the captain said, “the only rat on this boat is you. You’ve been a phantom for the past ten years. Hanging over the side of the boat for an hour is the least you can do.”
“Say we get clear of the Turks and Caicos,” Charlie said. “Where were we supposed to go next?”
“The DR,” the captain said, “also known as the Dominican Republic.”
“And Manthi and Flynn might look for us there,” Charlie said.
“Dang it,” the captain said. “That’s where the whole scheme falls apart.”
“But they won’t find us!” Charlie cried. “I’m pretty sure they found us this time by checking with different immigration offices to see if a boat named Aladdin’s Dream came in. They had to have some kind of lead because, as you said, Turks and Caicos was off your usual route. They were probably checking all over the place. If I’m right, they’ll keep checking with different immigration offices to see where you go next, and it will be nowhere.”
“I get what you’re saying,” Gunter said to Charlie. “It will be as if the boat has disappeared into thin air because they’ll be looking for the wrong name.”
“They’ll never figure out what happened,” Charlie said. “I mean, they can’t be very experienced at this kind of operation. How many people could they have possibly chased across the Caribbean Sea?”
“Probably more people than you would think,” the captain said. “I’ll tell you what, kid, you get Manthi and Flynn off my back and you’ve got free trips for life. That’s what I think our chances are. I’ll repaint the name to buy some time, but it’s the kind of time that’s gonna run out pretty quick.”
Charlie’s knees buckled. He gripped the side of the sofa to stop himself from falling to the floor. Did the captain just say free vacations? Free vacations? Every year? Free?
The odds of Charlie’s dad paying for another vacation were slim to none. But free vacations? That was a concept Mr. Pennypacker could really get behind. If Charlie pulled this off, he could go on vacation every single year.
“Careful throwing around the word free near a Pennypacker,” Gunter said.
Charlie stuck his hand out to the captain. “Deal.”
* * *
The next hours were spent planning and preparing for the boat’s name change. Charlie found cans of marine paint, brushes, and rollers in the storeroom. Cankelton had crept in to try to hide them, and then crept back out again when he saw they had already been found.
At dusk, they would use a roller with a long handle to erase “Aladdin’s Dream” and “Wisney Cruises” with the same white color as the hull. At midnight, after the paint had dried, they would lower Cankelton down to paint on “Kingfisher” in dark blue. All the while, they would have to hide what they were doing from everybody else.
Late in the afternoon, the captain came over the loudspeaker. “Good afternoon, Wisney Cruisers! I’ve just had an urgent message from the National Weather Service and it seems we’ll hit a patch of rough weather after sunset. Do not be alarmed! This captain has taken his old girl through hurricanes, tsunamis, ice floes, water spouts, algae blooms, pods of killer whales, and surprise tides! All passengers are to make their way below deck after six P.M. and remain there until morning while I fight off the weather. I will be watching the sea with hawkish eagle eyes; therefore, any lights one might view from their porthole is simply me watching the sea with hawkish eagle eyes and a flashlight. Sea anchors will be out, so expect to feel a slowing down of forward motion. Enjoy the rest of your day!”
Charlie and Gunter stood on deck at a railing, having hidden all the supplies behind a bulkhead.
“Are you sure we can really pull this off?” Gunter said, staring out to sea.
“I hope so,” Charlie said. “Though a lot depends on Cankelton, and he doesn’t exactly have nerves of steel.”
“Well, we’re not in danger of being murdered, like we thought,” Gunter said. “So, I guess the agreement is null and void.”
Charlie paused. He hadn’t thought about that. He should be happy that he and Gunter Hwang could finally go their separate ways, but somehow he wasn’t.
“Technically our lives aren’t in danger anymore. But if we’re serious about outfoxing a couple of Disney lawyers, covert operations will have to continue,” Charlie said. “I could always add a rider that covers it.”
Gunter glanced at Charlie. “Yeah,” he said. “Riders are good.”
* * *
Charlie found it hard to concentrate over dinner. Gunter was with the captain on the bridge, reviewing the plan to change the boat’s name, which is exactly where Charlie should have been. He’d been on his way when his mom caught him in the corridor and insisted he take Olive in to dinner. If that weren’t aggravating enough, Olive had been making comments about the conch farm dustup and ensuing parent/child conference ever since they sat down.
“Mommy said I can’t tell people that I will fry them like a French fry ever, ever again. She said it was mean and hurtful.”
“Good,” Charlie said, pushing around his egg-and-sausage casserole.
“Now I’m gonna say ‘boiling water,’” she said, looking pleased that she had found a loophole in her most recent contract. “Anybody against me has to go in boiling water. Like spaghetti.”
“Mom didn’t mean that you should think up another way to cook people.”
“Spa-ghet-ti,” Olive said quietly.
Charlie didn’t answer, though he wondered how all this cooking of people was going to go over in first grade.
“I will be fair. I won’t put them in boiling water if they do what I say,” Olive said.
“And that’s the problem,” Charlie said, losing his patience. “The whole world is not going to do what one six-year-old says. Wait until you go to school. Who do you think will
be in charge there? You? Some witch in your imagination? Or your teacher?”
Olive stared at him, then she burst into tears.
Charlie bit his lip. He leaned over and said, “Stop crying before mom sees you.”
Olive hiccuped and sniffled. “I want it back the same,” she whispered.
“Want what the same?” Charlie asked.
“Everything!” Olive said, spraying a fine mist of spit over his eggs. “I don’t get carried anymore because I’m too heavy. I have to go to first grade and get a new teacher even though Mrs. Peach from my kindergarten loves me so much. I’m supposed to pick up my toys and it’s so boring! Holding my breath doesn’t work every single time anymore—I think they know that sometimes I’m breathing through my nose. I want everything back like it was.”
Charlie stared at his sister. He suddenly realized what all the witch stuff was really about. She had settled into being the baby of the family and wanted to hold on to all the perks. She didn’t want anything to change and she didn’t want the responsibility that came with getting older. She didn’t feel in control of anything anymore so she invented a powerful witch in her command.
“That’s not how the world works,” he said. “Things are always changing and you’ll get more responsibility every year. Look on the bright side—one of these days you’ll be old enough to buy your own toys. Then there won’t be any more American Girl mix-ups.”
Olive wiped her eyes and considered this aspect of getting older. “I do got a lot of quarters saved up.”
“Yeah,” Charlie said. “My quarters. Listen, if you want to make it in the first grade, you’ve got to stop stealing quarters and stop threatening people. Trust me, I’ve been there. You’re about to move into the big leagues.”
“Tell me how to make it in first grade,” Olive whispered, the look of desperation written all over her face.