Cold Grave (22 page)

‘Add to that a Colles’ fracture, two sprained ankles and an anaphylactic reaction.’

‘Is the person with anaphylaxis all right?’

‘It’s not uncommon. We carry EpiPens at all times. Karen was nearby when it happened.’

A Filipino man arrived through the main door with a room-service trolley. Rachel hurried over to hold the door open.

‘Coffee for the others, and for you, water for your special tea. Careful, it is very, very hot.’

‘Doctor’s busy but will be out shortly, Paco.’

The smell of barista-made coffee was too tempting for Anya to ignore. He offered her a cup, which she gratefully accepted. The late nights and fitful sleep had her energy levels lower than normal.

‘Miss Rachel.’ He handed the nurse a mug with a tea bag. Steam wafted from its surface.

Paco disappeared and Rachel sat at the opposite end of the lounge from Anya. ‘We don’t get pathologists down here.’

‘You’ve had some difficult circumstances.’

Rachel clutched her mug with both hands, blinked slowly and took a sip. Her shoulders sank back into the lounge.

‘The terrorist attack on Sven Anderson’s yacht may cause some anxiety among guests.’

‘What?’ Rachel sat up and reached across to read the print-out. ‘Oh my God, where? Was anyone else—’ The mug tilted and the black tea poured over her lap. She squealed and leapt to her feet. ‘It’s burning!’

Anya stood. ‘Where do you keep ice?’

‘In the consulting rooms.’ Rachel’s green eyes watered as she quickly followed Anya to the nearest room.

Anya closed the door. Rachel had already kicked off her shoes, pulled up her skirt and was peeling down her stockings. ‘Icepacks are in the bar fridge, over there in the corner.’ She grimaced.

Pain was a good thing, Anya thought. The boiling water hadn’t burnt through Rachel’s nerve endings. She located two large icepacks and wrapped each in paper towels from the dispenser on the wall.

The nurse had positioned herself on the bed. Anya took a quick glance and saw diffuse redness, with blisters already forming on her top and inner thighs. One blister was at least five by five centimetres. Some of the pantyhose nylon had melted into the skin.

‘This may hurt, but it’s the best way to limit the damage.’

Rachel winced as the packs touched her exposed skin. ‘I can’t believe it.’

Karen knocked and entered. ‘I heard a squeal. What happened?’ She looked at Rachel’s legs and shook her head, with a motherly expression. ‘Oh Rach. We’re in smoother waters. You get through storms and do this to yourself now?’

Rachel began to cry. ‘I just want to be alone.’

Karen nodded. ‘We’ll let you be, just promise you’ll keep those icepacks in place until I get back.’

Anya followed Karen out and closed the door behind them.

‘We can’t afford for her to be off-duty for too long. Clinic’s going to be busy enough with follow-ups, let alone new patients.’

‘Is there anything I can do?’

‘Good heavens, you’ve done enough.’ Karen placed a hand on Anya’s elbow. ‘I’m about to relieve Doctor Novak while he has a break.’

‘I just wanted to see how Carlos was doing.’

A shout rang out, followed by screaming. The voice was male.

Karen sprinted toward the noise, closely followed by Anya.

Inside the treatment room, Carlos was upright, hands clawing at the bedsheets. ‘Help me! I can’t feel my legs!’

Novak had a hand over one eye. ‘He woke and started punching.’

Anya moved closer to the bed and Carlos lunged at her, wrapping his fingers tightly around her wrist. ‘My legs!’ He wailed.

Karen rushed to the cupboard and pulled out a vial of valium, which she showed Novak before drawing the content into a fresh needle and syringe.

While distracted by Anya, five milligrams of valium entered Carlos’s vein via the drip. Before it had a chance to circulate, his release on her arm had loosened. She gently moved her hand into his. With her other, she stroked his short dark hair and spoke calmly, before the benzodiazepine took full effect.

‘You were badly hurt and lost a lot of blood. To save your life, and get you safely back home to your wife and kids, you had to have an operation.’

Mention of his family seemed to help. His breathing slowed.

‘My legs?’

‘Your knees were shattered by the bullets. You would have died if we didn’t amputate.’

Carlos’s eyes remained fixed on hers. It was difficult to know if the small dose of valium eased his tension, or that being told what had happened made him less afraid. Anya wanted to ask him what he knew about Lilly, but now wasn’t the time. He needed to calm down.

‘It’s important you stay in bed until we get to port.’

‘My wife . . .’

‘Your friends, Kujan and Iketut, have been in touch with her. Your kids need you more than ever.’ She didn’t mention head office notifying his family.

He pulled Anya closer and glanced at the others and back. Karen recapped the syringe and placed it in a kidney dish by the bedside before dragging Novak over to the sink. ‘Let’s have a look at that eye.’

‘There are some things I need you to get. For my wife.’

Anya imagined Carlos had been away from home for so long to earn enough to support the family and help his wife’s medical bills. Every cent counted, and American dollars were worth far more than local currency.

He was barely whispering. ‘My jacket . . . And my flowers.’

The hand slipped out of hers, back into the bed as he drifted into sleep.

20

FitzHarris entered the treatment room just after Carlos lost consciousness.

Anya stepped outside and waited. It wasn’t long before he returned.

‘Did Carlos tell you who shot him?’

Anya sighed. ‘No, he wanted me to get something for his wife – a jacket and some flowers? It doesn’t make a lot of sense.’

He rubbed his chin. ‘I’m thinking this has to be drug-related. The silence from the crew is deafening; there’s no way this was over a woman or gambling debt. And the fact they didn’t kill him seems to suggest there’s something still at stake . . . If Carlos isn’t using . . .’

‘Then he could have been dealing, or smuggling.’ Anya wondered why FitzHarris would mention drugs again in front of her. It was not the best way to bury the shooting, unless Carlos was being made out to be a villain. Maybe the proceeds or drugs were inside the jacket, or somehow hidden in a bouquet. Perhaps the shooter was trying to find them too.

‘Can you walk with me while we talk?’

Anya wanted to know what was so important about Carlos’s jacket, and whether it was somehow related to Lilly’s death. With Martin busy in the gym, and with Ben at kids’ club, she had the chance to find out. She could also see how FitzHarris planned to ‘keep a lid’ on the investigations. They stepped outside the medical centre and moved toward the passenger lifts.

FitzHarris had managed to nick his neck shaving. A small amount of blood stained the top of his collar. Dark bags around his eyes seem to be spreading.

‘Did you get
any
sleep last night?’

They headed aft along the corridor toward the lift.

‘Laura asked the same thing. Don’t suppose you heard, but the head of this cruise line and three of his kids were murdered on the family yacht outside of one of the Greek islands. Head office has told us to be on the alert for anything or anyone suspicious. They think terrorists are targeting anything or anyone connected to the family. We’re supposed to be alarmed without letting the passengers know.’

‘I’m a passenger, here with my child, if you remember.’

‘Sorry, it’s just that it feels like you’re one of us now. Guess forewarned is forearmed, as they say. If you hear a safety drill, you’ll know it’s the real deal so get your family to your muster station as soon as possible.’

Somehow, that didn’t engender confidence.

A man appeared from behind, wearing clean, white overalls.

‘Hey Fitz, good to see you.’

‘Alessandro, our Chief Engineer, meet Doctor Anya Crichton.’

‘Alessandro is Italian for Alexander, as in “the Great”.’ The engineer kissed Anya’s hand. ‘The pleasure is all mine.’

‘We’re discussing the bombing,’ FitzHarris commented. Anya slid her hand from his grip as the lift arrived.

‘Terrible business.’ The engineer scowled and got in the lift with them. ‘At least one son survived.’

‘Mats, wasn’t it?’ Anya fished. ‘Did either of you deal directly with Anderson or his children?’

‘The old man is very hands-on and visits every ship at least once a year. The sons I know only by reputation,’ Alessandro volunteered.

FitzHarris added, ‘The father took over when the company was going under and turned it around. He wasn’t about to relinquish control.’

He evaded the question, and obviously didn’t want Anya to know he was in the ‘inner circle’ as Laura had mentioned.

They got out on deck one, passing guests covered up with jumpers and jackets. Others wandered around in summer outfits, seemingly happy to stay inside. No one appeared distressed or in a particular hurry. It was holidays as usual, barring the stormy weather.

FitzHarris stepped away to make a call.

Anya waited until she and the engineer were out of earshot. ‘Has anyone claimed responsibility?’

‘Not yet,’ Alessandro said, ‘but the police have their suspicions. Sources say the bomb was a homemade incendiary device – gun powder and nitroglycerin. A speedboat was controlled offshore by remote. When it hit the yacht, the nitro probably ignited a fuse and . . . Kaboomza! They are still collecting pieces of bodies and wreckage.’

Someone was serious about killing the family.

‘Before you ask . . .’ Fitz rejoined them. ‘They’re looking at groups of environmentalists who’ve been to Congress lobbying for changes to the industry. Old man Anderson is probably the most recognisable face in cruise lines.’

It was early to assume a lobby group was responsible just because they had an issue with the cruise industry. This was not the first terrorist attack in Greece, and would not be the last. Blockades, boycotts and public shaming of offending companies were more the pattern of environmental activists. Besides, there was no quicker way to destroy a cause than to murder a family.

Then again, some extremists had no logic behind their actions. ‘Was anyone aware of threats? I mean, were you warned something could happen?’ Anya remembered Fitz mentioning the anti-terrorist long range acoustic device.

‘There have been a couple of serious attacks on cruise ships by pirates, which is one of the reasons I took this job. After 9/11, I was involved in developing some of NYPD’s counter-terrorism protocols.’

He didn’t mention the knife attack or his injuries.

‘Some passages around Indonesia and Africa are overrun with pirates,’ Alessandro said. ‘They’re organised, well armed and high tech. A while back, there was an attack on a ship smaller than this one by a couple of pirate speedboats. They fired machine guns and RPGs – rocket-propelled grenades – at the vessel. One of the unexploded RPGs got stuck in the wall of a cabin. Can you imagine waking up to that kind of room service?’

Anya preferred not to.

‘Anyway,’ FitzHarris continued, ‘the LRAD was the only thing that could repel them. Luckily none of the passengers were seriously hurt, but I can’t say the same for the crew. And there was another time . . .’

Anya wondered if she really wanted to know this much information. She held up her hands. ‘It’s okay, I get the picture.’ So much for the
Love Boat
concept of cruising. ‘I still don’t understand why anyone would target Anderson, when they could hijack one of his ships. That would have done a lot more damage to the cruise industry.’

‘I agree,’ Fitz said. ‘But who knows? It’s common knowledge Sven and Mats aren’t the nicest guys to do business with. Could be any number of nut jobs, but there’s an environmental group that claims the cruise industry is responsible for up to a quarter of all ocean pollution.’