by Ken Follett
He held her hand while she turned and stood up, then he helped her inside the plane.
She fell into his arms, sobbing. He pressed her dripping head against his chest. He felt tears come but forced them back. The three gangsters and Captain Baker were looking at him expectantly, but he ignored them for a few moments more. He held Carol-Ann tightly as she shook violently.
At last he said: “Are you okay, honey? Did these bastards hurt you?”
She shook her head. “I’m okay, I guess,” she said through chattering teeth.
He looked up and caught the eye of Captain Baker. Baker looked from him to Carol-Ann and back again, then said: “Jesus Christ, I’m beginning to understand this....”
Vincini said: “Enough talk. We got work to do.”
Eddie released Carol-Ann. “Okay. I think we should deal with the crew first, get them calmed down and out of the way. Then I’ll take you to the man you want. Is that all right?”
“Yeah, but let’s get on with it.”
“Follow me.” Eddie crossed to the ladder and went up. He came out onto the flight deck first and began speaking right away. In the few seconds before Vincini caught up with him, he said: “Listen, guys, please don’t anybody try to be a hero. It isn’t necessary. I hope you understand me.” He could not risk more than that hint. A moment later Carol-Ann, Captain Baker and the three hoodlums came up through the hatch. Eddie went on. “Everybody keep calm and do what you’re told. I don’t want any shooting. I don’t want anybody to get hurt. The captain is going to tell you the same thing.” He looked at Baker.
“That’s right, men,” Baker said. “Don’t give these people any reason to use their guns.”
Eddie looked at Vincini. “Okay, let’s go. Come with us please, Captain, to calm the passengers. Then Joe and Kid should take the crew to number one compartment.”
Vincini nodded assent.
“Carol-Ann, will you go with the crew, honey?”
“Yes.”
Eddie felt good about that. She would be away from the guns, and she could also explain to his crewmates why he was helping the gangsters.
He looked at Vincini. “Do you want to put your gun away? You’ll scare the passengers—”
“Fuck you,” said Vincini. “Let’s go.”
Eddie shrugged. It had been worth a try.
He led the way down the stairs to the passenger deck. There was a hubbub of loud talk, some semihysterical laughter and the sound of one woman sobbing. The passengers were all in their seats and the two stewards were making heroic efforts to look calm and normal.
Eddie went along the plane. The dining room was a mess, with smashed crockery and broken glass all over the floor; although fortunately there was not much spilled food because the meal had been almost over and everyone had been having coffee. People went quiet when they saw Vincini’s gun. Behind Vincini, Captain Baker was saying: “I apologize for this, ladies and gentlemen, but please remain seated and try to keep calm and it will all be over shortly.” He was so smoothly reassuring that Eddie almost felt better himself.
He passed through number 3 compartment and entered number 4. Ollis Field and Frankie Gordino were sitting side by side. This is it, Eddie thought; this is where I set free a murderer. He pushed the thought aside, pointed to Gordino and said to Vincini: “There’s your man.”
Ollis Field stood up. “This is F.B.I, agent Tommy McArdle,” he said. “Frankie Gordino crossed the Atlantic on a ship that reached New York yesterday, and he is now in jail in Providence, Rhode Island.”
“Jesus Christ!” Eddie exploded. He was thunderstruck. “A decoy! I went through all that for a goddamned decoy!” He was not going to free a murderer after all; but he could not feel glad because he was too scared of what the gangsters might do now. He looked fearfully at Vincini.
Vincini said: “Hell, we ain’t after Frankie. Where’s the Kraut?”
Eddie stared at him, flabbergasted. They were not after Gordino? What did it mean? Who was the Kraut?
Tom Luther’s voice came from number 3 compartment. “He’s in here, Vincini. I’ve got him.” Luther stood in the doorway holding a gun at the head of Carl Hartmann.
Eddie was mystified. Why the hell would the Patriarca gang want to kidnap Carl Hartmann? “What do you guys want with a scientist?” he said.
Luther said: “He’s not just a scientist. He’s a nuclear physicist.”
“Are you guys Nazis?”
Vincini said: “Oh, no. We’re just doing a job for them. Matter of fact, we’re Democrats.” He laughed coarsely.
Luther said coldly: “I am no Democrat. I am proud to be a member of the Deutsch-Amerikaner Bund.” Eddie had heard of the Bund: it was supposed to be a harmless German-American friendship league, but it was funded by the Nazis. Luther went on. “These men are just hired hands. I received a personal message from the Führer himself, requesting my help in apprehending a runaway scientist and returning him to Germany.” Luther was proud of this honor, Eddie realized: it was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him. “I paid these people to help me. Now I am going to take Herr Doktor Professor Hartmann back to Germany, where his presence is required by the Third Reich.”
Eddie caught Hartmann’s eye. The man looked sick with dread. Eddie was stricken with guilt. Hartmann was going to be taken back to Nazi Germany, and it was Eddie’s fault. Eddie said to him: “They had my wife ... what could I do?”
Hartmann’s face changed immediately. “I understand,” he said. “We are used to this sort of thing in Germany. They make you betray one loyalty for the sake of another. You had no choice. Don’t blame yourself.”
Eddie was astonished that the man could find it in his heart to console him at a moment like this.
He caught the eye of Ollis Field. “But why did you bring a decoy onto the Clipper?” he said. “Did you want the Patriarca gang to hijack the plane?”
“Not at all,” Field said. “We got information that the gang want to kill Gordino to stop him squealing. They were going to hit him as soon as he reached America. So we let it out that he was flying on the Clipper, but sent him on ahead by ship. Round about now, the news will be on the radio that Gordino is in jail and the gang will know they’ve been fooled.”
“Why aren’t you guarding Carl Hartmann?”
“We didn’t know he was going to be on this flight—nobody told us!”
Was Hartmann completely unprotected? Eddie wondered. Or did he have a bodyguard who had not yet revealed himself?
The little gangster called Joe came into the compartment with his gun in his right hand and an opened bottle of champagne in his left. “They’re quiet as lambs, Vinnie,” he said to Vincini. “Kid’s back there in the dining room. He can cover the whole front part of the plane from there.”
Vincini said to Luther: “So where’s the fuckin’ submarine?”
Luther said: “It will be here at any moment, I’m sure.”
A submarine! Luther had a rendezvous with a U-boat right here off the coast of Maine! Eddie looked out of the windows, expecting to see it rising from the water like a steel whale; but he saw nothing but waves.
Vincini said: “Well, we’ve done our bit. Gimme the money.”
Keeping Hartmann covered, Luther stepped back to his seat, picked up a small case and handed it to Vincini. Vincini opened it. It was packed tight with wads of bills.
Luther said: “A hundred thousand dollars, all in twenties.”
Vincini said: “I better check it.” He put his gun away and sat down with the case on his knee.
Luther said: “It’ll take you forever—”
“What do you think I am, green?” Vincini said in a tone of exaggerated patience. “I’ll check two bundles. Then I’ll count how many bundles there are. I’ve done this before.”
Everyone watched Vincini count the money. The passengers in the compartment—Princess Lavinia, Lulu Bell, Mark Alder, Diana Lovesey, Ollis Field and the Frankie Gordino impostor—looked on. Joe reco
gnized Lulu Bell. “Hey, ain’t you in the movies?” he said. Lulu looked away, ignoring him. Joe drank from his bottle, then offered it to Diana Lovesey. She paled and shrank away from him. “I agree. This stuff is overrated,” Joe said; then he reached out and poured champagne over her cream-and-red dotted dress.
She gave a cry of distress and pushed his hand away. The wet dress clung to her bosom revealingly.
Eddie was appalled. This was the kind of thing that could lead to violence. He said: “Knock it off, you.”
The man took no notice. “Great jugs,” he said with a leer. He dropped the bottle and grabbed one of her breasts, squeezing hard.
She screamed.
Her boyfriend, Mark, was struggling with his safety belt, saying: “Don’t touch her, you cheap hood—”
With a surprisingly quick movement, the hoodlum hit him in the mouth with his gun. Blood spurted from Mark’s lips.
Eddie said: “Vincini, for Christ’s sake, put a stop to this!”
Vincini said: “Girl like that, hell, if she ain’t had her tits felt by her age, it’s about time.”
Joe thrust his hand down the front of Diana’s dress. She struggled to avoid his grasp, but she was strapped in her seat.
Mark got his seat belt undone, but as he was rising to his feet the man hit him again. This time the butt of the gun hit the comer of his eye. Joe used his left fist to punch Mark in the stomach, then hit him across the face with the gun a third time. Now blood from his wounds got into Mark’s eyes and blinded him. Several women were screaming.
Eddie was appalled. He had been determined to avoid bloodshed. Joe was about to hit Mark again. Eddie could stand it no longer. Taking his life in his hands, he grabbed the little gangster from behind, pinning his arms.
Joe struggled, trying to point his gun at Eddie, but Eddie held on tight. Joe pulled the trigger. The bang was deafening in the confined space, but the gun was pointing down and the bullet went through the floor.
The first shot had been fired. Eddie had a horrified, scary feeling that he was losing control of the situation. If that happened there could be a bloodbath.
At last Vincini intervened. “Knock it off, Joe!” he yelled.
The man became still.
Eddie let him go.
Joe gave him a venomous look, but said nothing.
Vincini said: “We can go. The money’s all here.”
Eddie saw a ray of hope. If they would leave now, at least the bloodshed had been limited. Go, he thought; for God’s sake, go!
Vincini went on: “Bring the cunt with you if you want, Joe. I might prong her myself—I like her better than the engineer’s skinny wife.” He stood up.
Diana screamed: “No, no!”
Joe undid her seat belt and grabbed her by the hair. She struggled with him. Mark got to his feet, trying to wipe the blood from his eyes. Eddie grabbed Mark, restraining him. “Don’t get yourself killed!” he said. Lowering his voice, he said: “It’ll be okay, I promise you!” He wanted to tell Mark that the gang’s launch was going to be stopped by a U.S. Navy cutter before they would have time to do anything to Diana, but he was afraid of being overheard by Vincini.
Joe pointed his gun at Mark and said to Diana: “You come with us or your boyfriend gets it right between the eyes.”
Diana became still and started to sob.
Luther said: “I’m coming with you, Vincini. My submarine hasn’t made it.”
“I knew it wouldn’t come,” Vincini said. “They can’t get this close to the U.S.A.”
Vincini did not know anything about submarines. Eddie could guess the real reason why the U-boat had not appeared. The U-boat commander had seen Steve Appleby’s navy cutter patrolling the channel. He was probably now waiting nearby, listening to the cutter’s radio chatter, hoping the boat would go away and patrol some other stretch of water.
Luther’s decision to flee with the gangsters instead of waiting for the submarine raised Eddie’s spirits. The gangsters’ launch was headed for Steve Appleby’s trap, and if Luther and Hartmann were on the launch, Hartmann would be saved. If this whole thing could end with nothing worse than a few stitches in Mark Alder’s face, Eddie would rejoice.
“Let’s go,” Vincini said. “Luther first, then the Kraut, then Kid, then me, then the engineer—I want you close to me until I get off this crate—then Joe with the blonde. Move!”
Mark Alder began to struggle in Eddie’s arms. Vincini said to Ollis Field and the other agent: “You want to hold this guy down, or you want Joe to shoot him?” They grabbed Mark and held him still.
Eddie filed out behind Vincini. Passengers stared wide-eyed at them as they passed through number 3 compartment and into the dining room.
As Vincini entered number 2 compartment, Mr. Membury pulled a gun and said: “Stop!” He aimed directly at Vincini. “Everybody keep still or I shoot your boss!”
Eddie took one step back to get out of the way.
Vincini went white and said: “All right, boys, nobody move.”
The one they called Kid swung round and fired twice.
Membury fell.
Vincini yelled furiously at the boy: “You cocksucker, he might have killed me!”
“Didn’t you hear his voice?” Kid replied. “He’s an Englishman.”
“So fuckin’ what?” Vincini screamed.
“I seen every movie ever made, and nobody ever gets shot by an Englishman.”
Eddie knelt down beside Membury. The bullets had entered his chest. His blood was the same color as his waistcoat. “Who are you?” Eddie said.
“Scotland Yard, Special Branch,” Membury whispered. “Assigned to protect Hartmann.” So the scientist had not been completely unguarded, Eddie thought. “Bloody failure,” Membury said hoarsely. His eyes closed and he stopped breathing.
Eddie cursed. He had vowed to get the gangsters off the plane without anyone being killed, and he had come so close to succeeding! Now this brave policeman was dead. “So unnecessary,” Eddie said aloud.
He heard Vincini say: “How come you’re so sure nobody needs to be a hero?” He looked up. Vincini was staring at him with suspicion and hostility. Jesus Christ, I think he’d like to kill me, Eddie thought. Vincini went on: “Do you know something the rest of us don’t?”
Eddie had no answer; but at that moment the seaman from the launch came rushing down the stairs and into the compartment. “Hey, Vinnie, I just heard from Willard—”
“I told him not to use that radio except for an emergency!”
“This is an emergency—there’s a navy ship going up and down the shore, just like they’re looking for someone.”
Eddie’s heart stopped. He had not thought of this possibility. The gang had a sentry on shore, keeping watch, with a shortwave radio so he could talk to the launch. Now Vincini knew about the trap.
It was all over, and Eddie had lost.
“You double-crossed me,” Vincini said to Eddie. “You bastard, I’ll kill you for this.”
Eddie caught Captain Baker’s eye and saw understanding and a surprised respect in his face.
Vincini pointed his gun at Eddie.
Eddie thought: I did my best, and everyone knows it. I don’t care if I die now.
Then Luther said: “Vincini, listen! Do you hear something?”
They were all silent. Eddie heard the sound of another plane.
Luther looked out of the window. “It’s a seaplane, coming down right nearby!”
Vincini lowered his gun. Eddie felt weak at the knees.
Vincini looked out, and Eddie followed his gaze. He saw the Grumman Goose that had been moored at Shediac. As he watched, it splashed down on the long side of a wave and came to rest.
Vincini said: “So what? If they get in our way, we’ll shoot the bastards.”
“Don’t you see?” Luther said excitedly. “This is our escape! We can fly over the goddamn navy and get away!”
Vincini nodded slowly. “Good thinking. That’s what we’l
l do.”
Eddie realized they were going to get away. His life was saved, but he had failed after all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Nancy Lenehan had found the answer to the problem as she flew along the Canadian coast in the chartered seaplane.
She wanted to defeat her brother, but she also wanted to find some way of escaping from the tramlines of her father’s plans for her life. She wanted to be with Mervyn, but she was afraid that if she left Black’s Boots and went to England she would become a bored housewife like Diana.
Nat Ridgeway had said he was willing to make a higher offer for the company, and give Nancy a job in General Textiles. Thinking about that, she had realized that General Textiles had several factories in Europe, mostly in Britain; and that Ridgeway was not going to be able to visit them until the war was over, which might be years. So she was going to offer to become the European Manager of General Textiles. That way she could be with Mervyn and still be in business.
The solution was remarkably neat. The only snag was that Europe was at war and she might get killed.
She was reflecting on that distant but chilling possibility when Mervyn turned around in his copilot’s seat and pointed out of the window and down; and she saw the Clipper floating on the sea.
Mervyn tried to raise the Clipper by radio, but he got no response. Nancy forgot about her own troubles as the Goose circled the downed plane. What had happened? Were the people on board all right? The plane appeared undamaged, but there was no sign of life.
Mervyn turned to her and shouted over the roar of the engines: “We have to go down and see if they need help.”
Nancy nodded vigorously in agreement.
“Strap in and hold tight. It may be a rough splashdown because of the swell.”
She fastened her safety belt and looked out. The sea was choppy and there were long rollers. The pilot, Ned, brought the seaplane down in a line parallel with the crests of the waves. The hull touched water on the back of a swell, and the seaplane rode the wave like a Hawaiian surf rider. It was not as rough as Nancy had feared.
There was a motor launch tied up to the Clipper’s nose. A man in dungarees and a cap appeared on the deck and beckoned to them. Nancy gathered he wanted the Goose to tie up alongside the launch. The bow door of the Clipper was open, so presumably they would board that way. Nancy could see why: the waves were washing over the sea-wings, so it would be difficult to board through the normal door.
