Salt (10 page)

C
hapter 15

Eva woke to excited voices. Each syllable caused a stabbing pain in her head. She rolled over and winced, crying out. It all came back to her then: Ade, the wound in her side, Duncan, Dr Singh… she felt her stomach cramp as her head spun.

“Marcus, she’s awake.”

Shaley’s familiar face looked in from a low doorway. It dawned on her then where she was: Marcus’s yacht. The fine wood-panelled berth with the roof-mounted lights and plush furnishings reminded her of when she had first been here at Marcus’s request. That was one of her first days on the flotilla. It was also the day she learned that Marcus was a thoroughbred scumbag. That she was here, in his bed, made her want to vomit.

“Give me some privacy,” she said to Shaley as he ogled her from the door.

She realised she was almost naked beneath the sheets, just her panties and the wrappings around her ribs.

Had they undressed her? The thought of them seeing her naked made her skin crawl.

“I said get the fuck out.” She threw a pillow at Shaley. It struck him and fell to the floor. He gave her a sly grin before closing the door.

Fucking creep.

“Leave her alone, Shal,” Marcus called out from the living quarters. “Eva, there’s some clean clothes on the nightstand. I hope they fit; they were all I could find at short notice.”

On the nightstand she found a pair of wool socks, jeans, a woman’s T-shirt and a large, baggy blue sweater. She lifted them off the nightstand, smelled them, expecting rank sweat, but to her surprise they were freshly laundered and clean.

It took her fifteen minutes to put on the clothes, feeling a stabbing pain in her ribs every time she twisted or bent over. Sweat covered her arms and face by the time she finished. She sat back on the bed and rested her head in her hands, waiting for the pain to subside.

A knock came from beyond the door.

“You okay in there, love?”

“Yeah, Marcus, I’ll be right out, just give me a few moments.”

“Sure thing.”

Although she was likely drugged with antibiotics and pain meds—which were clearly wearing off by now—she could have sworn that Marcus was actually sincere in trying to help her. She wondered then if he knew about Ade and the lost USB drive? Was this just his way of softening her up before interrogating her, demanding where the key was? Would he lose his cool and take out the loss on her?

Suddenly she felt exposed, at risk.

She looked around for a weapon, wincing as she bent down to check inside the small cupboard space beneath the bed and the drawers of the nightstand. She found a pen and a small pewter ornament of a yacht. That was no good. But the pen could be useful. She’d once stabbed a member of Baltimore’s leading crime family in the neck with one when he had tried to overpower her in an alley.

If her aim was right, she could hit an artery.

She hid the pen up the sleeve of the sweater.

Marcus, along with Shaley, Tyson, and Shaley’s wife, Catherine—or Caff as they called her—were sat on cream-covered settees around a large table. They were playing cards. Small plates of fried seaweed and sushi sat next to mugs of tea. The sun was shining brightly through the yacht’s windows, a light drizzle of rain tapping out a steady rhythm on the glass.

“Here she is,” Marcus said. “The survivor. Glad to have you back, love.”

“You look like shit,” Tyson said before turning away with disinterest.

Marcus cuffed him across the face. “Have some damned respect, Ty. You’re on my boat. We keep it civil. Understand?”

“Not where that bitch is concerned.”

“Get over it, Ty. Your balls will heal soon enough.” The group laughed at Tyson’s testicular expense.

Jesus
, Eva thought,
why’d I have to wake up to this lot?

“Why am I here?” she said as she sat in the space next to Marcus, which he indicated with a tap of his hand and a welcoming smile.
The smile of a shark just before it’s about to kill something
, she thought.

“I happened to stumble upon Duncan last night and heard you weren’t well. Decided to bring you someplace comfortable. You’d only catch something you don’t want in Singh’s place.”

“That all?”

“Well, now that you mention it, there was a few things we need to discuss.”

“About Ade,” she said, uncomfortable with the “family” staring at her. Catherine, or Caff, hadn’t said a word, just glared at Eva like she was a piece of dirt. “He…”

“Yeah, we know, love, poor bastard’s fish food.”

“I’m sorry. I tried, but it happened so fast… I couldn’t…” She hung her head and took a deep breath. Ade was one of the good guys, despite his association with Graves’ lot.

Marcus put an arm around her shoulders. She recoiled, pushing him away, but he held on and hugged her anyway. Speaking into her ear, he said, “I know you did your best. It must have been awful; I understand, okay?” He let her go, and they locked eyes.

Was there sincerity there or subterfuge? She could no longer tell, her once-honed wits dulled from years off the job. Her instinct told her not to trust him, but his actions thus far had proven opposite. Her dad had always told her to take people at face value, give the benefit of the doubt, but then he mostly dealt with cows and fields of potatoes.

Much easier to take that attitude when you weren’t running down crime bosses and murderers, or stuck on a flotilla with some wannabe gangsters.

“What now?” she asked, wanting to get this little meeting over and done with.

Catherine spoke first, surprising Eva. Her fierce expression had softened. She brushed the long blonde hair from her face and brought out the files Eva had recovered. She pushed across a couple of pages from one of the manila folders. “They’re the only ones not encrypted,” she began. “I went through each page and found these among them. They’re like journal entries of some sort.”

“From the submarine’s second in command,” Marcus said. “And get this: the submarine weren’t no ghost ship when it turned up. There were two survivors.”

“Wait, what? No fucking way,” Eva said. “Jim had always said it arrived with the crew dead. He wouldn’t lie about that.”

“I don’t think old Jim’s as squeaky clean as he’d like everyone to believe,” Marcus said.

“But,” Catherine interjected, “from the notes, it appears Jim might not have even realised. Do you remember the first volunteer that left us?”

Eva shook her head. “I came after the second had left.”

“Well, I do,” Marcus said. “Worked in engineering. Ran the place before Stanic turned up. And, crucially for this little mystery, worked with Mike.”

“So, what does that mean?” Eva asked.

“Before Mike left,” Marcus said, “he came to me, as I explained previously, but he got wind of these files from this first volunteer guy, his name escapes me now. Anyway, he told Mike about his journal and how it went missing, and he wanted to recover it. Said it had important information in it. So, Mike, being the curious sort, searched for it, and found this package here, along with the USB drive, in a safe on one of the yachts.”

“So Mike has sat on this information for over a year?”

“Nah, he didn’t find it until recently. When he left, the first volunteer gave him a piece of paper with a code on it. Mike had been trying to figure it out ever since. The volunteer said it was crucial Mike found it.”

Eva looked at the files spread across the table. She pieced together the events so far, realised that when Mike had found this cache, the killer, whoever it was, had also found out and was trying to recover the information.

“You realise that someone has killed two people already because of what we’re looking at here,” Eva said. “I doubt they’d stop. They’ve probably got the USB drive, which means we can’t decrypt this.”

“Yeah, that is a bit of a shitter,” Marcus said. “But now we have all the files, we might be able to crack the code.”

Eva looked at Marcus and his cohorts, suppressing both laughter and indignation. Marcus had street-smarts, sure, but none of them around the table had the kind of mind capable of decrypting top-secret documents.

“No offence, but I don’t think that’s going to be possible. Look at the paper; it’s official US government letterhead, from the sub. Military. I doubt they’d use anything that could so easily be decoded. There’s a reason this person has killed two people already.”

“And we can assume they have the key. They’ll want this next,” Marcus said. He had a glint in his eye that Eva didn’t like.

“You’re not thinking of using it as bait, are you?”

“Why not? This shit’s got to be important. I want that USB drive. I want to know what’s so important about these files that both the volunteer and Mike abandoned this place and someone else is willing to kill for it.”

“And you could be next,” Eva said.

He shrugged. “Not if we get them first.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well, let’s think about this logically. If it’s the same guy that blackmailed Frank, we know he’s American. We also know the key to the sub was copied, so it’s likely someone who knows how to work metal, perhaps someone in engineering.”

“Wait,” Eva said. “If you’re suggesting the killer made the key, how did Mike get it?”

“It was with the stash Mike found in the safe.”

“Well, if we’re only going by the evidence,” Eva said. “We’re potentially looking at one of five men in engineering.”

Catherine chimed in, “Are we discounting the women there?”

“Yes,” Eva said. “The footprints on the trawler were definitely men’s.”

“So,” Marcus said. “All we need to do is work out which one it is.”

“Unless they find us first,” Catherine said. “I don’t like the idea that they know we’ve got this. It’s not safe. I don’t want anything to do with it. We’ve survived this long; I don’t want to get thrown overboard by some nutter.”

Marcus took her hand in his. “You’ll be perfectly safe, Caff. Trust me. Have I ever done you or the family wrong?”

“Plenty of times. You’re a reckless bastard.”

“But that’s why you love me, right?”

Eva got up and fetched a glass of water from the jug on the side. All Graves’ family crap was making her feel nauseous, and not a little sad from the grief of losing her own family. Did he realise how privileged he was to still have most of his family with him?

It seemed especially cruel to her that they were only still together because they were smuggling goods on a boat at the time. Whoever said crime doesn’t pay clearly didn’t live in the real world. She’d seen it pay so much of the time. You only had to look at the bankers who got away with the crash, their bonuses afterwards bigger than ever. With a grim thought, she realised that ultimately, with the drowning, there was a whole lot of justice dispensed along with the tragedy. But justice or not, she’d turn back time in an instant if she could. The world was a better place with people in it, even if some of them were scumbags.

“Right, I’m gonna go get Frank,” Marcus said, checking his watch. “You lot keep all this safe. Eva, you need anything?”

“No, I’m okay. Thanks for the clothes and the water.”

“My pleasure, love. Make yourself at home. You’re welcome here as long as you want.”

Eva wanted to give him the thanks and no thanks response, but despite the hideous company, she didn’t feel capable of leaving the confines of the yacht. It was a great deal more comfortable than her cabin, and at least here she had other people around her in case the killer decided to pay her a visit while she was incapacitated.

But then she thought of Danny.

“There’s one thing you could do for me,” Eva said.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“While you’re on the Bravo, can you check in on Danny? Make sure Duncan and the others are looking after him. He’s lost his radio, so…”

“Sure, I’ll let him know you’re still looking out for him.”

“Thanks.”

Marcus gave her a wink and left the cabin.

Tyson followed behind him, leaving Eva alone with Shaley and Catherine.

The atmosphere changed instantly. Catherine gave her an awkward smile before it turned to her usual scowl. Eva didn’t think they would try anything while Marcus was gone, but she didn’t know for certain. She made sure the pen in her right sleeve was in place, letting it drop into her palm.

Ch
apter 16

Jim stared at the radio’s screen. Still no response. It shook in his hand. He’d been up all night trying to send a message, but nothing arrived, and nothing came back. A sob broke from his throat. He dropped the radio to his bunk and lay down.

Their only hope had gone.
His
only hope had gone.

“Why me?” he said into his pillow, muffling the words. “Why us?”

He didn’t know why he was questioning it.

Since the drowning, nothing really made sense any more, despite the illusion of order, hope, and survival. How had he even come to be in this position? Why did the people of the flotilla vote for him? He was a hollow man, after all, incapable of the role—a pretender.

Perhaps Frank had been right to try to take him out with that gaff hook. Perhaps he deserved it. He thought about Graves’ ultimatum and realised it was already morning.

For the first time since he came back during the night, he noticed the sun shining outside the porthole, making the tips of the ocean glow white and yellow.

Floating trash caught the light and sparkled like gifts, but they were just remnants of a bygone era. It was the usual stuff: sports balls of various kinds, boxes, timbers from broken houses, and plastic. Always so much plastic.

It seemed humanity’s legacy didn’t amount to much.

All that time and energy to make useless, plastic crap.

Wars fought to control access to oil reserves so developing countries could build factories and make more pointless plastic rubbish for the
consumers.

He blinked and looked away from the sea of trash and gathered his radio together, hiding it back behind the secret panel, replacing the false rivets with his knife. He stood up, looked at the knife in his hand, and thought about Graves and Frank and Faust.

Barely remembering how he got there, or whom he had passed along the way, Jim found himself standing outside the cells.

Both Frank and Susan Faust were asleep on their cots.
Just slit their throats where they sleep, they won’t even know…

Two problems gone, like the cities and the homes.

Just more trash dealt with and thrown out.

Two thorns cut from the branch and disposed of. Just two cuts…

Frank’s head was inches away from the bars. Jim could just reach in and finish him right there with one single cut. Jim approached closer and gripped a bar with his left hand, the knife shaking in his right. He focused on Frank’s exposed neck, mentally pictured the cut, the futile struggle and the end of one of his problems.

Somewhere in the real world, Jim vaguely recognised Duncan’s voice.

He turned away to see Duncan facing Tyson and Graves.

Duncan said something and tried to hold his arms out, but Tyson threw a vicious overhand right hook, catching Duncan on the chin, sending him crumpling to the floor with a heavy thud that rumbled up Jim’s feet.

The two thugs were on Jim in seconds, but not before Jim placed the knife inside the holder on his belt to hide his guilt.

Graves stalked close, his faces just inches from Jim’s, his breath smelling of fish and seaweed. Tyson glared at Jim from over Marcus’s shoulder.

“Frank’s still in the cell,” Graves said, his voice low and dangerous. “It’s morning, Jim.”

Jim backed off and thought about reaching for his knife again, but they’d be on him too quickly, but seeing Duncan in a crumpled heap made his hand shake with fury.

“You want to go, do you, Jim?” Graves said. “All het up and want to throw a few fists?”

“Fuck you, Graves. Fuck you and all your family.”

“Language, Jim, let’s keep this civil; people are sleeping.”

“Frank’s not going anywhere,” Jim said, placing his hand on the knife handle.

“You forgetting our deal in your old age?”

Whispering, Jim replied, “I told you last night, it’s done; she can’t be… sent. Frank stays.”

Graves stroked his chin and watched as Frank stirred in his bunk, and then he turned to Susan Faust’s cell. “We can work something out where none of us sheds any blood today.”

It was a full minute before he spoke again, and by that time Duncan had come round and got to his feet. He looked groggy but okay. He rubbed at his chin. Squinting, he focused on Tyson and stepped forward.

“Dunc, wait,” Jim said.

Tyson spun round and brought his fists up, but Duncan stepped back, waiting.

“Chill, Ty, everyone just chill.”

Both Tyson and Duncan stepped back, eyeing each other, but they waited.

Marcus stepped closer to Jim and dropped his voice. “You want Faust gone, but not like before, I get it. I’ll do you a deal. You get off my case and let Frank go without me taking him by force, and I’ll arrange for Faust to be dealt with as you please. You can’t say fairer than that, Jim.” Marcus moved back to give Jim room. “Well?”

Faust was quiet on her bunk, but Jim sensed she wasn’t sleeping. She was probably analysing everything that was going on, but she wouldn’t have heard the last exchange. He wondered if he could actually do away with her with his own hands. Although he was never a violent man, this place had a way of twisting people, especially when the weight of their survival rested on a single man’s shoulders.

“We’re imperfect,” Jim said. “All of us. We’re not who we’re supposed to be.”

“What?” Graves said.

“Never mind.” Jim sighed, deciding he’d just get this over and done with. “Look, I’m too tired to argue any longer. Take Frank and deliver on your promise; otherwise I’ll come for you, Graves, is that clear? I’ll come for you and your family.”

Marcus held out his hand. Jim shook it, crushing the others’ grip.

Marcus just smiled.

Jim let go, reached for his keys, but they weren’t in his breast pocket.

“My keys… I don’t know…”

“Got them here,” Duncan said. “I found them earlier; it was why I was coming down this way… until these turned up, that is.”

Duncan inched past Tyson and handed Jim the set of keys. “Dad, you don’t have to do this.”

“It’s for the best.” Jim took the keys and unlocked the cell door. Frank had sat up and was smiling, an expression of smug self-satisfaction. “Come on,” Jim beckoned. “Get the hell out of my cell.”

Frank dusted himself off and left the cell, embracing Marcus and Tyson.

“Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it, Jim?” Marcus said. “I’ll be in touch about my favour to you later. But trust me, it’ll be done.”

“Going so soon?” Susan Faust said, standing with her back against the rear wall of the cell, shrouding herself in shadows. “I’ll miss all this sparkling conversation.”

Jim ignored her and addressed Marcus. “Now get off my ship. You’ve got what you want.”

“That I do, Jim, that I do. And yes, we’ll be on our merry way. But before I do, I promised Eva I’d ask after Danny. How’s he doing?”

“He’s doing fine,” Duncan said. “Where’s Eva? You’ve been to see her?”

“She’s with me. She’s in good spirits. Must be my charming personality. Never fails to cheer everyone up. Well, gents, I’ll bid you all a good fucking day. I’ve got business to handle.”

“So long, Jim, thanks for the hospitality,” Frank said.

“Go fuck yourself, Frank,” Jim said, as he watched the three of them leave. Duncan stood aside, watching Tyson closely. When they left, he turned to Jim, but Jim already held up his hand. “I don’t want to hear a word about all this, okay? I’ve got bigger issues to deal with. Did you find Stanic last night?”

“Yeah. Reckons he’s found a way to fix the desalinators. Should be done within a few days.”

“Good.”

“Well, if that’s all?” Duncan said.

Jim nodded, but didn’t look at his son. The thought that he had lied to him last night about Eva still jabbed at him. He and Duncan had always been so close, the best of friends and allies, but something along the way had happened. The way of all people, Jim thought. Even family.

Duncan left, not saying a word. Jim thought about saying something, calling him back, but hesitated, and then it was too late.

“Well, just you and me, Captain,” Faust said. “Why don’t you come inside and keep me company, eh? I’ve seen the way you look at me. I bet you even watch me when I sleep, don’t you? You want to fuck me, don’t you, Captain?”

Jim thought about taking his knife and dealing with her there and then, but the crew were already moving about the ship. It wouldn’t take a genius to work out what had happened, and even though they were “his” crew, he couldn’t trust anyone any more, not even his own son.

Still, he stepped closer to the cell. “What is it you actually want, Susan? I mean, all this act aside, deep down, what is it you want?”

She brushed her wild hair from her face and bit on her finger as she thought, thrusting her lip out and pouting as though she were a schoolgirl. “For starters, to see you fall. I want to watch you hit rock bottom. I want to see you beg for forgiveness. Then”—Faust stepped closer, gripping the bars—“I want to see you burn for your lies.”

Jim’s hand shook by his side. He could just reach out, grab her by the neck, choke the life from her. He took a deep breath to calm his racing heart. “People like you have no value to humanity. You want nothing but destruction.”

“And you don’t, Captain? I can see your struggle. I can see how hard it is for you to resist destroying me. It’s man’s way, is it not? Destroy things you don’t understand. How long is it since you’ve been with a woman? Why don’t you come inside, experience the little death?”

“If there is a hell,” Jim said, “we’ll both be there. You want to see us all burn? You’ll be right there with us. There is no rapture for you. Or any of us.”

“I guess we’ll both find out, won’t we, Captain?”

“Perhaps sooner than you think.”