Coincidence - Alan May [21]
Phillip noted that keys were in both instrument panels in the pilothouse. There was a separate instrument panel for each engine, one on each side of the wheel. Hot-wiring the engines would be a snap. The pilothouse door lock could be pried open with a screwdriver. The outside cabin walls were white fiberglass and the signage on the transom was a script vinyl—easy to remove. Everything was checking out just fine. Could it really be this easy, or was he overlooking something?
Phillip stepped from the yacht to the dock.
“So how far are you taking her on this trip?”
“We’re heading up to near Managua in Nicaragua for a few days. It’s our favorite spot. Have to be back in the States on September first, so we’ll be gone for just a little under two weeks. Wish it were twice that!”
“Have a safe trip,” Phillip said as he shook hands with the man. “And thanks again. Maybe I’ll be sailing a rig just like her soon.”
Phillip walked down the harbor road, entered a little hole-in-the-wall bar, and ordered a Red Cap. Taking a table by the window, he took out a piece of paper and made a few notes. They’d have to strip the boat’s name off the transom and apply a new one. He liked the name Coincidence and visualized it in block letters twelve inches high. There was no practical way to change the color of the topsides, but he had figured out a way he could change the color of the cabin from white to blue. The vinyl used for signs comes in rolls about twenty feet six long. He estimated that given the cabin profile and windows, he would need eight rolls of vinyl twenty-eight inches wide for the job. He decided to put a twelve-inch blue stripe at the top of the topsides right next to the deck line.
He gazed out the window at the line of motor yachts broadside to the dock as he considered what else he would need. Two spray bottles for water to soak the backing paper off the vinyl. A slotted screwdriver for breaking the locks. Electrical tape to hold the hotwired connection together. A handheld Global Positioning System for backup, plus extra batteries.
Phillip’s plan was to sail due south at 180 degrees for three hundred and sixty miles, then make a left turn on a heading of 90 degrees for four hundred and thirty miles. That would take them to the cove near Buenaventura. To conserve fuel, they would travel at just over eight knots at 1900 rpm, using about ten gallons per hour. He scribbled some figures on his paper. The trip to Buenaventura would use a thousand gallons, leaving them with twenty-five hundred gallons for the trip to Easter Island. At the same speed, the remaining fuel would take them approximately two thousand miles.
Damn, he thought. It’s twenty-two hundred miles from Buenaventura to Easter Island and, building in a reasonable safety margin, they would need an additional five hundred gallons of fuel.
There was no way he would make the trip in that boat if they didn’t have full tanks before they left for Easter Island. Damn! Why hadn’t he thought all this out sooner? He was going to have to call Juan, and Juan was not going to be pleased.
Looking up from his calculations, he watched the American and his family preparing the Two Wise for departure. They slipped the bow and spring lines and loosened the stern line a little. The bow thrusters took the bow away from the dock and the boat pivoted on a large fender close to the stern. The stern line was hauled in and the boat quietly pulled away.
As Phillip had expected, Juan was not at all happy about the fuel problem. His voice on the phone was ominously quiet.
“Man, I trusted you with taking care of the boat. How many times do I have to say it? Details, details! Details are what make or break a run. You gotta plan for everything, you gotta have no surprises. You never, never, leave something like this to the last minute. If this plan goes to hell because you screwed up …”
Juan didn’t finish his sentence before slamming down the phone. He didn’t have to.
The plan was now vulnerable, and none