“You crazy or something?”
“Do you think you’d ever get near that ship in daylight?” I said, looking at him. “Use your head. We’re going out there, but we’ll go when it’s dark.”
Kerman made an angry gesture.
“I’m going now. If we wait it may be too late.”
“Oh, shut up!” I said. “Get a drink. You’re staying right here.”
He hesitated, then went into the kitchen. After a while he came back with a bottle of Scotch, two glasses and a jug of ice-water. He made drinks, gave me one and sat down.
“There’s not a damn thing we can do if they’ve decided to knock her on the head,” I said.
“Even if they haven’t done it now, they’d do it the moment they saw us coming. We’ll go out there when it’s dark, and not before.”
Kerman didn’t say anything. He sat down, took a long pull at his drink and squeezed his hands together.
We sat there, staring at the floor, not thinking, not moving: just waiting. We had four hours, probably a little more before we could go into action.