Gale Force

73

The Lion’s progress slowed with only two pumps online, but Harrington’s plan was working. By nightfall, the big freighter’s list was reduced to forty-five degrees.

McKenna radioed back to Al Parent on the Gale Force, asked him to make up a care package of sandwiches, fresh coffee, and sleeping bags to send over via the Coast Guard’s Dolphin. Asked him how little Ben was doing, got a laugh in response.

“He likes ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,’” Al said. “Knocks him right out. ‘Ramblin’ Man,’ not so much.”

“Maybe stick to the classics?” McKenna replied.

“‘Ramblin’ Man’ is a classic, boss. Soon as we get home, I’m playing that baby Waylon’s entire back catalog.”

The helicopter arrived as the last light of day faded away. Its bright spotlight lit up the Lion’s deck, found McKenna and Court Harrington in the center of it, and the flight mechanic lowered his shopping basket with Al Parent’s provisions inside.

Harrington helped McKenna unload the cargo. Then the architect bent down, wincing, to gather up a couple of the sleeping bags, and began to parcel out the sandwiches and coffee. “I’ll take these back to Matt and Stacey,” he told McKenna. “Get them settled in.”

McKenna shook her head. “I’ll do it.”

“You have Ridley and Jason to take care of,” Harrington replied. “I’m not going to go AWOL on you, I promise. Just trying to help.”

“You’re still recovering,” McKenna said. “I’m not sending you down thirteen decks. I’ll do both.” She gestured to the flight basket, which she was still holding steady. “Get in.”

“What?”

“Go on back to the tug. We can handle things overnight. Get some sleep, have a hot meal. We’ll see you back here in the morning.”

Harrington frowned. “Are you serious?”

“This isn’t me trying to power-trip,” McKenna said. “But you’ve been working nonstop for a good couple of days. If anything goes wrong, we’ll call you.”

The helicopter’s engine roared overhead.

“If I wasn’t so tired, I’d fight you harder on this,” Harrington muttered, climbing into the basket.

McKenna smiled. “And I’d still be the captain. Get out of here.”

She waved up to the helicopter, watched as the flight mechanic began to winch Harrington skyward. Watched the architect climb aboard, watched the lights of the helicopter as it disappeared behind the Lion, stood there until she couldn’t see anything anymore.

Then she picked up the sleeping bags and the food and headed aft to Matt and Stacey, to get them tucked in for the night.

FROM HIS HIDING SPACE in the infirmary, Okura could tell the list was easing. It had happened slowly, imperceptible, but now, as the hours passed and the Lion’s walls became walls again, Okura found he could stand on the deck nearly without support. The salvage crew was winning. They were righting the ship.

And that meant they would soon be towing it back to civilization. As long as he kept hidden until then, he could find his way off—steal a lifeboat, maybe, or wait until the ship was tied to a dock—and use his passport and the stolen bonds and the thirty thousand in cash from the ship’s safe to disappear into America and start a new life.

He’d moved to the infirmary, near the rear of the crew accommodations deck. Brought the briefcase, too; stashed it in a medicine locker. He had food—stale, but edible—and enough bottled water to survive another week, at least. And he had the pistol.

Okura checked the weapon. Hoped, again, that he wouldn’t have to use it, but he knew he’d have no choice if the salvage team found him.

So be it.

McKENNA DIDN’T SLEEP MUCH.

She carried supplies down to Matt and Stacey at the stern of the ship. They’d set up a nest on deck one, at the base of the closest access hatchway to their pump. McKenna handed out the sleeping bags, the sandwiches and the coffee, a paperback adventure novel to help them pass the time.

Stacey looked at the book’s cover, all gunfights and swarthy heroes and scantily clad women. She made a face. “I mean, really? You expect me to read this?”

McKenna grinned. “Al sent it over. Could be from his private collection.”

“Great.” Stacey tossed it in the corner with the sleeping bags. “Desperate times, huh?”

“Stay safe,” McKenna said, heading back for the climbing rope and the surface. “I’ll be topside if you need me.”

She climbed back to the weather deck and carried the rest of the provisions down to Nelson Ridley and Jason Parent at the forward pump.

Ridley looked through the sandwich bag. “Couldn’t find us a cigar?”

“We pump out this ship, I’ll fly you to Cuba,” McKenna told him. “In the meantime, you’ll have to make do with roast beef.”

Ridley spread out the sleeping bag. Unpacked a sandwich. “Get some shut-eye, lad,” he told Jason. “I’ll take the first watch.”

McKenna and Ridley waited until Jason had made himself as comfortable as possible in the damp, dark corridor. They ate sandwiches by the light of their headlamps, drank coffee.

“Seems like it’s working,” Ridley said, gesturing at their confines. “We’re getting there, boss. Little by little.”

He was right, McKenna knew. The ship had passed the forty-five-degree point by now; the pumps were moving her in the right direction.

“I just hope we can stop the list when we need to,” she said. “From what Harrington says, there’s still a chance this thing could kill us all.”

“Nah. The kid’s got it licked, skipper. You wait and see.”

“Mmm,” McKenna said, unconvinced.

Ridley didn’t say anything for a while. Then he shuffled a bit closer to her, lowered his voice. “You know, he’s not such a bad guy, McKenna. He’s a cocky bastard, to be sure, but he doesn’t mean any harm.”

“Whether he means it or not is irrelevant,” she said, meeting his eyes. “He doesn’t respect me, Nelson. And if he doesn’t respect me, I can’t trust him.”

“I get it,” Ridley said. “I do. It’s just…” He paused. “There’s a history between you two; there’s no point pretending otherwise. You’re never going to be merely captain and crew.”

She set her jaw. “So, what? I should just let him walk all over me? I’m supposed to forgive insubordination because we hooked up a couple times?”

“No, skipper,” Ridley said. “No, you’re right about that. I’m just saying that this is hard for him, too. He’s trying to find his place on that tug, same as you.”

He finished his coffee and didn’t say anything more, and McKenna couldn’t read the expression on his face, his eyes dark and inscrutable.

“I’m going topside,” she said, standing. “Make sure you get some rest.”