The Mark of Cain by William J Coughlin

Author:William J Coughlin [Coughlin, William J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lume Books
Published: 2020-04-07T22:00:00+00:00

TEN

Johnson kept one eye on the radar screen as they raced across the sea. The blip moved steadily across the screen like an arrow headed for its target. The decoy boat was very fast. Even with both of their powerful engines wide open, they could not keep up with the speed of the blip. Johnson had told them that the effective range of the radar was only ten miles, and the blip was nearing the end of the screen, moving out of range.

The radio was on, although Johnson had turned the volume down. Static crackled over the air waves. “There’s a storm building up,” Johnson said.

“Keep going,” Cain responded. “If that other boat can make it, we can.”

The prisoner sat on the deck of the cabin, his hands bound behind his back. His shifting eyes darted about, watching everything that went on around him. Cain studied the man. He guessed his age to be in the mid-twenties, although with a smooth-faced man like the prisoner it was hard to tell—he could be several years older or younger. His dark curly hair was cut long, and his skin was deeply tanned. Soldier had removed the wet sweatshirt and had thrown a towel about the man’s shoulders. He had a swimmer’s build, long smooth muscles; muscles with a capacity for endurance. His high cheekbones revealed some Indian blood, probably of South American origin. His English carried no accent.

“How long will your friend be on this course?” Cain asked the prisoner.

The prisoner shifted his position. “A half hour, maybe a bit longer.” He looked uncomfortable.

“Describe the island again.”

The prisoner’s dark eyes darted around the cabin before returning to gaze on Cain’s face. “Like I told you, it ain’t much, at least not from the sea. There’s no fresh water and outside of a few scrubby pine trees it is mostly just sand and rock. It has a high area, you couldn’t even call it a hill, but there is a natural harbor concealed at the base of the mound. You can’t see that the harbor is there, at least not from the sea. We’ve got the harbor entrance camouflaged so you can’t see it. Coming in from the sea, it just looks like a deserted hunk of rock.”

“What kind of signal do you use to get by the entrance?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you bring a captured boat in, don’t you have to signal someone? After all, how do they know yours is the right boat?”

“There’s no signal. Usually Patsy is back before us in the decoy boat, and he tells everybody we are coming. He’s there by then and can identify the boat.” The man’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Cain wondered if the man was concealing amusement at his own cleverness.

“Are you absolutely sure there is no signal?”

The prisoner shook his head.

“How many men are on that island?” Cain asked, watching for reaction in the prisoner’s face.

“Counting Patsy, four.” The man’s eyes remained fixed on Cain.

“So if we sail in there, what happens?”

“There’s a gate at the entrance, a long aluminum thing with a net over it.

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