“Yes. As a matter of fact, they were. Or at least originally. But Macaulay couldn’t take her in the plane because he had to take a diver. These particular diamonds appear to have an affinity for water. This will be the third time they’ve been recovered by a diver.”
“Why don’t you write him a book about it?” Barfield asked.
“Are you worrying over matters of policy again, George?”
“No,” Barfield said hastily. “But I don’t see any sense telling this jerk the time of day—”
“Well, I assure you he isn’t likely to tell anybody out here.”
Or ever come back. The implication was obvious.
I didn’t even hear them any more. They faded away as if I were alone in the cockpit. She had lied about the whole thing. Why try to find a way out now? It was perfectly clear; anybody but a fool would have seen it long ago. I wasn’t interested in their airplane or their stupid diamonds, or where they had come from, or what it was all about. The fact that she’d been lying all the time seemed to be the only thing that mattered.
I was a chump. A sucker. I’d believed her. Even when I’d had intelligence enough to realize the story sounded fishy I’d still believed it. She wouldn’t lie. Oh, no, of course not. Why, you could look at those big innocent, come-on-in-and-drown-yourself gray eyes and just know she couldn’t tell a lie. Jesus, how stupid could you get? She couldn’t go in the plane because he’d had to add a fuel tank to stretch out its cruising radius. I was their last chance to escape; she had trusted me with all the money they had left. She must have been laughing herself sick all the time. I had no desire to spare myself any of it. I even imagined her telling her husband about it. Dear, this poor sap will believe anything.
So I’d gone for it like a high-school sophomore. And because I’d believed it I had killed that poor vicious little bastard in a fight and now the police would be looking for me as long as I lived. Only I wasn’t going to be living very long. That was as obvious as the fact that I’d been a fool. I was scheduled for extinction just as soon as I located Macaulay’s plane and brought up what they wanted.
So was she. And wasn’t that too bad? I wondered if she realized just what her chances were of selling Barclay and that big thug a sob story of some kind. As soon as she told them where to look for that plane they’d kill her with no more compunction than a monkey cracking the life out of a louse. And if she didn’t tell them they’d enjoy beating it out of her. Well, let her turn up the rheostats in those big beautiful eyes and see what it bought her on this moonlight cruise. There should have been some satisfaction in knowing her double-crossing had got her killed as well as me, but when I looked for it, it wasn’t there. I just felt sick.
So I was going back to feeling sorry for her? I was like hell. The dirty, lying, double crossing—I stopped. A puzzling thought had occurred to me. If she knew what was in the plane and where it was, why hadn’t they grabbed her off long ago? Why had they kept trying to sweat Macaulay out of hiding so they could take him alive and make him tell, when they could have picked her up any time they pleased?
I cursed myself. What the hell, was I still trying to find a way out for her? Of course they hadn’t wanted her as long as there was a chance she would lead them to Macaulay. Her information about the plane would be secondhand, and they’d only taken her as second choice after Macaulay was dead. She was all they had left.
Well, I thought, they didn’t have much.
We were on the bar now. The breeze was kicking up a moderate sea that was choppy and confused as it fought with the ebbing tide. We shipped a little water on deck now and then as I held her on course toward the sea buoy.
“Here, take the helm,” I said to Barclay. He slid over and I went forward and got the mainsail and jib on her. Barfield sat where he was, smoking. When I had the sails set we were passing the sea buoy. I cut the auxiliary.
“All right, what course?” I asked Barclay.
“Make it a little west of Scorpion Reef,” he replied in the darkness. “That will do until in the morning and we can have a little quiz session with Mrs. M.”
“Right.”
I went below, pulled down the chart table over the port bunk, and clicked on the small light above it. 155 degrees true would do it. I was just guessing at the leeway we’d make, having never sailed her before, but that was close enough since we didn’t even know where we were going anyway. And since nothing made any difference and I didn’t care whether we ever got there or not. Unless the wind changed we’d be able to run down on that course all night without tacking.
Before I went back I looked swiftly around the cabin. I didn’t even know what I was looking for, but since it was the first time I’d been alone, there must have been some idea in my mind of trying to find a weapon. I was just kidding myself. They had brought nothing aboard with them, so there was no hope they’d have another gun down here. I didn’t have a chance. There were two of them; I’d never be where one wouldn’t be watching me or at least aware of where I was. If I got behind one of them and tried to get his gun, the other would kill me. They were professionals; even a man armed with another gun would have no chance against them.
The sloop heeled down a little, the cabin deck tilting. Barclay had cleared the sea buoy and was letting her pay off a little before the wind, guessing at the course as approximately southeast. She lifted on a sea, and eased across and down, the only sound the hissing of water past the hull and the creaking of cordage. It was like home again until I remembered I was laying down a course which went in only one direction—outbound.
They wouldn’t need me going back. Anybody could find the coast of Florida.
On some impulse I couldn’t explain, I stepped to the curtain and looked into the forward part of the cabin. There was just enough illumination from the chart lamp behind me to make her out, lying on the starboard bunk with her face in the pillow. The big lovely body looked defenseless and utterly beaten.
I didn’t know why I did it. I stepped inside and stood near the bunk, as if I had no control over my own movements. She must have heard me, for she stirred and turned on her side and her eyes opened. They were wet.
“Bill,” she whispered, “I’m sorry—”
I snapped out of whatever it was. I grinned coldly at her. “Have a nice trip,” I said.
Turning, I went back through the after part of the cabin and on deck. Barfield had his legs stretched out in the cockpit. I kicked at them savagely.
“Keep your goddamned feet out of the way,” I said.
It had all the potentialities of lighting a cigarette in a tanker’s pump room. Barclay’s cold professionalism was all that saved it.
He was going to have his hands full. You could see that.
Ten
The moment for explosion had passed and he sat in the breeze-swept darkness. She heeled down a little and water hissed along the hull. I gave Barclay the corrected course, and he let her fall off another point.
“Now,” he said, off to my left, the faint glow of the binnacle light on his slender, handsome face, “watches. Have you ever handled a sailboat, George?”
“No,” Barfield replied, across from me. “But if your nipple-headed friend can do it, anybody can.”
“Well, it won’t be necessary, actually,” Barclay said. “Manning and I can take it watch-and-watch, but you’ll have to be on deck when he has it and I’m asleep. Mrs. Macaulay can have the forward part of the cabin; you, I, and Manning can get a little sleep in the two bunks in the after part from time to time, except that obviously he can’t go down there when one of us is asleep.”
He was utterly calm and matter-of-fact, as if he were discussing the seating arrangement at a dinner party rather than trying to work out a deathwatch over a condemned man they had to live with and keep prisoner until the hour came to kill him.