Page 63 of Velvet and Valor

June reaches into her purse and withdraws a small wrapper.

“Here, try some of my ginger candy if you feel queasy. It’s a natural nausea cure.”

“Ginger candy? Is it good?” I ask.

“If you like ginger. It’s kind of like taffy. Really chewy, spicy taffy. I tuck it in my mouth and let it dissolve for a while.”

I tuck the candy in my pocket as we approach the marina. I wave at the security guard. He barely looks at us before waving back.

“Well, the disguises past muster,” I say sarcastically.

“Shut up, the mall was great,” June replies, elbowing me in the ribs.

“Ow! You’re not staying in character.”

“What is my character? Should I twirl my hair and look vacant?”

“It might help,” I say with a shrug.

June gets a look in her eyes that screams malicious compliance. Oh, man I stepped it in again.

We approach theSea Sprite,an eighty-foot portrait of elegance and sleekness. I notice the extra flanges on the sides, and the way it rides in the water.

“It’s kind of smaller than I expected,” June says.

“That’s because it’s a hydrofoil,” I say.

“A what? Wait, one of those boats with the ski things on the bottom?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “They can go fast. Damn fast. Just the thing if you’re into criminal enterprise and need to beat a hasty retreat.”

A man appears on the deck of the yacht. He’s rail-thin, just like his uncle, but has curly dark brown hair and a swarthy complexion. He spots us and a grin spreads over his face.

“Hey,” he says.

“Ahoy,” I reply, affecting a higher pitch and a flat, midwestern accent. “Is this her?”

Moorcock’s nephew grins in reply.

“This is her. Ain’t she a beauty?”

“She sure is! Permission to come aboard?”

June snorts, snapping bubble gum—where did she even get bubble gum?

“Wouldja quit, Eaton?” she says with a sigh and a roll of her eyes, affecting a jersey accent. “You’re embarrassing me with your phony nautical references. The man can tell you’ve never bought a boat before.”

Moorcock’s nephew laughs and puts out the gangplank.

“Hey, everyone gets on a boat for the first time at least once. Welcome aboard.”

We head up the gangplank, and I give her a look.

“What,” she says, snapping her gum and staying in character. “You dragged me along on this trip. You know how much I hate the idea of going on a boat.”

I glance over at Moorcrock’s nephew.

“I’m afraid that I’m not the one you have to sell on this beauty. I’m prepared to transfer the funds by the end of the business day,” I say. His eyes widen, but not with joy. With panic. So, they really don't want to sell this boat. Good to know. “You’ll be trying to sell my lovely fiancé on the idea.”