Salt (16 page)

Jim thought for a moment, looking from one to the other. “I guess you two know best here. I’ll speak with my crew when I get back. I’m sure someone will volunteer.”

“Okay,” Eva said. “While you go back, I’m going to go pay a visit to engineering and see if anyone saw anything.”

Before Eva left the room, she noticed a legal pad sticking out of a drawer within the overturned desk. It had Dr Singh’s handwriting on it, the words unintelligible. She realised Dr Singh had written out what Mike had been saying, or a close approximation. She tore the single sheet from the pad and pocketed it.

Outside, in the corridor, while Annette locked the medical facility, Jim turned to Eva. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, it’s okay. It’s only a minute away, and don’t worry, I won’t be asking any difficult questions. If the killer is there, he’s not going to do something stupid and attack me in front of the others. Either way, it’ll be a useful trip.”

“Where’s all this going to stop?”

“I don’t know, Jim. I just don’t know.”

Jim shook his head and left, accompanying Annette.

When they had turned out of the corridor, Eva took out her two-way radio and called Duncan.

“Duncan, it’s Eva. Are you there?”

The radio signal was weak, the static rising and dropping like waves. She tried again.

“Duncan, it’s Eva. Do you copy? Over.”

A few seconds passed, but then his voice came over the speaker.

“I’m here. What’s up, Eva? Are you okay? I heard the news.”

“Yeah, can you come and meet me at engineering?”

“Sure, give me five minutes.”

In the background when Duncan spoke, Eva heard raised voices, sounds of a struggle.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“I’ll explain later. Got to go. See you shortly. Over.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. It clearly sounded like something was going down, but she couldn’t worry about that now. She needed to keep a clear head.

Securing the radio to her belt, Eva set off.

Halfway to her destination she heard footsteps behind her, matching her pace.

C
hapter 24

Jim climbed the ladder to the main deck of the Bravo, then turned and helped Annette up. The poor girl had sobbed all the way there. Although he would have preferred to wait, her state naturally drew questions from the various flotilla residents. The news had already got out via Heinrich, Monika and Dietmar, and he felt it best to tell the truth to avoid any rumours and the distortion of facts they often brought.

On the main deck he saw Graves, along with Frank, Tyson and Shaley, and five members of Jim’s crew, including Duncan, armed with fire axes, clubs and, in the case of Graves’ lot, makeshift machetes.

They formed a line in front of the main gun turret. A group of five of Faust’s supporters, dressed in their robes, backed away, all the while screaming expletives and threatening to burn everyone.

Jim pulled Annette to the port side and edged away from the group, as Graves’ and Jim’s crew continued to face them down, pushing them further away from the bridge and closer to the edge.

“Dad, over here,” Duncan called, breaking away from the group. He pulled Jim and Annette behind him and turned to face the noisy group of zealots.

“What the hell’s going on?” Jim asked.

Marcus stepped back from the group and faced Jim. “It’s done,” he said. “Consider this a favour. One day, I’ll need to call it in.”

At first Jim wondered what he meant by, ‘It’s done,’ but soon realised. He left Graves and his crew to deal with Faust’s people and dashed to the bridge, taking Annette with him. Once he ducked inside, he pointed to his office. “Go in there. I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere until I’m back, okay?”

Annette looked at him like a scared rabbit and didn’t move.

“It’s fine. It’s my office. You’ll be safe in there. I just need to check something. I’ll be no more than a few minutes.”

“Okay,” Annette said. “But don’t be long. I don’t want to be on my own.”

“Just a couple of minutes, I promise.”

She shuffled to his office and closed the door behind her.

He stood there for a few brief seconds, feeling sorry for her. She had no family on the flotilla, her parents having died of the fever six months previously. Dr Singh had taken her under her wing and trained her up. Annette felt she could make a difference, perhaps out of guilt for not being able to save her parents. He could understand that, and it was good the flotilla had someone like her, someone with genuine compassion.

They were few and far between these days. The harsh realities of survival brought out the baser instincts in people. Much like the fracas outside, he thought. Seeing the hate in the eyes of Faust’s people never ceased to surprise him. When there were so few of them left, why they still felt the need to divide the group and make things difficult didn’t make any sense to him.

Jim dashed through the narrow passages of the destroyer, sliding down the stairs, his feet echoing as they clapped against the steel deck. He passed the main quarters area and descended to the brig.

“Danny?” Jim said with surprise. He halted as he reached the cells. The boy had his back to Jim and was staring in Susan Faust’s cell. He didn’t move or react to Jim’s voice.

Jim approached and saw what Danny saw.

Susan Faust was hanging by her neck. It had snapped, and her head was at an obtuse angle to the rest of her body. The makeshift noose was made from a belt, and its buckle dug into the side of her neck. She was still swinging, the leather of the belt creaking under the tension. Her face had turned a greyish-red colour. A trickle of blood, now dry, came from one nostril. It had dripped down onto her robe.

Jim swept Danny up and carried him out of the brig section.

When they reached the next level up, Jim took Danny into his cabin. A couple of his comics were still on the kid’s bunk.

Jim sat Danny down and knelt down in front of him, looking him in the eyes.

“What you saw back there,” Jim said, reaching for the words, “must never leave this room. Do you understand, Danny?”

Of course the kid didn’t, how could he? He just looked back at Jim with tears in his eyes. Eyes that could well have been Mike’s, such was the similarity. And every time Jim looked at him, he saw Mike on the small fishing boat, leaving the flotilla because of Jim. And then the madness in his eyes when he had returned.

“Susan was a very troubled lady,” Jim said. “And when troubled people can’t deal with their problems any more, they seek other ways of dealing with it.”

“She’s dead, isn’t she?” Danny said, stating it more as a fact than a question.

“Yes, but she’s with her god now. It’s what she always wanted.”

“Is Mommy with god too?”

Jim gripped Danny’s shoulder. “I’m sure she’s somewhere safe, just waiting to meet up with you in the future. You’ve got nothing to worry about there, lad.”

Danny wiped a tear away with the sleeve of his arm.

“When can I see my dad?”

Even though Jim was expecting it, the question still caught him off guard. Words tripped up on his lips as he mumbled an incoherent response. He didn’t know if anyone had told Danny that Mike had returned, but given the way rumours spread on the flotilla, he guessed that even Danny must have heard the news.

“Will you wait here for me? I’ll just be a minute.”

Danny nodded, picking up one of his comics.

Jim left the room and went two cabins down until he reached Duncan’s quarters. He found his son’s flask of grog in the nightstand and brought it back to Danny’s room. Similar to how Jim often shared a cup of grog with Duncan, he laid out the cups on the nightstand and poured in a finger of the watered-down rum into each cup. He handed one to Danny, downing his own in a single gulp before pouring himself another.

“Have you had grog before, lad?”

Danny nodded. “A little. Dad used to warm it for me when I got a cold.”

“Here, it’s not warm, but it’ll warm you up and help settle your nerves.”

The boy took the cup with both hands, cradled it like a bowl, and sipped from its edge, scrunching his face with each mouthful. Jim finished his second measure and poured a third, wanting to feel that burn.

Danny’s nerves weren’t the only ones that needed settling.

Once Danny had finished his cup, Jim put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and said, “About your dad…”

***

Jim closed the cabin door behind him. Danny had quietened down after the news of his father. Jim’s hand shook. It was still wet with his own tears. He was an emotional wreck as he told Danny what had happened to Mike. He spared the boy the details, but it was never an easy thing to explain to a young boy that he had, through no fault of his own, become an orphan.

It took another cup of grog and fifteen minutes, but eventually Danny had tired himself out and fell asleep. Jim left him to sleep while he made sure Annette was okay. On his way back to the bridge office, he came across Patrice.

“Captain,” Patrice said, “I delivered your message to Duncan as you requested.”

“Message?”

“
Oui
, you asked me to let him know you wanted to speak with him on your return.”

“Oh, right, yeah, sorry, it escaped me. I can’t even remember what it was about now.”

“Are you okay, Captain? You look upset.”

“It’s just been a difficult morning, Patrice. Listen, I’ve got some tasks for you if you’re free.”

“
Oui
, anything, Captain.”

Jim had always liked Patrice.

One of the few good guys who just wanted to help and make a difference. Even though his new role on the flotilla did have the same status as his previous job, he didn’t have any pretensions. Anything that needed doing, no matter how “lowly”, Patrice would be the first there ready to get his hands dirty and do his duty.

“Can you get some of the crew to remove Susan Faust’s body and put her over for the sharks.”

Patrice blinked once as he processed the request. Jim thought he’d baulk at this. He wouldn’t have blamed him; it wasn’t exactly an everyday request. But, with a short nod and a bow, as befitted his former role as a sommelier, the Frenchman took it in his stride.

“Of course. It’s a sad bit of business, but I understand.”

“Thank you, Patrice. I appreciate your help and support.”

The Frenchman grasped Jim’s arm and gave it a squeeze. “I know things are difficult,” Patrice said. “With the murders and the power struggles. But you can count on me, Jim.”

“Thanks, that means a lot to me.”

Patrice gave him a quick smile and a nod and headed off to the crew’s quarters.

Jim wondered why everyone couldn’t be more like Patrice. If more people were willing to drop their ego, the flotilla would be a much better place. They’d at least stand a better chance of surviving if everyone pulled in the same direction. It was a sad commentary on humanity that even when faced with extinction, they let their own issues get in the way of survival.

With those thoughts in mind, he remembered Annette, still in his office, and set off to get her settled in one of the crew cabins. And then he’d send her out with Patrice to take samples from everyone on the manifest. He hoped that would at least help Eva find the killer. Now that Mike and Faust were gone—and not by his hand—the killer remained the last major issue to deal with.

Unless Graves stepped up, of course. Who knew what game he was playing. Jim felt a wave of anxiety and depression sweep over him. There was too much going on for him to control. No matter how much he wanted to keep this place together, he had failed them.

He had failed Duncan, Mike, Jean, everyone.

Both Danny and Annette were orphans under his command, Angelina and her fellow researchers were seemingly lost, or worse…

He thought about leaving, just taking a boat and heading north so that he wouldn’t keep screwing up. If Graves or someone else wanted to run the show, why not let them? He supposed they’d do a better job.

Jim sighed and headed to his cabin by way of the galley. He knew they kept some flasks of rum there to add some zing to the food. He’d drink, try to forget, pass out into sweet oblivion. He realised at that point that, no, he couldn’t be a better man than he was yesterday. Yesterday was him; he couldn’t hide from it, pretend he was something better. Today, he was still what he’d always been.

C
hapter 25

The footsteps kept up even as Eva increased her speed. She desperately wanted to turn around, but every fibre of her being told her to keep going, get to engineering. She could almost feel the person behind her now. She clenched her fist, ignored the ache in her ribs, and readied to spin round to confront her stalker.

“Hey, Eva?”

She spun round. “Brad? Shit, you scared the hell out of me.” It was one of the younger men who worked in engineering. He stood there smiling at her.

“Oh crap, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It seems we’re going the same way. Heading to see someone in engineering?”

“You’ve not heard the news?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No, I had to get some parts for Stanic. What’s happened?”

Eva waited for a moment to analyse his reaction. He seemed genuinely sincere.

“I’ll fill you in on the details a bit later, but to answer your question, yeah, I’m here to see Stanic.”

“I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Thanks. I’ll wait here. I don’t want to interrupt anyone’s work.”

“Right, okay.” Brad smiled, passed her, and went inside.

Eva watched him as he approached Stanic and then got to work at a workbench. Her inquisitive nature took over as she looked through the windows into the engineering department. The sound of metal and industry vibrated against the panes of glass. Inside, she saw Stanic, with his bandaged hand, going from station to station, inspecting the work of his various engineers—five in all, three men and two women. She noticed a close bond among the workers; they seemed happy in their jobs, laughing and joking with Stanic.

She waited for a few moments, wanting to have Duncan’s backup, but she couldn’t wait any longer as her desire to question Stanic overwhelmed her sense of caution.

As she walked toward the door, she had a look at their footwear. None seemed to wear anything but steel-toe-capped boots. Not the kind of boot that left the print—that was more of a fishing boot. Though that didn’t mean a lot. Anyone could have changed their boots when they arrived to do their work.

She opened the door and went inside, feeling like an outsider entering some secret domain. The sound of metal on metal, saws, and chatter assailed her. She wondered how they could work with such noise all day. Stanic turned to see her enter, gave her a warm smile and a wave. He was with a young woman on a stationary bicycle set up to provide power to some of the machines. Although she’d seen it a few times before, this was the first time up close. It never ceased to grab her imagination.

A middle-aged man with grey hair stood over an electronic circuit board. It was hooked up to the battery that the young woman was powering. The ingenuity brought a smile to Eva’s face. It was like something out of a Victorian steampunk story, only with less steam and more bicycles.

The remaining staff seemed to be two men, one a teenager, the other at least in his late sixties, and an older woman who Eva knew was the older man’s wife. It would be evident even to a stranger given the looks they shared as they worked together on a large drumlike device.

“One of the desalinators,” Stanic said as he approached Eva. “We’ve identified the issue caused by the sabotage and are finding replacement parts. Some of Jim’s crew are breaking up a small fishing boat that we’re hoping to salvage the electrics and hardware from.”

“You guys seem very busy at the moment,” Eva said as she scanned the room. Long workbenches were full of half-broken machinery and hardware. A rack of batteries, recharged by human-power, were stationed at the end of each bench, providing power for soldering irons, multimeters and other various tools.

On one of the long benches, running along the back wall, lay a number of pieces of sheet metal shaped into what looked like aeroplane propellers. Stanic must have seen her confusion.

“New parts for a wind turbine. The other was so badly damaged we’ve had to essentially create one from scratch and use whatever we could salvage from the old one. If you ever find out who did this, I’d like permission to send them over.”

“Not if I do it first,” Eva said, giving him a grim smile. Although she meant it as banter, she felt a burning anger inside at the thought of someone purposely jeopardising the two essentials that helped the flotilla survive: power and bacteria-free water.

“Come into my office. We can chat better in there.” Stanic led Eva around a number of large machines that she couldn’t identify, like giant snails with their iron shells. The office was much quieter once the door was closed. Inside, Stanic had a desk littered with drawings and plans. A two-way radio transceiver sat among a number of chipped mugs.

An old calendar hung on the wall, the dates changed to reflect the new year. Duct tape held the pages together. Stanic sat behind the desk, facing a window that looked out on the workshop. He gestured to an empty chair on the other side.

She sat down and noticed a pair of shoes—oil-stained sneakers—in the corner. Again, not the kind the killer was wearing.

“I’m really sorry about Dr Singh and Mike,” Stanic said. “I know you were close. It’s terrible business after Jean and Ade. This place has been like a morgue lately, despite the veneer of a good mood out there. Selene was in pieces this morning as she took over Ade’s role.” Stanic gestured to the girl on the bike. “We all miss him greatly. Such a wonderful man, a true loss to this community.”

“How you holding up?” Eva asked, thinking it rude to expect him to handle all this without any feelings of his own. “What happened to your hand?” she added.

The engineer shrugged, holding his hand up. “I’ll live. Of course, it’s not easy to lose someone I worked with for so long. As for the hand, I cut it on a sharp edge of that fin over there. I was shaping it for a turbine and slipped, cutting my palm. As for the other stuff, I don’t know. I feel like I’m numb to it, you know?”

Although she didn’t, it was a common reaction. Often, while she was on a case, the victim’s relations retreated to a numb state, burying their emotions. It was as good a coping mechanism as any, she thought. Better than getting angry about it and doing something stupid like seeking immediate retribution. Murder begets murder.

It was why it had to be nipped in the bud so that it didn’t grow and entangle more and more victims. It could spread like a disease. And there were no winners on either side.

“I don’t really have an easy way of putting this,” Eva said. She knew she should have probably waited until she had backup, but in her experience, she knew that going right to the issue often shook things out of the cobwebs.

Stanic leaned forward on his elbows, looking serious. “What is it?”

“I think the killer, and there is only one, I’m sure of it, either works here or has worked here in the past.”

His eyes widened. “Are you sure? I don’t mean to doubt you, but I know everyone in this department, and I just can’t see how anyone would resort to killing other members of the flotilla. Without sounding like a dick, do you have evidence?”

Eva passed him the handmade key. “In your opinion, would you say this was created here?”

Stanic held the key up to the porthole. Weak yellow light reflected off the key, detailing the tooling marks. He turned it over in his fingers, rubbing his thumb across the grooves.

“I think it was. This metal is likely from a piece we salvaged from one of the transport ships. You can tell by the mix of colours, the blue and white on the edge. And the way the teeth and grooves have been cut, that looks like the tooling marks made from our drills and bandsaws. That was when we still had the fuel to run the generators.” He indicated the snail-like machines out on the shop floor.

“When did you stop using the generators?”

“Last year…” Stanic stood and retrieved the calendar from the wall and flipped back through the pages. Running his finger across the days, he came to a date eleven months ago. “Right there. I marked it, because I remember I argued with Jim about it. He was right, of course; we had to severely ration the fuel for more important things. At that time, we moved to human power with the batteries. If this was made here, it would have been back then.”

“How many of those out there were working here back then?”

“All of them, including me and Ade.”

“If I gave you a list of names, can you let me know which ones worked here during that period.”

“Of course, anything I can do to help.”

Eva took a copy of the manifest and handed it to him. Stanic took a pair of battered glasses from the top pocket of his oil-stained shirt and put them on. Using a pencil sharpened with a penknife, he ran down the list of names, his lips moving as he read, checking off those who did and didn’t work in engineering during that time.

While Stanic continued with the list, Eva turned to watch the work on the shop floor. The guts of the desalination unit were spilled out on the workbench like the intestines of a beast. The workers were working on the parts like vultures, hunched over, prodding and picking at the flesh and muscle of the machine.

Duncan, accompanied by Annette, passed the long windows on the corridor side.

“I’ll be right back,” Eva said as she got up and opened the office door. Her ribs made her slow down as she moved over to the door that led out of the workshop. Despite being a near constant pain in her side, it was surprising how easily she got used to it and, if sitting for too long, forgot it was a problem until she then tried to do something.

Duncan opened the door before she could reach it, and Eva stepped out, closing it behind her. Annette looked as though she had recovered a little from her discovery earlier that morning. Her face wasn’t as red any more, though Eva could still see the sadness in her eyes.

“Hey,” Eva said. “You took your time. Problems?”

“Just some business with Faust’s people causing trouble again. Nothing that wasn’t handled. Anne’s brought the samples. Have you spoken with Stanic about your theory?”

“Yeah, he’s been pretty helpful. Confirmed that the key was likely made here. Even narrowed it down to a potential date. He’s helping me identify which workers on the manifest were around then.”

“How’s he taking it? I know he’s proud of this place. Must be a shock to know that the killer was working right under his nose.”

“He’s not happy about it, but who would be? At least he’s cooperating.”

“Must make a change from dealing with Marcus Graves,” Duncan added, with no lack of venom hidden among the accusation. Eva ignored it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Although she had a great deal of respect and admiration for Duncan, she didn’t like how he seemed to be trying to make her feel bad for associating with Graves. It wasn’t as if she were making a deal with the devil. And even if she were, at least it was proving fruitful.

“Sorry,” Duncan said, reading Eva’s expression. “Are you ready, Anne?”

“Sure, it won’t take long.”

“How exactly do you want to do this?” Eva asked.

“I’ll take a swab from each person, and when the medical facility is relocated, or at least the supplies, I’ll run some tests.”

“How long will it take?”

“Depends on how long it takes to get everything from the facility moved over, but the tests themselves take about a day. I’ll do them as quick as I can, though. I want you to nail the bastard that did this.”

Eva liked the girl’s spirit. Professional, driven. Annette reminded Eva a little of herself when she first joined the police. She held the door open for them and followed them to Stanic’s office.

“Hey, Duncan, Annette,” Stanic said, looking up from the sheet of paper. “How you doing, Annette?”

“I’ll be fine. It’s just such a shock still. I don’t really know what to feel.”

“That’s understandable,” Stanic said. “What do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“Sorry, Stanic,” Duncan said. “This seems like we’re all descending on you here, but we need to take screening samples from everyone here.”

“It’s just for elimination purposes,” Eva added.

He handed her the paper. “There’s a list of everyone I know of from that period. Some are no longer with us, unfortunately.”

“Thank you.” Eva counted eight potential suspects from the list. She folded the paper neatly and placed it in her jacket pocket. “We won’t take up much more of your time. We just need to take the samples, and we’ll be out of your way.”

“Is it really necessary?” Stanic asked. “Everyone here was working with me since late last night. We’ve been working around the clock.”

“I know it seems unnecessary,” Eva said, “but it’ll make my job a lot easier by ruling everyone out.”

“Okay, I can’t stop you, I suppose, and if it does help, then why not, but I don’t think they’ll like it. We’re a tight group, and they’ll feel persecuted.”

Duncan clapped Stanic on the shoulder. “I know, mate, I get it. I’m sure I’d feel the same way if the Bravo’s crew were under suspicion too. But we won’t be long.”

“Fine. You want to start with me?”

Annette stepped forward and took a swab out of a plastic tube container. “I just need you to rub this on the inside of your mouth and place it in the tube.” Stanic took the swab and did as he was asked, handing the tube back to Annette. She smiled nervously at him and wrote his name on the side with a marker pen. “Thanks,” she said.

Stanic called each person into his office individually to take the swab, not wanting to let the workshop potentially pollute the sample. Everyone gave the sample without too much bother except Brad Dempsey, a former oil-rig engineer.

“I don’t see why I should,” he said. “I’ve not done anything. Stan, you’ve been with me all night and day. How could I have possibly gone over there and killed Mike and Dr Singh? And why would I? Mike was one of my best buddies here. You can vouch for that.”

Eva kept her demeanour calm. She was fully expecting at least someone to get upset with this. People always did, even those with an alibi. There was a fear of corruption when it came to the police, unfortunately. Especially those in her district. They had a problem with some rogue cops fitting people up to cover for their scams. It hurt everyone: the public and the police. She couldn’t do her job properly when the public didn’t trust her, when they considered the police as potential enemies.

“I get that, Brad. I really do,” Eva said. “But think of Mike. Your cooperation will help lead us to the killer faster. No one here is a suspect, so help us make sure that stays that way. Even aside from this, you’re getting an extra infection screen.”

“I ain’t got no infection,” Brad said, his face getting redder with frustration. “This is crazy. I’ve done nothing wrong. One of my friends and another colleague of mine are dead, and you think it could be me. That’s a fucking joke.”

Eva checked his shoes: flat-soled work shoes. Not the right type.

“Calm down, Brad,” Stanic said. “No one is saying you’re the killer, dammit. Just give the sample, and you can go about your work.”

Annette stepped away from Brad as he clenched a fist and leaned forward closer to Stanic. “You’re on their damned side? I thought you were one of us, Stan. How could you betray us like this? People are dropping like flies around here. We should be looking out for each other.”