Coincidence - Alan May [76]
Phillip, sneering, had given a short laugh.
“Oh, come on, Captain. If Captain Bligh could survive in a twenty-three-foot boat with eighteen men and practically no food for more than six weeks in 1789, I believe you can tough it out on a rig like the Inspiration for a few days.”
“Very well. But at least leave us the house generator, so we can keep our food supply refrigerated and cook it safely.”
“As long as—” Phillip had begun.
“Shut up,” Juan had snarled at Phillip. Then, spinning on his heel to face Luke, his face like a thundercloud, he had hissed: “You are in no position to make demands, Captain.”
Luke had shot a quick glance at Phillip, who was livid with anger. No question about it. Juan and Phillip were locked in a hostile competition to determine who was to be Stefano’s second-in-command. Luke’s eyes met the doctor’s; it was clear they were thinking along the same lines. Somehow there might be a way to exploit the rivalry between Phillip and Juan, to divide and conquer.
Stefano had held up his hand.
“Silencio,” he said. “The generator—it’s only for the kitchen, right? Phillip, you check it out. Make sure it don’t work for communications. If no, okay, they can keep it on, feed the kids. Juanito, I need you here with me.”
Stefano’s voice had been weak, but his words clear. Within two hours of the captain’s morning report—two hours from this minute, Luke thought as he hung up the phone following his report to Kathleen—the Coincidence would be on its way, the two hostages aboard, and the Inspiration would be cut off from the outside world.
And then?
Luke could see only two rays of hope, both improbable at best. The enmity between Phillip and Juan might provide Anika and the doctor enough leverage to survive. And even though the hijackers’ decision to make their escape so soon had knocked the hell out of the original plan, at least he now knew that the Coast Guard cutter was in the area.
Kathleen’s “hiccups” had started not a moment too soon.
32
It’s come then, Mac thought, as he kept his eyes trained on the deck of the Inspiration. For good or ill, there was no turning back now.
Dave had called him on the walkie-talkie as soon as Anika had alerted him to the hijackers’ plan. Mac had immediately tried to call Kathleen in Montréal, but had gotten only the answering machine. Where could the lass have gone at that time of day? He fervently hoped she had received his message not to call the Coincidence again. Within an hour or two now, the hijackers would be reboarding, with Anika and Dr. Williams in tow. One accidental call from BWA headquarters would eliminate any chance of their survival.
Trying to quash that horrible thought, Mac had set about eradicating all traces of his presence aboard the Coincidence. He doubted the hijackers would notice the small dent he’d made in their food supply, and he had taken careful note of how all of the dishes were stowed before he’d used them. It had been easy to clean them and return them to their rightful places.
He had swept up the few crumbs that had accumulated by his chair and had made up the bed with nautical precision—and immediately remade it a little less precisely, remembering that whoever had slept in it before had been somewhat less inclined to tidiness.
He had wiped the sink in the head with his shirt; then, putting on his own things again, he’d folded up the spare clothes he’d borrowed and put them back in the drawer as he’d found them. He had stuck the walkie-talkie in his rear trouser pocket.
He had also taken one of the two emergency beacons onboard. That was risky, to be sure, but worth it, he believed, because it could prove invaluable back on the Inspiration. Even if the hijackers noticed its absence, they’d have no reason to suspect that he had cadged it. They didn’t even know of his