“If the engine doesn’t blow and he can get the airplane down, they’ve got a good chance.” He looked at the wind sock; it was standing straight out. “There’s going to be a chop on the surface, though. Put her into the wind, Chester.”

The airplane was flying level, just off the surface of the water now.

“Why doesn’t he put her down?” Thomas asked. “He’s still flying.”

“He’s bleeding off air speed; he’d built up a lot on the descent. He wants to touch down right at stall speed, as slowly as it will still fly. Look, he’s raising the nose now; he’ll be down in a second.”

“I hope he’s got a raft,” Thomas said. “It’s going to take a while to get to him.”

“Surely he has; he’d have to. Here comes touchdown; don’t stall the thing, Chester!”

The nose came up some more and the airplane headed toward landing. Then a wing dropped, touched the water, and the airplane cartwheeled, breaking into pieces.

“Oh, shit,” Stone said, watching as the wreckage scattered over the water.

“Come on,” Thomas called, running for the car. “I know a man with a boat.”

Stone jumped into the car and Thomas, driving like a madman, headed out of the airport and along the coast road. “There’s a little fishing settlement along the coast, right near where Chester went down,” he said.

“Thomas,” Stone said, “nobody on that airplane is alive; don’t kill us in the bargain.”

Thomas slowed a little. “Somebody might have made it,” he said.

“They might have if he’d gotten the thing down in one piece,” Stone said quietly. “But when it broke up, that ended it. Anybody alive would be unconscious, and anybody unconscious would have drowned by now.”

“Still,” Thomas said. He threw the car into a left turn and careened down a short dirt road, screeching to a stop at a small dock. A man was already taking in the lines on a fishing boat. “Henry!” Thomas yelled, “wait for me!” He and Stone jumped onto the moving boat. “You saw the plane?” Thomas asked the skipper.

“Everybody saw the plane,” Henry replied. “We’re goin’, but cain’t be nobody alive out there. How many folks was on it?”

“Three, including Chester.”

“Chester gone,” Henry said. “They all gone.”

Twenty minutes later they saw the first piece of wreckage—a wing tip, floating on the surface; then smaller bits of flotsam.

“Look,” Thomas said, pointing to some woven straw in the water. “That’s Libby’s hat, I think.”

“There somebody is,” Henry called out, pointing and changing course. “Peter, get the boathook!” His crewman got the tool and ran forward as Henry slowed the boat. “It’s Chester,” Thomas said.

“He’s missing an arm,” Stone said quietly.