Dorsett remained sitting and looked up at Strouser. "I don't think so."
Strouser missed his meaning and turned to leave. "Since you won't listen to reason, I have nothing more to say. Good day to you, Arthur."
"Before you leave, Gabe, I have a present for you."
"I want nothing from you!" Strouser snapped angrily.
"This, you will appreciate." Dorsett laughed uncharitably. "On second thought, perhaps you won't." He motioned with one hand. "Now, Boudicca, now."
In one swift motion, the big woman suddenly appeared behind Strouser and pinned his arms to his sides. The diamond merchant instinctively struggled for a minute, then relaxed, staring dazedly at Dorsett.
"What is the meaning of this? I demand that you unhand me."
Dorsett looked at Strouser and spread his hands disarmingly. "You neglected to eat your lunch, Gabe.
I can't allow you to leave hungry. You might get the idea that I'm inhospitable."
"You're crazy if you think you can intimidate me."
"I'm not going to intimidate you," Dorsett said with sadistic amusement. "I'm going to feed you."
Strouser looked lost. He shook his head in disgust and began an unequal struggle to break free of Boudicca's embrace.
At a nod of Dorsett's head, Boudicca manhandled Strouser back to the table, grasped him under the chin with one hand and bent his head backward, face up. Then Dorsett produced a large plastic funnel and stuffed the lower end between Strouser's lips and teeth. The expression in the diamond merchant's eyes transformed from rage to shock to bulging terror. His muffled cries were ignored as Boudicca tightened her hold around him.
"Ready, Daddy," she said, leering in cruel anticipation.
"Since you live and breathe diamonds, my old friend, you can eat them too," said Dorsett as he lifted a small canister shaped like a teapot that had been sitting on the table and began pouring a stream of flawless D-grade, one-carat diamonds down Strouser's throat while using one hand to pinch the nostrils of his victim shut. Strouser thrashed wildly, his legs kicking in the air, but his arms were locked as tightly as if he were trapped by a python.
Out of sheer terror, Strouser tried desperately to swallow the stones, but there were too many. Soon his throat could hold no more and his body's convulsions became less frantic as he choked for air and quickly suffocated.
The glaze of death froze his open eyes into an unseeing stare as the glittering stones slowly spilled from the corners of his mouth, rattled across the table and fell to the floor.
Two days off the sea and everyone felt as if raised from the dead. York's campsite was tidied up and every article and object inventoried. Maeve refused to go in the hut even after they buried Rodney York in a small ravine that was partially filled with sand. A tentlike shelter was built from the old Dacron sails found inside the hut, and they settled down to the day-to-day routine of existence.
To Giordino, the greatest prize was a toolbox. He immediately went to work on the radio and the generator but finally gave up in frustration after nearly six hours of futile labor.
"Too many parts broken or too badly corroded to repair. After sitting all these years, the batteries are deader than fossilized dinosaur dung. And without a generator to charge them, the radio-telephone, direction-finding set and wireless receiver are useless."
"Can replacements be fabricated with what we've got lying about?" asked Pitt.
Giordino shook his head. "General Electric's chief engineer couldn't fix that generator, and even if he could, the engine to turn it over is completely shot. There's a crack in the crankcase. York must not have seen it and run the engine after the oil leaked out, burning the bearings and freezing the pistons. It would take an automotive machine shop to put it back in running order."
Pin's first project as resident handyman was to find three small blocks of wood that were straight grained. These he split from a sideboard on the berth that had served as Rodney York's final resting place. Next, he made a template of everyone's forehead just above the eyebrows from the stiff paper jackets of novels he found on York's bookshelf. He marked the template lines on the edge of the wood blocks and trimmed accordingly, cutting out an arched slot for the nose. Holding the blocks tightly between his knees he gouged and smoothed hollows on the inner curl of the wood. Then he removed the excess outer wood and cut two horizontal slits in the hollowed walls. With oil from a can sitting beside the outboard engine, he stained the thinly curled finished product before cutting two holes in the ends and attaching nylon cord.
"There you are, ladies and gentlemen," he said, passing them out. "Colonel Thadeus Pitt's spectacular sun goggles, from a secret design revealed on the lips of a dying Eskimo just before he rode off across the Arctic Ocean on the back of a polar bear."