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“And the schoolteachers will sue for damages,” Barlow said. “That’s really going to cost you a fortune, Alek.”
“Actually, no,” Pevsner said.
“No?” Castillo said. “You underestimate tort attorneys.”
“You underestimate me,” Pevsner retorted. “Of course I thought of those miserable parasites. I hired the best one I could find. Which of course cost me a small fortune.”
“Whatever it cost,” Castillo said, “it was money well spent to have the best of the parasites defending you in court.”
“What my legal counsel did, Friend Charley,” Pevsner said, “was compose the small print on the back of the tickets. When my passengers sign the back of their tickets, acknowledging receipt of same, they also acknowledge the hazards of the sea, and agree that if something unpleasant happens, a one-time payment of seven dollars and fifty cents will provide full and adequate compensation for any and all inconveniences they may have experienced.”
“You’re an evil man, Alek,” Castillo said.
“No more or less than any other cruise ship operator,” Pevsner said.
“I guess the Czarina of the Gulf will be out of service for some time,” Castillo said.
“I’ll have it cleaned up by the time your wedding guests arrive, if that’s what you mean.”
“No, it’s not. Before I heard what had happened to it, I was hoping I could charter her for twenty-four hours.”
“Why on earth would you want to do that?”
“So that I can run the C. G. Castillo Pirated Ship Recovery Training Program on her.”
“And what in hell is that?”
Castillo told him, concluding, “My plan was that cameras would be rolling as the SEALs take the ship back from Delta Force. I would then have loaded Roscoe J. Danton into my birthday present and Dick Miller would have flown him to Washington, where he would have shown the video to the President, which would have convinced ol’ Joshua Ezekiel Clendennen I’m working hard to carry out his orders.”
“Several questions, Charley,” Pevsner said. “Starting with what birthday present?”
“The Cessna Mustang Sweaty gave me for my birthday.”
“I’d momentarily—probably due to the disaster on the Czarina of the Gulf—forgotten that,” Pevsner said. “But now that it’s come up—if you don’t mind a little advice. Once you marry Svetlana, Charley, you’re going to have to get her spending under control. That’s the key to a happy marriage. That and never saying ‘yes’ or even ‘maybe’ to your wife when she asks you if you don’t agree she’s putting on a little weight where she sits.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Castillo said. “What other questions did you have?”
“How much of the ship will you require for your movie for President Clendennen?”
“Enough cabins for the Delta Force people and the SEALs. About twenty of the former, and a few more than that many SEALs. Plus the photographers and some of my people. Not much, on a ship that large.”
“And when is this going to happen?”
“As soon as possible after Delta and the SEALs get here. The SEALs are coming, bringing their boats and telephone poles, by bus from my grapefruit farm in Oaxaca Province. The Delta people will be flying in here this afternoon. They’re coming as the Fayetteville Blood Alley Ping-Pong Wizards.”
“As the what?”
“The Fayetteville Blood Alley Ping-Pong Wizards. While they’re here, they hope to challenge the Greater Sverdlovsk Table Tennis Association to a demonstration match.”
“Sorry to rain on your parade, Charley, but I don’t think those Russians know how to play Ping-Pong,” Pevsner said.
“I thought that might be the case,” Castillo said. “Roscoe J. Danton is arranging for the match to be televised on the Wolf Sports International channel.”
“You’re an evil man, Charley Castillo,” Pevsner said.
“No more or less than any other former Delta Force operator,” Castillo said. “Endeavoring to win the hearts and minds of people by whatever non-lethal means one has available.”
“What were the SEALs doing at your grapefruit farm in wherever you said?”
