“Sure. I remember,” Sandy said.
“So all they’re probably going to do with us is get us safely out of the way some place, until they’re finished with their production and ready to clear out.”
“That’s right.”
But Ken himself hadn’t been convinced by what he said. And he knew that Sandy didn’t believe it either.
Cal had been telling the truth. They both knew that.
The wind sighed gustily along the cabin walls, but otherwise the little room was silent for a long moment.
“Where do you suppose these barges go?” Ken asked finally.
“Who knows?” Sandy, too, managed to conceal the panic in his voice. “Up the East River to Long Island Sound—across the bay to Staten Island—”
Ken’s heart jumped. Maybe Cal was lying after all. “Not out to sea?” he asked. To drown them in the open sea might be comparatively safe. But if the barges stayed as close inshore as Sandy had suggested, drowning would be too risky. A body would wash ashore. Investigation would follow immediately.
“They can go out to sea,” Sandy admitted slowly. “They go down the coast to Baltimore sometimes—and up to Boston too, I guess.”