Forty-oneGrand Cayman Island › Monday, December 8, 2008 › 18h10
The Coast Guard Captain stood opposite Jayson, on the rear deck of the Queen’s Ransom. Shorter by a haircut, stockier by Kevlar body armor. He appeared satisfied with whatever Jimmy was explaining. He bobbed his head and waved his free hand in the air in front of him, like a puppet, his previous scowl replaced by a relaxed expression. “Send a copy to the office,” he said, “along with prints. We’ll let them anchor for the night, but”—he raised his eyes, staring unblinkingly into Jayson’s tired eyes as if Jimmy had just told him something he needed to confirm in Jayson’s soul—“he needs to report in tomorrow before departure. I’m sure I don’t need to remind either of you what will happen if he flees—right . . . Hold on, here he
