Crash Course by Derek Fee (pdf to ebook reader .txt) 📕

go under and I was wondering whether you might work for me when you get laid off.”

Thompson finished his beer and set the empty glass in front of Karakatis. “I haven’t heard that Penhalion’s is going under.”

Karakatis signalled for another round. “Don’t be stupid. Penhalion has already let more than fifty men go. It’s only a matter of time before the place closes completely. Then you’ll be out on the street with the rest of them. It’s time you looked out for yourself.”

“And how exactly would I be doin’ that, Mr Karakatis?”

“If I were to get to the World Championship, my team would need an extra mechanic and I thought that you might be interested.”

“But what if Mr Penhalion’s boat gets to the finals?”

“That’s a big what if, and even then, there’s no guarantee that the boatyard won’t go under and you with it. Sometimes it’s better to jump before you’re pushed.”

Bill Thompson sipped on his beer and peered at Karakatis over the rim of the glass. He’d heard from the other mechanics that he was a bad one but it wasn’t in Bill Thompson’s nature to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“What do you think I should do?”

“If the Penhalion boat were to have some kind of mechanical trouble during Saturday’s race, and it was to finish down the field, that might assist some other competitors.”

“You might be right there,” Thompson said placing another empty glass in front of his host.

Karakatis signalled for a refill. “And if that mechanical trouble were actually caused by someone then that someone could expect to have a job waiting for him when Penhalion goes under.”

“What I suppose you’re really askin’, Mr Karakatis,” Thompson said taking the glass from the waiter. “Is for me to like change teams. Sort of like the way football players change teams.”

“Now you’re getting the idea. You change teams but you stay working for Penhalion until he folds.”

Thompson rubbed his chin in an exaggerated fashion. “But when footballers change teams there’s usually a transfer fee. Maybe I should get a transfer fee seein’ as how I’m promisin’ to transfer.”

Karakatis smiled. “You’re reading my mind. I was thinking the same thing. Shall we say that I would be willing to pay you two thousand pounds to transfer to my team?”

Thompson frowned. “I’d rather you’d say that you’d pay me ten thousand pounds to transfer to your team. That way I could make sure the Penhalion boat has some mechanical problem in Saturday’s race.”

The greedy bastard, Karakatis thought and then smiled. It was comforting to know the kind of person one was dealing with.

“I think we could manage that.”

“Tomorrow and in cash,” Thompson said and finished his third pint of beer.

“That can be arranged.” Karakatis slid a business card across the table. “Call me at the number on the card tomorrow and we can arrange the transfer.”

Thompson took the card and dropped it into his pocket. “It’s a deal.” He stood. “I’d best be gettin’ back before they start wondering where I’s got myself to.” He turned and left the bar.

Karakatis finished his Pernod hoping that David Penhalion would join his party. He would use the occasion to put his final offer on the table. It would be the ultimate insult to the arrogant Englishman.

Chapter Thirty-One

It was nine o’clock when Kane and Morweena made their way to the head of the group being ferried by a series of motor launches from the pier at the Vieux Port towards the island of Sainte Marguerite. Morweena was wearing a light silk dress and a cool breeze blowing from the sea caused her to shiver as the launch made its way towards Constantinos Karakatis’ yacht, Athena, which was moored in the lee of the heavily wooded island with the dark imposing structure of the Fort Sainte Marguerite at its summit.

Kane reckoned that the brightly lit yacht lying in the distance was equal in size to a small freighter. There were yachts and super-yachts but Karakatis’ boat was in the super-super class. Aside from the cost of such a vessel, it would take a crew of at least twenty to keep Karakatis’ pleasure palace afloat. He didn’t recognise any of the other partygoers on the launch until he spied the figure of Lemay slumped in a seat at the rear. His eyes looked glazed and he wore three-days’ growth of beard. It was a picture of a man heading rapidly downhill. Noticing Morweena shiver, he took off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders.

“What a gentleman,” she said, snuggling into the jacket.

“No one is all bad, not even me. What’s with your old man and Karakatis?”

“Karakatis has been after Penhalion Marine for years. If we go bankrupt, he’ll be first in line at the liquidator. And he’s not shy about making it known.”

“David is up front about the business being in financial difficulties. Why doesn’t he sell it and live on the proceeds?”

“Two reasons. Firstly there won’t be any proceeds if Karakatis gets his way. Secondly, Dad would rather die than sell the business. It’s all about tradition for him.”

“That’s sad.”

“Where did you disappear to after the race in Sorrento? And don’t give me any of that crap about helping Tom with his business.”

“I don’t have to answer to anyone for my movements. I’m entitled to have a private life.”

“I don’t know how Tom talked my father into this last throw of the dice. Initially, I thought that it might be a plan to push Penhalion Marine into bankruptcy. But I checked out Tom Bell and there’s no connection between him and Karakatis. And then Tom insisted that you become the driver of the boat. No ifs or buts, it was you or he’d pull his investment. That was strange. I tried to check you out on social media. You must be one of the few people in the developed world that doesn’t have an Internet footprint. How do you explain that?”

“I hate technology.”

“Are you part of a plan to bankrupt Penhalion