Coincidence Part 10

21.

Mac sat in his locker, drumming his fingers against the metal of the workbench. He'd seen a great deal in his long and varied life-well, lives lives, really, would be more a more accurate way to put it. For his years on this earth had been sharply divided into three quite distinct phases: his childhood in Glasgow, his few years of relative contentment as a young man in Africa, and now his life at sea.

"At sea." Now that that was accurate. He had been at sea, adrift, cut loose from his moorings, whatever you cared to call it, since Caroline had left him. It had been his own d.a.m.n fault, too; he'd not deny it. But that would nae bring her back again, now, would it? was accurate. He had been at sea, adrift, cut loose from his moorings, whatever you cared to call it, since Caroline had left him. It had been his own d.a.m.n fault, too; he'd not deny it. But that would nae bring her back again, now, would it?

Och! Would he never stop plowing these useless furrows of grief? What he had started to think was, he'd seen a great deal in his life, but this-this was of a different order entirely. Far beyond any one man's personal heartbreak.

The kids were foremost on his mind. They must be kept safe at all costs. And it was up to him to see that they were.

He opened up the tin of peanuts he kept on the bench and gobbled a handful, wis.h.i.+ng he had a cold McEwan's to wash it down. Dave had promised to try to sneak some food down to him, but it wouldn't be easy with the hijackers patrolling the deck. But he could do with a bit of sustenance before it was time to put their plan into operation.

Their plan-well, he reckoned, it was stretching it a bit thin to call their highly tentative ideas a plan.

Whatever the hijackers were involved in-and the captain's a.s.sumption of drug running did seem the likeliest possibility-they had too much to lose now to leave any survivors on the Inspiration. Inspiration. Everyone aboard, adults and kids alike, had seen the hijackers clearly. Had seen their boat. Covered with some sort of blue plastic, Dave had said, so presumably stolen. If they left it covered, it was easily identifiable by anyone aboard; if they removed the covering, there was the stolen boat. Everyone aboard, adults and kids alike, had seen the hijackers clearly. Had seen their boat. Covered with some sort of blue plastic, Dave had said, so presumably stolen. If they left it covered, it was easily identifiable by anyone aboard; if they removed the covering, there was the stolen boat.

Suppose, Mac had said to Dave, suppose they were to help the hijackers concoct a new disguise for the stolen boat? The Inspiration Inspiration had plenty of paint onboard, probably enough to repaint the cabin, and surely enough to paint over the name with a new one. But even as he was putting the idea forth, Mac realized it wasn't a workable solution. No matter how helpful the crew was in camouflaging the had plenty of paint onboard, probably enough to repaint the cabin, and surely enough to paint over the name with a new one. But even as he was putting the idea forth, Mac realized it wasn't a workable solution. No matter how helpful the crew was in camouflaging the Coincidence Coincidence, it wouldn't be enough. The hijackers would never trust them to keep their mouths shut after they sailed away.

Dave had gone off to report to the captain that Mac had been found, and to remove all traces of Mac's belongings from the cabin he shared with Charlie. Mac, they had agreed, was their wild card, the one hope they might have of coming out of this mess alive.

What would they do in the hijackers' shoes? That was where they needed to start, Mac thought, as he waited for Dave to return. The men had weapons and wouldn't hesitate to use them if necessary. They had, seemingly, been using them when the one fellow got himself shot in the leg. But would it make sense for them to take their weapons and just mow down the entire population of the Inspiration Inspiration, then set it adrift, to be discovered G.o.d only knows how much later?

It would not, Mac decided. Too dicey. After all, there'd been the radio messages from the Coincidence Coincidence about the man-what was his name? Stefano? Something like that-about whoever the fellow was who needed the doctor. That would directly link the about the man-what was his name? Stefano? Something like that-about whoever the fellow was who needed the doctor. That would directly link the Inspiration Inspiration with the with the Coincidence Coincidence. The hijackers couldn't take the chance of getting wherever they were heading and into hiding before the s.h.i.+p full of dead bodies might be found.

Far better, Mac thought, to make the deaths look like an accident-but how would ye go about orchestrating a thing like that, with the number of people involved? Sink the boat, maybe ... But how? No icebergs in these parts, that was for sure, and any structural damage to the hull would, eventually, be examined minutely; any suspicion of intentional damage would, once again, lead back to the Coincidence. Coincidence. Besides, boats took their own good time to go down. The Besides, boats took their own good time to go down. The Inspiration Inspiration had a superfluity of equipment for any such unlikely emergency; there was no way in the world everyone onboard would go and drown in such an event. had a superfluity of equipment for any such unlikely emergency; there was no way in the world everyone onboard would go and drown in such an event.

Poison, then? But where would they be getting a poison lethal enough to kill everyone aboard? And, even supposing that they "just happened" to have come prepared with a supply of some such toxin on the Coincidence Coincidence-and that itself would be too great a coincidence by half-how would they go about delivering the stuff? Offer to cook them all a lovely little dinner in honor of the host s.h.i.+p's hospitality?

Scratch poison.

An explosion might work. It would have to be carefully rigged, though: big enough to blow the Inspiration Inspiration to kingdom come, leaving not a single survivor; yet timed perfectly so that the hijackers' own boat would be well enough along its way not to get blown to bits into the bargain. But, even a.s.suming they could get hold of the necessary materials, they could hardly start rigging up ma.s.sive explosive devices un.o.bserved. And if they were observed to be doing something that would lead to the sure and certain demise of everyone aboard the to kingdom come, leaving not a single survivor; yet timed perfectly so that the hijackers' own boat would be well enough along its way not to get blown to bits into the bargain. But, even a.s.suming they could get hold of the necessary materials, they could hardly start rigging up ma.s.sive explosive devices un.o.bserved. And if they were observed to be doing something that would lead to the sure and certain demise of everyone aboard the Inspiration Inspiration, then some of those aboard-and he'd be the first among them, too-would give up their own lives to save the rest.

The hijackers, Mac was beginning to believe, had very few viable options open to them. Chances were good, he thought, that they were as much in the dark about how to get out of this G.o.d-awful situation as anybody else.

b.l.o.o.d.y fools! Why had they had to go getting their legs infected and endangering his kids in the first place?

22.

It was an uneasy confrontation for both men, but they had no choice. There were decisions that had to be made, boundaries that had to be set. Neither the captain nor Phillip had ever expected to be in such a predicament. Neither wanted to precipitate any violence and neither wanted to lose control of the situation. Their conversation was like a game of chess, each man trying to think several steps ahead as they negotiated their course of action for the next few days.

Mac's a.s.sessment had been exactly right. The hijackers had no good alternatives at their disposal. Juan had come up with the grisly idea of putting all of the adults on the Coincidence, tying them up, then opening the seac.o.c.ks so the boat would go down. Then the hijackers, with the kids, would continue to Easter Island on the Inspiration Inspiration.

And then? Stefano had asked him. The kids were not so young that they wouldn't know full well what had become of the adults, and would be just as capable as the adults of picking the hijackers out of a lineup. Besides, the Coincidence Coincidence and the and the Inspiration Inspiration were inextricably linked by the radio messages. were inextricably linked by the radio messages.

Sometimes his brother didn't have the sense of a pack mule, Stefano had thought. Great at the details once the plan was made, si si, but not exactly an idea man. Not that Stefano was coming up with any good ideas of his own. His head was clearer now, but no matter how he a.n.a.lyzed the situation, he couldn't see a good way out.

"Okay," he had said to Juan. "Here's what we gonna do for now. We gonna tie the boats together-get Phillip to talk to the captain about this, see whether it's better to tie them amids.h.i.+ps or tow the Coincidence Coincidence behind. Everybody stays together on the behind. Everybody stays together on the Inspiration. Inspiration. We gonna keep on course for Easter Island, at least for now." We gonna keep on course for Easter Island, at least for now."

Maybe, he had thought, they would find an isolated spot for the Coincidence Coincidence to land. And then, maybe, one hostage would be all they'd need. Just one person to take with them to ensure the silence of the others until their getaway was complete. The to land. And then, maybe, one hostage would be all they'd need. Just one person to take with them to ensure the silence of the others until their getaway was complete. The Inspiration Inspiration, minus one, would go on with its sightseeing, knowing that one word leaked out to thwart their escape with the drugs would be the end of their amigo amigo. And if-no, not if, when when-when he and hismen had escaped? What would they do with their hostage then?

He would have to work on that one. In the meantime, he'd told Juan, Phillip would have to go on acting as front man-Stefano had put up his hand to stop his brother's objection. He didn't like it either, Phillip was getting too c.o.c.ky-he knew it, too-but they'd have to deal with him later. Right now he was the best one to work things out with the captain.

So Phillip and Captain Marzynski were hammering out the routine that would see them through the immediate future. Towing, the captain said, was by far the better way of keeping the boats together. His crew would help the hijackers secure the Coincidence Coincidence. Anika would juggle the cabin a.s.signments somehow to make room for the men. s.h.i.+pboard routines, they agreed, were to be followed insofar as possible. Except, of course, that the hijackers would be in charge ("I will be in charge," was the way Phillip put it), and there would be no communication with the outside world. will be in charge," was the way Phillip put it), and there would be no communication with the outside world.

"We have to check in every day with our head office in Montreal," the captain said. "We are required to give them our position, and we discuss any problems we might have. It will raise alarms if they don't hear from us."

d.a.m.n, Phillip, thought. It would be highly suspicious if the Inspiration Inspiration did not follow protocol. But it opened up a big can of worms, too. He'd monitor the conversation, for sure, but how could he be sure they didn't have some kind of code words to use in an emergency? did not follow protocol. But it opened up a big can of worms, too. He'd monitor the conversation, for sure, but how could he be sure they didn't have some kind of code words to use in an emergency?

"What time do you check in?" he asked.

"Every morning at nine. Nothing will happen now until tomorrow."

"Okay," Philip said. "Tomorrow morning you call headquarters and check in. You tell them your position. You tell them you're having a little trouble with the electronic systems, that maybe communication will be down for a while. You've got it covered, your engineer's working on it, but you might not be able to get through for a day or so. Got it? And we'll rattle a wire or two while you're talking. Then we'll disconnect the system.

"But I'm warning you: I will be listening to every word you say. If I hear anything that doesn't sound on the up and up-"

Anika gasped in horror at what she'd done. Her wild reflex reaction could ruin everything.

Polo and Severo had been bringing the last of the hijackers' personal belongings...o...b..ard when the man called Phillip sidled up to her. He was such an unpleasant, oily person, she thought. Puffed up, self-important, arrogant. She gave him a perfunctory nod.

"Hey there, Miss s.h.i.+pboard Director," he said, a smile playing over his lips as if they shared a secret joke. "Have you found beds for all your unexpected guests yet?"

Almost, she told him. Stefano, of course, could stay where he was in the first-aid room. Four of the student cabins had only three occupants on this sailing, so she had rea.s.signed the teachers who shared doubles to those berths. His men could have the doubles. She gave Phillip the cabin numbers, making a great and entirely unnecessary show of consulting her clipboard so she wouldn't have to look at his face. Everyone was taken care of except Phillip himself.

She forced herself to give him a rueful smile. She'd have a place for him squared away shortly, she a.s.sured him, trying to use her crispest, most professional voice. She hoped it sounded more convincing to his ears than it did to her own.

Why couldn't the creep have waited just ten more minutes for her to finish the reorganizing? The only other available berth was in the cabin Mac and Charlie shared, but she didn't dare tell Phillip he was to bunk in there until she was positive all traces of Mac had been obliterated and that Charlie had everything he needed to be a credible bosun.

"Well now-maybe I'll just have to bunk in with you," he said.

Yeah, maybe they could turn this into a pleasure cruise, he thought. He could do with some of that, all right.

Anika saw the man's big teeth smirking down at her. She saw his hard eyes appraising her body. She saw his big hand reaching out and noticed the grime under the fingernails as the hand came forward and lightly, teasingly, tugged at the neck of her T-s.h.i.+rt.

And then she saw her own hand, as if disconnected from the rest of her, leaving the clipboard and striking the side of his face with more force than she knew she possessed.

Dear G.o.d, what had she done?

Phillip rubbed the side of his face as he waited for Dave to pa.s.s the end of the hawser to him. Not only was the little blonde plucky, she packed a mean wallop. He'd been so taken aback by the swiftness and strength of her slap that he'd very nearly returned it with one of his own.

But then he'd stepped back and shrugged, holding up his hands in a gesture of resignation.

"Hey, simmer down," he had told her, keeping his tone light and bantering. "It was only a thought."

A thought that might grow on her, too, with any luck at all. She'd come around; he'd bet on it. A lot of them did, after the first display of protecting their honor. Unless maybe she was sleeping with somebody onboard already. The captain? Good career move, Phillip thought. That could be it, even though he was a lot older. Or what about this guy with the hawser, one of the teachers, right? Yeah, he was closer to Anika's age, and the kind of guy a woman might find attractive.

Dave threw the end of the rope down to the Coincidence Coincidence, then hopped onboard to help Phillip tie it off. All the while he kept up a steady stream of conversation as if his life depended on it.

Which it very well might.

As they tied off the hawser to the Sampson post, Dave could, if he looked very carefully at just the right spot, and squinted slightly, just make out Mac's dim outline in the water, peeking around the bow of the Inspiration Inspiration. Naturally, Dave was not not squinting at this spot, in fact was looking at it as little as possible, and was trying for all he was worth to make sure no one else was looking at it either. squinting at this spot, in fact was looking at it as little as possible, and was trying for all he was worth to make sure no one else was looking at it either.

"So," he shouted to Phillip, "will a boat this big tow all right behind the Inspiration Inspiration?"

"Sure. Your captain says there might be some reduction in speed, maybe a half knot, but that shouldn't be a problem."

Mac could hear Dave with no difficulty, but Phillip, unaware of the purpose of the conversation, was not so audible. Mac swam as close to edge of the bow as he could and listened for all he was worth.

The "plan" was now in operation, yet barely more gelled than before. Dave had come to fetch the hawser from the bosun's locker and the two had had a hurried conference, only two or three minutes, before a couple of Floaties had come down to help carry the heavy rope. Mac had secreted himself behind the sails again; if no one saw him, no one would be able to let anything slip. He knew only that he was to try, somehow, to get himself aboard the Coincidence Coincidence before they started towing. Once onboard ... well, he'd think of something. He had to. before they started towing. Once onboard ... well, he'd think of something. He had to.

"If you're not leaving anyone onboard to steer," Dave was inquiring at the top of his lungs, "will you use the automatic helm?"

"Nah, we won't need the Autohelm. We'll just lock the wheel amids.h.i.+ps and it should tow pretty easily."

"How far back will it be?"

"We'll pay out about two hundred feet of line. That should do."

"Do you think we should put a secondary line on just in case something happens to the hawser?"

Man, this guy was a talker, Phillip thought. He was just like so many of the sailing guys he had met over the years. Couldn't get enough of the boats and had to hash out all of the technical aspects of every move they made. Well, that's probably why he'd signed on for the floating schoolhouse gig. It was the closest a guy living on a teacher's salary would ever come to owning a yacht. And it sure would beat your ordinary high school cla.s.sroom.

Phillip let him know that a second line wouldn't be necessary. The hawser was almost two inches thick, for G.o.d's sake; it would be perfectly adequate as long as it didn't chafe.

He wondered if the guy kept up the running boat-talk all the time he was with Anika.

Mac knew he had to move quickly. He dived under and swam to the other side of the Coincidence. Coincidence. He paddled to the stern, reached around the transom, took a firm hold of the transom ladder, and then waited. He paddled to the stern, reached around the transom, took a firm hold of the transom ladder, and then waited.

Within fifteen minutes, the lines had been cast off, except the towline, and the fenders taken aboard. As the two boats started to separate, Mac climbed onto the swim ladder and waited. As soon as the towline was fully extended, he crept up and found himself aboard an impressively well-equipped boat.

He moved forward until he reached the bridge. He closed the miniblinds on the windows and surveyed the electronic equipment. The motor controls and systems were not too different from those on the Inspiration Inspiration, he was glad to see. At the chart table, he found a chart with a course already plotted for Easter Island. He'd be able to follow their progress with the GPS.

He prowled through the rest of the boat while enough daylight remained to see his way, making mental notes of where everything was, keeping an eye out for anything that might prove useful. He was beginning to s.h.i.+ver. He found some spare clothes in a drawer in the owner's cabin and put them on, leaving his own dripping in the shower. The owner was clearly a taller and stouter man than Mac, but it was good to be warm and dry.

The generator had, thankfully, been left on, so the refrigerator was running. Peering in, he spotted a supply of beer-now there was a sight to cheer the soul! Good G.o.d, he was famished! He found some bread, slightly stale now, and a bit of cheese, and fixed himself a plate. Balancing a couple of extra beer bottles under his arm, he took his supper to the owner's cabin and there he sat in the gathering darkness, munching and mulling over his options.

He could, he supposed, cast off in the dark of night and disappear. The Coincidence Coincidence could easily outrun the could easily outrun the Inspiration Inspiration, he knew; it could probably go twice as fast. He'd have to hack away at the towline and make it look as though it had chafed through-otherwise the hijackers would know something was up. That would make the timing uncertain. But even if he were to get away unnoticed, then what? Help was a long, long way off. And what would happen to those on the Inspiration Inspiration when the hijackers discovered their boat was gone? He could nae risk it. when the hijackers discovered their boat was gone? He could nae risk it.

Better to keep the boats tethered. But there was the satellite phone ... He could use the satellite phone to tell someone of their plight ... That was a start, at least. They were now a thousand miles away from Easter Island. That ought to give him time enough to think of a plan of some description.

But if, as the Immortal Bard had said, even the best-laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley, what hope could there be for plans as sketchily laid as these?

23.

Kathleen Tutty was unlocking her office door shortly after eight-thirty in the morning when the phone began to ring. "Coming, coming," she mumbled as she jiggled the key in the lock. It could be stubborn sometimes; every day she thought about getting the building manager to have a look at it, but every morning a pile of papers demanded her attention and the thought disappeared until the next morning's struggle.

By the time she had reached her desk and lifted the receiver, there was nothing but a dial tone.

She stowed her purse in a side drawer, yawning, and flipped the switch on the coffee pot. She grabbed her cup and was halfway through the door on her way to the ladies room to rinse it out when the phone started up again.

"h.e.l.lo," she said. "What? I'm sorry-we seem to have a bad connection."

She could hardly make out what the man was saying. She was pretty sure it was a man, anyway.

"Mac? Is that you?"

She thought now that she could detect a Scottish accent.

Yes, it was Mac on the Inspiration. Inspiration. But wait, no-not on the But wait, no-not on the Inspiration. Inspiration. What on earth was he talking about? As the gist of his story became clear, Kathleen felt her legs go weak. She sat down abruptly. Surely this couldn't be happening. Mac was known for relis.h.i.+ng a good laugh, but she could tell from his voice this was no joke. There was no way he'd think this was funny, not as much as he cared about the kids. What on earth was he talking about? As the gist of his story became clear, Kathleen felt her legs go weak. She sat down abruptly. Surely this couldn't be happening. Mac was known for relis.h.i.+ng a good laugh, but she could tell from his voice this was no joke. There was no way he'd think this was funny, not as much as he cared about the kids.

The kids.

She felt cold, as if her body temperature was plummeting with the shock. She tried to comprehend what Mac was telling her. The Inspiration Inspiration had been taken over by six armed men. Mac was alone, on the hijackers' stolen boat, being towed behind the had been taken over by six armed men. Mac was alone, on the hijackers' stolen boat, being towed behind the Inspiration. Inspiration. No one but Dave Cameron and Captain Marzynski knew he was there. He had found twenty bundles of white powder-most likely cocaine-wrapped in plastic on the sundeck of the boat he was on, the No one but Dave Cameron and Captain Marzynski knew he was there. He had found twenty bundles of white powder-most likely cocaine-wrapped in plastic on the sundeck of the boat he was on, the Coincidence. Coincidence. He reckoned them to be about fifty pounds each, a thousand pounds, all told. A fortune on the street. The hijackers had practically no alternative but to get rid of all witnesses. He reckoned them to be about fifty pounds each, a thousand pounds, all told. A fortune on the street. The hijackers had practically no alternative but to get rid of all witnesses.

The captain would be checking in with her at nine o'clock as usual, but he would have a gun to his head. She must act as if everything was perfectly normal, give no hint that she knew anything was amiss. Mac would get off the line for now; he was on the satellite phone. But in the meantime she should notify Edward Flynn and the authorities and anyone else she could think of.

"Edward's on his way to South Africa," Kathleen said. "I have no way of reaching him until he gets to Johannesburg."

"It's all right, la.s.s," Mac said. He could hear the panic in her voice. He felt much the same way himself, but did his best to sound soothing. "Just leave a message for him to get back to ye as soon as he arrives. And call the police now."

He gave her the number for the satellite phone and told her to call him back as soon as she could. With that he rang off.

Kathleen sat staring out the window. The sky was a glorious clear blue: it was a early autumn morning. How could her world be upside down when everything else was so ordinary?

She jumped when the telephone rang. She tried to imagine, as she listened to the captain reeling off the s.h.i.+p's coordinates, what the scene onboard the Inspiration Inspiration must look like-armed thugs with their guns pointed at him as he gave his morning report-but her imagination failed her. Nothing in his voice gave the slightest indication that anything was wrong. must look like-armed thugs with their guns pointed at him as he gave his morning report-but her imagination failed her. Nothing in his voice gave the slightest indication that anything was wrong.

He made no mention of the medical emergency of the day before but did report some minor difficulties with the electronic equipment. Both the satellite phone and the GPS, he said, had been acting up for the past twelve hours. They were still trying to isolate the problem. Could be the antennae. Nothing serious, he was sure, but she shouldn't be alarmed if she didn't hear from him right on schedule tomorrow.

Feeling numb, she called the Montreal police, although what they would be able to do about a boatload of hostages on the other side of the world she couldn't imagine. Her anxiety grew by the minute as she repeated her outlandish-sounding account half a dozen times to rung after rung of bureaucracy. The idea flitted through her mind that they must be single-handedly trying to eliminate unemployment in the province by hiring battalions of people whose only responsibility was to listen to your story, tell you they couldn't help, and transfer your call to the next new hire.

"What's your address there?" this one was asking. "Okay, sit tight; I'm on my way," he said. "And I'm getting in touch with the RCMP."