Hoagie smiled. "But surely that's impossible. Never this far south! Surely you'd report it to the police."

"It's reported," Mike said dully, "to Government House."

"Which is chartering Neptune's Folly? To see that it doesn't gobble some tourist up for lunch?"

Mike nodded. "You got it."

Hoagie rose and joined him at the railing. "I take it you haven't bothered to tell Ellen that you're mucking about with a shark?"

"No," Mike said bitterly. "Should I?"

"No!" Hoagie was vehement. "The last thing she ought to know is that there's another shark on earth!" He ground out the cigarette on the sole of his shoe and threw it off the porch.

Mike didn't see the point. "What's our shark got to do with somebody trying to kill her this morning?"

Hoagie looked out at the water. "Not her, of course. Me. You're chartered by the government? Well, Calypso's a charter business too."

"So somebody tried to shoot you down for running charters?"

"That's right. We're quite competitive: Sunshine Flights, Out-Island Airways, Turquoise Tours, Calypso's Friendly Charters. It's only that someone wants it less competitive, that's all."

It was hard to believe. "Isn't that a little heavy, just to deregulate the local airlines?"

"That's what I thought up to now," said Hoagie. "I reckoned the Kingston Street thing was simply bluff. Obviously I was wrong."

"A little," murmured Mike.

"But I mustn't panic our trade, must I? Right off, we'll have these attacks stopped—"

"How?"

"Surely not by calling the police. On Whiskey Cay they're bought and paid for. No, we suspect one charter company, and my boss may buy them off." Hoagie shrugged. "You handle your shark, I'll handle mine."

Drumming his fingers on the railing, Mike looked out at Neptune's Folly. He wondered if Hoagie was leveling. Murder? For an airline shuttle?

"So," continued the Englishman, "shall we keep our bloody mouths shut, tit for tat?"

Mike looked him in the eye. "Not dope?"

"Michael, I warned you about that!" He repeated, "Tit for tat?"

"You don't deal in drugs?" Mike smiled. "Just blackmail?"

"Right," Hoagie grinned, then stuck out his hand. Reluctantly Mike shook it. He wasn't sure that he believed him.

"There's one thing, Hoagie.... Keep clear of my mother."

Romeo's Cadillac drew up to the porch, and Hoagie glanced at his watch. "Got to get to the airstrip to meet my mechanic. Mike?"

"Yes?"

"I do have to get the plane out, you know." Hoagie's eyes were full of pain. "But afterward, you're right. I shan't be back again."

Mike sat down in a porch chair, brooding over his drink. How he'd tell his mother what he'd done, he was sure he didn't know.

***

Ellen Brody considered the pancake in her daughter-in-law's frying pan. She could flip it, as she used to at Sunday breakfast for Sean and Mike, or she could take the conservative, safe route and use a spatula.