Free Off the Chart by James W. Hall

away.”
    â€œGuy in Buenos Aires,” said Sal. “With the new refinery. Or the Texan.”
    â€œYou want to make the call, Anne? Negotiate the numbers?”
    â€œThat’s Marty’s job.”
    â€œAll right,” he said. “I’ll tell Marty, have him look around, see who’s thirsty. We’ll have to off-load at sea.”
    â€œStill, it should be easier to get rid of than that damn flaxseed oil.”
    He paged through the printouts a moment more, then smiled at her.
    â€œOkay,” he said. “That’s the one. Excellent choice, Anne. The Rainmaker. Now, you know how it’s done. If something ever happens to me.”
    Daniel smiled, but there was a shadow lurking in the depths of hisblue eyes as if he’d sensed already what no one else had, the gleaming missile on its downward arc.
    â€œOh, come on,” Anne said. “This is safer than waitressing. Restaurant work, there’s a truly perilous career. Never know what dangerous characters you’re going to run across.”
    Sal Gardino stood up, nodded his approval, and left.
    â€œOne more year,” Daniel said when Sal was gone. “Six months if we’re lucky. Then we call it a day.”
    â€œYou’re worried about something?”
    â€œNot worried, no. It’s just that my perspective on risk and danger has changed lately. Having someone I care about.”
    â€œIf you’re really worried, we could stop now.”
    â€œDo you want that, Anne?”
    â€œWhat do you want?”
    He looked at her for a moment, then turned back to the stack of papers.
    â€œSix more months, we’ll never have to dirty our hands again.”
    â€œAnd then?”
    â€œAnd then we can retire to this lovely spot.”
    â€œLive in the jungle.”
    â€œBuild your dream house, a tropical bungalow, whatever you want. It’s perfect here. Wild parrots, fantastic fishing. Like the Keys, only more pristine. Not to mention excellent tax advantages.”
    â€œLive here and do what?”
    â€œYou know what.”
    â€œI want to hear you say it.”
    â€œAll right,” Daniel said. “Raise our children in the Garden of Eden, start over, get it right.”
    â€œKeep them isolated? No cartoons, no computer games.”
    â€œWe’d be great parents,” he said.
    â€œWhat makes you think that?”
    â€œBecause we love each other.”
    â€œThat’s all it takes?”
    â€œIt’s a damn good start,” he said.

    For the next ten days, they followed the ship’s progress on the laptop.
    After taking on 840,000 barrels of North Slope crude, the Rainmaker departed from Berth 5 of the Alyeska Marine Terminal across the bay from Valdez, Alaska, on a blustery afternoon. All eleven of the Rainmaker ’s tanks were full and she rode low and slow in the heavy seas of the northern Pacific. The ship was owned by TransOcean Shipping Lines, an American corporation based in San Francisco, although for tax purposes the Rainmaker was registered in Panama and flew the Panamanian flag of convenience. For the first few hundred miles the ship was battered by gales. She took eight days to steam down the coast of California and around the Baja Peninsula and across the eastern Pacific to the Panama Canal. For their purposes, the canal was an ideal choke point, funneling a huge percentage of the hemisphere’s traffic through a narrow band of sea.
    When the tanker passed through the Miraflores Lock on the Pacific side at four-thirty in the afternoon, the ship’s image was captured by a Web camera and a few seconds later the image was broadcast on the Internet Web site operated by the Panama Canal Authority. The Web camera was updated every few seconds and showed the constant stream of ships through the first Pacific lock. Sal monitored the Web site to double-check the data coming from the FROM system.
    â€œHeaded our way,” Sal said. “Right on