“That was my plan, yes,” the captain said. “The last thing we need right now is a bunch of idealistic civilians getting in our way. I want them long gone before whatever goes down out here goes down. You have a problem with that, XO?”
Sara refused to be intimidated by the implied menace. “Firstly, sir, I don’t think they’ll take to being ordered. They don’t, as a rule, if you recall.”
They both remembered last August and the whole whaling debacle. “No,” he said, “they don’t, do they. Secondly?”
“Secondly-” Sara hesitated.
“Spit it out, XO.”
“Well, sir, I was thinking that we might be able to use them.”
“Use them how?”
“It’s a big ocean, captain. If Hugh-if Mr. Rincon is right and there are terrorists on board the Agafia, and if they do have a weapon they are preparing to launch, we might be able to use another ship. The Sojourner Truth and the Sunrise Warrior are both faster than the Agafia.”
Lowe snorted. “That’s a stretch. What’s her top speed, five, six knots? A baby stroller is faster than she is.”
“Yes, sir. For another thing, I’ll bet both of us are more seaworthy than she is, too. You remember what the Pheodora was like when we boarded her.”
“If the Agafia’s in that bad shape we can run her down on our own.”
“Still, sir, it wouldn’t hurt to have another ship standing by. Just in case. And…” Sara paused. She hadn’t wanted to draw this card, but there wasn’t a whole lot of choice left to her. Besides, in this she knew she was right. “I know the international campaigner she’s got on board.”
“The international campaigner?”
“The ship is here on what they call a campaign. It was someone’s idea, and that someone, once they sell the idea to Greenpeace headquarters in Amsterdam, usually heads up the campaign when it goes into action. I know the point person on board.”
“How?”
Sara looked at the overhead. “I arrested her once.”
The captain stared at her, disbelieving what she had just said. “You what?”
“I worked one year at Prudhoe Bay, sir, when the freight barges were coming in. Greenpeace was getting in the way with inflatables. Vivienne Kincaid was ramrodding that campaign with a crew of six. I was with the detachment that arrested them.”
“And because of this history you think she’s going to help us?”
“She’s not an unreasonable person, sir, and she’s an American. I think when it comes down to it she’ll chose country over cause.”
The captain’s voice was cold and hard. “I don’t like the prospect of trusting the fate of the crew-not to mention an entire city-to a fanatic, XO.”
“No, sir. But they’re what we’ve got.” She could have said more, but she knew when to shut up, and did so.
He brooded for a moment, and then raised his voice. “What’s it doing out there in the way of weather?”
“Barometer still dropping, sir,” Tommy said. “Temperature in the low twenties. Rain, snow, freezing spray. Winds out of the southeast at forty-five knots. Seas eighteen to twenty feet. Forecast is for fifty-five knots before midnight.”
The captain looked at Sara. “We’ll never be able to launch a small boat in this.”
“No, sir.”
“Are we still on an intercept course for the Agafia?” he asked Tommy.
“Of course, sir,” Tommy said, a little hurt.
“How long?”
“We’re closing to half a mile now, sir. I don’t think she’s making much headway in the storm.”
“Probably ran into it on purpose, trying to hide,” he said.
The deck rolled and Sara took a quick step to regain her balance. Hugh lost his balance and crashed into the bulkhead. PO Barnette, on the conn, stood rooted to the deck, hands clasped in the small of his back, staring straight ahead.
The captain made up his mind. “Let’s make the storm work for us for a change. Bosun, pipe the aviators to my cabin. XO, Mr. Rincon, with me. Chief, you have the conn.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“WITH ALL DUE RESPECT, sir,” Lieutenant Sams said, and halted, at a loss for words. He didn’t say, “You gotta be kidding me,” but the words were on his face for anyone to read.
Captain Lowe was not unsympathetic. “I know it’s a lot to ask. Can you do it?”
Sams’s eyes were red-rimmed. He ran his fingers up into his thinning hairline and scrubbed vigorously at his scalp. “There’s a question of fatigue here, Captain. We were in the air for-” He stopped, obviously trying to add up the hours.
“A long time,” Laird said.
Sams nodded. “A long time.”
“The question is, can you do it,” Lowe said.
“The question is, can I even get off the ship,” Sams said. “I’m sorry, sir. I beg your pardon for raising my voice. It’s been a long day.” He glared at Hugh, who looked back without apology.
There was a knock at the door. “Come,” Lowe said.
It was Ops. “Still no response from the Agafia, Captain. Either their radio’s down or they’re ignoring us. And e-mail is still down.”
“Just as well,” the captain said with a hard look at Hugh. “District isn’t going to believe this anyway.”
“Look, Captain,” Sams said, “we’re coming up hard on her stern, right? We’re going to be close enough that we don’t have to put the bird in the air. We can just put a boat in the water.”
“I don’t believe this,” Sara said. “An aviator thinking up reasons not to fly. A thing unheard of in memory of man.”
They all smiled, except for Hugh. It lightened the tension, just a little, maybe just enough.
“Ah hell,” Sams said, shaking his head, “this’ll be one for round the bar.”
“Yeah,” said Laird, “and I never said I wanted to live forever anyway. Let’s take a look at the pitch and roll.”
They went back up to the bridge. They were close enough now to be able to see the Agafia‘s lights, diffused through the blowing snow and fog into an enormous halo off their port bow. There was a smaller glow illuminating the fog and snow to starboard, indicating the position of the Sunrise Warrior. The lights were bobbing up and down with the motion of the sea, no more so than the cutter. Sara took two quick steps to grab hold of a pipe to steady her footing.
Ops got on the VHF again. “Fishing vessel Agafia, fishing vessel Agafia, this is the United States Coast Guard cutter Sojourner Truth, please respond, I say again, please respond.”