Part One
Kirk woke as the sunlight shining through the small porthole near his bunk swept accross his face. It was already warm and humid and Kirk knew it was going to be a scorching day. He pulled on his cut-offs and climbed up from his cabin to the deck of his catamaran, surveying the lines, rigging and wind powered generator with a practiced eye. Finding that all was well, he went to the side, dropped the ladder, and executed a passable swan dive into the Caribbean.
As the cool, clean water cleared the cobwebs from his head, Kirk began to swim slow easy stokes around the hulls of his boat, checking the fiberglass and metal fittings. The 32 foot gleaming white boat had been a dream since his adolesence. Starting to sail when he was just 10 years old, he was an accomplished sailor by the time he started college. He knew that one day he would have his own cruising boat, but he had never thought that it would come to him so young. At 28, he was single and independent. He had started working for a fledgling computer company part-time while in college studying computer science. Once he graduated, he started working full time, helping to develop communications software. It was a great job, working with a creative group of people in San Diego, but it wasn't perfect. The company was lean. There were a few bounced paychecks and nonexistent raises and the landlord would show up each month to make sure she was paid first. The owner and president kept his principle team together, making up for the shoestring payroll by making each employee a part-owner. They released their software just as the Internet was becoming 'the next big thing'. It was an instant sucess. Before long, they moved into nicer offices and started to work on new products and not long after that, the men in suites started to show up with offers from the major software companies. They remained independent until their second product hit the market with a bang and then, in a whirlwind of negotiations and meetings, the company was sold in a cash deal. Kirk's share, including accumulated profits from sales of software, came to almost four million dollars.
Kirk was given a contract to stay with the new organization at a much higher salary and for the next year he worked for the new management team. The spark was gone, however, and he knew it. The new management was interested in getting products to market fast and cheap and Kirk's designs were executed by cadres of programmers in Asia and beamed by satellite each day for Kirk to check. Realizing that with even moderate interest, his windfall would give him almost $300,000 a year in income, after setting aside a sizable amount for retirement investments, he quit at the end of his contract. It was an amiable parting and he had a casual consulting contract that provided a stipend each month. All in all, not bad for six years work, he thought as he swam back to the ladder.
Kirk climbed up the ladder to the cats' deck and let the morning sun start to dry him. He made a note to replace the line to the Zodiac that he towed and used as a runabout and then started to get the Zodiac ready for his short trip to the pier of the hotel that he was anchored off. After checking the outboard motor and fuel tank, Kirk pulled a T-shirt on and grabbed his knapsack.
The motor started on the first try and Kirk pushed away from the hull of his boar and got behind the controls of the 10 foot rigid inflatable. All it took was one hard twist on the throttle and then a slow coast onto the beach. The hotel's beach staff grabbed the line and helped Kirk pull the Zodiac onto the beach. Kirk went up the stairs to small outdoor cafe and ordered his standard breakfast of a croissant, rich black coffee served French style in a large cup, and freshly cut slices of mango. He grabbed the english-language daily paper, which was published mostly for the tourist-trade, but from time-to-time did feature interesting stories and gave him an idea about how the markets were doing in the States, and started reading. He had a cellular phone and computer, but phone service was spotty and expensive on the island.
"Excuse me, sir, but is that your boat?" The question was asked in heavily accented english, the speaker obviously French.
Kirk turned around to see a young woman, about 23, with short blond hair and skin tanned the color of honey. Her eyes, bright blue, were squinting against the glare of sunlight off the sea. Her face was thin, but pleasant, with a small mouth and a straight nose which was peeling from a slight burn. Kirk saw that she was looking at the beached Zodiac.
"Yes, it is," he said. "Can I help you?"
"Can I rent it? I would like to dive near the island for only an hour or so. The other places won't rent a boat for less than a day and I can't afford that."
Kirk was suspicious. He had a tourist visa and was not supposed to engage in any business activity, especially activity that would take money away from the French charter boat business. He had done some casual charter trips in the four months he had been on the island, mostly for American tourists who wanted a sunset cruise around the island or a day trip to some of the nearby islands. He charged less than the going rates and after he figured in the cost of food, drink, fuel and maintenance, he barely made money. It was more a way to spend some time with some fellow Americans on this French administered island, and to sail the boat he was so proud of.
"Well," he responded, "I can't charter it, but I am up for some diving. How about I take you out and we can share expenses."
She thought about it for a moment and then said "Oui, but there is my sister too. Is the boat too small for three and our gear?" Her pernounciation of "oui" as "way" told him she was Parisian.