'Christ, I suppose that could be it, Broekman said, rubbing his lips with one hand. Philippe, Endo and Hisako had told him of the theory that the venceristas had come to shoot down the plane. The noise of Mr Mandamus snoring as he slept off his meal covered any sounds short of a shout they were likely to make.
'Is just a thought, Philippe said.
'Flight today, Endo confirmed.
'Crazy bastards; what're they trying to do?
'Maybe we're being paranoid, Hisako said. 'We'll know soon anyway.
'If the flight is today, Broekman said. 'On the news yesterday there was talk of some last-minute hitch; might be a delay.
'There was? Hisako looked at Philippe and Endo. Nobody else had heard this.
'On the World Service, just before our friends arrived.
Philippe looked worried. 'Captain Bleveans; he said the venceristas became… upset? Upset, when they hear something on the radio. Last evening.
'Shit, Broekman said. 'Sounds uncomfortably neat, doesn't it? He rubbed one bristly cheek. 'I didn't think the venceristas were that crazy.
'I think we must get to the radio, Philippe said.
'How do we do that? Broekman said, patting his overalls pockets for cigars that weren't there. 'Rushing the guy at the bar would be suicide, and all we get's a gun or two and a couple of grenades, plus we alert the others. If we had the time and a screwdriver maybe we could unscrew the windows, he nodded slightly towards the curtains, 'if they aren't rusted up. But we'd have to distract them for ten minutes or more. There's no outside access from the toilets; no access anywhere. The alternative is, one of us can try to get out on some sort of excuse and aim to overpower whoever they send with us. That's probably our best bet. And they probably know that.
Philippe shrugged. 'What excuse, you think?
'Try pretending we have to do something to one of the ships; tell them we have to turn on the bilge pumps or we'll sink, or transfer fuel to the generator or we'll lose power; something like that.
'You think they believe us?
'No. Broekman shook his head.
'So is not much hope?
Broekman shook his head. 'Doesn't mean it isn't worth a try. Perhaps we'll be lucky. They've been very casual so far; maybe they're not as confident and professional as they look; maybe they're just sloppy. Broekman ran one hand through his hair, looked round at where the Nadia's captain lay, one arm raised over his head to keep the light out of his eyes. 'We'd better get Bleveans in on this; it's his ship we might break if it goes wrong. Do we wake him now or leave him to get up in his own time?
Hisako confirmed Endo had understood. 'Leave him, Endo said.
Philippe pursed his lips. 'I don't know… if this plane-
The lounge door opened. Sucre stood there, pointing the gun at Hisako with one hand. Señora Onoda, he called. Bleveans stirred a little at the noise. Mandamus snored loudly and muttered something under his breath in Arabic. Hisako stood up into a layer of smoke, smelling Gitanes.
'Yes? She was aware that everybody was looking at her.
Sucre waved the gun. 'You come with me. He stood away from the door. There was another armed man in the corridor behind him.
Philippe started to get up too; she put a hand on his shoulder. 'Philippe-chan; it's all right.
He squeezed her hand. 'Hisako, don't- he began, but she was moving quickly away.
'Is just a phone call, Señora Onoda, Sucre told her on the way up to the radio room. He was about the same height as she, though much more muscled. His skin was coppery-olive and his face held no trace of the blacking; it looked freshly shaved. He smelled of cologne. She suspected his black curly hair was trimmed and perhaps even curled to make him look Guevara-ish.
'Mr Moriya?
'Sounds like, Sucre agreed, shepherding her up a companionway.
She wondered if she could escape; perhaps kick down, disabling Sucre, taking his gun. But it was better to wait until she was in the radio room. Her mouth was dry again, but at the same time it was as though there was some strange electric charge running through her teeth and gums, leaving a sharp, metallic taste. Her legs wobbled a little as they walked along the central corridor that led to the ship's bridge, senior officers' quarters, and radio room. A vencerista rested against the wall outside, between her and the bridge. She smelled more tobacco smoke; cigars or cigarillos.
Sucre took her elbow and stopped her, swung her round so that she bumped into the metal corridor wall. He pressed against her, the automatic pistol he'd pointed at her the evening before in his hand again. He put the gun up under her chin. She tipped her head back, looked into his dark eyes.
'Señora — he began.
'Señorita, she told him, then wished she hadn't.
'Hey, you're cool, Sucre grinned. He moved his thumb. There was a click which she both heard and felt through her neck and jaw. 'Hear that, Señorita?
She nodded slowly.
'Now no safety catch. Safety catch off. You say anything on the radio, I blow your brains out. Then I give the other two women to my men; we been in the jungles long time, yeah? And then after that I take the cojones off your francés-man. He put his free hand between her legs, patting her through the light material of the yukata. He smiled broadly. Her heart thudded. She felt as if she might lose control of her bowels. The gun was hard under her chin, half-choking her, making her want to gag. 'Understand? Sucre said.
'Yes.
'Yes; good. And you make it short.
'He will want to speak Japanese, she told him. Moriya would have used English to ask for her, but of course would expect to talk to her in Japanese.
Sucre looked surprised, then briefly angry. Finally he grinned. 'Tell him your francés-man want to listen too.
She nodded carefully. 'All right.
He took his hand away, backed off, waved her to the radio room.
The Nadia's radio operator let her into the seat. Sucre sat to her right, facing her, the automatic against her right ear. 'OK, he said quietly, not taking his eyes off her.
She picked up the handset, put it to her left ear. It was the wrong side; it felt strange. 'Hello, she said, swallowing.
'Hisako, what takes these people so long? And where did you get to anyway? Never mind. Look, it's getting ridiculous —
'Mr Moriya; Mr Moriya…
'Yes?
'Talk in English, please. I have a friend here who does not understand Japanese.
'What…? Moriya said in Japanese, then switched to English. 'Oh… Hisako… have I to?
'Please. For me.
'Very well. Very well. Let me see… Perhaps we have cancellings altogether. They still… they still… ah, want you appear some time, but — oh, I am sorry. I am impolite. How are you?
'Fine. You?
'Oh dear; you are being short with me. Always I know I say wrong thing when you are short with me. I am sorry.
'I'm all right, Moriya-san, she told him. 'I am well. How are you?
'Are you well really? You sound different.
Sucre rammed the gun into her ear, forcing her head over to the left. She closed her eyes. 'Mr Moriya, she said, trying to sound calm. 'Please believe me; I'm all right. What did you call for? Please; I have to get back… Hot tears came to her eyes.