Even for this time of year. Wind's been whipping through Long Beach since noon, and the farther this creaking water taxi takes us out to sea, the worse it's getting. The waves are high and white-capped. If my partner Danny gets as seasick as he says, then it's a damn good thing he didn't come along. Gentleman next to me lost his hat a mile from shore. Says maybe that's a sign he shouldn't be playing the tables tonight—not if Lady Luck ain't on his side. Let's hope she's on mine. The ship's there up ahead. Doesn't look like much: just an old merchant ship some moonshiner anchored off shore and converted into a floating casino. Been almost a year since this one showed up. There were others back then, and there's loads more now. More gambling here than there is in Monte Carlo, they say. Boat's rocking hard tonight, and creaking and groaning over the music and voices coming from the upper decks. There are others around, boats like this, some bigger, some smaller, but the Miss Fortune is where I'll find Alice Durham.
