Douglas turned back to Hook. “But that really isn’t the case at all, is it, Mr. Hook? No siree. Had a friend of mine in St. Louis do a little checking on you, and what do I find out? For one thing, Phi Beta Kappa, University of Illinois, nineteen fifty-two. Then spent a couple of years teaching comparative literature in high school. Then turned to the land, worked like a sonofabitch, and now has over a thousand acres all bought and paid for, plus some three hundred head of registered Black Angus cattle. So, no, you’re not some poor dumb shitkicker, are you, Mr. Hook?”

Hook did not respond.

“’Course you’re not. And that’s why I think you’ll give some serious thought to what I’m about to say. Which is this—I’m not some dumb pushover either. And I’ve put way too much time and effort and money into a political career to just sit helplessly by now and watch you blow it all to hell. So here’s what I’ve decided I’ve got to do. Unless you lay off and go home I’m going to have to make charges to the police and the press that you’re part of a smear conspiracy against me, that somehow you’re in league with the Republicans and Sergeant Rider and whoever the hell else I can throw in the pot. Now I don’t want to do it, because of course it ain’t going to help my cause any. It certainly won’t win me any new support or votes. But it sure as hell beats sitting back waiting for your wild fancies to spread. Then it’ll be too late. To come out anywhere near clean in politics you’ve got to be the one that throws first mud. And that’s just what I plan to do—if you force me. Also, if I lose next year, I’ll have established a case against you, so I can sue your ass for every penny you own.”

Hook had lit his own cigarette, and now he dragged on it, thinking. “That’s clear enough,” he said.

Douglas was not smiling anymore, not playing his game of irony. “I figured it would be. Now, you still want to go along with us?”

Hook met his gaze, and shrugged. “I don’t see why not. As I said earlier—I believe what Parnelli told me. I believe you weren’t involved. So we have no quarrel.”

Douglas’s darkly tanned face went pale with anger. “So be it,” he said. “Let’s cast off, then.”

For the next hour Hook was made to play the role of the leper. After piling the few dishes in the sink, Liz announced that she was going to nap on the way out to the islands and promptly went into the bow cabin and closed the hatch behind her. Parnelli, after checking over the scuba tanks and gear, climbed up into the cockpit and joined Douglas, who was piloting the craft. But when Hook tried to follow, Douglas told him to stay below, that there were only two seats in the cockpit and that the sea was too rough for him to stand up. So he slid the hatch closed and climbed back down, thinking he would stay out on the deck and enjoy the sea and air, but there proved to be too much of both, a cold steady spray that sent him retreating into the main cabin, where he stretched out in one of the bunks. Despite the yacht’s considerable size, Hook found the going rough, and he wondered if he would become seasick.