Ronnie was standing close beside him to his left. To the right, like a large telephone booth, was a glassed-in toilet. Inside, a man was curled up on the floor. Ronnie turned, and her face exploded in a supernova smile.
"Daddy!"
The old man swiveled his chair.
He was holding a pistol in his gloved hand, aimed at Ronnie's face, and had handcuffed his left wrist to her right.
"Drop the axe, Doc."
"'THE AXE!"
Stone let it slide from his hand.
"Sit on that stool." His voice was like a weapon.
Stone had expected the frail lunatic in a bathrobe he'd seen in Shanghai. Instead he faced a remarkably fit old man who appeared strong as rigging wire and shackles. Clean-
shaven, dressed in crisp World War II khaki, Jack Powell looked like a bantam-weight boxer who had never lost a fight.
"Here's the deal, Doc. You get on the radio. You call the missus. You tell her the rules haven't changed. She keeps her trap shut. No radio, no harbor patrol, no interference."
"And you give me Ronnie."
"Four o'clock. Tokyo Tower."
"I want her now."
"Can't have her now."
"If I refuse?"
"Little girl gets shot. Dead. And then you. Look, Doc, I like your wife a lot. I don't want to make her a widow. But I will."
He tossed Stone a hand-held set to channel 5. "Darling?"
"You made it."
"Not quite. He's still running things. Don't radio anyone. Just follow in and I'll see what I can do." "But what about—"
Stone switched to Transmit. "Stand by. I'll call you back when I can." He turned off the radio. "Okay, Mr. Jack?"
"Aces, Doc."
Stone looked around at Ronnie and wondered where the key to the handcuffs was.
"Mr. Jack."
"Can it, Doc."
He was concentrating on the monitor. Stone edged closer. "No, just stay there. Sit on the stool." Stone stopped.
Ronnie gave him a frightened smile. The ship leaned into a turn. Five degrees, by the compass that hung from the ceiling over the helm. Slowly, ponderously, she straightened up on the new course.
Mr. Jack looked up from the monitor. "Wha'd you do to my man Moss?"
"Blew a hole in his stern."
"You did?" said Ronnie.
"With what?" asked Mr. Jack.
"Bushmaster."
"Where the hell'd you get that?"
Stone didn't answer.
"Did you kill him?"
"Last I saw him he was alive and bailing. Any luck, he got picked up by a ship."
"He was like a son to me."
"Your 'son' came damn close to killing us."
"Yeah, well . . . "
"Mr. Jack?" said Stone.
The old man shifted in his chair and tugged Ronnie closer to the gun. "What?"
Sarah had warned him how mercurial Mr. Jack was, emotions doubling back and reversing like riptides. Stone couldn't read his mood, couldn't tell whether it was safer to confront him or humor him.
"What?" the old man repeated, color rising in his stony face.
"I get the feeling you're making a last-minute change in plans."
"What plans?" asked the old man.
Stone glanced at Ronnie. She had hunched up her shoulders and was staring at the monitor, like any child in the presence of adults in conflict. They might be arguing about money owed or where to spend Christmas.
He said, "Your plan for Tokyo."
"And what plan is that?"
"Come on, sir. Give me a little credit."
"Plan's the same. My role has changed—damn shame. I already told my bean counters to sell Jap stocks short." "You're making money out of this?"
"Pretty hard not to, if you know ahead of time that the Jap economy is going to be blown off the map. . . . My Chinese pals are going to make out like bandits. . . . You and Mrs.
Doc, you've really taken a lot of the fun out of it."
Stone exploded, "My wife saved your life."
"Bet she wouldn't if she had to do it over again," Mr. Jack replied mildly.
"Who shot you?" Stone asked, probing for some wedge
into the man's psyche, and knowing he wasn't good at it. "A hero," answered Mr. Jack. "
One of the ship's offi-
cers figured out the plan and tried to save the world." "What happened to him?" asked Ronnie.
Mr. Jack looked surprised she was still handcuffed to him. "I had him transferred to another ship."
"I don't believe that."
"You know something, kid? Only regret I have is you've had to do too much growing up around me." "Will you let us go?"
"Not yet."
"When?"
Mr. Jack shook his head. Ronnie looked at Stone. He gave her a nod and a smile as he might on one of the rare occasions they went to a restaurant and she felt overwhelmed by linen and china. Ronnie winked back.
"You okay, dear?" he called softly.
"Fine, Daddy."
Mr. Jack observed the byplay. Stone thought he looked suddenly weary, and wondered if the old man had doubts.
The VHF radio broke the silence. "Asian Princess. Asian Princess."
"Come on, kid. Tokyo calling." Mr. Jack stepped out of the chair and walked Ronnie across the bridge to the glass-enclosed toilet. Eyes on Stone, he rapped the door with the gun. "Wake up, Pilot-san."
The form curled around the toilet raised its head and peered around groggily. Mr. Jack opened the door and handed in the radio. "Tokyo Wan Traffic Advisory Service Center.
You're up, pal."
"Asian Princess. Asian Princess," the radio repeated. The pilot answered in Japanese and spoke at length. Mr. Jack said to Stone, "We've got our own Uraga Channel pilot."
The pilot signed off.
"What's up?" Mr. Jack asked.
"I have confirmed that I'm aboard. From Shanghai." "Everything okay?"
"A-okay to Tokyo Light."
"I'll wake you at Tokyo Light." He closed the door. The pilot retched in the toilet and went back to sleep. Mr. Jack explained, "Regulations require a qualified pilot aboard. I had this bozo flown in to Shanghai." "Maritime Safety went along?"
"Long as I was willing to pay for it. And in Captain Yakamoto's case, I think they're happy to have him away for a while. Drinking man."
"Does he know what you're doing?"
"He's got trouble knowing his own name. Forget it if you're thinking you got a pal in the guy. He's all mine. Everything's ready. The Asian Princess has had Takeshiba Pier reserved for six months. Harbor master's planning to welcome the passengers personally.
"
Tokyo Light was only seven miles from Takeshiba Pier. The ship was steaming at twelve knots, the channel speed limit. Once the ship passed Tokyo Light there would be no stopping it.
What would Sarah say to him? "It's morally wrong to kill a million people"? Mr. Jack wasn't concerned about killing a million people. He liked the idea.
"Mr. Jack?"
"Yeah."
Stone nodded at the helm, which was moving at the
invisible commands of the autopilot. "What happens when something gets in front of the ship?" A good question, and he was, after all, more comfortable talking about what made things tick than about what made people tick.
"She's got more radar than Kennedy Airport. All integrated into the course computer.
Something gets in our way, she slows down or turns around it."
"What if there's no place to turn?"
The old man stared, the hint of a smile on his cold mouth. "The computer blows the whistle."
"Amazing," Stone said, trying to sound impressed. "I didn't realize they had taken OMBO so far."
"This is third generation. With this outfit, you can helicopter the crew off after the ship leaves port and helicopter a docking crew on at her next port of call. Hell of a labor savings in between."
"Tough on sailboats."
"Most of 'em carry
radar reflectors. Fact is, you don't even need a crew in port if it weren't for the goddammed Coast Guard regulations."
Stone commiserated, hoping to draw him into conversation. It seemed to work. While Mr. Jack monitored the computer screen, they swapped tales of Coast Guard boardings and bureaucracy. Stone told him how he got the Bushmaster from the mercenary. Mr.
Jack topped him, claiming he had seduced right-wing Japanese terrorists into supporting Moss's attempt to sink Veronica.
Six times, the VHF interrupted and Mr. Jack roused the pilot to reply to other ships and Tokyo Traffic. Peering blearily at the radar repeater, the pilot ordered minor course changes which Mr. Jack punched into the computer. At other shifts in the channel, the autopilot heeled the ship through ponderous turns while Stone racked his brains for ways to keep Mr. Jack talking.
Suddenly the old man tapped the radar screen and blurted, "You think I'm nuts? You see what that is?" "That big target?"
"Bet your ass it's a big target. That's the Jap Navy's Admiral Yamamoto, biggest helicopter carrier in the world. Dollars to donuts they've got air-to-ground tactical nuke missiles. . . . I'm not really nuts, you know."
Stone stepped gingerly into the opening. "You've sure waited a long time for revenge."
"Not really. I've hated the Japs since the war, but it was only recently that I realized I had all the pieces in place to do something about it—the ship, the gas, my Shanghai buddies.
. . . Your wife tell you I'm nuts?"
Stone didn't know what to say. Mr. Jack stared at him, then answered his own question: "
Your wife doesn't think I'm nuts. She thinks I'm evil."
"The only thing she cares about right now is getting Ronnie back alive."
Ronnie had drifted into a kind of empty-eyed sleep, half leaning on the old man.
"Daddy?"
"Yes, dear."
"There's another lifeboat." She looked up at Mr. Jack as if expecting him to stop her, but he explained, "There were two boats. The captain took one last night."
"Ah Lee showed me how it works, Daddy. You just pull a lever and it drops off the ship."
"Free fall," said Mr. Jack. "Designed for oil rigs. Drops like a stone. Handy getaway for fires and explosions."
"What about it, dear?"
"You have to wear your seat belt. Because it really crashes. But it won't break. Right, Mr. Jack?"
"Belt in tight and close all the hatches."
"Daddy?"
"What?"
"Run!"
"What? What are you talking about?"
Mr. Jack laughed. "Chip off the old blockette. What a girl!"
"Run, Daddy!"
"I can't leave you," said Stone,
"Then who will be with Mummy?"
Stone's eyes filled. "Sweetheart."
"Kid's got a point, Doc. Maybe I'll let you go at Tokyo Light."
"Let her go."
"No."
"Why? She's just a child."
"Like you said before, Doc. I changed my plans. But I don't want to die alone. The way things have worked out, Ronnie's my best friend on the planet."
"Then let her go."
"Daddy. Please run. Tell Mummy I love her."
Stone took his daughter's eye, saw the bravery shining
there. He said, "I couldn't face her without you." "That's not fair," Ronnie shot back.
"Why don't we ask Mummy to decide?" said Mr. Jack, ... switching on the VHF.
Stone stood up.
"Where you think you're going, Doc?"
"I won't let you torture her."
"Easy, Doc." Mr. Jack waved the pistol at him, then put it to Ronnie's head.
Stone started walking toward him.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm doing what my wife would do."
Mr. Jack's eyes got wide. "What are you talking about? Back off, man. I'll kill her."
"Then what?" said Stone, drawing nearer.
"One more step and she's dead."
"Your best friend on the planet."
"Jesus, Doc, you don't know me. Get on the radio and ask your wife if I'll shoot. She knows me."
"We both know you."
Stone kept walking. He was eight feet from the chair. He felt like he was conning the Swan through coral heads in murky water.
"Last warning, Doc. Stop."
"You're going to kill her anyhow." .
"You asked for it. Sorry, kid—"
Ronnie pulled away, arms, legs and torso compressing like a spring. He yanked her back with the handcuff. But her free hand had already closed in a tiny fist.
A shrill scream ended with the dry snap of the gunshot.
RONNIE FELL UNDER THE OLD MAN, AND THEY WENT DOWN
together like a heap of twigs and branches.
Stone grabbed frantically for the pistol. But it whipped past his hand—the 0 of the barrel full in his face.
Ronnie reared back and drove her fist a second time into Mr. Jack's wounded shoulder.
The old man's eyes popped wide. Another scream, shriller than his first, spewed from his mouth, then trailed off. He convulsed and dropped the gun, grabbing his shoulder and tucking his body into a fetal ball.
Stone slid the gun across the deck and grabbed Ronnie. "You okay?"
Her eyes were wild, her nostrils flaring, her lips drawn tight in a snarl. "Son of a bitch."
"Where's the handcuff key?"
"He threw it overboard."
Stone ran for the axe. Mr. Jack was moaning and clutching his arm.
"Move," Stone said to Ronnie. He shielded her hand with his, pulled the chain tight from Mr. Jack's wrist, and pounded it with the axe.
The deck absorbed the blows. He swung a dozen times, aiming for one link. It was awkward swinging with one hand. He felt Mr. Jack's eyes on him.
"Too late, Doc. You can't stop it."
"Watch me."
"Did you see the shaped charge along the waterline?"
"Yeah, I saw it."
Mr. Jack was having trouble getting a breath. "Best bomb squad in the world couldn't get that off in time." "Thanks for the warning."
"And if you turn the ship around, it's programmed to blow."
Stone continued hacking at the chain. There'd be bolt cutters in the bosun's store, but he would as soon leave Ronnie alone with a wounded jackal. "Can't be programmed to blow up if you turn her around; you've already programmed her to turn away from ships the radar spots."
"There's slack built in, smart guy. Ah!" He gripped his arm harder and Stone realized, belatedly, that it wasn't only the wounded shoulder that was hurting the old man, but his entire left arm.
"You're having a heart attack, aren't you, Mr. Jack?" The old man sucked air. "Got a heart like a turbine." "How much slack is built in, Mr. Jack?"
"Fuck you!" Mr. Jack convulsed again, his lungs rasping. "Jesus! Give me a shot of something."
"How much slack?"
"You gotta give me a shot. You're a doctor."
"You got the wrong guy. I'm a lousy doctor."
The link parted. Stone wrenched Ronnie's half of the chain loose and scooped her into his arms. She was breathing almost as hard as the old man, but her eyes were starting to glaze as her mind began a merciful shutdown. Holding her tight, he ran out onto the bridge wing, out past the superstructure.
The fog had lifted. The afternoon was dull, visibility clear. They had already passed Yokohama. Kawasaki was to the left, Tokyo Light dead ahead. Once past it, the ship would be locked into the channel with no maneuvering room before it hit the inner harbor. He could see the Tokyo Tower, and hundreds of office buildings. The lights of the Ginza grew bright in the lowering winter sky.
"Where's Mummy?"
Stone had already looked. "We'll see her soon." "But Mr. Jack said we'll blow up."
"Come on, give me a hand." He carried her back into
the bridge. Mr. Jack was lying quietly with his eyes closed. "Go, wake up the pilot,"
Stone told Ronnie. "P
our water on him."
He hit the emergency button for the whistle, which began thundering a series of seven short blasts, and ran to the helm to view the monitor. The Dallas Belle's programmed course was laid out in a neat blue line between the harbor's outer breakwaters into the Tokyo West Passage, past container and RoRo wharves, past the signal station, past the gas wharves and the Toden Oi power plant—which would explode in secondary ignition, destroying the harbor—past the World Trade Center, where the ship would veer left out of the main channel for a thousand-yard charge at the Takeshiba Passenger Terminal.
"Here he is," said Ronnie.
The pilot was swaying on his feet, wet and belligerent, wincing at each deck-shaking blast of the whistle. Stone shoved the VHF in his hand. "Radio Tokyo Traffic Advisory.
Tell them we are commencing a one-hundred-andeighty degree turn to port, across the channel and into the outbound lane. Tell them all ships stand clear. Tell them we are carrying fifty thousand tons of liquefied natural gas which is going to explode— Listen to me!" The dissipated face had gone blank. "Explode at sixteen hundred—thirty minutes from now. Tell them we're heading for the middle of the bay."
The pilot blinked.
"Do it!"
On the monitor, the graphic ship representing the Dallas Belle was nearing the outer breakwater. Other ships were shown as radar targets with their speed and bearing displayed. He touched the helm, and to his relief the ship began to turn. He had been afraid the old man had locked it somehow, but the override worked and the ship was leaning in response.
He checked the impulse to run out to the wing to see. It was all there in front of him on the screen:" a column of ships coming in behind him; the column opposite, outbound.
As the Dallas Belle turned, the monitor projected a blue line ahead that kept turning as the ship turned. It
looked like a scythe cutting through the radar targets. The numbers on the screen showed them changing course and speed as traffic advisory radioed warnings that caused them to scatter.
The pilot was shouting at him.
"English!" Stone yelled.
"Tokyo Traffic Advisory denies permission to stay in Tokyo Bay."
"What do they want me to do?"
"They say head for Sagami Sea."
"No way. At sixteen hundred we'd be dead center in the narrows. We'd wipe out Yokohama, Yokosuka, and Kimitsu. Tell them we're staying in the bay."
Fire And Ice Page 34
