Passage by Night - Jack Higgins [60]
She poured coffee into a cup for him. 'I heard Morrison and Sergei talking. I know what you're going to do. You mustn't.'
He frowned. 'I don't understand.'
'Can't you see?' she said desperately. 'You're making a personal issue out of this. She fooled you, that woman, and now you're going to risk your life again because your stupid vanity's been hurt.'
She was close to tears and he shook his head slowly. 'She doesn't mean a thing to me, not any more. As far as I'm concerned, Maria Salas was drowned off the Blackstone Reef five days ago.'
She turned abruptly and fled into the cabin, shutting the door after her. Manning finished his coffee, went back into the saloon and stretched out on one of the bench seats.
Five days ago. Was that all? What was time, but events turning endlessly in a circle that brought one to an ending that was ordained from the beginning of time. He closed his eyes and plunged into the dark waters of sleep.
20
Into an Indigo Dusk
The dawn came grey and cold with mist rolling in heavy patches across the water and the sea heaved in an oily swell. Seth was at the wheel and Manning stood beside him drinking hot coffee.
Under his denim pants and heavy sweater, he was dressed for diving, a heavy cork-handled knife at his belt, pressure gauge and compass strapped to his wrists. He put down his cup, picked up a pair of binoculars and looked ahead.
'Not a damned thing. This would have to happen.'
Morrison came along the deck wearing an old duffle coat, his face grey. 'I thought they were supposed to be the sunny Bahamas?'
'So they are at the right time. Whoever saw a tourist up this early in the morning?'
The American glanced at his watch. 'Five A.M. I'd forgotten there was such a time.' He peered out anxiously into the grey mist. 'Ten hours to zero.'
Manning turned to the chart, worked out their dead reckoning based on miles logged and course sailed, and threw down the pencil.
I'd say we're no more than a couple of miles south-southwest of Lyford Cay. Cut the engines, Seth.'
He went out on deck as Anna and Orlov came up from the saloon. She was wearing one of his heavy sweaters, the sleeves rolled back. The Russian wore swimming shorts and a windcheater.
'Why have we stopped?' Anna said. 'Are we there?'
Manning nodded. 'Everybody quiet. Let's see if we can hear anything.'
The boat lifted on the swell and then subsided and he stood at the rail listening intently. A seagull flew low over the deck and skimmed the water with a shrill cry and somewhere in the distance there was a rumble like thunder.
'What's that noise?' Orlov asked.
'Sea breaking over the reef closer to the cay,' Manning told him.
Morrison was standing a few feet away, the binoculars to his eyes. He gave a startled exclamation and pointed ahead excitedly.
'I think I saw something. The mist seems to clear for a moment. About a half-mile ahead.'
Manning took the glasses and climbed on top of the wheelhouse. The wind was beginning to freshen, thinning the mist considerably in places. It would probably clear completely within an hour.
On the crest of a wave, he thought he saw a spar. The Grace Abounding dipped into a great hollow and then lifted high on the swell. As he focused the binoculars, the boat jumped at him through the ragged hole in the mist, the red band above the waterline contrasting vividly with the cream-painted hull. He took a rough fix with his wrist compass and jumped to the deck.
'She's there all right.' He looked into the wheelhouse and gave Seth the new course. 'Half-speed till I give you the word. When we get close, let her have everything she's got and kill the engines as we drop across their stern.' He turned to Morrison and Orlov. 'We'd better get ready.'
They went down into the saloon. Papa Melos was sitting at the table drinking coffee, his right arm in a sling. Manning opened the chart drawer, took out a box of .38 cartridges and tossed it across to Morrison.
'You take the Smith and Wesson and stay in the wheelhouse with Seth in case