Deadly Cruise

by Dawn Brookes

“Oh dear, that’s sad. Who was it?”

  “The man worked in engineering, according to the roommate. He hasn’t needed a doctor since boarding ship. Medical application form unremarkable and pre-cruise check-ups were fine.”

  All crew members, including doctors and nurses, had to have a medical evaluation on land, which included lengthy form-filling, blood tests, X-rays and a physical examination, before stepping foot on a cruise ship. Medical evaluations cost a small fortune in some countries, but it was important from the cruise line’s perspective to have healthy employees on board ship because Queen Cruises accepted responsibility for funding the medical care of the crew, and repatriation on account of illness or death, once they were aboard.

  “What’s his name?” enquired a concerned Sarah. “I met a man called Jefgeny Popov in engineering yesterday and made an appointment for him to come to clinic this morning, but he didn’t show.”

  “The dead guy was called Erik Marinov,” Alex answered, “but it was a roommate called Jefgeny who found him. They shared the room, but Jefgeny worked until 2am after swapping shifts with another crewman. When he got back, he assumed his friend was sleeping. On discovering him dead this morning, he called for a medic. After I confirmed Mr Marinov was dead, Jefgeny was in considerable distress, but I couldn’t get much out of him. I’m just heading back down to deck C now.”

  “Erik interpreted for Jefgeny yesterday – he looked fit and healthy. Something worried me about Jefgeny’s health, not Erik’s. That explains why he didn’t show up this morning. Can I join you, Alex? I’d like to find out how Jefgeny is.”

  “Yes sure. Come on, let’s go. Do you want to come too, Lauren?”

  “No thanks, I’ll keep Bernard company.”

  Sarah raised her eyebrows, but Lauren didn’t notice. Bernard shrugged his shoulders behind Lauren’s back and grinned. Sarah put her tongue out at him and followed Alex down to the decks below the waterline where crew members had their cramped berths. The berths were still comparative luxury for some of the crew compared to what they left behind in their home countries. Sarah appreciated her good fortune, having a room above the waterline as an officer.

  There were many decks below, and they walked down three sets of stairs before arriving at the right one. As always, Sarah noticed how the air got stuffier the further down they went. Stale cigarette smoke pervaded the air, making it even worse.

  “Blooming cigarettes, I hate coming down here,” muttered Alex in a voice barely audible. The bass beat of loud music emanated from some of the rooms where Sarah assumed crew, who worked nights or were on breaks, were enjoying down-time.

  They walked single file as the corridors narrowed.

  “I can never get used to the noise down here. How can anyone fall asleep?” asked Sarah.

  “Sorry, can’t hear.”

  Ignoring Alex’s joke, Sarah continued her rant. “Music, if you can call it that, one might manage, but not the engine noises, all these vibrations and other creaks and groans.” As if on cue, the rumbling sound of metal assaulted their ears, along with an irritating constant humming noise that Sarah certainly did not find soothing. The din reverberated off the surrounding metal, causing every sound to echo back at them.

  “I do know what you mean, but I presume it’s sheer exhaustion after twelve to fourteen hour shifts. It’s probably no worse than living next to a busy motorway, I guess.”

  “If you say so.” Sarah didn’t sound convinced. She couldn’t believe how negative she was feeling. “There’s no way I would have renewed my contract if I’d had to live down here.”

  When they arrived at the cabin where the body of Erik had remained while morning surgery took place, she couldn’t help thinking how tragic it would be to die in a small, airless cabin. With barely enough room for the two of them – made worse by the dismal darkness – Sarah held her breath as the pungent smells of body odour, dirty washing and stale cigarette smoke invaded her olfactory system. Added to this was the familiar, fetid smell of death all health professionals become accustomed to early in their training. Without a porthole, the cabin seemed unusually dark, despite the light having been left on. The light bulb barely broke through the shadows.

  Alex took a quick look around. “We’re safe to move him now. Most of the crew are at work – we’ll put him on the stretcher and move him to the morgue. I’m glad he slept on the bottom bunk. Poor man looks heavy.”

  Sarah was hardly listening. She noticed Erik’s bags had already been packed and placed in a corner. She looked at the bulky form of Erik, lying on the bottom bunk. Although his skin had taken on an ashen appearance, she recognised him as the man who, just yesterday, had appeared tough and robust when interpreting for his companion.

  “He looked so healthy,” she murmured.

  Alex put a hand on Sarah’s shoulder; she was welling up. What on earth’s the matter with me?

  “Graham and I did search for drugs earlier, but discovered nothing. There are no injuries or suicide note. Everything points to him dying in his sleep. Graham agreed that cause of death was probably a heart attack. The security team have been through the place while we’ve been in surgery, and they too detected nothing untoward.”

  “Have his family been informed?” Sarah asked.

  “Not yet. We’ve checked his details and he has a sister in Russia, but no relatives in the USA, despite being an American citizen. The details in his personnel file are sparse, according to the chief security officer. Someone in head office will inform the next of kin.”

  Sarah sighed. “How tragic, no-one to mourn his loss. Will there be a post-mortem?”

  “Unlikely – too expensive. The death appears to be natural causes, and with no close relatives to demand answers, he’ll probably be cremated in America.”

  With no sign of Jefgeny, and feeling like she needed to get a grip of herself, Sarah wanted to get away. “Do you need me to help you get him on to the trolley?”

  They heard voices in the corridor and two security guards appeared.

  “No thanks, these officers are just in time.” Alex turned to them. “Come on, guys, let’s move this poor man out of here.”

  Sarah left the crew quarters, a little overwhelmed. Only her second day back after a long break, and she was already tired from lack of sleep. She’d only met Erik briefly, but his death had come as a shock.

  Sarah decided to return to surgery and catch up with paperwork from the morning; she had lost her appetite. Gwen was still in her office with the door open.

  “What are you doing back here?” she called.

  “I want to finish the paperwork and log items used this morning before taking a break. To be honest, I found it all a bit depressing downstairs.”

  “You’ll get back into the swing of it. You’ve been thrown in at the deep end, haven’t you?”

  “I guess so. It was a busy shift so I must be feeling it more than I should.”

  “If it’s any consolation, we all hate it when crew members die on board. We’re like a family, even though we don’t know everyone, so it’s hard to take. But sudden deaths happen on ships as well as on land.”

  “I know, it’s just that he doesn’t seem to have anyone to grieve his loss, and his bags were all packed, ready to go to the purser’s office, as if he never existed.” Her eyes filled up again.

  “Don’t let it get to you. From what I can gather, he had half a dozen close friends who will miss him and grieve for him like family.”

  Gwen was right. Sarah thought about it and realised she was overreacting. Of course his friends would miss him.

  “That reminds me, I must track down Jefgeny Popov. He still needs blood tests, and I think the loss of his roommate will have upset him.”

  Sarah walked into a clinic room and pulled up Jefgeny’s records on her computer, glad of the distraction.

  Chapter 8

  The chapel was well attended, Rachel thought, considering it was nine o’clock in the morning and people were on holiday. It
was to be an interdenominational service conducted by a visiting Baptist minister from a church in New York City.

  A buxom bleach-blonde woman in her sixties sat next to Rachel. “I only came to meet the captain,” she whispered.

  “He’s not here,” replied Rachel.

  “Just my luck,” she grunted, but stayed anyway.

  The pastor explained how he got to cruise regularly for free, in return for performing ministerial duties on board Queen Cruises. “Marriages,” he explained, “are almost always performed by the captain or his deputy, though.”

  “Blast, looks like I’ll have to find hubby number five.” The woman next to Rachel nudged her.

  “Number five?” Rachel mouthed.

  “That’s the way to do it, dear, hitch, fleece and run!”

  Rachel liked this rather vociferous woman, but wasn’t sure whether to believe her. If the diamonds adorning her hands and neck were anything to go by, she could well be telling the truth.

  With her attention back on the service, Rachel found the bubbly minister made the whole thing fun and his jokes made her laugh. Not quite as much as those of the woman next to her, though. She didn’t know all the hymns and choruses, but joined in as well as she could.

  Feeling invigorated by the uplifting and entertaining hour, Rachel wandered over to the Voyager lounge where the Russian party would be meeting at 10am, prior to their tour of the engine room. Recognising some of the men from embarkation, she was beginning to have second thoughts about gate-crashing, and was about to make a discreet exit when she was reassured by Thomas’s entrance with a clipboard in hand. He waved enthusiastically, convincing her to join him and the gathering group.

  Thomas spoke briefly in Russian to an unhappy looking man, who eventually moved away to join the others.

  “Problems?” asked Rachel.

  “Not really. A bit of jockeying for position among the ladies, apparently. Nothing too serious. One of the glamorous girlfriends is splitting the ladies off into a splinter group. There’s quite a hierarchy among them, and the more senior ladies don’t like it, so there might be a row brewing. I’ve told him, as long as there are no fisticuffs, there’s nothing I can do about their internal squabbling, but I’ll try to make sure they all enjoy themselves.” Thomas grinned at Rachel. “Glad to see you took me up on my offer. It’s good to have a pret… sorry, a friendly face.”

  “That’s better, and thank you. I found it hard to resist a tour of the workings down below – it will be interesting to see how it all works.”

  “Personally, I’d rather be by the pool, but such is life.” He sighed. “I need to check everyone is here and give them a tour badge to wear. Here’s one for you.” Thomas handed over a sticky blue badge with Guest printed on it and a pair of earmuffs, which she put around her neck. “We’re just waiting for the chief engineer who will be taking us down. Come over, I’ll introduce you – there are only ten of the group taking this tour.”

  Rachel followed Thomas over towards a group of six men who stopped talking as they arrived.

  “This is Rachel, a fellow guest who will be joining us for the trip.”

  “Hello, we remember you from yesterday,” said the tall man she had earmarked as the boss the day before. “Boris Stanislav – at your service, I look forward to getting to know you, Rachel.”

  A tall, well-built man with blond hair, Boris then turned to Thomas. “My father worked for government as naval submarine engineer, so I am very much looking forward to tour.”

  Rachel discerned an air of authority in Boris. Others in the group held back until they were invited to speak with him. She also noticed two burly men standing back, watching him continuously. One, short and bald with muscles the size of footballs protruding through a tailored black jacket, looked like a baddie straight out of a Bond movie. The other man was also powerfully built, but much taller with a head of thick dark-brown hair and a deep scar above his right eye, running the length of his face to his chin. They both looked menacing in a Mafioso way, but also slightly comical as they seemed to move in unison. However, Rachel thought they would make anyone think twice before approaching Boris without permission. She wondered if Boris would turn out to be the oligarch, deciding to ask Thomas when she had the chance.

  “We are waiting for the chief engineering officer, Mr Stanislav, and then we’ll get moving. There seems to be one missing from the tour group?”

  “Who?” asked Boris.

  “Mr Nikolai Stepanov.”

  “No problem, he is here now.” They all turned and saw a man who appeared to be late-thirties, with jet black hair, moustache and bright, penetrating sky-blue eyes. He was strikingly handsome, in dangerous-looking way.

  The man nodded to Boris secretively. “Sorry I’m late, boss, I had to fill out some papers for the business we discussed last evening.”

  “Yes, yes. Never mind that now. This young lady is called Rachel, and she’s joining us for the tour – a friend of Thomas.”

  The man took Rachel’s hand in his and drew it up to his lips while holding her gaze. Rachel thought he had the most captivating smile ever, until she looked into frosty eyes and knew not to trust him.

  “Charmed, I’m sure.”

  Rachel intuitively sensed the false charm; he made her skin crawl. She couldn’t move her hand away quickly enough, subconsciously wiping it on the back of her trousers. Thomas came to her rescue by stepping between them and handing Nikolai a tour badge.

  “Mr Stepanov, please wear this for our tour.” He then took Rachel’s arm and led her away. “Be careful of him,” he whispered. “There’s something about him that gives me the creeps.”

  “Me too. Thanks for the heads up, but I have no intention of letting Mr Stepanov anywhere near me.”

  “Good. Oh, at last!” Thomas turned in the direction of the door as two officers in bright, shiny whites entered the lounge. One of them, who Rachel assumed was the chief engineer, had four gold stripes on shoulder epaulettes.

  “I’m not late, am I?” The officer looked at his watch.

  “No, you’re right on time,” answered Thomas. “We are all present and correct with one extra.” He gestured towards Rachel.

  “Please could you let me have your name and stateroom number, madam?” Wearing a name badge with Steven Rafferty on it, the officer had a Scottish accent.

  “It’s Rachel Prince,” she replied, surreptitiously showing him a card with her stateroom number on it while Thomas busied himself with Boris.

  “Just a precaution, Ms Prince. Thank you.” The officer moved away and spoke into his radio. Obviously receiving a satisfactory answer, he turned almost immediately and rejoined them.

  “Good morning, everyone. Welcome aboard the Coral Queen. I am the chief engineering officer and this is one of my engineering officers, Ramjeet Singh. You will need to follow me at all times. Please be aware that conditions in some of the areas we will pass through are a bit cramped and you will need to walk in single file. Please do not leave the group at any time during this tour. I will lead the group and Officer Singh will bring up the rear. If you have any questions, I request that you ask them at the end of the tour and do not distract any of the workers from their jobs – if you want to get to New York on time.” He laughed at his own joke and waited for the group to give a polite response. “Please wear the earmuffs you’ve been given when we enter engineering bays. Away we go then.”

  He headed towards the door with Boris hot on his heels and the group followed, along with the minders whom Rachel had subconsciously named Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Boris lost no time in picking the chief’s brains.

  Rachel walked with Thomas, but didn’t want to ask too many questions while in such close proximity to the others. None of the Russian women had joined them.

  “No women coming along?” she asked Thomas.

  She recognised the voice of Nikolai, answering from behind. “Not a woman’s tour, Miss Prince. Our women are attending beauty therapy this morning.�
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  Rachel noted the veiled rebuke, but didn’t take the bait.

  “It’s much noisier down here.”

  As they descended a number of different stairwells, so the sounds grew louder. Rachel slowed down in order to let Nikolai pass, but he stuck like glue. Unfortunately Thomas, distracted by others in the group, was unable to come to her aid again, being near the front and barely visible.

  The corridors narrowed, and they moved along in single file so crew members could pass if they needed to. Tweedledee and Tweedledum remained close to Boris, who remained immediately behind the chief as far as Rachel managed to see, but an ever-increasing gap was emerging between the front and the rear of the group. Rachel sensed this was deliberate as the man immediately ahead of her was walking at a slower than natural pace.

  The final member of the group ahead disappeared as he turned left. As Rachel’s group turned the corner, she almost bumped into the man in front as he stopped abruptly. The straggler of the first group appeared to have been talking hurriedly to a crew member, but he stopped as soon as they arrived and continued on his way. The crew member, looking frightened, scurried past them as if he had seen a ghost.

  “Hurry along, please,” Officer Singh called from the rear, sounding frustrated. The man in front of her picked up his pace. Irritated by Nikolai getting ever closer behind her, she broke away.

  They reached a pair of large metal doors, where Rachel finally made her escape from Nikolai, entering what appeared to be the main engine room. The noise sounded much louder as the engines thundered to new heights, making it difficult to hear anything. The humongous chains from the anchor that were wound around a huge metallic crank dominated the room and grabbed the group’s attention. The deafening sound became worse, so the majority applied their ear protection.

  The chief engineer tried saying something, and as the group gathered closer, he bellowed above the noise, but to no avail. Rachel gathered snippets about how the ship operated and how the anchor was winched up and down when needed – she didn’t wish to imagine how loud that would be. Lots of crewmen in dark grey overalls continued their work around them. The room felt hot and airless while the dim lighting caused it to close in on the visitors, but Steven Rafferty seemed perfectly at home here. Apart from the fact he was raising his voice, you would not have known that he was standing in a partially lit tin can.