Night Over Water - Ken Follett [122]
Eddie spoke to the older man. “Mr. Field?”
“Yes.”
“The captain would like a word, if you can spare him a moment.”
A slight frown crossed Field’s face, followed by a look of resignation. He had guessed that his secret was out, and he was irritated, but his look said in the long run it was all the same to him. “Of course,” he said. He crushed out his cigarette in the wall-mounted ashtray, unfastened his seat belt and stood up.
“Follow me, please,” Eddie said.
On the way back, passing through number 3 compartment, Eddie saw Tom Luther, and their eyes met. In that instant Eddie had a flash of inspiration.
Tom Luther’s mission was to rescue Frankie Gordino.
He was so struck by the explanation that he stopped, and Ollis Field bumped into his back.
Luther stared at him with a panicky look in his eyes, obviously afraid Eddie was going to do something that would give the game away.
“Pardon me,” Eddie said to Field, and he walked on.
Everything was becoming clear. Frankie Gordino had been forced to flee the States, but the F.B.I., had tracked him down in Britain and got him extradited. They had decided to fly him back, and somehow his partners in crime had found out about it. They were going to try to get Gordino off the plane before it reached the United States.
That was where Eddie came in. He would bring the Clipper down in the sea off the Maine coast. There would be a fast boat waiting. Gordino would be taken off the Clipper and would speed away in the boat. A few minutes later he would go ashore at some sheltered inlet, possibly on the Canadian side of the border. A car would be waiting to whisk him into hiding. He would have escaped justice—thanks to Eddie Deakin.
As he led Field up the spiral staircase to the flight deck, Eddie felt relieved that at last he understood what was going on, and horrified that in order to save his wife he had to help a murderer go free.
“Captain, this is Mr. Field,” he said.
Captain Baker had put on his uniform jacket and was seated behind the conference table with the radio message in his hand. His dinner tray had been taken away. His cap covered his blond hair, and gave him an air of authority. He looked up at Field, but did not ask him to sit down. “I’ve received a message for you—from the F.B.I.,” he said.
Field held out his hand for the paper, but Baker did not give it to him.
“Are you an agent of the F.B.I.?” the captain asked.
“Yes.”
“And are you on Bureau business right now?”
“Yes, I am.”
“What is that business, Mr. Field?”
“I don’t think you need to know that, Captain. Please give me the message. You did say it was addressed to me, not to you.”
“I’m the captain of this vessel, and it’s my judgment that I do need to know what business you’re on. Don’t argue with me, Mr. Field. Just do as I say.”
Eddie studied Field. He was a pale, tired man with a bald head and watery blue eyes. He was tall, and had once been powerfully built, but now he was round-shouldered and slack-looking. Eddie judged him to be arrogant rather than brave, and this judgment was confirmed when Field immediately caved in under pressure from the captain.
“I’m escorting an extradited prisoner back to the United States for trial,” he said. “His name is Frank Gordon.”
“Also known as Frankie Gordino?”
“That’s right.”
“I want you to know, mister, that I object to your bringing a dangerous criminal on board my airplane without telling me.”
“If you know the man’s real name, you probably also know what he does for a living. He works for Raymond Patriarca, who is responsible for armed robberies, extortion, loan-sharking, illegal gambling and prostitution from Rhode Island to Maine. Ray Patriarca has been declared Public Enemy Number One by the Providence Board of Public Safety. Gordino is what we call an enforcer: he terrorizes, tortures and murders people on Patriarca’s orders. We couldn’t warn you about him, for security reasons.”
“Your security is shit, Field.” Baker was really angry: Eddie had never known him to swear at a passenger. “The Patriarca gang knows all