Eddie spoke to the older man. “Mr. Field?”
“Yes.”
“The captain would like a word, if you can spare him a moment.”
A slight frown crossed Field’s face, followed by a look of resignation. He had guessed that his secret was out, and he was irritated, but his look said in the long run it was all the same to him. “Of course,” he said. He crushed out his cigarette in the wall-mounted ashtray, unfastened his seat belt and stood up.
“Follow me, please,” Eddie said.
On the way back, passing through number 3 compartment, Eddie saw Tom Luther, and their eyes met. In that instant Eddie had a flash of inspiration.
He was so struck by the explanation that he stopped, and Ollis Field bumped into his back.
Luther stared at him with a panicky look in his eyes, obviously afraid Eddie was going to do something that would give the game away.
“Pardon me,” Eddie said to Field, and he walked on.
Everything was becoming clear. Frankie Gordino had been forced to flee the States, but the F.B.I., had tracked him down in Britain and got him extradited. They had decided to fly him back, and somehow his partners in crime had found out about it. They were going to try to get Gordino off the plane before it reached the United States.
That was where Eddie came in. He would bring the Clipper down in the sea off the Maine coast. There would be a fast boat waiting. Gordino would be taken off the Clipper and would speed away in the boat. A few minutes later he would go ashore at some sheltered inlet, possibly on the Canadian side of the border. A car would be waiting to whisk him into hiding. He would have escaped justice—thanks to Eddie Deakin.
As he led Field up the spiral staircase to the flight deck, Eddie felt relieved that at last he understood what was going on, and horrified that in order to save his wife he had to help a murderer go free.
“Captain, this is Mr. Field,” he said.
Captain Baker had put on his uniform jacket and was seated behind the conference table with the radio message in his hand. His dinner tray had been taken away. His cap covered his blond hair, and gave him an air of authority. He looked up at Field, but did not ask him to sit down. “I’ve received a message for you—from the F.B.I.,” he said.
Field held out his hand for the paper, but Baker did not give it to him.
“Are you an agent of the F.B.I.?” the captain asked.
“Yes.”
“And are you on Bureau business right now?”
“Yes, I am.”
“What is that business, Mr. Field?”
“I don’t think you need to know that, Captain. Please give me the message. You did say it was addressed to me, not to you.”
“I’m the captain of this vessel, and it’s my judgment that I do need to know what business you’re on. Don’t argue with me, Mr. Field. Just do as I say.”
Eddie studied Field. He was a pale, tired man with a bald head and watery blue eyes. He was tall, and had once been powerfully built, but now he was round-shouldered and slack-looking. Eddie judged him to be arrogant rather than brave, and this judgment was confirmed when Field immediately caved in under pressure from the captain.
“I’m escorting an extradited prisoner back to the United States for trial,” he said. “His name is Frank Gordon.”
“Also known as Frankie Gordino?”
“That’s right.”
“I want you to know, mister, that I object to your bringing a dangerous criminal on board my airplane without telling me.”
“If you know the man’s real name, you probably also know what he does for a living. He works for Raymond Patriarca, who is responsible for armed robberies, extortion, loan-sharking, illegal gambling and prostitution from Rhode Island to Maine. Ray Patriarca has been declared Public Enemy Number One by the Providence Board of Public Safety. Gordino is what we call an enforcer: he terrorizes, tortures and murders people on Patriarca’s orders. We couldn’t warn you about him, for security reasons.”
“Your security is shit, Field.” Baker was really angry: Eddie had never known him to swear at a passenger. “The Patriarca gang knows all about it.” He handed over the radio message.
Field read it and turned gray. “How the hell did they find out?” he muttered.
“I have to ask which passengers are the ‘associates of known criminals,’ ” said the captain. “Do you recognize anyone on board?”
“Of course not,” Field said irritably. “If I had, I would have alerted the Bureau already.”
“If we can identify the people I’ll put them off the plane at the next stop.”
Eddie thought: I know who they are—Tom Luther and me.
Field said: “Radio the Bureau with a complete list of passengers and crew. They’ll run a check on every name.”
A shiver of anxiety ran through Eddie. Was there any risk that Tom Luther would be exposed by this check? That could ruin everything. Was he a known criminal? Was Tom Luther his real name? If he was using a false name he needed a forged passport too—but that might not be a problem if he was in league with big-time racketeers. Surely he would have taken that precaution? Everything else he had done had been well organized.
Captain Baker bristled. “I don’t think we need to worry about the crew.”
Field shrugged. “Please yourself. The Bureau will get the names from Pan American in a minute.”
Field was a tactless man, Eddie reflected. Did F.B.I.., agents get advice on how to be unpleasant from J. Edgar Hoover?
The captain picked up the passenger manifest and crew list from his table and handed it to the radio operator. “Send that right away, Ben,” he said. He paused, then added: “Include the crew.”
Ben Thompson sat at his console and began to tap out the message in Morse.
“One more thing,” the captain said to Field. “I’ll have to relieve you of your weapon.”
That was smart, Eddie thought. It had not even occurred to him that Field might be armed—but he had to be, if he was escorting a dangerous criminal.
Field said: “I object—”
“Passengers are not allowed to carry firearms. There are no exceptions to this rule. Hand over your gun.”
“If I refuse?”
“Mr. Deakin and Mr. Ashford will take it from you, anyway.”
Eddie was surprised by this announcement, but he played the part and moved threateningly closer to Field. Jack did the same.
Baker continued. “And if you oblige me to use force, I will have you put off the plane at our next stop, and I will not permit you to reboard.”
Eddie was impressed at how the captain maintained his superiority despite the fact that his antagonist was armed. This was not how it happened in the movies, where the man with the gun was able to boss everyone else around.
What would Field do? The F.B.I., would not approve of his giving up his gun, but on the other hand it would surely be worse to get thrown off the plane.
Field said: “I’m escorting a dangerous prisoner—I need to be armed.”
Eddie saw something out of the corner of his eye. The door at the rear of the cabin, which led to the observation dome and the cargo holds, was ajar, and behind it something moved.
Captain Baker said: “Take his gun, Eddie.”
Eddie reached inside Field’s jacket. The man did not move. Eddie found the shoulder holster, unbuttoned the flap and withdrew the gun. Field looked ahead stonily.
Then Eddie stepped to the rear of the cabin and threw open the door.
