Coincidence - Alan May [78]
A slightly older version of the man appeared over the edge of the dinghy, with Elliott Williams beside him. That would be Stefano, Mac thought, and the first lad must be his brother. The brother pulled as Elliott pushed, and Stefano landed safely, if awkwardly, on the platform. After a minute’s rest, the other two men hoisted him up on his feet between them and half carried him aboard the boat.
Anika came next, followed by a tall man who grabbed her hand as soon as he was on the platform. She walked stiff and unsmiling beside him. Bringing up the rear were three men of three strikingly different dimensions: one scrawny, one average, one more than a little stout.
What a crew, Mac thought.
He felt the water around him begin to vibrate. The engine was starting up, humming, warming.
The average-sized man and the scrawny man stayed on the platform, waiting by the Zodiac. They lit cigarettes. The tall man who had held Anika’s hand came back and the three conferred, gesturing toward the dinghy.
Right, Mac thought. They’ll be deciding what to do with the dinghy now. Only three options, lads. Tow it, sink it, or let it loose. What’ll it be, then?
He watched as the skinny fellow bent to open the valves to allow the air out of the Zodiac. Ah, good choice, lads. I was hoping you’d go for that option.
With the weight of its motor and its hard bottom, the Zodiac would inevitably sink—but not for some time. As the tall man cast off the lines and the Coincidence began to move, Mac darted under water again and swam behind the motor of the Zodiac. He stayed low in the water until the Coincidence had traveled a mile or so and then, sliding his plastic-wrapped parcel over the edge, clambered in and shut the valves.
It’ll no’ be a fast ride, he thought, but at least I’ll get there.
Dave peered through his binoculars as the Coincidence grew smaller and smaller against the horizon. His arms ached from holding the glasses to his eyes so long, but he couldn’t put them down. He couldn’t yet admit that Mac might not be coming back.
Suddenly he caught sight of the Zodiac, or what was left of it. A half-deflated mass of red rubber, bobbing sadly in the ripples, was slowly making its way toward the Inspiration. With something—no, someone—lying inside.
Dave’s heart sank. He lowered the binoculars.
Then raised them again as a sudden movement in the little dinghy registered in the corner of his eye.
He refocused the lenses. Thank God. Mac was up and kneeling now, back straight, the proud captain of his derelict vessel, grinning and snapping a military salute.
33
Kathleen Tutty was kicking herself for being out of the office when Mac had called. There had been no need for her to drive all the way to Dorval to meet Edward Flynn’s flight; he had left his car in the long-term lot. No need whatsoever, except for her desperate wish to share the burden of the past few days with someone else. Waiting alone in the office was beginning to be unbearable; most of the usual BWA business was on hold until this crisis was resolved, so there was little to occupy her time.
And, of course, she hadn’t expected Mac to be calling at that time of day. But that was no excuse. He might call anytime there was anything new to report. He had called. And now it was too late to talk to him, to find out any more details about what exactly was going on.
Still berating herself, she left a message on Flynn’s answering machine—poor man wouldn’t even have made it home from the airport yet—then picked up the phone to call Rob Montgomery with the little she had gleaned from Mac’s brief message.
“So, as far as you know, the bad guys are back on the Coincidence now with two hostages, sailing away from the Inspiration,” Rob said when she was done. “Okay, I’ll round everyone up ASAP and we’ll see about a revised plan.”
Rob was back to her surprisingly soon. He had