"For many years."

"I'm going to need to see your dive card."

I looked out at the johnboat and the submarine nearby as I wondered just how uncooperative these people intended to be.

"You've got to have that with you if you're going in," he said. "I thought you would have known that."

"And I thought the military did not run this shipyard."

"I know the rules here. It doesn't matter who runs it."

He stared at me.

"I see." I stared back. "And I suppose I'm going to need a permit if I want to park my car on this pier so I don't have to carry my gear half a mile."

"You do need a permit to park on the pier."

"Well, I don't have one of those. I don't have my PADI advanced and rescue dive cards or my dive log. I don't have my licenses to practice medicine in Virginia, Maryland or Florida."

I spoke very smoothly and quietly, and because he could not rattle me, he became more determined. He blinked several times, and I could feel his hate.

"This is the last time I'm going to ask you to allow me to do my job," I went on. "We have an unnatural death here that is in my jurisdiction. If you would rather not cooperate, I will be happy to call the state police, the U.S. Marshal, FBI. Your choice. I can probably get somebody here in twenty minutes. I've got my portable phone right here in my pocket." I patted it.

"You want to dive-he shrugged-then go right ahead. But you'll have to sign a waiver relieving the shipyard of any responsibility, should something unfortunate happen. And I seriously doubt there are any forms like that here."

"I see. Now I need to sign something you don't have."

"That's correct."

"Fine," I said. "Then I'll just draft a waiver for you."

"A lawyer would have to do that, and it's a holiday."

"I am a lawyer and I work on holidays."

His jaw muscles knotted, and I knew he wasn't going to bother with any forms now that it was possible to have one.