Cold Grave (27 page)

Anya sat closer. ‘Is there a chance she did make it up, and maybe regretted it?’

‘No. No way. You should have seen her injuries.’ Rachel buried her face in her hands. ‘It’s my fault she’s dead. I told her to report it.’

When FitzHarris checked employment records, he found a Nuala who had not renewed her contract. There was no mention of a death or a missing person. Either the records were incomplete, or he had lied about what had happened.

Now the woman who had paid Carlos for information, and worn Nuala’s badge, was missing.

Somehow, Carlos must have seen or heard something that was worth killing for. She thought about his words before the anaesthetic. It was possible Lilly saw or heard something she should not have.
Kill her. Stop him.
Maybe he had seen what had happened to Lilly on that top deck.

Anya felt light-headed. Even in pain, Carlos was trying to disclose something important. Was he confessing something about Lilly’s death? Or was someone else in danger? Someone like Mishka.

25

After getting Rachel dry and warm, Anya suggested they look for Mishka. Perhaps she had felt threatened and headed where it was safest: where crowds of people gathered. Martin had no idea what Mishka looked like so he stayed behind with Ben, who was deeply asleep.

‘Be careful,’ he said to Anya. He glanced at Rachel. ‘You don’t know what you’re dealing with.’

For others on the ship, the evening had barely begun. Families strolled along the promenade, many slurping ice-creams as if it were a pier on a blistering summer’s day. Anya had grabbed her waterproof jacket, and wrapped it around her waist. Pink, blue and green neon lights illuminated the shops on either side. Anya scanned every face that came toward them; in case it belonged to the woman she had met outside her cabin. Rachel was clearly doing the same.

‘How are your legs?’ Anya asked.

The burns had not yet had time to heal, but Rachel was walking well.

‘Blisters are beginning to break. The dressings help.’

They stopped at the diner she and Ben had been to the other day. Done up like a 1950s soda shop, it had swivelling red seats at the counter, jukeboxes, and waitresses in poodle skirts, tight tops and matching scarves wrapped around high ponytails. Male staff manned the soda fountains.

Buddy Holly played over the speakers and guests occupied nearly every booth and seat. Anya and Rachel walked through to the back without seeing anyone they recognised. On their way out, a line of staff performed a hand-jive while passengers clapped and sang along.

Once outside the door, Anya asked Rachel what she thought about Mats Anderson.

‘He’ll be somewhere, still pulling the strings. He’s been waiting to take over the business for years.’ Rachel shook her now wavy hair. ‘The police are saying it’s some radical green group, but don’t believe it.’

Anya had argued that same point with FitzHarris. She wanted to hear Rachel’s reasoning. ‘Why not?’

They moved along and into the next door, a general store.

‘It wasn’t well known, but Lars, the second son, was a strong supporter of the environment. I mean, I met him. He used to work on the ships and didn’t tell anyone who he really was. Kind of like bosses going undercover.’

It was an ideal way to see how the business really ran.

They separated around the stands adorned with key rings, souvenir mugs, shirts and shorts. A number of women pored over a glass counter containing jewellery.

Rachel searched the faces of the other customers.

‘He wasn’t anything like his father or older brother. Lars wanted to make a difference. He believed the company could lead the way in clean technologies and renewable resources. He wanted the ships to become more self-sufficient.’

From what Anya had seen, the company utilised a lot of technology to recycle, and solar panels minimised electricity requirements. Behind a curtain change area, a pair of feet protruded, but they were more like a basketballer’s in size than a woman’s.

‘Nothing here,’ she said, joining Rachel at the exit. ‘Self-sufficient in what way?’

‘Have you seen the onboard park?’

It was where Anya had found Jasmine one morning. ‘I’ve been through it.’

‘There are thousands of plants that are nothing but ornamental. Each needs fertiliser. Lars had this vision of combining aquaponics and hydroponics to create an Eden Afloat.’

Where Anya came from, hydroponics were something used by people who grew marijuana crops indoors to evade the notice of the law. As a result, police monitored sales by hydroponic suppliers.

The pair waited to enter the main thoroughfare as a steady stream of people meandered along.

‘Mishka thought it was a good idea too . . . She—’

Anya noticed Rachel’s breathing accelerate with the mention of Mishka’s name. She began to hyperventilate. A panic attack here would draw too much attention. Anya tried to distract her.

‘Tell me, how does it all work?’

Rachel swallowed and tried to slow her breathing, just a little. ‘It’s simple.’ Short breath. ‘A fish tank the size of a wall.’ Slightly longer breath. ‘Isn’t decoration. Water and fish droppings are pumped through hydroponic pipes.’ Another, deeper breath. ‘Bacteria in clay at the base of each root turn nitrogen into soluble plant food. By growing the plants vertically, you save loads of space.’ Her breathing was becoming more controlled. ‘One tomato tree can produce around thirty thousand tomatoes each year, which could be used to feed passengers.’

She sounded like a commercial for her cause, but had managed to control her panic. Still, Anya thought, the implications of one tree producing that much fruit were enormous, and not just for the boat. A cruise ship like that would attract worldwide attention for its innovation and progressiveness.

A parade of elderly people with walkers and wheelchairs passed.

‘I’ve never heard of a “tomato tree”.’

They continued their search along the boardwalk.

‘Neither had I.’

Rachel was visibly calmer.

‘There could be an orchard of them in the park. They’d provide shade, and save the company a fortune on food from ports. It wouldn’t require a large block of land or a particular climate. And it wouldn’t deplete food sources for the local communities.’

They picked up pace until the next shop. A glance in the window revealed a couple of men and a male assistant. The merchandise was scarves and ties.

Rachel continued, ‘By keeping most of the plant off the ground, diseases and pests are non-existent.’

With the ship’s number of balconies, and stories facing inward, the area for hydroponics was extensive. Anya wondered why no one else had thought of it.

Rachel needed to keep talking. Anya knew that people under extreme stress often reverted to what they knew best. A Christian might quote the Bible for solace. Environmentalism was Rachel’s faith.

‘Lars also wanted to invest in vacuum toilets. They reduce the amount of sewage per day. Did you know each week the ship produces enough to fill around ten swimming pools?’

Anya didn’t feel like a lecture in sustainability, but the imagery of that many pools filled with human excrement was powerful. She thought of the small team in the waste centre trying to process it all. Judging by the number of people consuming hot dogs, fries, burgers and desserts, and probably on top of dinner, the figures began to seem reasonable.

They paused at a cart handing out french fries and studied the faces in line. ‘You know how much cooking oil is used on board?’

Anya had no idea, but knew she was about to hear. Rachel was like a religious zealot with two minutes to convert someone on their doorstep.

‘It counts toward the grey water the ships produce. That includes water from the galley, laundry, showers, sinks and baths. Can you believe this ship alone makes enough to fill forty swimming pools every week? That’s one million gallons.’

They moved on, passing an ice-cream cart, complete with server in red and white stripes. Each flavour was presented in a gallon container. A million of those filled by the grey water from just one ship in seven days, was mind-boggling.

‘At the moment it’s discarded, but Lars wanted to set up facilities in some of our ports for recycling. Used cooking oil can be turned into biodiesel, which releases less carbon dioxide than standard diesel. Every ton recycled equates to about ten thousand car miles. In a year, that’s likely to be a hundred and eighty tons, or one point eight million car miles. That’s like driving around the equator more than seventy times. Just from this company.’

The statistics were beginning to blur. Like Jeremy Wise, the environmental officer, Rachel had a penchant for numbers. Although, trying to encourage businesses to change their practices for the sake of the oceans and wildlife required facts and figures.

They continued to look at every face.

‘Is the company taking up these initiatives?’

‘Mats and his father refused. That’s why Lars wanted us involved.’

Anya stopped and grabbed Rachel’s arm. ‘How? What were you and Carlos doing?’

The nurse took a staccato breath this time. ‘Collecting evidence to prove the company was breaking laws. Lars was putting together a dossier. He threatened to release what we found to the media, in which case the company would be prosecuted. He was demanding control of waste and environmental management for the fleet and future investment projects.’

The control part sounded reasonable, but the family may not have taken kindly to threats. Damaging the company would harm Lars’s career aspirations too. The fax from Mats Anderson expressly said that image was everything.

‘What did the family say?’

‘Lars’s father was starting to listen, but Mats was still opposed. They were supposed to discuss it on their yacht. The night Lars died.’

Anya began to wonder if it was more than luck that Mats Anderson had survived.

‘Do you have a copy of the report?’

‘Mish does, but I don’t know where.’ Rachel continued to pan the crowds as she spoke. ‘There’s no way she’d be hanging out here, knowing how worried I’d be.’ Her eyes welled with tears. ‘Something terrible’s happened.’

‘You said not many people knew Lars was a conservationist. Maybe the group the police suspect attracted some extremists with something against the Andersons.’

Rachel shook her head. ‘It’s impossible. There’s no way environmentalists killed them.’

She sounded convinced, as if she knew more than she let on.

‘What makes you so sure?’

‘It’s all over the internet. The police think a group called ESOW are responsible.’

Anya had not heard of the group.

‘The Institute for Environmental Sustainability and Oceanic Welfare is something Mish and I made up, so the media would take us seriously. We set up a website and started putting out press releases. Suddenly, top scientists were blogging with ways to save the oceans and it just took off. We registered the name in Liberia, like the cruise companies. Only now, that makes us sound like the terrorists.’

26

Anya returned to the cabin, unsure what to do next. She needed to think about what Rachel had said about Lars Anderson’s damning report. It was also possible that FitzHarris was being less than honest about police and FBI involvement in Lilly’s death and Carlos’s shooting. But how were they all connected, and what did FitzHarris actually know?

She regretted ever mentioning Nuala’s name. It could have tipped him off that a stowaway was on board.

He had access to all the CCTVs and could have reviewed footage from the night she had described. Even though cameras didn’t capture corridors off staterooms, it would not have been difficult to track where Mishka had come from or gone after. He would have known the deck number, at least.

Anya’s head ached. What had Mishka paid Carlos for? And what had they both found out that was so dangerous?

There was still no evidence that Carlos had money, or drugs, or anything contraband that could have got him into trouble. Unless he passed that onto Mishka as evidence. If it wasn’t in Rachel’s cabin, Mishka had to have hidden it somewhere safe on board. Maybe the same place Carlos kept his money.