Night Over Water - Ken Follett [163]
Eddie reached for the phone, then pulled his hand back. If he talked to her, he would be putting himself at their mercy. But he was desperate to hear her voice. He summoned up every ounce of willpower, thrust his hands deep into his pockets, and shook his head in silent negation.
Luther stared at him for a moment, then spoke into the phone again. “He still won’t speak! He—Get off the line, cunt. I want to talk to—”
Suddenly Eddie had him by the throat. The phone clattered to the floor. Eddie pressed his thumbs into Luther’s thick neck. Luther gasped: “Stop! Let go! Leave me....” His voice was choked off.
The red mist cleared from Eddie’s eyes. He realized he was killing the man. He eased the pressure, but retained his grip. He brought his face close to Luther’s, so close that Luther blinked. “Listen to me,” Eddie said. “You call my wife Mrs. Deakin.”
“Okay, okay!” Luther said hoarsely. “Let me go, for Christ’s sake!”
Eddie let him go.
Luther rubbed his neck, breathing hard; then he grabbed the phone. “Vincini? He just went for me because I called his wife a—a bad word. Says I have to call her Mrs. Deakin. Are you getting it now, or do I have to draw you a picture? He’ll do anything!” There was a pause. “I guess I could handle him, but if people see us fighting, what’ll they think? It could blow the whole thing!” He was silent for a while. “Good. I’ll tell him. Listen, we’re making the right decision. I know it. Hold on.” He turned to Eddie. “They’ll go along with it. She’ll be on the launch.”
Eddie made his face a mask to conceal his tremendous relief.
Luther went on nervously: “But he says, I must tell you that if there are any snags, he’s going to shoot her.”
Eddie snatched the phone from his hand. “Get this, Vincini. One: I have to see her on the deck of your launch before I open the doors of the plane. Two: She has to come on board with you. Three: No matter what snags there might be, if she’s hurt I’m going to kill you with my bare hands. Just keep that in your mind, Vincini.” Before the man had time to reply, Eddie hung up.
Luther looked dismayed. “What did you do that for?” He lifted the earpiece and jiggled the cradle. “Hello? Hello?” He shook his head and hung up. “Too late.” He looked at Eddie with a mixture of anger and awe. “You really live dangerously, don’t you?”
“Go pay for the call,” Eddie said.
Luther reached into his inside pocket and took out a thick roll of bills. “Listen,” he said. “Your getting mad doesn’t help anyone. I’ve given you what you ask. Now we have to work together to make this operation a success, for both our sakes. Why don’t we just try to get along? We’re partners now.”
“Fuck you, shitheel,” Eddie said, and he went out.
He was angrier than ever as he strode along the road back to the harbor. Luther’s remark that they were partners had touched a raw nerve. Eddie had done what he could to protect Carol-Ann, but he was still committed to help free Frankie Gordino, who was a murderer and a rapist. The fact that he was being forced into it should have excused him, and in others’ minds perhaps it would, but to him it seemed to make no difference: he knew that if he went through with it he would never hold up his head again.
As he walked down the hill to the bay, he looked across the water. The Clipper floated majestically on the calm surface. Eddie’s career on Clippers was at an end, he knew. He was mad about that, too. There were also two big freighters at anchor and a few smaller fishing boats; and, to his surprise, he saw a U.S. Navy patrol boat tied up at the dock. He wondered what it was doing here in Newfoundland. Something to do with the war? It reminded him of his days in the navy. Looking back, that seemed like a golden time when life was simple. Maybe the past always looked attractive when you were in trouble.
He entered the Pan American building. There in the green-and-white painted lobby was a man in lieutenant’s uniform, presumably off the patrol boat. As Eddie