Night Over Water - Ken Follett [209]
The two men drifted nearer to the sea-wing. If they had kept calm, they could have climbed onto it and been saved. But they did not see it.
Kid’s head went under and did not come up again.
Joe lost contact with Kid and breathed a lungful of water. Margaret heard one hoarse scream, muffled by the Clipper’s soundproofing. Joe’s head went under, came up, and went under again for the last time.
Margaret shuddered. They were both dead.
“How did this happen?” Luther said. “How come they fell in?”
“Maybe they were pushed,” said Vincini.
“Who by?”
“There must be someone else on this fuckin’ airplane.”
Margaret thought: Harry!
Was it possible? Could Harry still be on board? Had he hidden somewhere while the police were searching for him, and come out after the emergency splashdown? Was it Harry who had pushed the two gangsters into the sea?
Then she thought of her brother. Percy had disappeared after the launch tied up to the Clipper, and Margaret had assumed he had gone to the men’s room and then decided to stay out of the way. But that was not characteristic of him. He was more likely to seek out trouble. She knew he had found an unofficial way up to the flight deck. What was he up to now?
Luther said: “This whole thing is falling apart! What are we going to do?”
“We’re leaving on the seaplane, just like we planned: you, me, the Kraut and the money,” said Vincini. “If anyone gets in the way, put a bullet in his belly. Calm down and let’s go.”
Margaret had a dreadful premonition that they would meet Percy on the stairs, and he would be the one to get a bullet in his belly.
Then, just as the three men were leaving the dining room, she heard Percy’s voice coming from the back of the plane.
At the top of his voice he shouted: “Stop right there!”
To Margaret’s astonishment he was holding a gun—and pointing it right at Vincini.
It was a short-barreled revolver, and Margaret guessed immediately that it must be the Colt that had been confiscated from the F.B.I. agent earlier. Now Percy held it in front of him, straight-armed as if he were aiming at a target.
Vincini turned around slowly.
Margaret was proud of Percy even while she was afraid for his life.
The dining room was crowded. Behind Vincini, right next to where Margaret was sitting, Luther was holding his gun to Hartmann’s head. On the other side of the compartment stood Nancy, Mervyn Lovesey, Diana Lovesey, and the engineer and the captain. And most of the seats were occupied.
Vincini looked at Percy for a long moment, then said: “Get out of here, kid.”
“Drop your gun,” Percy said in his cracked adolescent voice.
Vincini moved with surprising speed. He ducked to one side and raised his gun. There was a shot. The bang deafened Margaret: she heard a distant scream and realized it was her own voice. She could not tell who had shot whom. Percy seemed all right. Then Vincini staggered and fell, blood spurting from his chest. He dropped his briefcase and it burst open. Blood splashed the bundles of money.
Percy dropped the gun and stared, horrified, at the man he had shot. He looked about to burst into tears.
Everyone looked at Luther, the last of the gang, and the only person who still held a gun.
Carl Hartmann made a sudden move, breaking free of Luther’s grasp while the man was distracted, and flung himself on the floor. Margaret was terrified Hartmann would be killed; then she thought Luther would shoot Percy; but what actually happened took her completely by surprise.
Luther grabbed her.
He pulled her out of her seat and held her in front of himself, his gun at her head, just as he had held Hartmann before.
Everyone froze.
She was too terrified to move, to speak, even to scream. The barrel of the gun dug painfully into her temple. Luther was shaking: he was as frightened as she. In the silence he said: “Hartmann, go to the bow door. Go on board the launch. Do as you’re told or the girl gets it.”
Suddenly she felt a dreadful calm descend over her. She could see, with hideous clarity, that Luther had been brilliantly