Nicholas. What for? He won't be able to catch Golden Dawn before she
rounds the Cape, but I want him to follow her. Nicholas, you're out of
your mind! - do you know what that would cost? If Golden Dawn gets
into trouble he'll be only a day or two behind her. Tell Allen he is to
shadow her all the way into Galveston roads., Nicholas, you're letting
this whole thing get out of all proportion. It's become an obsession
with you, for God's sake! With her superior speed, Warlock should be up
with her before she enters the 'Listen to me, Nicholas. Let's think
this all out carefully.
What are the chances of Golden Dawn suffering structural failure or
crippling breakdown on her maiden voyage - a hundred to one against it?
It's that high? That's about right. Nicholas agreed. A hundred to
one. What is it going to cost to hold one ocean-going salvage tug on
standby, at a lousy fifteen hundred dollars a day and then to send
another halfway around the world at top of the green? Bernard clasped
his brow theatrically. It's going to cost you a quarter of a million
dollars, if you take into consideration the loss of earnings on both
vessels that's the very least it's going to cost you. Don't you have
respect for money any longer? Now you understand why I had, to stall
the Sheikhs, I couldn't shoot their money on Nicholas smiled calmly a
hundred-to-one chance - but it's not their money yet.
It's mine. Sea Witch and Warlock aren't their tugs, they are mine.
Peter isn't their son, he's mine. You're serious/ said Bernard
incredulously. I do believe you are serious. Right/ Nicholas agreed.
Damned right, I am. Now get a telex off to David Allen and ask him for
his estimated time of arrival in Cape Town. Samantha Silver had one
towel wrapped around her head like a turban. Her hair was still wet
from the luxurious shampooing it had just received. She wore the other
towel tucked under her armpits, making a short sarong of it. She still
glowed all over from the steaming tub and she smelled of soap and talcum
powder.
After a long field trip, it took two or three of these soakings and
scrubbings to get the salt and the smell of the mangroves out of her
pores, and the Everglades mud from under her nails.
She poured the batter into the pan, the oil spitting and crackling with
the heat and she sang out, How many waffles can you eat? He came
through from the bathroom, a wet towel wrapped around his waist, and he
stood in the doorway and grinned at her. How many have you got? he
asked. She had still not accustomed her ear to the Australian twang'.
He was burned and brown as she was, and his hair was bleached at the
ends, hanging now, wet from the shower, into his face.
They had worked well together, and she had learned much from him.
The drift into intimacy had been gradual, but inevitable. In her hurt,
she had turned to him for comfort, and also in deliberate spite of
Nicholas. But now, if she turned her head away, she would not really be
able to remember his features clearly. It took an effort to remember
his name - Dennis, of course, Doctor Dennis O'Connor.
She was detached from it all, as though a sheet of armoured glass
separated her from the real world. She went through the motions of
