Оуэн Локканен - Gale Force

It sounded good in his head. But then he looked out the portside window and saw the wave coming, bigger than any other, looming large and closing fast, headed for the Salvation and her prize.

RIDLEY STIFFENED. “Oh,” he said. “Oh, Lord, no.”

McKenna glanced over at him. Looked back at the Salvation , binoculars down, and saw what her engineer was seeing.

A wave, the biggest of the day, a freak, maybe thirty feet high—kid’s stuff for the Gale Force , and even the Salvation , but not with this tow behind her. Not like this.

The wave scudded toward the Salvation , toward the Lion and the towline stretched between them. McKenna watched it come, knew she should feel vindicated. There was no way the Salvation could survive with her tow intact. As soon as this wave hit, the Lion would be hers.

Instead, she felt emptiness, fear, as if she were watching the wave that had stolen her father all over again. The Salvation dropped into the trough. The wave loomed. McKenna braced herself, though she was a half mile away.

The wave snapped the towline like the crack of a rifle. Magnusson lunged for the door, called out for the deckhand, watched the line snap back like a whip, heard— felt —the loose end hit the wheelhouse like a freight train.

Then the boat was surging forward, down into the trough, the engines at full bore, the load suddenly eased, the propellers churning and driving the Salvation into the sea. Carew had fallen over backward, was stumbling to his feet, nobody at the controls. Magnusson hurried over, throttled down the engines, three-quarters power. Turned her bow into the waves.

“Hey,” he called down to the galley, where Foss and Ogilvy had damn well better be awake. “Get your asses up here, right now!”

OKURA WAS HALFWAY UP the climbing line, the briefcase tucked under his arm, when the wave hit. He felt the Lion drop into the swell, knew instinctively what was coming, knew it was a bigger wave than any he’d felt so far. The cars lurched on their mounts, steel screaming in protest. Okura braced himself. Then the wave hit.

It seemed to hit twice. Broadsided the Lion with a hard, thudding crash, and then another jolt, not as forceful, but somehow more sudden. And Okura felt the briefcase slip from beneath his arm, felt it falling away.

He loosened his grip on the rope for an instant, reaching down for the briefcase, and then he was slipping. The rope seemed to slide through his fingers, and then it was gone, and he was falling backward, down through the darkness, his headlamp giving brief, photo-flash glimpses of the ceiling, the deck, the cars on their mounts.

No, he thought, time seeming to slow. Damn it, no. I was so close.

Then he hit something hard, unyielding and painful, and the impact knocked out his headlamp, and everything was dark and suddenly very quiet.

MCKENNA WATCHED THE WAVE HIT . Watched the towline snap like an overstretched elastic, watched the Salvation lunge forward, an explosion of white water breaking over her bow, the towline whipping back, wild, on the tug’s afterdeck.

“Bleeding hell,” Ridley muttered. “I hope nobody’s back there.”

McKenna lifted her field glasses. Couldn’t see a soul on deck, though at this point she wouldn’t be able to see much; the towline had snapped with enough force to cut a man in half.

Christer Magnusson seemed to get the Salvation back under control. He throttled down the engine and turned the salvage boat into the waves. She jogged there, for a minute or two, and McKenna relaxed. Maybe disaster had been averted. Maybe everyone on that little ship was fine, and the Gale Force could set to work saving the Lion .

The radio came to life above her head. “Man overboard, man overboard. Salvation has a man in the water.”

“Man overboard!”

Suddenly, she was back there. Out there . That night, her dad, the Argyle Shore . It was happening again. And another man would die if she didn’t act quickly.

McKenna throttled up the Gale Force and got on the hailer. “ Salvation lost a man overboard,” she told them. “Everyone on deck. Pike poles and life preservers, whatever you can find. I need eyes on this guy immediately.”

Ridley joined her at the wheel as the tug plowed through the water toward the stern of the Lion . “You see him, lass?”

“Not yet.” Ahead of the Gale Force , the Salvation was making a slow turn. McKenna aimed the tug just past the Lion , figuring she’d meet Magnusson in the middle. Assuming Magnusson’s guy could stay afloat that long, could stay conscious. That water was cold .

“Watch that towline,” Ridley said. “Don’t want to foul a prop.”

The Salvation ’s severed towline hung off the stern of the Lion . If it caught up in the Gale Force ’s propellers, it could cripple the tug.

McKenna picked her way around the towline as Stacey Jonas appeared at the bow, scanning the water for the Salvation ’s lost man. McKenna watched her, watched the waves, watched the Salvation in the distance.

There’s enough wind and wave to make this guy invisible, McKenna thought. If Christer doesn’t have eyes on him, he’s lost.

She picked up the radio. “ Salvation , Salvation , do you see your man, Christer?”

Silence. Then: “Negative. I lost him when we went into a trough. He was a couple hundred yards back when I last saw.”

Shit. McKenna put down the radio and motored onward. Felt her heart pounding, fought the negative thoughts. Too late. We’re not going to get him.

He’s gone.

Then Stacey stiffened on the bow. Jumped and pointed forward, a couple degrees to starboard.

“I think she got him,” Ridley said. He hurried to the starboard window, slid it open, and hollered something to Stacey, who called back, never taking her eyes from the water.

“Three boat lengths,” Ridley reported. “You see where she’s pointing, skipper?”

McKenna stared out at the gray water. Rubbed her eyes, kept the tug moving forward. Didn’t see. Then she did. The guy was floating there, his head up, splashing a little to keep his face above water. He looked dulled by the cold already, looked ready to give up.

“We see him,” she told the Salvation over the radio. Then she turned to Ridley. “I’ll bring him up on our starboard side. Make sure the crew’s ready.”

She idled toward the man in the water until he was about a quarter boat length away, keeping the portside to the wind and the sailor in her lee. Stacey gestured back, Cut the engines , and McKenna cut them out of gear and drifted, hoping the poor guy had strength enough to grab a rescue line, or a life preserver, at least.

She went to the starboard window, peered out and back, watched Matt heave a line toward the sailor, Jason hanging down over the rail with a pole.

The first throw missed. Not by much, a few feet, but the sailor was in no shape to swim for it. Quickly, Matt hauled in the line, coiled and threw it again. This time, his throw was true. The line landed on top of the sailor, who took hold with both hands, his movements clumsy and slow.