
Michael Quint, known simply as "Quint" to the locals on the island of Amity (where he had chosen to live after the second world war), had finally had enough of sharking for a living after he had almost lost his life after trying to capture a 25-foot great white the previous summer. He was a seaman, by trade, by choice...he loved boats, fishing, sailing, the sea...but he'd had enough for awhile. He would only fish now and then, when he needed to. He had come to a point in his life where he felt that he wanted more...though, he wasn't quite sure of what it was that he wanted more of. So, Quint prattled on, day in, day out, walking the streets of Amity Island aimlessly, enjoying the sites, discovering things he had never really noticed all the time he had lived here, but had been too busy to notice before, enjoying himself. He quickly found this all to be boring. He missed the excitement, the thrill, of sharking...but there wasn't anything that could make him go back to it. Not just yet, anyway! He spent alot of time at the Fishermans Grotto, a local pub where the island fishermen spent alot of time - and money - drinking, eating and telling stories of the sea. He felt he had started spending too much time there, perhaps, because it wasn't long before he began to feel that old familiar "itch" for the sea, again, that he had been trying so hard to avoid. He found himself wandering around the docks, spending alot of time with his vessel, the "Orca", sanding her deck, repainting her hull...going over the little things he had put off for years that needed to be done, but he hadnt the time to do them. One bright, sunny day, he bounded down the stairs of his piershack, his backpack flung over his shoulder, the breathe of fresh, spring air in his lungs, his intentions to simply go for a sail - no fishing, definately no sharking! - a simple day sail, was all he had intended...until he noticed a boat docked next to the Orca that didnt seem to fit in the harbor along side the regular fleet of fishing boats. His curiosity peaked, he walked over to it and called out, calling for the boats owner, before breaking an unwritten rule amongst sailors (that one must never board another vessel unless being formally invited by its captain) because he got no answer. He decided to take it upon himself to look around and try to find out who this boat belonged to. After all...it seemed so out of place, here. It looked as if his new neighbor had money...maybe it was a friend of the mayors? If that was the case, then he had something to argue back about the next time the mayor tried raising the docking fee's or changing the zoning laws! This particular boat had been christened the "Sea Pearl" and was definately a pleasure boat, more like a small yacht. He didnt see any fishing gear, but then he didnt do a thorough search, either. He just looked around. He was already breaking a sailors code, as it was. "Nice boat", he thought to himself, "...either a summer gink or a friend of the mayors!...Got to be!...Wonder what some rich boy is doing docking here, with us working stiffs rather than over on the south end?". Days went by and Quint's curiosity about the owner of the Sea Pearl's owner almost drove him mad. He never once caught site of the owner, though the boat was often gone when he awoke of a morning or came back from the Grotto. He never could catch site of who came or went around that damned boat! A vessel he never really felt comfortable calling a 'boat'...it should be described more as a 'small, privately owned luxury yacht'. But, what bothered him the most, probably, was why someone with a boat like this would dock it inbetween old, beat-up working boats, far away from the better part of the island, rather than over on the west or south ends of the island, where it would be more suited to its surroundings? After five weeks, he had decided that he'd had enough of wondering. He was becoming obsessed with it and this obsession was spilling over into his daily life...it was all he could talk about at the Grotto, it was all he could think about at night, before drifting off to sleep and he didnt like this. Not at all. He had better things to think about! But there was something that just bothered him about this boat. He knew he had never seen it before, and there was really no reason to be so interested in it. After all, if some rich kid wanted to dock on the east side, there were no laws saying he couldnt. Maybe it was just that it irked the hell out of him, assuming this rich, snot-nosed daddys boy docked over here to rub the working guys noses into his affluence? He hated it when those who had more, or had an easier time getting more, shoved it in the faces of those who rarely got a break. He decided to pay a visit to his old buddy, police chief Martin Brody. Quint walked into the small, almost 200-year-old building housing the police station, up to the desk where Brody's secretary, Polly (a woman well past her retirement age but still active and healthy, whom Brody had kept on after his appointment to office because she had been so highly recommended by the former chief both for her office skills and her special - and handy - ability to calm even the most irate citizen) sat, smiling. "Good afternoon, Mister Quint!...How nice to see you, today!", she smiled, her sweet, grandmotherly voice and her rosey, withered cheeks making him - as it did for everyone else - feel right at home. Quint smiled down at her, "Youre lookin' healthy today, miss Polly", he complimented, then leaned over the desk to speak in a lower tone, "...Must be from runnin' away from all those guys chasin' ya, eh?". He gave her his best bright, flashy smile that he was known for amongst the female population of Amity, a smile that could make even the most stoic women feel faint. Polly blushed. Most likely she had a secret crush on the captain. Most every woman on the island did. "Is the chief around anywhere?", he asked politely, noting the rise of color in her cheeks and not wanting to bring attention to it. Smiling widely and trying to hide it - out of propriety, of course - she femininely gestured toward the door of Martins office. Still smiling (amused by the power he realized he'd had with a simple smile - he was amazed how one smile from him could get a woman to do almost anything for him), he pulled at the bill of his cap in a tipping motion, then turned and walked toward the chiefs office. Martin was setting behind his desk, his nose deep in a large stack of reports that still needed to be copied and filed, but required his attention before Polly could take care of it, when Quint walked in, unannounced. (Polly must have still been trying to cool the pink from her cheeks). "Good day, chief!", Quint said, still grinning about his effect on Polly. "Quint, hey!...How's it going?", Martin asked, gleefully, glad to see his friend, but also just a little greatful for the break from all that paperwork. He extended his hand for a shake. Quint took it and shook heartily, then Martin gestured toward the chair in front of the desk and Quint sat down. "So...", Martin started, "This a social call, or is there something in particular you want to discuss?". Quint spoke slowly, softly...a bit unsure about what he was going to say, exactly, before remembering that he was inside an official building and the military had taught him it was protocol to remove ones cap in such a place, a show of respect, then immediately doing so. "Brody, there's been something thats been botherin' me for weeks", he scratched his head, then run his hand through his thinning, curly gray hair. "Well, what is it, Quint?", Martin smiled, patiently...genuinely concerned, "...Is it something serious?". Smiling, his crystal-blue eyes flashing, he lowered his gaze a moment in a tad bit of embarrassment. Martins immediate concern made him realize that maybe he was making just a bit too much out of all this. He brought his eyes back up to meet Martins gaze, "Oh, no...nothin' serious, chief...I dont think so, anyway...it's just that there's this boat...the Sea Pearl...she's been docked next to the Orca for several weeks, now and I never see anyone comin' or goin', yet, sometimes, she's gone for days at a time...that's not usual, is all I'm sayin'...". Martins face grew serious. With deeply furrowed brows, he asked, "...Do you think something illegal is going on, Quint?". Breaking the seriousness of Martins tone, Quint chuckled, "Naw, chief...nothing like that...at least, I dont think so. I was just wonderin' if, maybe, you could check into who owns this vessel...where theyre stayin', where theyre from, what theyre doin' here...that sort of thing...I'd appreciate it if you could do me this favor, chief...when you have the time, of course". Martin sat silently for a moment, contemplating...his police-trained mind working, wondering. Particularly wondering why Quint would be so interested in something that seemd so trivial - when he had come to know Quint as a man usually concerned with nothing more than apricot brandy, big sharks and keeping the mayor off his back about zoning laws. Martin quickly dismissed it all as envy. Quint wasn't really an envious man, but he had this thorn in his side about affluency and it just probably ticked him off that some well-to-do tourist had the ultimate gall to dock his nice boat next to his precious Orca. He got a kick out of Quint, but this thing about rich folks could get annoying at times. Nevertheless, Martin stood up and extended his hand once again to his friend, "...I'll get on it right away, Quint", he smiled. Quint arose from his chair to take Martins hand, "I appreciate it, Brody", smiling back at him. As he walked Quint to the door, Martin told him, "I'll let you know the minute I find anything out". Quint left the building a bit more relaxed than he had been in weeks, a smile on his lips and anticipation in his heart. He stepped down onto the sidewalk, paused a moment to replace his dingy fishing cap, then walked off in the direction of the Grotto with the taste for a nice, cold beer on his tongue. As Quint sat on his favorite stool inside the Grotto, listening to the old Otis Redding tune, "Dock of the bay", sipping his chilled, frothy beer, his thoughts were of the Sea Pearl. He couldnt, for the life of him, understand why it had bothered him so much. Why should it? It was just a boat, for christs sakes! And it wasn't bothering anything or anyone. Who ever owned it wasnt violating anyones rights or destroying property...they weren't even taking up used space. The dock next to the Orca had always been empty. This particular dock was just too deep into the cove for most boats to sail in and out of safely. But the Orca was an older boat and her bottom was built close to the surface, thankfully...it was conveniently close. His almost 50-year-old back had started to creak and show pain carrying all of his heavy fishing gear back and forth between the piershack and the Orca. An hour later, chief Brody came into the Grotto, looking for Quint. He had some news. "Heya, chief!", Quint grinned when he saw Martin, raising his glass in a toast to greet him, "What'd'ya say?...(heh!)". "Well...", Martin sighed, setting on the stool beside Quint, "...I found out who owns that boat youre so interested in and youre not going to like it". Quints smile faultered. He tipped his cap back on his head, paused, took a sip of beer - and never took his eyes off of Martin...his blue eyes sparked with curiosity. Martin gestured to the bartender and ordered a beer for himself as the curiosity in Quints eyes grew. The more curious he became, the brighter the sparkle in those crystal-blues. With raised eyebrows and a crooked grin, Quint chuckled, "...And just why do you think I wouldn't like it, chief?". Martin, ready for an explosion of anger, took in a deep breath before telling him. "...Because the Sea Pearl belongs to one miss Elena Bancroft of Boston, Massachusettes...thats why". *********************************************************************** Elena Bancroft was a lovely girl of 18 when she had first met Michael Quint some twenty years before, when her father, Edmund Bancroft III, a Boston billionaire with "old money", tried to purchase the entire island of Amity to turn it into the east coasts version of the French Riviera, a gambling mecca for the rich and famous. But that would mean displacing generations of islanders, closing down businesses, putting people out of thier homes, cutting off thier means of living and general disruption of hundreds of lives. It would also mean cutting off the lobster and other seafood trade, which Quint was a part of, that kept the entire island going, period. The islanders fought fiercly against this. With them, in thier fight, were the owners of some the most well-known, finest restraunts all along the eastern seaboard who got thier fresh seafood directly from the fishermen of Amity. But when the word hit the east coast mafia, the entire situation took a turn for the worse. They immediately got word to Edmund Bancroft that they wanted in on this deal. Now, Bancroft was a savvy businessman. He didnt really want the mafia in on this because he knew he could never get rid of them and there was the chance they would eventually cut him entirely out of the whole project, but his pride was on the line. He had no problem doing all of this, as long as he got some return out of it, just to show those damned islanders that they couldnt keep him from doing what he wanted! He could use the mafia to his advantage in this situation. He negotiated with the heads of the mafia families and the deal was made, agreeable to all those involved, suprisingly to Bancroft, though he knew they would be apt to change thier minds at any time. And, not long after, the residents of Amity began to feel the effects of that decision. Bancrofts idea was to have the mafia strongarm the citizens of Amity, to frighten them in to selling off thier homes and businesses and moving off the island...but it didnt work out that way. The people fought back. When someone was beaten, they didnt run...they stayed. When a business was burned, they rebuilt. When someone was robbed, the other islanders pitched in to help them get back on thier feet again. It didnt take long, thankfully, before the islanders got a reprieve, when the media got wind of it all...thanks to Quint. He had called up an old fishing buddy of his that had been on the USS Indianapolis with him, who was now a weekend reporter on a local TV station in his hometown of Independance, Missouri. He listened to Quints plight, then told him he'd call back within a few days. By the time he returned Quints call, however, it had all "hit the fan"...the island was already crawling with reporters, TV crews, cameras - even the usual gaggle of stray lawyers looking to get in on a potential deal. The island was suddenly over crowded. The islands plight immediately went nation-wide. The mob backed out becasue of too much unwanted attention, but not before having done some serious emotional, physical and property damage to the folks of Amity. Particularly to Quint. Quints piershack had been set on fire - while he was inside. He lost hundreds of dollars worth of gear and almost his life. And what the piershack fire didnt burn, got destroyed when the Orca was set ablaze the following evening while Quint attended a townhall meeting. Upon returning home that night, the sight of his fishing buddies putting out his blazing boat almost crushed him inside. It took him almost a year to get the Orca seaworthy again. Eventually, the islanders got together and retained an attorney to file a harrassment/endangerment lawsuit againt Edmund Bancroft III, holding him personally responsible for all they had suffered. The trial went on for three months. During this time, Quint, who had been attending the trial everyday alongside his fellow islanders, his neighbors, his friends, became suddenly and completely infatuated with the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, a girl no one knew, but had attended the trial everyday, rain or shine. He figured her to be about 18 - about twenty years his junior - tall, with dark auburn hair and the deepest emerald eyes he'd ever seen. She had a complexion reminiscent of a bowl of peaches smothered in pure cream. She was slender and ultimately feminine, extremely graceful in appearance. She always wore delicate, floral summer dresses with low-heeled shoes (as to keep her height from making her appear awkward) and this delicate strand of fresh water pearls around her slender, regal neck. The trial suddenly took a backseat in importance for Michael Quint. He began setting in the rear of the courtroom, just to watch her. And she would occasionally glance back at him and smile and, when she did, he would feel this warm, tingling chill course through him. ...And he liked that feeling! At the end of the first month of the trial of "The People of Amity Island vs. Edmund Bancroft III and associates", Quint had finally summoned the courage to ask this beautiful mystery girl her name -- Elena Woodsen. By the middle of the second month, he had summoned the courage to ask her out on a date - and she accepted. From this time, until the end of the trial, Michael and Elena dated almost every night. They just didnt want to be apart. He lost his heart to her, quickly and, on the night before the trial ended, (the people of Amity lost to a technicality...the one major witness for the prosecution was found bound and gagged, floating face-down in the cove), Quint asked Elena to be his wife. "I love you with all of my heart, Elena...", he whispered into her ear as he held her close to him, feeling her heart beat against his own, "...I want to spend the rest of my life with you...I want you to be the mother of my children...", totally lost in the feelings of love. Elena abruptly pulled away from him, startling him out of this wonderful trance-like state, "...Michael...", she spoke softly, afraid...her eyes wide and beginning to brim with tears, looking up into his beautiful, blue eyes, wisps of strawberry-blond curls blowing lightly in the breeze from the ocean. His face was so full of love and anticipation of her answer, "...I...I have something I think I should tell you before I answer you...". "What is it, my love?", he asked softly, with that wonderful knee-weakening smile, nervousness beginning to creep through his body. She swallowed hard, hesitated...then spoke, slowly, "...My name is Elena, but...Woodsen is my mothers maiden name...I use it because my legal name, my fathers name, is so unpopular, lately...my name is, actually...Bancroft...". Quint recoiled in painful horror. He jerked away from her as if she had suddenly turned into a poisonous reptile. "Bancroft?!...As in Edmund Bancroft?!!", he hissed. The fury inside of him exploded into such a rage that he was having difficulty trying to control it. His eyes were wide, flashing sparks of fire among the cool blue, his cheeks flame red, his grimace frightening. His fists were clenched tightly and his chest was heaving, his heart pounding with anger. A very stark contrast to just moments before when he was so calm and loving. "Yes, Michael...", she replied sheepishly...nervous...afraid. She was in love with him, there was no doubt. And she knew that, by telling him the truth, she ran a very high risk of losing him, but she never imagined that she could actually be afraid of him...like she was, now. But he did nothing. He kept his anger inside. He still loved her, deeply and would rather have cut his own arm off than to hurt her. Quint was not the type to hurt any woman, not even the daughter of the man who he immensly despised. So, he just turned and walked angrily away, taking his rage with him. She wanted to run after him, to explain that she never meant to trick him or lie to him, but she had wanted him so badly and she knew that if she had told him the truth in the beginning, she wouldnt have stood a chance. She thought that, if she could just get him to know her first, to see if he could like her just for herself and nothing else, then maybe it wouldnt matter. She horribly underestimated his hatred for her father. She decided to wait awhile, to give him time to calm down and to think about it. Perhaps he would feel differently, then. This was so disheartening for her. She had loved her father. He was kind to her and she felt love for him as a child, but, as she grew older, she knew that people didnt like him. She knew that he could be manipulative and harsh...and, sometimes, downright cruel when it came to his business practicings. But she honestly had no idea just how Edmund Bancroft really did things. Had she had known what he had done - or had allowed to be done - especially to Quint - simply for the sole purpose of getting what he wanted, she would have had absolutely nothing further to do with him. She would have despised him for it. She was sure Quint would understand that. But she was quite, sadly wrong...Michael Quint could hold a grudge longer than any normal human being could fathom. (Well, usually...). The next day, Elena set sail with her father back to Boston. The trial was over and Edmund Bancroft III wanted off the island as quickly as possible. Elena never got the chance to see Michael Quint again, to say goodbye, to explain...to apologize. She had planned to sail back in about a week or two, on her own, to try and find him, to see if he had calmed down any...to find out of she still had a chance, but her mother had fallen ill over all of this trial business and had taken to her bed. Elena tended to her mother for the next two years, thinking about Michael every waking moment and dreaming of the day when she would be able to return to Amity to try and work things out between them. But her mothers heart had been bad before the mess of the trial, the threats, the financial damage it caused and the strain of worry had been too much for her. She passed away almost two years to the day the trial had ended and, out of respect, Elena stayed on, with her father, to help him. Yet tragedy struck Elena a second time the following year, when Edmund suffered a fatal, massive coronary. Elena was trapped into staying on to run the familys business affairs. Before she knew it, three years had turned into twenty. She suddenly found herself intensley lonely...and older...but her love for Michael Quint still very much alive in her heart and soul. *********************************************************************** Quint didnt 'snap' like Brody had thought he would. Martin knew about Elena Bancroft. Quint had talked about her, in length, one evening when the two men were out on a fishing excursion on the Orca. (Now that Martin had succesfully beaten his aquaphobia - deathly fear of the water - the time he, Quint and Matt Hooper had all fought "the big one" together out there, on the water with no land in sight. Martin figured that, if he could fight a massive great white and survive, that he could survive anything...and, suddenly, his fear of drowning didnt seem all that important anymore). Martin also had the idea, from that nights discussion, that Quint still loved this woman very much. Martin just didnt have any idea just how much. Quint still loved that woman to the very depths of his soul. So much so, that he would die for her. But he would rather cut out his own heart than to tell that to another man! So, Quint said nothing. He quietly finished his beer, pushed the glass back on the bar, pulled the bill of his cap down over his eyes and crossed his arms on the bar and leaned forward, staring straight ahead. Concerned, Martin asked his friend, "You okay, Quint?". Quint just nodded and gave off a funny little smile. A long silence was held between them before Quint let out a deep sigh. With a cocked eyebrow and a half grin, he clapped Martin on the shoulder, "Brody...", his New England accent thick and, perhaps, a little louder than necessary, "...Youre a good man and an even better chief...I'm greatful to ya!". Then he gave off a funny little laugh before ordering them another round. Martin was in complete shock! By the way Quint had previously spoken with him about Elena Bancroft, he assumed that Quint would be extremely livid! But, he wasn't. "Did you find out why she's here, Brody?", Quint asked him abruptly, but in a softer, quieter tone. "No, I didnt...but I do know where she's staying...", Martin answered, "...she bought a cottage out on Oceanview road...". Carefully studying his friends face, watching for a reaction, Brody carefully continued, "...I guess she's setting up housekeeping here, on the island...". Later that night, as Quint lay in his hammock, he thought about packing up and sailing off to somewhere else to live. He first thought about sailing north, to either the Wellfleet harbour in Cape Cod Bay, or further north to Plum Island. He had been in both places and had liked them....and they were still inside this great fishing area of the Atlantic ocean. But then the thought of leaving his treasured Amity Island made him angry. Why the hell should he have to leave?! This was HIS place! He wasn't going to go anywhere. He thought of going to see her, to find out just why the hell she was here and probably demanding that she leave. But that thought froze him up. He knew, that if he looked into those emerald-green eyes of hers, he'd lose all courage and weaken. So, as he lay there, trying to conjour up a solution to put as much distance between himself and 'that damned Bancroft', Quint drifted into sleep. *********************************************************************** As she stood there, in the dark of her new bedroom, Elena Bancroft stared out of the window, out over the moonlit ocean, thinking of Michael Quint, with a love so peaceful and true in her heart, wondering if, maybe, tomorrow...she might see him if she went to the docks, to the Sea Pearl, blissfully unaware that he was thinking of her, as well...but not in the same loving way. After all, she had betrayed him. She got him to hand her his heart, knowing full well that she was the daughter of the man that he despised with almost every ounce of his being! This mans daughter comes along and steals his heart and leaves him with this huge, empty void in his soul, without the ability to love or trust another woman, ever again. Yet, in all fairness, Elena really didnt understand the depths of his love for her. After all, people do get over such things, dont they? It was difficult for her to understand such an emotion, having been raised without it, herself. She understood that he loved her enough to have asked her to marry him, but sadly, she incorrectly assumed that he would have been over her long since then. And, without the capacity to understand such a deep, strong emotion as this true, meaningful love, like Quint felt for her, there was no way she could have understood it. Her father was good to her but cold and distant and absent most of her life. Her mother had always been too busy with her social engagements and many charities to have any time for her when she was a child. She was basically raised by cold, uncaring attendants. But she felt love. She knew how to love her dolls. She knew how to love her kitten, Worthington. She knew how to love her parents, though it was rarely reciprocated. But she didnt learn that the love between a woman and a man was far different until she was much older and began reading about it in books or hearing about it from friends. So Elena could probably never fathom how deep Michael Quints love actually went for her, even if she'd had a million years to do it in. Neverthless, her heart ached for him. Her first experience with male-female love was a most discouraging experience. Her heart was heavy with love and desire for him. Therefore, she must know how he still felt for her, one way or the other. She could no longer wait. She just had to know if he was still angry with her after all these years - and if she still had even the slightest chance to regain his love. Tomorrow...yes...tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow would be the day she would go to him and confront him. *********************************************************************** Josh Brewer, Mike Hannigan and Paul Schroeder were considered "dock-rats" by all of the locals. They were three young hoodlums who dreamed of making that "one big score" someday. Mike and Paul had both spent time in prison for armed robbery on several occasions. Josh, the youngest of the three, at 17, had been in and out of juvenile detention centers most of his life for everything from snatching little old ladies' pension checks to stabbing his own father over the keys to the family station wagon. He was a lost, hopeless case...the other two, not much better. Mikes folks were islanders, which is how this motley crew came to find thier way to Amity. Back in '71, Mike spent time in Hattaway prison for robbing a liquor store with a stolen .38 revolver. This was where he met Paul Schroeder, who was doing time for a home-invasion robbery. Not long before Paul pulled that particular robbery, he had met little Josh Brewer in a pool hall, hustling pool players for thier spare change and jimmying the cigarette and soda machines in the back room when no one was looking with a wire coat hanger when he was a mere lad of 12. So, when Paul was released from prison this past january, he hooked up with Josh and they hitchhiked thier way to Falmouth, Massachusetts and, from there, caught the ferry over to Amity to meet up with Pauls old cell mate, Mike Hannigan, who had been released only five months before Paul. The three were loitering around the docks the afternoon that the Sea Pearl had sailed into port. The sight of that small yacht and the obviously rich, middle-aged woman that stepped off that boat caught Mike Hannigans eye...and it was this moment that gave Mike the idea to "rob this rich broad". She had docked alone, had no deck hands, she didnt meet anyone when she stepped onto the pier and she walked off alone. Easy pickings, no witnesses. He turned to discuss this potentially profitable idea with his two comrades. After all...a kidnap-robbery isnt something that one guy can do alone, really. And, of course, the other "dock-rats" agreed immediately. After all, Amity was boring and they were bored. Why not? Josh suggested that they follow her to see where she was going and what she was doing, to get an idea of who she knew and who knew her. To get her habits down. The boys discreetly followed and watched Elena Bancroft as she stood at the end of the pier, gazing up at the window of some old piershack a moment or two before heading up Main street, totally unaware that she was being watched or followed. They watched her as she walked down Main to the Seashell cafe to have lunch, then watched her leave and walk two blocks up to the Amity Realty office, where she stayed almost two hours. They watched her and that grouchy old Mrs. Stenton, the island realtor, get into Mrs. Stentons BMW and drive off. Mike hated Mrs. Stenton. She had always called the cops on him and his friends for loitering outside the realtor office - which was just next door to the ice cream/soda fountain - but she would always do it when she saw them loitering anywhere else on the island, too. She would walk up to them and demand to know why they weren't either working or in school, shaking her finger at them and say, "The devil finds uses for idle hands!". One day Josh commented, as she walked away, "I'll find a use for my own idle hands...when I choke the shit outta that old broad!...Then, I have the perfect defense when I go up in front of the judge...I can tell him 'the devil made me do it'!". This brought a round of roaring laughter from the group. Funny or not, Josh honestly considered killing old Mrs. Stenton, "just for the hell of it", because she was a mean, nasty old bitch who got on his nerves by singling him out on every occasion she could find. "Well...", Paul sighed, as he dropped his cigarette onto the ground and snuffed it out with the toe of his worn boot, "What're we gonna do now?". Mike shrugged, snorted, "Just wait. We'll catch up with miss rich-bitch again. We'll find out where she's living and pull a midnight bum-rush on her and take everything she's got and leave her bound and gagged before she even knows what hit her". Chain-smoking Paul lit another Pall Mall as he asked, "How long you think it'll take to find out where she lives?". Without answering immediately, Mike stood there, looking at Paul as if he were the most incredible idiot he had ever known. He leaned forward a little, into Pauls face and said, in a low, patronizing tone, "...Because this is an island, you dumbass!...Everybody knows everything about everybody else, thats why". Just then, chief Brody walked up to them. "You boys have anything productive to do today?", he asked in an authoritive tone. "No, chief...we're just hanging out", Mike shrugged, displaying his best 'cat-ate-the-canary' grin. Unimpressed, Martin shot back, "Well, then...I suggest you find something, then, because if youre still here when I come back this way, I'll find something for you to do", with an expression that made it clear to them that he meant business, Martin turned and walked off. Paul looked at the others nervously, "You two can hang around here, but I'm splitting!". Josh kicked at Paul as he walked off, "You chicken shit!", he snorted disapprovingly. But Josh and Mike followed Paul back to the docks, after all. *********************************************************************** Quint arose early the following morning, completely refreshed and well rested. The thought of Elena Bancroft briefly entered his mind, but he quickly pushed it out. He was determined that he wasn't going to let anything - especially her - ruin what looked like was going to be a gorgeous day. As Quint stepped down off of the bottom step of the stairs to his piershack, he eye'd the three boys...they were closely inspecting the Sea Pearl. His first reaction was to run them off, but then that might appear as if he cared about what happened to Elenas boat, so he said nothing. He just turned and walked down the dock, toward the pier and headed into town. He was on his way to pick up a roll of twine to repair a fishing net. It was a gorgeous day...the sun was out, the winds were still...so it looked like the perfect opportunity to catch a bounty of sturgeon. But as Quint walked past the dock-rats, not even looking at them, one of them yelled out a comment. Quint stopped and looked back at him. Lifting the bill of his cap from his eyes, Quint asked, "What was that, squirt?", with the gleeful expression of a man about to test his manhood and sure of coming out with a high score. Mike Hannigan stepped forward, presenting his best 'tough-guy' image, "You just go on about your own business, old man...we dont have no problem with you...yet...". Quint stepped toward the three. They took a cautious step back. "When youre messin' around with these here boats, my friend, vessels used to put food on these mens tables to feed thier families, youre makin' it my business...", Quint told them in a no-nonsense tone of voice, a smirk on his face and a glint of fire growing in his eyes. He moved slowly in, toward them, coming nose-to-nose with Mike as he spoke, backing Mike all the way to the edge of the pier, until he was teetering on the edge. Quint knew how close Hannigan was to the edge. He knew that one slight nudge would send this smart-assed kid right into the water. He had the upper hand in this situation, but, most likely, Hannigan thought he could get out of it because he made no attempt to escape and his cocky attitude never wavered. Placing his finger on Mikes chest, poking it as he spoke, nose-to-nose, grinning madly -almost a grimace, Quint began poking Mikes chest harder with each word..."So...I suggest you find something better to get into, squirt, or you might...just...find...yourself...inside...a sharks belly!!"....*SPLASH*!!! That one last nudge sent Mike Hannigan over the edge, into the ice cold saltwater. Quint roared with laughter as he turned and walked away, making sure to give the others a pretty mean glare - as if daring them to do anything about what had just happened - but still grinning like hell, before he headed down the pier toward town. Quint bumped into Martin in front of the Seashell cafe, next door to the TackleBox supply/bait shop, where Quint was going. "What the hell's so funny, Quint?", Martin asked him, now grinning himself. "Just ran into some pumped-up, dock-rat squirts down at the pier, chief", Quint chuckled, grinning madly. Concerned, Martin asked him, "They do anything out of order?". "Naww, chief", Quint replied, "...just dock-rats, up to thier usual mishief". Quint was grinning so widely that it looked like it must've hurt and his eyes were literally sparkling as he opened the door to enter the TackleBox. "Listen, Quint...", Martin warned, "Those three are up to no good...they have pretty bad reputations...if they do or say anything out of order, you be sure to let me know right away, alright?". "You betcha, chief!", Quint chuckled before going inside. Quint thought no more about the three dock-rats until that night, when the thought struck him...why would those three be so interested in the Sea Pearl? It couldnt have been simply because it was so unusual to have such a nice vessel docked this far inland, because there were other nice boats docked in the cove, also easily accessible by land, if burglaring was thier intention. Then he wondered of it may be Elena, specifically, that they were after? What if they had meant to do her harm? He knew her father was dead. He had read about it in the papers several years back - and had partied with some of the locals down at the Grotto celebrating it, in fact. But what if these low-life kids were hired by another victim of Edmunds to hurt her - or, God forbid, kill her - thinking she was going to practice business like her father? What if she had been running from this someone and finally ended up in Amity because it was the last place she could go? Quint tried hard to pass all of these thoughts off as an over active imagination, but he just couldn't shake it. This time, despite himself, he had the strong urge to get involved...and he didnt fight it. He walked down to the payphone to call Martin to express his concerns. Martin was suprisingly receptive. "We've been keeping our eyes on these three, Quint...", Martin sighed, "...all three of them have violent histories. I dont want you or anyone else messing around with them, you understand?...If you have anymore trouble with them, you call me right away, no matter what time of the day or night, okay?....And we'll keep a patrol around Elenas place, too, just in case...". "I can handle meself, chief...", Quint told him, in a slow, patronizing tone. "I know that, Quint", Martin sighed, "But these kids, together, could be quite dangerous. They're my responsibility and I don't think I could deal with it if they hurt someone I knew. Now, I'm giving you an official order...you are to contact me if they do ANYTHING unlawful, harassing or just plain stupid!...Do you understand?!", Martin was quite stern about it. Quint assured his friend that he would stay away from those three before wishing him a goodnight and hanging up the phone. But, as Quint walked back home, all sorts of thoughts raced through his mind. Maybe Elena had come back to take revenge on him for spurning her all those years ago and she brought them with her to help her get even. After all...he had never seen those kids before the Sea Pearl showed up. But what if she really were in danger from those guys? Should he go and protect her? He couldn't deny, in his heart of hearts, that he still loved her...that he'd never really stopped. But could he overcome his pain to let it be known that he still cared enough to protect her? He had a huge ego, despite himself. He couldnt control it. He couldnt understand it, even. It was just there...a bonafide part of his soul that he couldnt control, under any circumstances. There for him to deal with, alone, when it decided to raise its ugly head and roar. But she was still a human being and deserved the same dignity and respect that any other human being deserved. Even if she was a 'Bancroft'. He sat awake all that night, next to the window, watching out over the boats and the sea beyond the cove (doing this had always helped to clear his mind...the sea, ships, boats always had a soothing effect on him so that he could think clearer when he had a tough problem that he couldnt solve immediately). He wondered of Elena was safe, wondering why she hadnt tried to contact him. He thought of her beautiful face, her heart-wrenching smile, the way her delicate, floral perfume lingered in the air behind her when she walked away...remembering the hurt on her face and the tears in her eyes as she called after him that night he proposed then turned on her when he discovered she were a Bancroft. It wasnt her fault who her father was. Maybe she didnt really know what her father was really like, after all? Little rich girls were usually little sheltered girls. There was the possibility... When the sun began to peek over the horizon, Michael Quint decided that, today, he would tame his wicked pride so that he could confront Elena to explain to her why he reacted so badly twenty years ago. Maybe she didnt know. But he was going to tell her and find out. They definately needed to talk. *********************************************************************** The alarm clock went off precisely at 7:30am, right next to her ear. Elena hadn't fallen asleep until almost 4:30am, which meant she would have to function all day on only three hours' sleep. And, at the age of 38, she would need more than that if she didnt want it to show on her face. But there was something important that she felt she had to do, today, so she rose slowly out of bed and headed straight for the shower. She was quite taken with this little cottage the moment she and Mrs. Stenton pulled up in front of it. She didn't even have to look inside before she had made up her mind to buy it. It had plenty of space and old-world charm and the most wonderful view of the ocean she had ever seen. The two bedroom structure, used primarily as a summer home for a rich couple from California, was a world of difference from her lavish Manhattan penthouse. It was smaller and far more 'cozy' - and definately more quiet. She loved the slow pace and tranquility of this small island community...but she wondered if she would always be as happy here as she was at this very moment, without the possibility of having Michael Quint in her life? She thought that, if she couldnt have him, she could, at least, remain near him. Even if he had gotten married...as long as she could just see him, every now and then. When she turned off the water to step out of the shower, she thought she had heard a strange noise coming from the kitchen. She listened intently, but heard nothing else, so she wrapped herself in a towel and stepped out of the tub to dry off and dress before carefully applying her makeup and doing her hair. She was never one to traipse all over the house after a shower, like some of her college roommates did. She liked doing everything right there, in the bathroom. Besides, there was a lovely little built-in vanity in this nice-sized bathroom that she fell in love with the minute she laid eyes on it. In fact, this was the thing that made up her mind to buy the house, as silly as it became to seem to her. Another reason was that this house came completely furnished with the most charming antiques. Yes, she was used to having the finer things in life, but she always felt as if she were 'missing' something...a 'coziness'...a secure feeling, which this sweet, charming, quaint little cottage seemed to offer her. It took her almost two hours to dress, makeup and do her hair just right. she wanted to look her best, today. After all she hadnt seen Michael Quint - her one, true love - in almost twenty years. She had aged gracefully, but there were still little laughlines and the beginnings of crows feet that she desperately wanted to hide. He had fallen in love with a girl of 18 with smoothe, firm skin...and she tried her best to restore that look. Yet, unbeknownst to her, she wasn't going to look at all well when she actually saw Michael again. Elena, distracted by straightening her dress, making last minute adjustments to her stockings, hair, makeup and jewelry, didnt notice that she'd had 'guests'... "Well, well, well!...Look who finally decided that she was clean enough to greet her guests!!", Josh Brewer smirked with a malevolent grin as he circled her, visually inspecting her. Elena was shocked...terrified. "Who...who are you?...What do you want?", she pleaded. Mike walked up to her, as he pushed Josh aside, "Where's the goods, lady?", he demanded. Genuinely unaware of what thee intruders actually wanted and growing increasingly terrified, she asked him what he was talking about. But Mike was too irritated and impatient for question and answer time. "You know damned well what we want!...MONEY!...Jewels, stocks, bonds...ANYTHING of value and we want it all RIGHT NOW!!", Mike yelled in her face, causing her to recoil in fear. Elena flinched with each word. She pointed to her bedroom, as she noticed Paul and Josh going through her table drawers, cabinets, desk, closets...even under cushions. Mike grabbed her by the arm and drug her into the bedroom with him. After an hour, the three had collected everything of value in the house...or, so they thought. "What are you going to do with me?", she asked sheepishly...afraid. Josh, who now had acquired a large kitchen knife, jumped over the coffee table and onto the couch, next to where she was sitting. Laughing, he put the knife to her throat. "We just may keel you, lay-dee!!", Josh laughed, hysterically, trying to give his best "Blackboard jungle" impression, (he had seen that movie once too many times, Paul thought), a look of sick, twisted delight. Elena screamed and recoiled in horror and began to cry. Mike bent over the table and hit her full force in the face with the back of his hand, "SHUT UP, BITCH!!", he screamed. She raised her hands to her face and covered her mouth to stifle a cry of anguish, looking up at him wide-eyed, shivering in fear, her cheek deep red and already beginning to swell, the look of sheer terror in her eyes. Mike stepped over her, between the sofa and the table and snatched Josh's shirt as Paul watched, nervously. "Listen, you little psycho fuck!", Mike warned, "...I told you I havent made up my mind, yet, about what we're gonna do with her...so keep your mouth shut or I swear to God I'll shut it myself!", then he snatched the knife from his hand. Mike went on to explain...mainly to Josh, but glancing at Paul as he spoke, "...Theres a nice, big basement down there where we could leave her till we get off this no-where island...and theres no neighbors around here to hear her yell for help!...Listen...this broad is rich...which means she's got rich friends..friends that could see to it that us dumbass lowlifes get the electric chair if we offed her!...Now, life in prison is fine by me, but I'm not going to hell on an electric current for anybody!!". Mike was getting edgy. Suddenly, all he could think about was getting the loot and getting the hell out of there. But Josh wouldnt let up. His adrenaline was pumping too hard...he was far too hyped to let it go without a big 'bang'. "But...", Josh grinned, looking quite unstable, "...If we leave her in the basement, she could die, anyway!...She got no family or friends to come save her!...Probably, the only one who knows she's here is old bitch Stenton...and if shes already got her money from this bitch, then she dont give a damn about what happens to her!!..I say we kill her and get it over with!!...Yeah!!", he was dancing around like a happy idiot. Thats when Paul stepped in. "Josh...you really are a psycho little fuck!!", Paul said, shaking his head in disbelief, "Youre really burnt, man!". Josh jumped up and ran to Paul to attack him, but Mike grabbed him just as he cleared the coffee table. He grabbed him and swung him around, "...I'm only going to tell you this, this one, last time", Mike hissed, "...cool it!..Or they just might find its your body stinkin' up the basement!!". The grimace on his face quite intimidating. Josh calmed down considerably after that little threat. There was silence for about 15 minutes, until Josh (quickly over his sulking period) piped up again, "If shes rich enough to have that boat and these jewels, then shes gotta have more than this to steal...", as he waved his arms over the previously gathered loot laying in the middle of the livingroom floor. This made Mike think. "How much you got in the bank, lady?", Mike asked her, calmly. "I...uh...I dont...exactly know...", she stammered nervously. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU DONT KNOW?!?!", Mike snapped, screaming at the top of his lungs, making Paul...and even Josh...jump nervously. It was obvious that Mike was quite impatient, now. Nervous, himself, perhaps. "I...I'm just...just not sure...how much there is, exactly", Elena stammered. Mike reached over and grabbed her painfully by the arm and yanked her upright off of the sofa, "Well, then...", he hissed into her ear, "You just make a phone call and you find out!". "I...c-can't", she stuttered, scared to death, wincing from the pain of his grasp, "M-my phone hasnt b-been c-connected yet...". Mike released her. He just stood there, staring at her. Without saying a word, he walked over to the little table where the phone sat and picked up the reciever and listened. No dial tone. Nothing. Not even static. Mike got so angry that he jerked the phone right out of the wall and threw it across the room. "SonofaBITCH!!", he exclaimed in anger. "Now what're we gonna do, man?", Paul asked. Pacing, Mike told him, "I dont know...I gotta think..." *********************************************************************** Quint showered in the makeshift shower stall on the upper level of his piershack. Three summers ago, he had installed a small waterheater and hot water pipes because he was finally tired of showering in cold water. His aging muscles just couldnt take it like they used to when they were younger. But he still had to be quick about it...the waterheater only held about twenty gallons! Once clean, he put on his best dark gray slacks and his gray/silver cableknit pullover sweater. He decided on all gray today because he remembered a comment she had made, once, that, when he wore gray, it brought out the blue in his eyes. But he spent far more time trying to cover over his thinning hair than he did with anything else. He was shamefully vain when it came to his hair. When he had last seen her, it had been so thick and full of curls and she loved toying with constantly. And all the girls used to rave on about the coppery color - "like a brand new penny", they would say. But, now, it was much thinner and fully gray. "Well", Quint sighed, looking at himself in the mirror, forcing a grin, "...Its still curly, anyway!". But he did so want to look his best for his lady love. He knew there was a chance that they may never be able to resume what they had once had, but, finding out now, before she had a chance to leave him again, was certainly going to be better than a lifetime of not knowing. Before leaving the piershack, he made one last check of himself in the mirror before adding the last touch...a splash of his "Pacific Light" aftershave. All the women around town commented on that scent...Sheila, down at the music store, claimed it 'made her crazy' when men wore it. He hoped Elena would like it as much. Then he went out the door, a smile on his lips and anticipation in his heart. When he pulled up in front of the cottage on Oceanview road, he looked down at the piece of paper that Martin had given him with the address on it, just to make sure he had the right house. This was it. With his heart pounding and his breathing shallow and his knees weak, he opened the truck door and got out. As he closed the door of the truck, he glanced up at the cottage. He saw a lace curtain flutter. She had seen him. Or...had she...? *********************************************************************** It wasn't her who had seen Quint pull up in front of the house. It was Josh Brewer. "Hey!", Josh whispered loud enough for everyone in the house to hear, "Remember that old dude from the docks, yesterday?!". Mike nodded in agreement. "Well", Josh grinned, anticipating the excitement he so longed for, "...He's here!". "No shit?!", Paul asked, in disbelief. Mike ran to the window and looked out. Quint was on his way up the walk, now. Grinning madly, Mike said, "This is perfect!...I can get back at that old fuck for that swim he made me take yesterday!...Maybe he'll be the one stinking up the basement, huh?", he grinned back at them. Now he was the one acting psycho. Paul and Josh watched Mike closely. Mike walked over to Elena. Taking her by the arm once again, he hissed, "...You answer that door and let your date in without giving him any clue that we're here - or I'll ice the both of you right here, right now!...After all...it wont be difficult for three young, healthy guys...", he began twirling his finger around in her thick, soft, auburn hair, becoming excited by the feel of it, "...to take out a rich broad and her old boyfriend...", he grinned, then put his mouth down onto hers. She jerked her head away in disgust, angering him. He shoved her roughly toward the door just as Quint knocked. She paused to straighten her hair and dress before answering the door. There was nothing she could do about her running makeup or swollen cheek except hope that it would tip him off that something was wrong. Whomever her visitor was, she hoped he would be observant...and act appropriately! When she opened the door and saw Quint, she recognised him immediately. Those eyes and that smile were unmistakeable. She couldn't take her eyes from him. She felt the tears sting her eyes. She was so happy, so excited...so afraid...that she felt she would faint. She managed a weak "Michael...", before she collapsed to the floor with a "thud". Quint rushed inside to catch her before she fell and hurt herself... Only he got hurt, himself... Mike Hannigan slammed the butt of the pistol down atop Quints head as hard as he possibly could. *********************************************************************** "What the fuck are we gonna do now, man?!?!, Paul squealed in fear. "Shut the fuck up!!", Mike yelled back at him. "Why dont you both chill the hell out?!", Josh yelled, "We aint gonna get anywhere freaking out like this!...Lets just chill out and think, alright?!". And thats just what they did, after dragging the unconcious Quint inside and putting him into a chair, then getting Elena back over to the sofa. They all sat down and contemplated for the longest time. *********************************************************************** Meanwhile, things got slow at the police station. Martin Brody was not one to set still - a very good thing, as it turned out - so he thought he'd take a walk around town to take this opportunity to catch up on aquainting himself with the islanders. By the time he was ready for a lunchbreak, he realized something was wrong...out of place. He couldnt figure out what it was, exactly, but there was also something eerie about this feeling, as well. He ate lunch at the Seashell cafe...fried chicken, mashed potatoes, string beans, peach cobbler and iced tea. As he ate, he went over all the things that could possibly be wrong, in his mind. As he took the last bite of his mashed potatoes, anticipating that hunk of peach cobbler, it hit him...he hadn't seen those three dock-rats - or Quint - all morning. Hadnt even heard a word about them. He had remembered something Mr. Bowman, over at the post office, had asked him, earlier..."Say, chief!", Mr. Bowman smiled, "Glad to see youre on the job!...Quick work, too!". "What do you mean?", Martin asked. "Aint seen those pesky kids that've been hanging around town lately, all day!...What'd'ya do? Arrest 'em?", Mr. Bowman chuckled gleefully. Of course, Martin hadn't...but was glad to hear they were gone. But it didnt hit him right then (which worried Martin...usually he would have picked up on this, sooner) that, when kids are quiet, it means theyre into something... That feeling of something not being right intensified. Martin got a nervous lump in his gut. "Awwww...Quint probably stayed too late at the Grotto last night and is just at home, nursing a bad hangover...", Martin thought, attributing Quints recent drunken spell to the news about Elena Bancroft being here. But those dock-rats were a different story. If they're quiet and out of sight, then they were definately into something - and, most likely, it wasn't good. Martin decided to take a walk over to Quints place, first, just to check on him. But Quint wasn't home. Martin ran into Bill Toddson, a fishing buddy of Quints, who's boat, the "Sea Breeze", was docked at the pier, over on the other side of the Orca and the Sea Pearl. Bill was loading up his boat, getting ready for a fishing excursion. "Hey, Bill!", Martin shouted to get his attention as he ran up to him, "How ya doing?". "Hey, chief!", Bill greeted back, waving, "...Can't complain!...Goin' out to catch some tuna, if I can!". When Martin got to where Bill was standing, they shook hands. "What're ya doin' down here, chief?...Lookin' to go fishin'? I got room for one more!", Bill grinned. Naw, thanks...", Martin huffed, still out of breath from running to catch Bill before he could get away, "...I'm looking for Quint...you seen him today?". Bill scratched his head, a puzzled look on his face, "Yeah...and it was the strangest thing, chief". "What do you mean?", Martin asked, now puzzled himself. "The old salt skipped outta here 'bout an hour ago, all duded-up, smellin' like some fancy shipping magnate...", Bill mused. "Whats so strange about that?", Martin chuckled, "...doesnt Quint ever get dressed up?". "Well, nuthin's wrong with it, I guess", Bill grinned, "...I just didnt know he had clothes that nice cuz I never seen him that spiffy before...", his New England accent so thick that Martins New York city ears could barely understand him. Then a thought struck Martin...maybe Quint had decided to go see Elena, after all? It sure sounded like it. After all, he, himself, had never seen Quint dressed in anything other than work chino's and that Army field jacket and dirty cap since he'd met Quint over four years ago, when he first became chief of Amity and they met to deal with a shark problem. But Martin just couldn't quite shake that foreboding feeling stomping around in his gut. He decided to just drive by Elenas cottage, to check and see if everything looked alright, to just see if Quints truck was parked outside. *********************************************************************** Quint was coming to. "My GOD!", Elena cried out, "You could have killed him!!". "Shut UP!", Mike yelled at her. Quint staggered to his feet as Mike walked over to him. "Remember me, old man...?", Mike demanded. Quint looked at him as he rubbed the back of his throbbing head, feeling the bump already forming and trying to focus his blurry eyes. "I remember you", Quint grunted and sneered, "Youre that little dock-rat squirt that was messing around the pier, yesterday...". "Thats right, old dude", Mike snorted, "Now, it looks like its time for paybacks!!". More steady, now, Quint demanded, "What the hell do you mean, 'paybacks'?!". Mike pulled a switchblade knife out of his pocket, flicked it open, then touched it to Quints chin. Quint didnt move a muscle...but, by the look on his face, he was obviously not afraid of this little twerp. "We're gonna bleed your old lady dry for everything she's got, then we're gonna dump whats left in the basement!...But, first, I'm gonna have a little fun with you for making me take that little embarrassing swim in the cove, yesterday!", Mike stated coolly, a vicious grin on his face. Josh jumped up, clapping his hands, "YEEEE-HAWWWW!!...Now we're talkin' business!!". Paul just stood there and stared, wide-eyed, at the two...terrified. Yes. He was a career criminal. He was a thief. He didnt mind prison, but he didnt like it. He couldn't take part in killing anyone. He wasn't a murderer. *********************************************************************** Martin headed straight for the police station. He was going to check to see if he had any calls and grab some papers that he figured he may as well drop off... those security reports the mayor had asked for concerning that developers building proposal for the west end on his way out to Oceanview road...and to let deputy Simms know where he was headed and why...even what he suspected and why. Thats just good policework, making sure your fellow officers know your business so that they'll know where you are and what youre supposed to be doing incase something happens. He also told Joe (Simms) to call in a couple of off-duty officers and have them on stand-by, just incase he may need them, then for Joe to stay by the radio while he was out. "Just a feeling I have, Joe...", Martin said, distant, "...just a hunch". *********************************************************************** As Mike stood there, grinning at Quint, holding that blade to his chin, Quint silently observed the situation surrounding him. He glanced over at Elena...the terror in her eyes and on her face...and that huge, purple, painful looking bruise standing out from her peaches-and-cream skin, lit a fire of intensity within him...intense fear for her, intense anger...the intensity to protect her...and it suddenly brought back the intense love that he had once felt for her. Suddenly, the switchblade flew out of Mikes hand and across the room, as Quints large, rough right fist swiftly connected to Mikes face with such a force that the others in the room could actually feel. They all swore they head bone crack. Mike reeled backward a few feet before falling over a chair and slamming into a wall. Quint turned quickly to face Josh, but he and Paul were frozen, still stunned by that blow thier buddy had just been taken down with. Quint lunged at the pair and Paul ran. He was running so fast, that his feet couldn't get enough friction going to move. He crashed head-first out of the window behind him, he was so afraid! But not Josh. "QUINT!!", Elena screamed, "...Look out!!...Behind you!!...He's got a...". Quint glanced back at her a moment before returning his gaze to Josh. "This is it, old man!...For you and your bitch!!", Josh sneered, as he raised the revolver level with Quints chest.... *********************************************************************** When Martin turned left off of Shoreline road onto Oceanview, Paul Schroeder was running at top speed toward them. Martin swerved the official landrover right into his path to cut him off. But Paul had been running so fast that he didnt have time to stop. He landed right onto the hood of the landrover. Martin jumped out and grabbed him. "What're you running away from, kid?", Martin demanded. Paul was so out of breath that he couldnt answer right away, so Martin told him to just nod or shake his head as he asked questions. "You live around here?" Paul shook his head no. "You have family around here that youre visiting with?". Again, he shook his head 'no', urgently gasping for breath. "Okay, then...", Martin cut right to the chase, "...Do you know where those two buddies of yours are at and what theyre up to?". Paul looked up at Martin, wide-eyed and afraid, perspiring heavily...before pointing down the road toward Elenas cottage. "I knew it!", Martin spat, "..Theyre up to no good too!". Paul nodded his head frantically. "Yes!", he gasped in agreement. He jerked Paul by the shirt sleeve toward the passenger side of the landrover and opened the door, shoving Paul inside, "Get in...NOW!", he shouted. After he had Paul secure inside the vehicle, he brought the boys arm way up behind him to handcuff him to the trucks roll bar. Then Martin got into the other side and called in for the backup deputies. By this time, Paul had caught his breath enough to talk. "Listen, chief", Paul gasped and panted, "...I only went in on this because I needed the cash...". Highly irritated, Martin yelled at him, "Well why in the hell didnt you come to me?!...I would have found you a job somewhere!". "Chief...you dont understand...", Paul continued to gasp, but getting better, "...Things might have been okay if that old fisherman hadn't shown up...I mean, we'd have probably just robbed that lady and split...but the old dude socked Mike a good one and...well...". "And 'well' what?!", Martin yelled impatiently. "Josh...Josh Brewer is his name...". "I know what his damned name is, kid...I know all of your names!...But what about him?!...Get ON with it!!", Martin snapped. Paul swallowed hard, his eyes wide - obviously scared to death - only Martin really couldnt tell if he was afraid of being arrested...or of something - or someone - else. Paul choked then swallowed, "That Josh...he's strapped and psycho!". Martin looked confused. He'd never heard the term 'strapped' before. He thought he'd heard all the street slang there was, having been a New York City cop for ten years. "What do you mean by 'strapped'?", Martin asked. It sounded like something he needed to know about. "He's packin' a gun, alright?!", Paul told him, nervously. Oh, shit, Martin thought...this isn't good. The only thing Brody could do at this point was to pull back onto Shoreline road and park and wait for backup to arrive. Once he got the landrover poisitoned, he radioed it all in and requested a "code-two". No sirens. And for the backup patrol to meet him at his present location for briefing. *********************************************************************** Quint stood there, frozen, that .38 levelled right at his chest. He didnt take his eyes off of Josh for a second, not even to look at Elena, who was on her knee's, now, sobbing and pleading. Mike groaned from over in the corner and it distracted Josh. Just as Quint was about to pounce on Josh, Elena screamed, "Please...please dont kill him!!...I'll take you to the bank...I'll withdraw every cent I have, now matter how much it is...if you just promise not to hurt him!!". She was on her feet, now, pleading for Quints safety, her hands clasped together, pleading for his life. This suprised Quint. She still cared! His heart swelled for her...then sank again with fear. How ironic it was, he realized, that, after twenty years he had her with him, again and finding out that she still loved him, only to face the possibility of losing her now, to some basketcase. As Josh glanced back over his shoulder to call out if Mike was alright, he didnt notice that his firing aim had shifted from Quint to Elena. But Quint noticed. He was suddenly terrified. He just couldn't go through all of this just to lose her, now. Mike finally got to his feet, his face covered with blood. It appeared that Quint had broken his nose. Broken something, at least. Josh stepped backward toward Mike, "You alright, dude?". Mike nodded. Thats all he could do...he couldnt talk with a broken face. Everything was swollen and, Mike realized, Quint had knocked out two teeth and chipped a third. "I'm gonna blow your head off for that, you old BASTARD!!", Josh hissed through his teeth. He aimed the gun at Quints head just as Elena leaped over the coffee table toward Quint, hitting him and knocking him backward... ...Just as Josh fired the gun... *********************************************************************** All three available Amity patrol wagons rolled up to chief Brody not five minutes after the radio call went out. The officers got out of thier vehicles and ran to the chief. "You okay, chief?..Whats the current situation?", officer Donny Baker asked, the first one to reach the chiefs vehicle. "Get this kid into your wagon", Martin told him, hooking his thumb toward Paul as he exited the landrover. Walking toward the other officers, including Joe Simms, who had all gotten out of thier vehicles and had gathered at the back of the chiefs truck, Martin said, "Okay, now...everybody...listen up...this is how we're going to handle this situation...". They listened intently as Martin carefully laid out thier plan of attack, Donny Baker joining in as soon as Paul had been properly secured in the back seat of his patrol wagon. *********************************************************************** Elena had caught the .38 slug in her left shoulder. The pace was tense and quick, following the shooting...so quick, in fact, that it was almost a blur. Quint had caught her when she landed against him, the bullet in her that had been meant for him. Quint had blanked out from anger, shock and fear. He had screamed her name as he allowed her limp body to slide to the floor, then he lunged for Josh. It was a good thing that Josh had been distracted by Mike, who had grabbed Josh's arm when he pulled that trigger. He didnt really think Josh would actually shoot. Because if Josh hadn't been looking away from Quint, Josh would have had the time to pull that trigger again and kill Quint at close range. The gun did, however, go off a second time...when Quint kicked Josh's arm and the gun went sailing across the room. Quint then hit Josh in the mouth with about as much force as when he had hit Mike, only Quint made up for the 'tap' by continuing to pound the little guy until he heard Elena plead with him to stop before he killed him. After Quint had stood up off of Josh's battered body, looking down at this lousy, no-good-for-nothing dock-rat, his big chest heaving, sweat dripping from his brow, eyes glazed, he just stared down at Josh...watching him choke on his own blood. As Quint started toward his lady love, he caught sight of Mike out of the corner of his eye, fumbling toward the gun. He ran over and gave Mike a swift, painful kick in the ribs and sent Mike sprawling. Quint stepped over him and bent to pick up the gun. He thought of emptying it into Mike, but there wasn't anything that was going to keep him from Elena, ever again, so he flicked open the chamber and emptied out the bullets, put them into his pocket, then threw the pistol out the front door. He knelt next to Elena and cradled her gently and lovingly in his big arms, her pale cheek resting against his hard chest. She was soothed and calmed by the beating of his heart. He leaned over and kissed her forehead lightly. "I'll never walk away from you again, lady...ever again...", he promised. A smile crossed her quivering lips. "I've got to take you to get some help", he told her. But, when he tried to lift her to carry her out to his truck, she yelped with pain. He gently laid her back down, tears falling down his ruddy cheeks, kissing her face as if this were his way of apologizing. He was beside himself. He wasn't going to leave her there, but he had to get her medical attention right away. He didnt want to try and lift her, again...afraid he would hurt her, but he had no choice. He got a couple of throw pillows from the sofa and placed them carefully under her head, then he ran to her room to get a blanket to cover her with. "I'll be back as soon as I possibly can, woman", he whispered into her ear, "...I'm going to go and find a phone so I can get you some help...dont move a muscle, alright?". He spoke with such love and concern in his voice as he caressed her cheek lightly with the tips of his fingers, that she was almost glad that she got shot. If she hadn't, she may have never known this loving, gentle, caring side of him. After all, he wan't really one to show emotion often. The reward for his tender care and genuine concern was the sweet smile she managed for him. It brought the tears back to his eyes... This was a man who had experienced alot of emotional pain in his life, starting when he was a child - watching his mother be lost to the sea, then watching his father drink himself to death because of it. Then, at age 17, he had went down with the USS Indianapolis during world war two when they had been attacked by a Japanese torpedo. He fought off man-eating sharks for 5 days and nights while listening to his shipmates scream bloody murder as they were attacked and devoured by those sharks or having no choice but to watch as they hallucinated to the point of drowning themselves or, so thirsty they drank the saltwater anyway, which caused severe cramping and they drowned. So, he'd had his share of emotional trauma and, as a result, had learned to try to close himself off from emotion, entirely. He just prayed that this would be the last of his share of pain...at least, for a long while, anyway. Then Quint ran outside, down the steps and halfway down the walk, not even seeing all of the police until he heard Martins voice yelling at them, "Dont shoot!...Its Quint!!". Martin ran up to him and pulled him quickly over behind Quints truck where he had positioned himself. He demanded to know how he was and what the situation was inside. "Elena...", Quint panted, "...Shes been shot...we need an ambulance...quick!!". *********************************************************************** Quint sat at Elenas bedside, talking to her about all that went wrong those twenty years ago. They apologized to each other. They laughed at thier foolishness. They talked about her father, even though Quint felt this wasn't the time to tell her about having his piershack or his boat burned. He would tell her that, later and she would be shocked and angry - and hurt. They spoke of all they had done while they were apart those twenty years...both had remained single, always hoping that this day - the day they would be together, again - would come. They talked for several hours and it was a good talk. Everything that needed to be said was said. "I guess it takes almost getting killed to make us realize how much we feel for one another", Elena laughed. Quint smiled as he reached over to take her small, delicate, alabastar hand into his latge, rough, tanned hand. He kissed it lightly before covering it with his other hand, soothing it, patting it. He smiled at her with tender love in his cool blue, twinkling eyes then kissed her hand again. His expression suddenly grew darker, more serious. "Elena...", he spoke softly, "...I know, at times, I can appear cold...harsh...maybe, sometimes...even downright mean, perhaps...but my heart is tender...". He started to choke up a little. It just wasn't 'him' to express emotion. It was easier to fight sharks than to open his crusty old heart. He'd much rather cut off a limb. But he had to tell her how he felt. He had to. He continued, "...But, since I first saw you, I've loved you. I've felt nothing else and, now, I know I dont want to...I can't...live without you anymore...", the tears he had been fighting so hard now spilled out over his cheeks and he just didnt care. "I guess what I'm trying to ask you...", he tried to say, but Elena stopped him by placing her fingers against his lips. She knew how difficult this was for him, so why should he basically torture himself to tell her things that she already knew, anyway? With a smile, she finished for him. "Yes, Michael", she smiled lovingly, "...I'll marry you. It would be an honor and a priveledge to be your wife...". He leaned forward and took her gently into his arms and kissed her sweetly. *********************************************************************** Paul Schroeder had originally recieved ten years as an accessory to commit armed robbery, but that was reduced for his cooperation to only three with time served. Mike Hannigan spent three weeks in protective custody in the hospital with a nose that had been broken in three places, three broken teeth, the front of his skull had several fractures - he needed a plastic plate and four metal pins to put it back together and two cracked ribs, before he was senteneced to twenty years for using a dangerous weapon during the commission of a crime, plus armed robbery, assault, felony kidnap and extortion. Josh Brewer got the worst of it. He recieved 25 to life without the possibility of parole for the same charges Mike got plus attempted murder, felony battery and intent to commit bodily injury. (The intent charge is always difficult to prove and his public defender said that it was self defense, that he watched Quint beat the bloody snot out of Mike and was afraid for his life, but Paul ratted out on him and, when the jury heard about Joshs psychotic episodes, they had no problem adding the intent charge). He was tried as an adult because of the severity of the crime...and taking into consideration his previous crimes. Michael Quint and Elena Bancroft found themselves in court, once again...right back to where they had started, only this time, as witnessess instead of onlookers. The only island newspaper, "The Lighthouse", covered the story. The news of Elena and Quints attack sent shockwaves over the entire island...and even beyond. After all, this was the largest crime to hit Amity island since Thaddeus Rockford shot and killed Warren J. Hastings in an argument over a woman back in the summer of 1883. Crimes just didnt happen here. And Quint was hailed as a hero. Although he didnt like all the attention this brought him, he was greatful to have Elena at his side. The entire island, it was guessed - there were so many, turned out for he and Elenas wedding. She was simply stunning in a long, flowing, white silk gown, laced with tiny pearls and sequins and the finest, most delicate English lace. Quint, too, was absolutely breath taking (for the women, mainly!) in a custom-fit, navy blue tuxedo and white silk shirt. His moustache was trimmed, his hair combed back and trimmed - his smile hot and his eyes bright. Many, many of the island women felt saddened, thier hopes dashed on this day, but swooned at the mere sight of him on this day when he looked so dashing and handsome! It was a short, but romantic wedding. Quint and Elena said thier vows to each other as they gazed deeply into each others' eyes as they stood on the bridge of the Orca this fine, warm, sunny day, october the 18th - the "sweetest day of the year", according to the calendar. The party afterward was so huge, that it had to be moved from the town reception hall to the beach! That night, Elena Quint stood on the bridge of the Orca, once again, next to her husband, as they sailed out over the moonlit waters of the Atlantic ocean, on thier way to a long awaited honeymoon paradise. *********************************************************************** Six years after thier happy ending, Michael Quint sailed home after a long, hot day on the water with a deck full of iced down sturgeon. As he docked and anchored the Orca, a handsome young boy came running down the pier, yelling, "Daddy!!...Daddy!!...Come see what I made in my kinny-garden class for you today!!", his lovely, stawberry-blond curls blowing around his head in the breeze, his beautiful blue, sparkling eyes alive with excitement, waving a picture that somewhat resembled a shark. Quint grabbed his son and lifted him high before hugging him tightly and marvelling to little Michael Martin Quint about his artistic talents. Quint looked up and saw his beautiful Elena standing at the edge of the pier, smiling at the two of them, watching her husband and her son with a love unmatched by anything in Quints existance except by his own love for her...her feminine, floral summer dress wisping around her long, lovely, alabastar legs, her long, beautiful auburn hair blowing around in the wind... He was certainly glad to be home, even if it did take twenty years to get there. *******************************THE END******************************* PS-- Thanks so much to "JawsKat" for keeping this copy safe for me!! Without her, so many of my stories would be lost in a forgotten abyss... S. Post