Salt (14 page)

“How’s the wound?” he asked.

“Sore, but not fatal. I wanted to thank you, you know, for saving my ass. I really appreciate it.”

“I didn’t get a chance to ask you. What was in the files you found? Graves took them off me when I dragged you out of the water before I had a chance to look. Was it worth Ade’s death?”

“No,” Eva said. “Nothing was worth that. But it’s a lead to the killer. I think it’s the object, or at least the information contained within, that he wants. But right now I can’t tell you any more.”

“Can’t?” Duncan said, folding his arms across his chest. “Or won’t?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You think I’m keeping something from you?”

“I don’t know. Are you?”

“No, and I resent that you think I would lie to you. For your information, we don’t know what’s in the files, as they’re all encrypted. All we know is that the killer wants them desperately.”

“And Graves no doubt realises it has value.”

She stopped herself from defending Marcus Graves, even though, so far, he was proving to be a useful ally in the mission to find whoever this killer was.

“Listen,” Eva said, softening her voice, trying to diffuse the tension that had built up between her and Duncan. “I’ve got a lead. Jim’s given me access to the working manifest. We’ve narrowed it down to an American male who has at some point worked in engineering and used their equipment to make key copies. It’s also someone who has had access to your dad’s keys.”

“By my reckoning, that’s got to be at least one of twenty potential suspects,” Duncan said.

“It’s something,” Eva said with a shrug. “There’s something else. About your dad.”

“I know, he’s getting on everyone’s case at the moment. He’s just tense about Mike. Has he had a go at you too?”

“Not quite. Let’s just say he got a bit upset with Susan Faust. We’ve had a chat about it. He drank too much rum. He feels terrible about it, but I’ve left him to sleep it off. He’s going to release Susan in the morning. You might want to get some crew up with you to make sure there’s no trouble when he hands her over. You know what her people are like.”

“Damn it, I should have been here to deal with this. This shouldn’t be your responsibility.”

“It’s fine; don’t worry about it. Just look out for him, okay? He’s having a rough time of it at the moment. We all are, but as the figurehead, that pressure can drive men and women to things they normally wouldn’t do.”

“Thanks, Eva. I will. I wonder, will things ever get any easier here?”

“I don’t know, Dunc. But we’ve got to keep going, right?”

Duncan nodded, running his hand through his beard. His shoulders tensed.

“Eva, where are you staying? You’re welcome to bunk here, safety in numbers.”

She shook her head and watched his shoulders deflate. “It’s Danny,” she said. “I promised to look out for him, but being on this case is dangerous. If I stay here, I’m making things more dangerous for him. The killer has already tried to finish me once. What’s to say he’s not waiting for another opportunity? I appreciate the offer, really, but it’s better if I stay away.”

“It’s Graves, isn’t it? You’re staying with him.”

Duncan’s voice took on a jealous, accusatory tone, reminding her of her ex, Emily’s biological father. She thought back to those strained days.

Saul, the ex, tried to control her, possess her. It was only with the support of her work colleagues and her mother that she had managed to make the break. Ever since then, she had been determined to live an independent life.

Any attraction Duncan might have held for her died in that instant, and she felt herself become defensive because of it.

“Where I’m staying is none of your business. I’ll check in on Danny in the morning. Look after your father.” She brushed past him. He turned and looked as though he was going to say something, or perhaps stop her, but didn’t. She felt his glare on her back as she headed out onto the deck.

The cold hit her, the wind blowing in her face. She knew she was too harsh, but it was too late now. A low rumble of thunder came from somewhere off in the distance, beyond the peak of the Orizaba. She looked across the water, watching as the calm tide undulated beneath the thin slice of the moonlight as the wispy, dark clouds headed north.

Were they still out there? Angelina and her crew, stuck on their boats, waiting for someone, some help?

She considered taking a boat out, once all the troubles were over, and investigating. Maybe she would return like Mike, but what if they did have a cure there? What if… two of the most dangerous words in a situation like this.

Eva heard footsteps approaching.

She spun round, wincing with the pain of the sudden movement.

A man approached in the darkness. Without the power on, the only light on the flotilla came from candles or wind-up torches, shining like tiny beacons behind glass portholes and cabin windows. Not nearly enough to light the deck..

Eva stepped back, balanced, and readied herself to hit out as the figure continued to approach.

“All right, love? Bit dangerous hanging about here on your own, ain’t it?”

Eva exhaled in relief.

“You bastard, Graves. You scared me, creeping up on me like that.”

Stepping closer, she could make out his face. Pale light reflected off his pitted and scarred skin. He was smiling, satisfied with himself. Smug. That was Marcus Graves.

“Can’t have you walking about on your lonesome at night, can we? I said I’d keep a watch. Never know who’s stalking about in the shadows these days. Did you get the manifest?”

“Yeah.”

“The old goat just handed it over without a fuss?”

“Something like that.”

Marcus offered his arm to Eva like some Victorian lord. She batted it away and, despite clenching her jaw with pain, had the satisfaction of being the one to lead the way as they headed for Graves’ yacht.

C
hapter 22

Jim swallowed the last of his water. The cool liquid soothed his burning throat. Like others on the flotilla, he would have to start desalinating for his personal stock of water. He’d done it before, using a piece of transparent plastic and the sun to speed evaporation.

Despite his throbbing headache and nausea, he remembered everything that had gone down the night before.

Remembered Eva’s ultimatum.

Surprisingly, he found it a comfort that he’d get Susan Faust out of his hair. There was the chance that releasing her would appease her people, but he doubted it. His actions would have likely motivated Faust even further to seek revenge. A deal was a deal, though, and today he’d decided to be a better man than yesterday.

He never wanted to be that man again. The confetti image of his wife and son, collected in a small pile on a shelf, was a stark reminder of how easy it was to resort to destruction; how temporary life was.

His two-way radio chirped through the static, and a voice came through, high-pitched, warbling on the edge of panic. “Captain Jim, you there? It’s Annette, Dr Singh’s assistant… there’s been a…. Please, you need to come quick. Over.”

If he hadn’t been sober before, he was then. “Annette, this is Jim. What’s happened?”

“They’re dead. I just came in this morning, I don’t know what I… oh god, this is awful.”

“Hang on,” Jim said. “I’ll be there in five minutes. Don’t touch a thing. Who else is with you?”

“No one, I didn’t know what to do. Should I call someone else?”

“No, just wait for me. Over.”

Susan Faust would have to wait. Jim opened the cabin door and headed for the metal steps that led to the deck. On his way he passed a couple of his crew.

“Patrice, can you do me a favour?” Jim said, addressing a young Frenchman who had initially worked in the Alonsa’s restaurant as a master sommelier, but now worked as one of the fifteen crew who kept the Bravo secure and maintained.

“Anything, Captain.”

“Let Duncan know I’ve gone to visit Dr Singh, but I want him to wait here for my return, as I need to talk with him.”

“Of course.”

Jim nodded and rushed up to the main deck, heading for the Alonsa.

***

Jim made his way towards Dr Singh’s facility. His face stung from the cold wind outside. The rest of his body felt numb with the news. He stopped momentarily to catch his breath and to prepare himself for what he was going to find.

He’d known Kyra Singh for most of the time she had worked on the ship. She was one of the few constants and someone whom the flotilla had grown to rely on as their central medical expert. She was well liked, and as far as he knew, she had no enemies. Why anyone would want to harm her was beyond his imagination.

When Jim scaled the steps to the first level and turned into the narrow corridor, he walked into a group of people. Three of Faust’s followers blocked his way.

“Just the man we were coming to see,” a short, squat man said. He wore a similar robe to Susan, white, stained, made from sailcloth. The other two were similarly dressed.

Two men and a woman, all three of them agitators for Faust’s cause.

Dietmar, the speaker, always reminded Jim of a Jack Russell terrier: small and yappy with a bad temperament.

“Now’s not the time,” Jim said. He stepped forward, intending to ignore the situation, but Dietmar placed his hand on Jim’s chest.

Heinrich backed him up, blocking Jim’s route.

“You’re here, we’re here. I make that the best of times,” Dietmar said. “We’ve been patient until now, Captain”—he emphasised “captain” with a sneer—“but your time is up.”

Dietmar took a step back and made to throw a punch, but Jim anticipated him, dodged to the side, unbalancing Heinrich, and landed a blow of his own, square on Dietmar’s chin. The smaller man rocked back.

Heinrich and Monika were on Jim immediately, the latter clawing at his face as she screamed. Heinrich delivered two heavy fists to his ribs, knocking the wind from Jim’s lungs, doubling him over.

Jim straightened up and pushed out his arms, throwing Monika from him.

She fell over Dietmar as he stumbled to his feet.

“Hey,” a voice shouted from behind the group. Stanic had come out of a side door. He held a wrench in his hand, having come from engineering.

Heinrich turned to see Stanic approach..

“I suggest you lot get lost,” Stanic said, his face promising violence.

Heinrich and Dietmar each took a step towards the engineer, but soon stepped back when he swung the heavy wrench their way, the tool missing their heads by inches. Jim took the opportunity to grab Heinrich by the shoulders and pull him back, clearing a way through. The tall, blond German tripped as he fell back.

Monika broke ranks and dashed to Heinrich’s aid, leaving Dietmar standing between Stanic and Jim.

“You still want to do this?” Jim said, making the small man spin round with surprise.

Jim grabbed him by the robe and thrust him against the wall of the corridor, banging his head in the process. Through gritted teeth, Jim said, “You dare try this shit again and you’ll be joining Susan in the brig.”

Jim tightened his grip on the robe, choking the man as the cloth tightened round his throat. Dietmar’s face grew purple under the strain before he finally nodded. Jim let him collapse to the floor. As soon as Dietmar regained his balance, he staggered off, following Heinrich and Monika, all the while swearing in German and promising various acts of retribution.

“Thanks, Stan,” Jim said as he took a deep breath in an effort to calm down. “I appreciate the backup. What happened to your hand?”

Stanic looked at his hand as though he hadn’t even realised it was wounded. “Oh, crap, I didn’t even know. Must have caught on something. I’ve been trying to get the desalinators running again. It’s hard work without Ade. He knew those machines like the back of his hand. Ten times the engineer I’ll ever be.”

“Nonsense. I’ve seen what you can do. I’ve all the faith in you. Though you should get that seen to.” It was then that he remembered why he was here.

The radio call.

Dr Singh. “Shit, sorry, Stan, I gotta go.”

Jim rushed past the engineer, careening into the door, slamming it against the wall as he entered the medical facility. Ahead of him was the main desk where Kyla would often be doing paperwork or drinking coffee as she tried to work some form of treatment for the quarantined citizens.

Much like Angelina and the others, he thought.

Loose papers littered the floor. A wastepaper bin lay on its side, the trash spilling out. A chair was tipped over, and fragments of a china mug lay scattered among the debris, leading Jim’s eye through the obvious signs of struggle until he saw the first spots of blood.

Careful not to disturb the tableau, Jim made his way further into the office until he saw Kyla Singh lying at Annette’s feet.

Her body looked whole for the most part save her neck.

Her head was at the wrong angle. Broken, twisted, like a paper cup. A reddened gash split the skin and flesh below her chin. Blood surrounded her, covering the floor, turning it into a red lake, her head and neck a peninsula, and Annette’s legs, shaking, behind the body like swaying reeds.

Annette was crying. She shouldn’t have had to deal with this. Although she worked with Singh, had trained under her, she wasn’t actually a medical student. She hadn’t been exposed to situations like this before. Her main role was in triage and assisting Singh in gathering and analysing samples.

Her face was red and puffy. She wiped her nose with her sleeve and looked at Jim with glassy blue eyes. “Why would anyone do this?” she said. “Why?”

“I don’t know, Ann, but we’ll find out.”

“I can’t believe she’s gone… one moment she was here, and now…” The girl hid her face in her hands. Her shoulders bucked with the sobs.

Jim remained in his place, paralysed, scared he’d ruin any evidence. He tried to think of the right words to console the girl, but all he could see was his wife in her hospital bed, the pillows stained red where she’d taken her own life, unable to go on fighting the cancer. He didn’t blame her, of course; her condition had been terminal. She had often spoken of her wish to end her suffering sooner, but Jim couldn’t let her go.

“Ann, I know this is hard, but you’ve got to tell me what you know. What did you see when you came in? Was there anyone leaving the facility? Anything at all out of the ordinary?”

Annette took a deep breath and composed herself. Closing her eyes, she recounted what she had seen. “I didn’t see anyone when I approached. The place was empty. I opened the door, expecting to see Dr Singh at her desk like she is most mornings. I was due to help her with the weekly samples—” She broke off, swallowing a sob.

Jim remained quiet, gave her room to gather her thoughts.

“It was the smell that I noticed first.”

“The blood?” Jim asked.

Annette shook her head, wrinkling her nose as though she were experiencing the scent again. “No, it was some kind of chemical. I can’t really describe it. If anything, it was kind of acidic, maybe, I don’t really know. I thought it strange, and that’s when I noticed the mess in the office and… Dr Singh’s body.”

Jim remembered what Annette had said earlier on the radio. All this time he’d focused on Singh’s death. “You said ‘they’ on the radio. Who else?”

As he looked at her, she turned her head. The door to the quarantine. “Mike,” Annette said, almost with a reverential whisper.

He needed to go look for himself, compelled to know it was true.

Being careful not to step in blood, he tiptoed through the office and opened the door. Bloody footprints stained the tiled floor, leading through the quarantine until they stopped at Mike’s room. The plastic hung to one side where it had been cut open.

Not wanting to breach the quarantine by opening the door, Jim stepped forward and peered through the small glass window. Mike’s body was slumped on the ground, his face pressed against the floor, his arms beneath his chest, and his legs spread out behind him.

There was less blood around him than around Singh’s body, but Mike’s head was caved in on one side, indicating he had been bludgeoned to death.

“Is it bad?” a voice said. Jim spun round to see Stanic standing on the threshold of the quarantine, his hand bandaged, presumably by Annette. “Anything I can do?”

“No, Stan, just give us some space, if you don’t mind. We have to avoid contaminating the crime scene. I’ll call Eva, see what she can find out.”

“Want me to fetch her? Probably not safe for her to walk about on her own given the circumstances, and Faust’s lot all het up.”

“It’s okay. She’s got company. Could you radio Duncan for me? Tell him Faust’s lot are probably on their way to the
Bravo
. Tell him I’ll be back once I’ve spoken with Eva.”

“I’ll do one better,” Stanic said. “I’ll head there myself. I need to chat with some of your crew anyway about breaking up some of those small fishing vessels for parts.”

“Fine,” Jim said. “Be careful.”

“Aye, Captain.” Stan gave him a casual salute of respect and left the medical facility, thanking Annette for his bandage.

Jim left the facility behind Stanic and watched the engineer leave the ship. He reached for his two-way radio and dialled in Eva’s channel.

“Eva, this is Jim. Are you there, over?”

Static.

“Eva, do you copy, over?”

“Jim? I’m here. What’s up? Did you deal with the… what we spoke about last night?”

“I think you should come to the medical facility right away. There’s been…” Jim took a deep breath, steadying his voice. “Two murders. Come quickly, and bring Graves with you, just in case.”

“Who?”

“Dr Singh and…”

Jim didn’t need to finish the sentence, Eva knew.

“I’ll be right there,” Eva said, her voice shaking.

The radio went dead. Jim went back inside and comforted Annette. “It’s okay. Eva will know what to do. She’ll find out who did this.”

He just hoped that was true. Even though just this morning he’d promised himself he would be a better man than he was yesterday, he already felt the need to find a stash of rum and drink himself into oblivion.