Night Over Water - Ken Follett [165]
“I think I can. They’re out on exercises anyway, getting all excited in case the Nazis decided to invade New England after Poland. It’s just a question of diverting one. The guy who can do that is Simon Greenbourne’s father—remember Simon?”
“Sure I do.” Eddie recalled a wild kid with a crazy sense of humor and a huge thirst for beer. He was always in trouble, but he usually got off lightly because his father was an admiral.
Steve continued. “Simon went too far one day and set fire to a bar in Pearl City and burned down half a block. It’s a long story, but I kept him out of jail and his father is eternally grateful. I think he would do this for me.”
Eddie looked at the vessel Steve had come in. It was an SC-class submarine chaser, twenty years old, with a wooden hull, but it carried a three-inch, twenty-three-caliber machine gun and a depth charge. It would scare the pants off a bunch of citified mobsters in a speedboat. But it was conspicuous. “They might see the boat beforehand and smell a rat,” he said anxiously.
Steve shook his head. “These things can hide up creeks. Their draft is less than six feet, fully loaded.”
“It’s risky, Steve.”
“So they spot a navy patrol boat. It leaves them alone. What are they going to do—call the whole thing off?”
“They might do something to Carol-Ann.”
Steve seemed about to argue; then he changed his mind. “That’s true,” he said. “Anything might happen. You’re the only one who has the right to say we’ll take the risk.”
Eddie knew Steve was not saying what he really felt. “You think I’m running scared, don’t you?” he said testily.
“Yeah. But you’re entitled.”
Eddie looked at his watch. “Christ, I’m due back in the flight room.” He had to make up his mind. Steve had come up with the best plan he could, and now it was up to Eddie to take it or leave it.
Steve said: “One thing you may not have thought of. They could still be planning to double-cross you.”
“How?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know how, but once they’re on board the Clipper it’s going to be hard to argue with them. They may decide to take Gordino and Carol-Ann, too.”
“Why the hell would they do that?”
“To make sure you don’t cooperate too enthusiastically with the police for a while.”
“Shit.” There was another reason, too, Eddie realized. He had yelled at these guys and insulted them. They might well be planning some final payoff to teach him a lesson.
He was cornered.
He had to go along with Steve’s plan now. It was too late to do otherwise.
God forgive me if I’m wrong, he thought.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s do it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Margaret woke up thinking: Today I have to tell Father.
It took her a moment to remember what she had to tell him: she would not be living with them in Connecticut; she was going to leave the family, find lodgings and get a job.
He was sure to throw a tantrum.
A nauseating sensation of fear and shame came over her. It was a familiar feeling. She got it every time she wanted to defy Father. I’m nineteen years old, she thought; I’m a woman. Last night I made passionate love to a wonderful man. Why am I still scared of my father?
It had been like this as long as she could remember. She had never understood why he was so determined to keep her in a cage. He was the same with Elizabeth, but not with Percy. He seemed to want his daughters to be useless ornaments. He had always been at his worst when they wanted to do something practical, like learn to swim or build a tree-house or ride bicycles. He never cared how much they spent on gowns, but he would not let them have an account at a bookshop.
It was not simply the prospect of defeat that made her feel sick. It was the way he refused her, the anger and scorn, the mocking jibes and the purple-faced rage.
She had often tried to outwit him by deceit, but that rarely worked: she was so terrified he might hear the scratching of the rescued kitten in the attic, or come across her playing with the “unsuitable” children from the village, or search her room and find her copy of Elinor Glyn’s The Vicissitudes