Parnelli was leaning into the raft, trying to work a huge orange fish off the spear shaft. Succeeding, he stuffed the fish into a gunny sack, loaded and cocked the spear gun and held it up in a gesture of triumph before slipping back into the water. Hook watched him disappear with a feeling of icy dread; he could not comprehend such a casual risking of one’s life. To him it was like playing Russian roulette alone, without even the possible gain of a moral victory over an opponent. And he said as much now.

“All for a fish. The man’s a fool.”

“Not just a fish—a good fish,” Douglas said. “You ever eaten red snapper?”

Hook ignored the question. “I hope he’s not down there on my account.”

“That would bother you?”

“Why shouldn’t it bother him?” It was Liz, who had come out of the cabin again when Parnelli had surfaced.

“Ah yes. I was forgetting all about Mr. Hook’s finer sensibilities.” Bowing in mock contrition, Douglas headed for the cabin again. “I seem to have spilled my glass.”

After he had gone inside, Liz looked bleakly at Hook. “You shouldn’t have come. You’ve really got him all shook up.”

“Why is that?”

“You know why. He’s scared to death of you. You keep on and you’ll destroy him. I hope you know that.”

“Funny thing,” Hook said. “I was all ready to give up on him—until his dentist friend panicked. And until Ferguson and Bo had their little go at me. They were very nervous, Miss Madera.”

“And why shouldn’t they be? You could be undoing years of their work in just a few days.”

“You think that was the reason, huh?”

“I know that was the reason.”

Hook told her not to worry about Douglas’s career, that she could call him off any time she wanted. “All you have to do is tell me the truth,” he added. “Tell me what did happen that night.”

Her eyes wandered out over the water, grave, even grieving. “You’ll never let go, will you?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Beautiful! You’re just beautiful together.” Douglas was coming out of the cabin, this time with the bottle. “A truly winning couple. Electra and Agamemnon.” He made a comic face, all amazement and discovery. “Hey, I got just the idea, Liz! Why don’t we buy the gentleman off? Why don’t you take him down into the bow cabin and close the hatch and—”

“I think you’ve had about enough of that stuff,” Hook said, nodding at the bottle in his hand.

Douglas laughed again. “My God! What a guest! The man who came to breakfast!”

Liz, turning away from him, had gone over to the other side of the deck. But Hook still faced the candidate. And now he told him that he had reached some conclusions about him.

“You probably do belong in Congress,” he said. “Because I think you’re a self-serving bastard at heart. But I’ll be goddamned if I’ll worry about whether you get there.” Then he walked away from him, not giving the man time to articulate the anger that had struck his face like a fist.