The Pirate
“His eyes were puffed from lack of sleep, his face lined and whiskey worn. He peered through the morning sunlight looking for Youssef. He found him at a table near the window.
Youssef was freshly shaven. His eyes were clear. On the table next to his coffee was a pair of binoculars. “Good morning,” he smiled.
“Morning,” Vincent grumbled as he sat down. He blinked his eyes. “How do you do it? It had to be six o’clock before you got to bed. Yet here it is only nine thirty and you call for a meeting.”
“When the chief’s around, nobody sleeps,” Youssef said. He picked up the binoculars and gave them to the director. “See for yourself. He’s out there water-skiing already.”
Vincent peered through the binoculars adjusting the glasses until the view of the yacht was clear and sharp. He picked up the Riva as it raced across the bay. Behind it, holding on to the towlines with one hand, was Baydr; the other hand held a small boy sitting on his shoulders.
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