^ 'I do not believe it! This is a trick the Americans are playing on me. First they say yes, then they say no. They cannot do this to LeCat…'
^ Mackay glanced at him, careful to conceal his growing anxiety. The Frenchman's personality seemed to be changing – these constant references to 'me', to 'LeCat', as though a power complex which had remained submerged was surfacing now Winter's restraining hand was gone. He tried quiet reason.
^ 'Listen to me. The moment they give permission I will take the ship in through Golden Gate. If I take it in now – without permission – we may well collide with those damaged ships somewhere in the channel…'
^ LeCat raised his Skorpion, aimed it point blank at Bennett. 'If you do not immediately sail this ship to San Francisco I will shoot three of your men…'
^ 'If I sail this ship in now and there is another collision – which there will be in this fog, for God's sake – ^ Challenger ^ may go down, taking you and all your men with you. We would go down as well. So, shoot every hostage on this ship if you like, but I will not sail my ship through fog under these conditions.'
^ Mackay turned his back on the terrorist and went to the bridge window. For the second time in only a few hours he felt his back muscles brace themselves for a bullet. Behind him LeCat's eyes flickered. If there was a collision the whole operation was finished. He left the bridge and went to his cabin. To soothe his fury he began drinking cognac.
^ LeCat stood in the open doorway of Betty Cordell's cabin. He had opened the door quietly and she was lying full length on her bunk, exhausted, half asleep. When she saw him she whipped her long legs over the edge quickly. 'Well, what is it?'
^ He closed the door, locked it, came swiftly over to the bunk and looked down at her. She tried to stand up but he placed a spread hand over her chest and pushed her hard. She fell back into the bunk, caught her head on the woodwork and was dazed. 'If Winter finds you here…' Then she remembered that Winter had gone, flown away. She tried to keep calm but the blow on the head had addled her, she was having trouble focusing on the heavily- built figure which loomed over her.
^ The knife point tickled her cheek and the full horror of what was coming hit her. The blurred figure came closer, lowered itself, then his hand ripped her blouse down the front. She clawed for his eyes but he moved his head and again the knife pressed against her cheek. 'Ruin your good looks for life,' he whispered. She sank back and he came on top of her.
^ She tried to think of something else – anything – to think that she was at home, that this was only a nightmare, to switch her ^ mind to anything except what was happening. It didn't work, she knew where she was, what was happening. The bloody gun… far too far away. 'Scream and I'll cut you…' One day she would forget it, pretend to herself it had never happened, that it had all been a nightmare.. . Oh, Daddy, you made it sound so easy -looking after yourself. It went on for eternity.
^ LeCat climbed off the bunk. She lay with her eyes shut, trying to control her breathing. She pulled a handful of sheet and blanket over herself, her eyes still tightly shut. He was moving about the cabin. She heard the clink of the water carafe, a loathsome swallow. She kept her eyes shut very tight indeed.
^ 'You tell Mackay…' LeCat paused, still whispering, somewhere close to her. 'You tell Mackay and I will kill little Foley. I will shoot him low down and he will die slowly – if you tell Mackay…'
^ The knife tip touched her cheek. 'Answer me, you cold bitch. You heard what I said?'
^ 'Go away.' She swallowed, her eyes still closed. Anything to be alone again. 'I heard you. Now go away…'
^ The cabin door closed. She had not even heard him unlock it. She opened her eyes only a fraction, frightened he was still there. The cabin was empty. Very faintly she heard the slap of the ocean against the hull, a strangely peaceful sound.
^ She lay in her bunk a long time before she got up and went under the cold shower. Then she peeled off her sodden clothes, screwed them into a tight bundle and dropped them out of the porthole. She went back again to the shower until the cold water made her tremble. Drying herself automatically, she carefully selected new clothes and put them on. Fresh underclothes, slacks, two sweaters.
^ She wouldn't tell Mackay, wouldn't tell anyone – she decided that while she was under the shower. And not entirely because of poor Foley. Going to the door, she tried the handle carefully and the door was locked. She pressed her ear to the door and listened. No sound of a guard stirring restlessly. She went to her suitcase, opened it, extracted the rifle under the spare clothes.
^ She stood with it in her hands for a long time, resisting the temptation to assemble it. In this suddenly confined world where the past no longer seemed to mean anything the weapon was her only friend. Life had closed in, had become only the ship – and the men on board. She had no feeling of panic or hysteria, only a dead sensation, and she had come to a decision.
^ No one, however clever, was perfect – because you couldn't be sure of what would happen next, however much you planned things. At some unguarded moment LeCat would make a slip, a slip which might last for no longer than a minute, but he would make that slip, she felt sure of it. So she would have to wait and watch and use any feminine skill she had to deceive them, to make them forget her, to think that, being a woman, she was of no account at all. She would live for that moment, then she would kill as many of them as she could.
^ At nine o'clock on Wednesday morning January 22, Winter picked up the ^ San Francisco Chronicle ^ which had been delivered to his bedroom with his breakfast and started reading. The ^ Challenger ^ was headline news. ^ TERRORISTS SEIZE BRITISH TANKER OFF SAN FRANCISCO. ^ The detailed story which followed was garbled, mostly inaccurate, but that was to be expected at this early stage. Winter read with interest that Governor Alex MacGowan had arrived dramatically in the city at midnight, that he had countermanded the mayor's permission to let the tanker into the Bay, that he had now established a headquarters in his offices in the Transamerica Pyramid building. The fact that the ship was still outside the Bay didn't worry him; he was prepared for setbacks and it might soon be necessary to radio LeCat fresh instructions.
^ Half an hour earlier Winter had received a phone call from the Hotel St Francis, from a Mr Seebohm. He was expecting the call because two months earlier it had been agreed that Ahmed Riad would come to San Francisco at this stage of the operation – to receive an on-the-spot report of progress which he would then fly back with to Beirut. Winter suspected that Riad might try to linger, to jog his elbow, and had already decided that if this happened he would have to persuade Mr Seebohm to catch an early plane back home. He went on drinking his coffee, turning to the inside pages.
^ The news item which made him freeze with his cup half-way to his mouth was tucked away at the bottom of an inside page. His reflection in the dressing table mirror showed a man whose features might have turned to stone, the bones sharp in the morning light coming through the window, the jaw rigid. He sat perfectly still, re- reading the news item, then he put the coffee cup down carefully on the table without drinking.
^ He sat there for some time, staring into space, then he got up and looked out of the window. The window carried a security device allowing it to be opened only a few inches – to discourage suicide cases – but Winter, who liked a lot of fresh air, had used a certain tool he always carried to neutralise the device, so now it was wide open. Geary Street yawned ten storeys below. Winter went on staring at the strange, mosaic-like panorama of San Francisco stepped up in a series of terraces towards Nob Hill, an intricate collection of buildings of varying heights so close together they resembled some bizarre jigsaw. Then he went back for the ^ Chronicle ^ and read the news item for the third time.
^ Charles Swan, British radio operator, and his wife Julie were found murdered late today in a remote barn on the outskirts of the city. Both victims were discovered by the police with their throats cut. – Anchorage, Alaska.
^ He sat down again, lit a cigarette, checked his watch. Ahmed Riad, travelling under the name Seebohm, would be arriving in a few minutes. Winter waited, sat in the chair for a quarter of an hour, smoking, his eyes cold, showing nothing of the terrible fury inside him. Then the phone rang. A Mr Seebohm was waiting in the lobby. Winter asked them to send up Mr Seebohm.
^ The Englishman closed the door, locked it as Riad, a careful man, walked into the bathroom, checked behind the door, then came out again and walked over to the window. Glancing down at the sheer, ten-storey drop into Geary, he shuddered and turned away. These American buildings are too tall. They have a megalomania for height. Perhaps it is something sexual…' Winter stared at the Arab. 'Are you feeling all right?' Riad assumed an air of command. He had arrived to give the Englishman his final instructions. 'We have no time to waste. Is everything correct on board the ship? Is LeCat reacting correctly ? I would have expected the ship to be in the Bay by now.'
