The Wabbit and Jenny set sail with sealed order papers. The Lepus squeezed through the narrow strait between the Irish mainland and Dalkey Island. It wasn't very deep, but the Lepus was built to a CalMac spec and required as little as 3.2 metres of draught. The Wabbit waved to Dalkey Island and turned to Jenny. "What about orders?" Jenny rocked back in her pirate boots, then forward. "Not until we be in international waters, Commander." The Wabbit thought this was curious and murmured, "All very hush hush then?" Jenny patted him on the shoulder. "Sorry about your vacation." The Lepus cut through the water like a double-edged sword. "I never really get one, so I'm not that fussed," said the Wabbit. Clouds billowed in a blue sky and the sea sparkled. Jenny spoke into the ship telegraph. "Full ahead, navigation." The Wabbit thought the device looked old fashioned. "Maybe we need an upgrade." Jenny laughed. "No internet jockey can hack into this." She sounded the foghorn. Yacht people waved as the Lepus sailed into the distance. The Wabbit reached in his fur for his walkie talkie, switched to Channel 68 and listened in to small craft chatter until it faded. He smiled to himself. Now the island was well to port and open waters beckoned. "We're 12 miles out," said Jenny, "we can open the orders." She handed the Wabbit a manila envelope wrapped in plastic. The Wabbit opened it, pulled out a sheet of paper with typing on both sides and glanced at the contents. "We need a meeting," grunted the Wabbit ...
