Night Over Water - Ken Follett [201]
“We didn’t know he was going to be on this flight—nobody told us!”
Was Hartmann completely unprotected? Eddie wondered. Or did he have a bodyguard who had not yet revealed himself?
The little gangster called Joe came into the compartment with his gun in his right hand and an opened bottle of champagne in his left. “They’re quiet as lambs, Vinnie,” he said to Vincini. “Kid’s back there in the dining room. He can cover the whole front part of the plane from there.”
Vincini said to Luther: “So where’s the fuckin’ submarine?”
Luther said: “It will be here at any moment, I’m sure.”
A submarine! Luther had a rendezvous with a U-boat right here off the coast of Maine! Eddie looked out of the windows, expecting to see it rising from the water like a steel whale; but he saw nothing but waves.
Vincini said: “Well, we’ve done our bit. Gimme the money.”
Keeping Hartmann covered, Luther stepped back to his seat, picked up a small case and handed it to Vincini. Vincini opened it. It was packed tight with wads of bills.
Luther said: “A hundred thousand dollars, all in twenties.”
Vincini said: “I better check it.” He put his gun away and sat down with the case on his knee.
Luther said: “It’ll take you forever—”
“What do you think I am, green?” Vincini said in a tone of exaggerated patience. “I’ll check two bundles. Then I’ll count how many bundles there are. I’ve done this before.”
Everyone watched Vincini count the money. The passengers in the compartment—Princess Lavinia, Lulu Bell, Mark Alder, Diana Lovesey, Ollis Field and the Frankie Gordino impostor—looked on. Joe recognized Lulu Bell. “Hey, ain’t you in the movies?” he said. Lulu looked away, ignoring him. Joe drank from his bottle, then offered it to Diana Lovesey. She paled and shrank away from him. “I agree. This stuff is overrated,” Joe said; then he reached out and poured champagne over her cream-and-red dotted dress.
She gave a cry of distress and pushed his hand away. The wet dress clung to her bosom revealingly.
Eddie was appalled. This was the kind of thing that could lead to violence. He said: “Knock it off, you.”
The man took no notice. “Great jugs,” he said with a leer. He dropped the bottle and grabbed one of her breasts, squeezing hard.
She screamed.
Her boyfriend, Mark, was struggling with his safety belt, saying: “Don’t touch her, you cheap hood—”
With a surprisingly quick movement, the hoodlum hit him in the mouth with his gun. Blood spurted from Mark’s lips.
Eddie said: “Vincini, for Christ’s sake, put a stop to this!”
Vincini said: “Girl like that, hell, if she ain’t had her tits felt by her age, it’s about time.”
Joe thrust his hand down the front of Diana’s dress. She struggled to avoid his grasp, but she was strapped in her seat.
Mark got his seat belt undone, but as he was rising to his feet the man hit him again. This time the butt of the gun hit the comer of his eye. Joe used his left fist to punch Mark in the stomach, then hit him across the face with the gun a third time. Now blood from his wounds got into Mark’s eyes and blinded him. Several women were screaming.
Eddie was appalled. He had been determined to avoid bloodshed. Joe was about to hit Mark again. Eddie could stand it no longer. Taking his life in his hands, he grabbed the little gangster from behind, pinning his arms.
Joe struggled, trying to point his gun at Eddie, but Eddie held on tight. Joe pulled the trigger. The bang was deafening in the confined space, but the gun was pointing down and the bullet went through the floor.
The first shot had been fired. Eddie had a horrified, scary feeling that he was losing control of the situation. If that happened there could be a bloodbath.
At last Vincini intervened. “Knock it off, Joe!” he yelled.
The man became still.
Eddie let him go.
Joe gave him a venomous look, but said nothing.
Vincini said: “We can go. The money’s all here.”
Eddie saw a ray of hope. If they would leave now, at least the bloodshed had been limited. Go, he thought; for God’s sake, go!
Vincini went on: “Bring the cunt with