Coincidence - Alan May [80]
He watched now as Mac and a crew of Floaties attended to the sails. Thank goodness Mac was safe and back onboard. The man had his share of problems, especially where alcohol was concerned. Luke had known that from the start. There was, lurking just behind his outward joviality, a shadow of tragedy. Mac had never mentioned anything of the sort, and Luke had never inquired, but he felt sure that somewhere in Mac’s past lay the key to his occasional lapses of judgment.
Luke had taken a risk in hiring him, but his instincts about him had been right. There was no one more capable—or more kindhearted—than Mac. Edward Flynn had been dubious about signing him on, but Luke had won out over his objections, and on innumerable occasions Mac had proven his worth. And over the course of years of working with the Floaties, Mac had seemed to become more settled, and less inclined to brood—or to drink to excess—although that faint tinge of suppressed melancholy never quite left him.
Now the five sails were up and pulling, and the Inspiration gliding along neatly, on course, at about four knots. By making frequent entries in the ship’s log and navigational charts, they would be able to estimate their position reasonably well. Luke would try to keep the routine as close to normal as possible, under the circumstances. It wouldn’t be easy without Anika to shepherd the kids—and the kids, although for the most part keeping their upper lips stiff, were worried sick about what was going to happen to her and the doctor. But with the help of Dave and the other teachers, and the ever-resourceful Mac, they’d manage.
In the morning, they would activate the emergency beacon that Mac had brought from the Coincidence.
At least they were doing something.
35
“What about the doctor and the, uh … the girl?” Phillip asked Stefano.
Things were looking up now that they were back on the Coincidence, no doubt about it. Stefano was stronger. He was still hooked up to the IV pole but was able to walk around on deck for short periods of time. In a few days they’d be handing over the cocaine to Giorgio on Easter Island and hopping a plane back to the States to be there in time to meet his shipment of the Moai statuettes, their ticket to prosperity.
In the meantime, Philip thought—and maybe even afterward, who could say?—he had the lovely Anika all to himself. Hitching up with the Inspiration had been a stroke of good luck after all.
“No witnesses,” Stefano said, shaking his head.
It was the reply Phillip had expected. So why did his stomach lurch when he heard it?
He nodded as Stefano ran down the list of reasons why they had to get rid of the hostages. He knew them already, of course; he could have spouted them out just as well himself. Easter Island was a small place. They couldn’t risk attracting any attention. One or both of the hostages might decide to make a break for it once they were ashore. Not that they’d ever be able to escape alive, but they might decide to sacrifice themselves to put the hijackers behind bars.
“We been through too much, come too far,” Stefano said. “We’re not gonna risk throwing it all away now. We got no choice. We gonna have to off them.”
Phillip nodded. It wouldn’t do to have Stefano think he had any reservations about the plan.
“How soon?” he asked.
“A day before we get there. We gonna let nature do the dirty work for us.”
“Nature?”
Stefano took a drag on his cigarette, then, gesturing with the stub at the expanse of sea surrounding them, said, “All we gotta do is make sure we still far enough out they can’t swim to the island.”
In theory, Phillip should have