Coincidence - Alan May [59]
Maybe, he had thought, they would find an isolated spot for the Coincidence to land. And then, maybe, one hostage would be all they’d need. Just one person to take with them to ensure the silence of the others until their getaway was complete. The Inspiration, minus one, would go on with its sightseeing, knowing that one word leaked out to thwart their escape with the drugs would be the end of their amigo. And if—no, not if, when—when he and hismen had escaped? What would they do with their hostage then?
He would have to work on that one. In the meantime, he’d told Juan, Phillip would have to go on acting as front man—Stefano had put up his hand to stop his brother’s objection. He didn’t like it either, Phillip was getting too cocky—he knew it, too—but they’d have to deal with him later. Right now he was the best one to work things out with the captain.
So Phillip and Captain Marzynski were hammering out the routine that would see them through the immediate future. Towing, the captain said, was by far the better way of keeping the boats together. His crew would help the hijackers secure the Coincidence. Anika would juggle the cabin assignments somehow to make room for the men. Shipboard routines, they agreed, were to be followed insofar as possible. Except, of course, that the hijackers would be in charge (“I will be in charge,” was the way Phillip put it), and there would be no communication with the outside world.
“We have to check in every day with our head office in Montréal,” the captain said. “We are required to give them our position, and we discuss any problems we might have. It will raise alarms if they don’t hear from us.”
Damn, Phillip, thought. It would be highly suspicious if the Inspiration did not follow protocol. But it opened up a big can of worms, too. He’d monitor the conversation, for sure, but how could he be sure they didn’t have some kind of code words to use in an emergency?
“What time do you check in?” he asked.
“Every morning at nine. Nothing will happen now until tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Philip said. “Tomorrow morning you call headquarters and check in. You tell them your position. You tell them you’re having a little trouble with the electronic systems, that maybe communication will be down for a while. You’ve got it covered, your engineer’s working on it, but you might not be able to get through for a day or so. Got it? And we’ll rattle a wire or two while you’re talking. Then we’ll disconnect the system.
“But I’m warning you: I will be listening to every word you say. If I hear anything that doesn’t sound on the up and up—”
Anika gasped in horror at what she’d done. Her wild reflex reaction could ruin everything.
Polo and Severo had been bringing the last of the hijackers’ personal belongings onboard when the man called Phillip sidled up to her. He was such an unpleasant, oily person, she thought. Puffed up, self-important, arrogant. She gave him a perfunctory nod.
“Hey there, Miss Shipboard Director,” he said, a smile playing over his lips as if they shared a secret joke. “Have you found beds for all your unexpected guests yet?”
Almost, she told him. Stefano, of course, could stay where he was in the first-aid room. Four of the student cabins had only three occupants on this sailing, so she had reassigned the teachers who shared doubles to those berths. His men could have the doubles. She gave Phillip the cabin numbers, making a great and entirely unnecessary show of consulting her clipboard so she wouldn’t have to look at his face. Everyone was taken care of except Phillip himself.
She forced herself to give him a rueful smile. She’d have a place for him squared away shortly, she assured him, trying to use her crispest, most professional voice. She hoped it sounded more convincing to his ears than it did to her own.
Why couldn’t the creep have waited just ten more minutes for her to finish the reorganizing? The only other available berth was in the cabin Mac and Charlie shared, but she