Night Over Water - Ken Follett [176]
But it was not a handful of rubies, it was the Delhi Suite, worth a hundred grand, enough to turn Harry into what he had always wanted to be, a gentleman of leisure.
Nevertheless he toyed with the idea of telling her now. I’m going to steal your mother’s jewels. I hope you don’t mind. She might say Good idea. The old cow never did anything to deserve them. No, that would not be Margaret’s reaction. She thought herself radical, and she believed in redistribution of wealth, but that was all theoretical: she would be shocked to the core if he actually dispossessed her family of some of their riches. She would take it like a body blow, and it would change her feelings about him.
She caught his eye and smiled.
He smiled back guiltily, then looked out of the window.
The plane was coming down to a horseshoe-shaped bay with a scattering of villages along its edge. Behind the villages was farmland. As they came closer, Harry made out a railway line snaking through farms to a long pier. Close to the pier were moored several vessels of different sizes and a small seaplane. To the east of the pier were miles of sandy beaches, with a few large summer cottages dotted among the dunes. Harry thought how nice it would be to have a summer house on the edge of the beach in a place like this. Well, if that’s what I want, that’s what I’ll have, he said to himself; I’m going to be rich!
The plane splashed down smoothly. Harry felt less tension: he was an experienced air traveler now.
“What time is it, Percy?” he asked.
“Eleven o’clock, local time. We’re running an hour late.”
“And how long do we stay here?”
“One hour.”
At Shediac a new method of docking was in operation. The passengers were not landed by launch. Instead a vessel that looked like a lobster boat came out and towed the plane in. Hawsers were attached to both ends of the plane, and it was winched in to a floating dock connected to the pier by a gangway.
This arrangement solved a problem for Harry. At previous stops, where the passengers had been landed by launch, there had been only one chance to go ashore. Harry had consequently been trying to think of some excuse for staying on board throughout this stopover without letting Margaret stay with him. Now, however, he could let Margaret go ashore and tell her he would follow in a few minutes, and she was less likely to insist on staying with him.
A steward opened the door and the passengers started putting on their coats and hats. All the Oxenfords got up. So did Clive Membury, who had hardly spoken a word all through the long flight——except, Harry now recalled, for one rather intense conversation with Baron Gabon. He wondered again what they had been talking about. Impatiently, he brushed the thought aside and concentrated on his own problems. As the Oxenfords were going out, Harry whispered to Margaret: “I’ll catch you up.” Then he went into the men’s room.
He combed his hair and washed his hands, just to have something to do. The window had been broken in the night somehow, and now there was a solid screen fixed to the frame. He heard the crew come down the stairs from the flight deck and pass the door. He checked his watch and decided to wait another two minutes.
He guessed almost everyone would get off. A lot of them had been too sleepy at Botwood, but by now they wanted to stretch their legs and get some fresh air. Ollis Field and his prisoner would stay on board, as always. It was odd that Membury went ashore, though, if he was supposed to keep an eye on Frankie. Harry was still intrigued by the man in the wine red waistcoat.
The cleaners would be coming aboard almost immediately. He listened hard: he could hear no sound from the other side of the door. He cracked it an inch and looked out. All was clear. Cautiously, he stepped out.
The kitchen opposite was empty. He glanced into number 2 compartment : empty. Looking