Night Over Water - Ken Follett [196]
He released the anchor, then stood surveying the sea all around, hunting for a vessel. Where were Luther’s buddies? What if something had gone wrong, what if they did not turn up? But then at last he saw a motor launch in the distance. His heart missed a beat. Was this it? And was Carol-Ann on board? Now he worried that it might be some other vessel, coming to look at the downed plane out of curiosity, which would interfere with the plan.
It came in fast, riding up and down the waves. Eddie was supposed to return to his station on the flight deck, having dropped anchor and checked for damage, but he could not move. He stared hypnotically at the launch as it grew larger. It was a big, fast boat with a covered wheelhouse. He knew it was racing at twenty-five or thirty knots, but it seemed painfully slow. There was a group of figures on deck, he realized. Soon he could count them: four. He noticed that one was much smaller than the others. The group began to look like three men in dark suits and a woman in a blue coat. Carol-Ann had a blue coat.
He thought it was she, but he was not sure. The woman had fair hair and a slight figure, just like hers. She was standing apart from the others. All four were at the rail, looking at the Clipper. The waiting was unbearable. Then the sun came out from behind a cloud, and the woman raised her hand to her face to shield her eyes. Something about the gesture pulled at Eddie’s heartstrings, and he knew it was his wife.
“Carol-Ann,” he said aloud.
A surge of excitement seized him, and for a moment he forgot about the perils they both still faced, and gave in to the joy of seeing her again. He raised his arms and waved happily. “Carol-Ann!” he yelled. “Carol-Ann!”
She could not hear him, of course, but she could see him. She started with surprise, hesitated as if she was not sure whether it was he, then waved back, timidly at first and then vigorously.
If she could wave like that she must be all right, he realized, and he felt as weak as a baby with relief and gratitude.
He remembered that it was not over yet. He had more to do. He gave one more wave, then reluctantly went back inside the plane.
He emerged onto the flight deck just as the captain was coming up from the passenger deck. “Any damage?” Baker said.
“Nothing at all, as far as I can see.”
The captain turned to the radio operator, who reported: “Our Mayday has been answered by several ships, but the nearest vessel is a pleasure boat now approaching on the port side. You can probably see her.”
The captain looked out of the windows and saw the launch. He shook his head. “She’s no use. We have to be towed. Try to raise the Coast Guard.”
“The people on the launch want to come aboard,” the radio operator said.
“Nix to that,” said Baker. Eddie was dismayed. They had to come aboard! “It’s too dangerous,” the captain went on. “I don’t want a boat tied up to the plane: it could damage the hull. And if we try to transfer people in this swell, someone’s sure to fall in the goddamn drink. Tell them we appreciate their offer, but they can’t help us.”
Eddie had not anticipated this. He put on an unconcerned look to mask his sudden anxiety. The hell with damage to the plane—Luther’s gang were coming aboard! But they would have a hard time without help from the inside.
Even with help, it would be a nightmare to try to board through the normal doors, he realized. The waves were washing over the sea-wings and halfway up the doors: no one could stand on the sea-wing without a rope to hold on to, and water would pour into the dining room while the door was open. This