York City banks nor his bank in Oyster Bay.
`They're doing no banking business with any except their own customers,' a man told Frank. 'I doubt that there's a single bank in the country today that doesn't have the same policy.'
Giving up, Frank returned to his car and sat slumped in shock. He might be able to steal the plane, he thought, pay for it later. But he couldn't fly it. He supposed he could kidnap a pilot . . . But gradually he realized that there was no way. He couldn't get there by car. He couldn't fly. He was stuck. As he slowly drove back to Crisfield he felt himself disoriented from the succeeding shocks of the day. All his life he had been a doer, a man who faced problems squarely and set about solving them. His success in the world of New York City real estate was based partly on this ability to deal with problems as soon as they arose, make fast decisions and get the job done. It also helped that he wasn't afraid of risks. He enjoyed taking risks.
He had wanted to treat the unthinkable catastrophe of nuclear war as he would a disastrous cashflow problem, for the challenge of the war stimulated him, the challenge of the logistics of saving his wife, shoring up his financial position, surviving - all these got his adrenalin flowing, had him acting decisively, rationally, quickly. But the experiences he'd had in his three hours in Salisbury had been for him the psychological equivalent of being bombed. He had begun to realize that all his paper wealth - his stocks, bonds, trust funds, treasury certificates -were probably worthless. And the more material assets he owned - the apartment houses in New York City, his home in Oyster Bay, the shopping centre in Englewood - had all, with the hopeful exception of his house in Oyster Bay, been destroyed. But worse, he realized that the '
problems' and `challenges' presented by the holocaust were not something that could be dealt with. He couldn't buy a plane, or a car, or even, maybe, a tank of gasoline. He couldn't even telephone anyone. He was almost helpless. Suddenly, overnight, he was an unemployed pauper.
But alive. For as he drove back towards Crisfield with the car-radio tuned to the appalling news, cities with whom all
communication had been lost, countries with whom all communication had been lost, a large part of him began to fear for his life and want to scurry for the nearest hole to survive. The numbing, incomprehensible, dreamlike list of American cities and defence installations that had been struck by nuclear missiles or bombs dazed him. He heard the Secretary of Defense urging people to stick to their jobs if their jobs were important, to report for service if they weren't. In one sentence the man warned against needless panic and in another advised people to evacuate fallout areas. He didn't list fallout areas. Frank learned that the United States had bombed Cuba, that Europe was being devastated; London wiped out, Moscow, Leningrad, numerous unpronounceable other Russian cities; Russian forces in Iraq attacked. China and Japan had been struck. Several countries in South America and Africa had loudly proclaimed their neutrality. His fear for himself began to grow. He knew that part of his frantic activity to get back north to his wife was based on the simple fact that it was the expected thing to do. It was a man's job to protect his wife. The thought of her there in their house, helpless, confused, worried about Jimmy, worried about him too, huddled together with Susan, that thought made him sad, made him feel needed, made him want to find a way north. But, the only thing left now was Vagabond. He was frightened: he pressed his foot further on the accelerator. All salvation lay in Vagabond.
15
With the wind shifting more to the north,. Vagabond had one long tack across the bay to Crisfield. Despite the extra ton of weight from the new passengers and their luggage, she plugged along at six or seven knots until within two miles of the town when
`They're doing no banking business with any except their own customers,' a man told Frank. 'I doubt that there's a single bank in the country today that doesn't have the same policy.'
Giving up, Frank returned to his car and sat slumped in shock. He might be able to steal the plane, he thought, pay for it later. But he couldn't fly it. He supposed he could kidnap a pilot . . . But gradually he realized that there was no way. He couldn't get there by car. He couldn't fly. He was stuck. As he slowly drove back to Crisfield he felt himself disoriented from the succeeding shocks of the day. All his life he had been a doer, a man who faced problems squarely and set about solving them. His success in the world of New York City real estate was based partly on this ability to deal with problems as soon as they arose, make fast decisions and get the job done. It also helped that he wasn't afraid of risks. He enjoyed taking risks.
He had wanted to treat the unthinkable catastrophe of nuclear war as he would a disastrous cashflow problem, for the challenge of the war stimulated him, the challenge of the logistics of saving his wife, shoring up his financial position, surviving - all these got his adrenalin flowing, had him acting decisively, rationally, quickly. But the experiences he'd had in his three hours in Salisbury had been for him the psychological equivalent of being bombed. He had begun to realize that all his paper wealth - his stocks, bonds, trust funds, treasury certificates -were probably worthless. And the more material assets he owned - the apartment houses in New York City, his home in Oyster Bay, the shopping centre in Englewood - had all, with the hopeful exception of his house in Oyster Bay, been destroyed. But worse, he realized that the '
problems' and `challenges' presented by the holocaust were not something that could be dealt with. He couldn't buy a plane, or a car, or even, maybe, a tank of gasoline. He couldn't even telephone anyone. He was almost helpless. Suddenly, overnight, he was an unemployed pauper.
But alive. For as he drove back towards Crisfield with the car-radio tuned to the appalling news, cities with whom all
communication had been lost, countries with whom all communication had been lost, a large part of him began to fear for his life and want to scurry for the nearest hole to survive. The numbing, incomprehensible, dreamlike list of American cities and defence installations that had been struck by nuclear missiles or bombs dazed him. He heard the Secretary of Defense urging people to stick to their jobs if their jobs were important, to report for service if they weren't. In one sentence the man warned against needless panic and in another advised people to evacuate fallout areas. He didn't list fallout areas. Frank learned that the United States had bombed Cuba, that Europe was being devastated; London wiped out, Moscow, Leningrad, numerous unpronounceable other Russian cities; Russian forces in Iraq attacked. China and Japan had been struck. Several countries in South America and Africa had loudly proclaimed their neutrality. His fear for himself began to grow. He knew that part of his frantic activity to get back north to his wife was based on the simple fact that it was the expected thing to do. It was a man's job to protect his wife. The thought of her there in their house, helpless, confused, worried about Jimmy, worried about him too, huddled together with Susan, that thought made him sad, made him feel needed, made him want to find a way north. But, the only thing left now was Vagabond. He was frightened: he pressed his foot further on the accelerator. All salvation lay in Vagabond.
15
With the wind shifting more to the north,. Vagabond had one long tack across the bay to Crisfield. Despite the extra ton of weight from the new passengers and their luggage, she plugged along at six or seven knots until within two miles of the town when
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