Moonfall

PRESERVE THE BOAT IN THE EVENT OF HEAVY WEATHER.

That was strange phrasing, he thought, considering what they feared.

Now the dark sky gave way to the Whitestone Bridge.

"Look," said Packard, pointing ahead toward a small flotilla of yachts, a few points to starboard. There were maybe twenty boats in all. Bolling could hear music drifting across the water. And laughter. But they were keeping together, and they waved as the cutter passed. Some of the coasties waved back.

The lead boat was a twin-engine white and maroon Mainship motor yacht with Yankee Liz painted on her bow. "Ramsey," said Bolling to his radio operator, "Bring Liz up."

Ramsey was not much more than a kid, just out of school. He spoke into his microphone, listened, nodded, looked at his skipper. Bolling gestured for the mike.

"Yankee Liz," he said, "this is the Coast Guard. Where are you bound?"

He could see the boat's captain on its bridge, hunched over the radio. He was a short, dumpy man, but it was too dark to make out other details. "Getting clear of the Sound tonight," he said.

"Where are you headed?" asked Bolling again.

"Peekskill."

"All of you? Are you traveling together?"

"Some are going to Croton-on-Hudson."

"Nobody going to sea?"

"No, sir."

"Very good, Captain. Thank you."

Off to port, LaGuardia Airport was quiet. Bolling had seen it like that before, idled by a heavy storm or by a strike. The tower looked active, and he could see vehicles moving on the approach roads. But there were no lights in the sky.

They passed Rikers Island and Hell Gate.

Reliant was out of sight now.

The city crouched on the river, insensate, timeless, invulnerable. Headlights moved along both banks, climbed the approaches, and crossed on the Triborough.

They continued down to the foot of Manhattan, making perhaps better time than Bolling would ordinarily have allowed, but he felt crowded by the narrow channels of the East River. Governors Island and the Statue of Liberty came into view. The harbor looked serene, traffic flowing in an endless stream around its perimeter. A ferry nosed past them.

He checked his schedule. The ferries were going to discontinue service at 2230 hours. "I'm surprised they didn't decide to close the bridges until it's over," he said.

"I think that'd be a nightmare, Captain," said Packard. "I don't think you do that unless you really believe something's coming."

They'd been talking about it all day. Neither would admit to anything except skepticism. Another typical government hassle. But Bolling was nevertheless happy to get through the Narrows and out into the Atlantic.