"It's a hell of way to run an island," he said nastily. "You beggars were chased out of North America because you couldn't run it right and now you can't even control a lousy little island for more than five miles inland." He added with deliberate, superior amusement: "Of course, they've got witches."
"Shut your mouth, gangster—I'm warning you." The note of hysteria was still there. And then the jaygee said dully: "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry. You did come out and help me after all."
"Surprised?"
"Yes. Twice. First time when you wanted to go out yourself. I suppose you can't help being born where you were. Maybe if you came over to us all the way, the Government would forgive and forget. But no—I suppose not." He paused, obviously casting about for a change of subject. He still seemed sublimely confident that they'd get back to the naval base with him in charge of the detail. "What ship did you cross in?"
"Atom sub Taft," Orsino said. He could have bitten his tongue out.
"Taft? That's my father's pigboat! Captain Van Dellen. How is he? I was going down to the dock when—"
"He's dead," Orsino said flatly. "He was caught on deck during an emergency dive."
The jaygee said nothing for a while and then uttered an unconvincing laugh of disbelief. "You're lying," he said. "His crew'd never let that happen. They'd let the ship be blown to hell before they took her down without the skipper."
"Grinnel had the con. He ordered the dive and roared down the crew when they wanted to get your father inboard. I'm sorry."
"Grinnel," the jaygee whispered. "Grinnel. Yes, I know Commander Grinnel. He's—he's a good officer. He must have done it because he had to. Tell me about it, please."