“Slacken the winch?” Magnusson said. “What the hell for?”
Carew opened his mouth to answer. Magnusson cut him off. “Give me more power,” he told the captain. “Damned if we’re giving up without a fight.”
THE BRIEFCASE, at last.
Okura’s muscles screamed as he balanced on the windshield of the sports car, clutching the briefcase like a trophy. The ship swayed and rolled. The cars groaned against their fastenings.
Okura didn’t care. He was fifty million dollars richer.
He timed his movements carefully. Clambered off the Nissan and onto its neighbor, aiming his headlamp in the direction he’d come. Four cars away, his rope dangled in space. All that remained was to reach that rope and to climb it to safety.
Fifty million dollars. Okura crawled across the front end of the next Nissan. Thank you, Tomio.
ABOARD THE MUNRO, Captain Geoffries watched the Pacific Lion swing on the end of the Salvation’s towline, waves crashing against her exposed hull. He checked the GPS screen in front of him: forty-five nautical miles to landfall, the south shore of Umnak Island. Despite the Salvation’s efforts, the freighter continued to drift north.
“Raise the Salvation,” Geoffries told his radio operator. “Ask them what the hell they’re doing over there.”
THE SALVATION’S RADIO CRACKLED to life. The Munro. “Requesting an update on the status of your operation,” the radio operator told Magnusson. “It looks like you’re into some difficulty over there.”
Magnusson studied the Munro. It jogged in the swell, steady and silent and ever-present. Behind the cutter, a half mile away, the Gale Force waited her turn.
Magnusson picked up the radio. “No difficulty,” he told the Munro. He motioned to Carew, who pushed the Salvation’s throttles, the twin Caterpillars roaring with the strain. “Everything is proceeding as planned.”
37
McKenna stared out at the Salvation through her binoculars. “My god,” she said as another thick plume of smoke erupted from the little boat’s stack. “They still think they can tow that thing.”
Beside McKenna, Nelson Ridley shook his head. “They’re nuts, skipper. They’ll blow their bloody engines.”
Through McKenna’s binoculars, the Salvation struggled forward, white water roiling from beneath her stern.
“The old girl has heart, anyway,” she said. “Even if her master’s a maniac.”
The wind gusted harder. The Lion began to yaw sideways on her towline again, fighting the Salvation’s efforts to keep her true. The Salvation bucked on the end of the line, straining and pulling for all she was worth. McKenna could almost hear the engines howling, knew the noise must have been tremendous, the exertion, as the plucky little boat put fifty-five thousand tons of ship on her back.
At first, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. But Ridley noticed the same. “Geez,” the engineer exhaled. “Who’s towing who, skipper?”
Ridley was right. Little by little, the Lion was dragging the Salvation around as the big freighter herself turned abeam to the sea, her whole flank now exposed, increasing the wind’s hold on her, blowing her back.
The Salvation fought valiantly. It was losing. Slowly, inexorably, the wind and the sea took control of the Lion.
“Thundering Jonas,” Ridley said. “They’re going to lose that ship if they’re not careful.”
McKenna put down the glasses. “Forget the ship,” she said. “If they don’t change something fast, they’re going down with it.”
MAGNUSSON LOOKED OUT the aft window of the Salvation’s wheelhouse. The towline was stretched taut, the propellers churning up a mighty white wash. Carew had the throttle pegged at the max, the engines howling. But behind them, the Lion continued to pull, dragging them into the trough, the waves hitting hard, broadside.
Magnusson swore. Threw open the aft door and hollered down to Robbie, who worked the winch from the afterdeck, paying out line to gain distance from the Lion.
“Don’t you dare drop that line,” Magnusson shouted down. “You don’t do a damn thing unless I say so.”
Magnusson ducked back inside the wheelhouse, his adrenaline running now. The Salvation’s engines seemed to take hold, the propeller biting into green water, arresting the Lion’s momentum—for the moment.
We’re not giving this ship up, Magnusson thought. I’ll be goddamned if that woman takes this job from me.
It sounded good in his head. But then he looked out the portside window and saw the wave coming, bigger than any other, looming large and closing fast, headed for the Salvation and her prize.
RIDLEY STIFFENED. “Oh,” he said. “Oh, Lord, no.”
McKenna glanced over at him. Looked back at the Salvation, binoculars down, and saw what her engineer was seeing.
A wave, the biggest of the day, a freak, maybe thirty feet high—kid’s stuff for the Gale Force, and even the Salvation, but not with this tow behind her. Not like this.
The wave scudded toward the Salvation, toward the Lion and the towline stretched between them. McKenna watched it come, knew she should feel vindicated. There was no way the Salvation could survive with her tow intact. As soon as this wave hit, the Lion would be hers.
Instead, she felt emptiness, fear, as if she were watching the wave that had stolen her father all over again. The Salvation dropped into the trough. The wave loomed. McKenna braced herself, though she was a half mile away.
38
The wave snapped the towline like the crack of a rifle. Magnusson lunged for the door, called out for the deckhand, watched the line snap back like a whip, heard—felt—the loose end hit the wheelhouse like a freight train.
Then the boat was surging forward, down into the trough, the engines at full bore, the load suddenly eased, the propellers churning and driving the Salvation into the sea. Carew had fallen over backward, was stumbling to his feet, nobody at the controls. Magnusson hurried over, throttled down the engines, three-quarters power. Turned her bow into the waves.
“Hey,” he called down to the galley, where Foss and Ogilvy had damn well better be awake. “Get your asses up here, right now!”
OKURA WAS HALFWAY UP the climbing line, the briefcase tucked under his arm, when the wave hit. He felt the Lion drop into the swell, knew instinctively what was coming, knew it was a bigger wave than any he’d felt so far. The cars lurched on their mounts, steel screaming in protest. Okura braced himself. Then the wave hit.