by Dawn Brookes
“I have an old friend who is also ex-soviet army. He now works for the Russian police force. He will make some discreet enquiries for me, but has to be careful not to end up in trouble. Asimov is a powerful man in Russia. Anyway, I believe none of this has anything to do with our murder and is unlikely to be relevant.
“The other person of interest is Nikolai Stepanov.”
At this point, Rachel sat up straight – he would definitely be on her list of suspects.
“Interesting,” she said. “He appears to be a bit cloak and dagger.”
“As well he might be,” Waverley continued. “He’s well educated – studied at Yale University where he did a degree in engineering.”
“That gives us an engineering link,” Rachel pointed out.
“Probably coincidence – anyway, he served in the Russian Navy as a chief engineer and is also rumoured to have links with organised crime. He works as personal assistant to Boris Stanislav, diplomat. We cannot find much background on Boris, other than that he’s married, has two sons and works at the Russian embassy in New York. He has diplomatic immunity, but there are no rumours surrounding him. I’ve asked my Russian friend to dig up anything relevant in his background. The rest of the men have clean background checks and appear to be legitimate businessmen.”
“What about the bodyguards?” Rachel asked.
“I have run their names and they are both ex-soldiers who boxed during their army days and provide personal security to Vladimir Asimov. What makes you think they are Boris’s bodyguards?”
“Now that is interesting,” said Rachel. “They are minding Boris, but I got the distinct impression he wasn’t their boss and was happy to get away from them. I’m sure there’s more to this setup, but whether it has anything to do with the crime on board this ship is another matter.”
“Well, we don’t want to get involved in any personal Russian business problems,” said Waverley. A worried frown appeared on his face.
“All I’ve found out so far is that Boris does not seem happy. I suspect he’s being guarded rather than protected, and you’ve just confirmed that.” Rachel looked at Waverley and then continued. “I don’t like Nikolai, but that doesn’t mean he’s up to no good. Asimov appears moody and must have assigned his own security to Boris for some reason. Mario said the Russians were arguing the other night, but I thought nothing of it at the time. There might be some unrelated shady business dealings. Nothing links any of them to the murdered crewman, or to the missing Jefgeny – so far.” Exasperated, she added, “And who is the tall, thin man who said something to Jefgeny when we were on our tour of the engine room?”
Waverley got up again and moved across to his computer, pulling up images of all the Russian party for Rachel.
“That’s him,” she said as he scrolled through the photos.
“Let me see – he is Sergei Markov, also an engineer and also at Yale around the same time as Nikolai. He started a year earlier. He is fifty-three years old with a wife in Moscow, listed as next of kin – she does not appear to be on this cruise.” Waverley ran his hands through his thinning hair. “We have to keep this in perspective – if we ran checks on all our tour groups and passengers, we would find something dodgy, so what we urgently need to do is find out what has happened to Jefgeny Popov.”
“True enough,” agreed Rachel.
“Sorry, but I need to get back to the medical centre,” said Sarah.
“Yes, and I need to dress for the formal evening,” said Rachel. “Is there anything else?” she asked Waverley.
“Yes, just stay out of trouble, and do not stir up a hornets’ nest with the Russians unless there’s anything relevant. My hunch is this is a murder/suicide for reasons we cannot yet explain.”
“Guides’ honour.” Rachel smiled as she left Waverley’s office, knowing exactly where she was going to sleuth next.
Chapter 18
Rachel studied her outfit in the mirror before leaving her suite. It had taken ages to decide what to wear to the formal evening. Most women would be wearing elegant full-length evening dresses with matching stole. That would have been her first choice, except she wanted to hide away in the sports bar next to the casino once the captain and his officers had finished their introductions.
Eventually, she opted for a royal-blue cocktail dress, appropriate for the evening, but not too dressy for the sports bar. The creative use of curling tongs produced soft waves through her hair. Satisfied with the result, she applied a light smattering of makeup and smiled at herself in the mirror, wishing Carlos was here to compliment her.
Rachel looked forward to seeing the men in their tuxedos, although none could look more striking than Carlos in a tux. A pang of guilt made her shudder, knowing he would be worried sick if there was any mention of the murder.
Mario passed her in the corridor. “Good evening, Miss Rachel, may I say you look radiant this evening?”
“Thank you, Mario. I see you’re busy as usual.” He had his hands full, carrying a tray towards Asimov’s room.
“Yes, ma’am. Pre-dinner drinks for the men. They having dinner with the captain so are not worried about attending the formalities until later.”
“Oh yes, Thomas told me earlier.”
Blast – she had forgotten to mention it to Waverley during their meeting. Oh well, I don’t expect it would have revealed much anyway, she reassured herself.
“If you pick up any mention of a crewman from engineering, would you let me know?”
Mario looked concerned. “I hope you’re steering clear of danger, Miss Rachel.”
“Of course I am, Mario. They might know someone I met, that’s all, and I don’t want to appear nosey or I’d ask them myself.”
The explanation didn’t convince her, let alone Mario, but he nodded anyway.
“Goodnight, see you in the morning.” Rachel walked towards the lifts and stairwell, deciding to take the stairs, even in high heels.
The main atrium was packed with dazzlingly dressed women. The men looked dapper in their smart well-pressed suits. A waiter offered her champagne, and she took a flute from his tray and helped herself to canapés. Thomas waved from across the room, gesturing he would come over to her. She laughed as he struggled through the crowds of people, who were excited to meet the captain for the first time. Formal evenings were a highlight of the cruise calendar for many passengers.
The captain stood, patiently shaking hands, having photos and selfies taken with as many people as he could before making his way towards the ice carvings where he would introduce the senior officers one by one. Rachel had met Captain Peter Jensen on the previous cruise and he spotted her as he passed by.
“Miss Prince, it’s good to meet you again. I heard you were aboard.” Being surrounded by passengers, he omitted to mention any trouble afoot. To look at him, you wouldn’t imagine he had a care in the world.
Just what you need in a ship captain, she told herself.
“Good evening, Captain. It’s a pleasure to be on the Coral Queen again.”
“Captain, this way—” Voices called for his attention from every direction and he obliged the more excitable guests who wanted to shake his hand.
Thomas appeared. “This is like being at a pop concert,” he said as he made his way over to her. “But no drugs! You look stunning this evening. You’re always beautiful, but tonight you have excelled yourself.”
“Hello, Thomas. You’re rather dashing yourself. You do scrub up well – a tuxedo suits you. Is that Armani?”
“Yes – one of the perks of being single is I can splash out on expensive clothing. Isn’t it exciting, seeing the captain?” Thomas glowed at the prospect of meeting Captain Jenson. Rachel smiled, not wanting to brag.
“Yes, it is one of the most surreal parts of cruising. Where are your charges?”
“Oh, most of them are around here somewhere.” He waved his arms in the general direction of where he’d come from. “Mr Asimov and Boris are joining us soon, and
then we’ll meet the captain for dinner. I’m buzzing. I hope I’ll be able to eat without dropping anything in my lap or spilling a drink.”
“You’ll be your normal, efficient self, I’m sure,” she said, reassuringly. “Does that mean Boris gets rid of his minders for a few hours?”
“Yes, he does. In fact, he’s told them to stay away from him. He and Mr Asimov had a heated debate about it. They forget sometimes I’m fluent in Russian.”
Rachel’s ears pricked up, and she grabbed two more glasses of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray – handing one to Thomas.
“Tell me more,” she whispered, conspiratorially.
“Well, I was waiting in Mr Asimov’s suite for him to confirm arrangements for the evening when Boris barged in. He completely ignored me and marched towards Mr Asimov. ‘Call them off, Vladimir, or the deal’s off,’ he shouted at him. ‘I mean it – I’m fed up with them throwing their weight around. I can’t breathe with them around all the time, so make it happen.’ Mr Asimov shrugged his shoulders, saying he would deal with it. He then turned back to me, cool as you like, and told me in English to go through the evening’s arrangements. It’s because they speak such good English they forget about my Russian.”
“I can’t blame Boris for wanting space,” said Rachel, thoughtfully. This confirmed what she had suspected: Asimov was having Boris watched, but what deal was Boris referring to, and did it have any relevance to the missing crewman?
The microphone burst into life, interrupting Rachel’s thoughts, and the cruise director welcomed everyone before introducing the captain.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you – Captain Jensen.” Loud applause followed the announcement, and the captain took over the microphone.
“Thank you all, and again, I welcome you aboard the magnificent Coral Queen. First, I would like to draw your attention to the wonderful ice carvings created by our own world-renowned chefs. They depict the state of New York and the American flag. We will dock in New York in five days’ time, but in the meantime, there is plenty for you to enjoy aboard this magnificent vessel.”
More applause followed, and Captain Jenson provided a brief history of his maritime experience before starting his introductions.
“Now I would like to introduce to you the finest senior officers I have had the pleasure to sail with.” Further applause followed, and the captain introduced each of his senior officers, including the familiar CSO Waverley, the chief engineer, Steven Rafferty, and Dr Graham Bentley, CMO. There was a senior officer for everything, from housekeeping and hospitality services right up to the deputy captain.
Sarah wasn’t there, and Rachel assumed she was busy in the medical centre. Alex stood with a group of other officers, and Lauren stood close to a few of the Russians Rachel recognised, including Sergei Markov, whom she had yet to speak to. She decided to ask Thomas to introduce her, but would need to invent an excuse for him to do so without arousing suspicion. It could wait because she had other plans for this evening.
As the captain finished, Rachel observed Dr Bentley being hurried away, followed by Boris, and then Thomas’s radio came to life. He looked concerned as he listened to the message and paled before her.
“What is it?” she asked as he put the radio away.
“It’s Nikolai. Someone has found him dead in his room. The doctor’s on his way. I need to go – this is a terrible turn-up.”
He turned away and headed towards the lift. Rachel followed.
“Wait, Thomas! I’m coming with you – you might need support.”
He smiled appreciatively and slowed down. “I’d be grateful. Let’s take the elevator – nothing like this has happened before. I’m not sure what I’m meant to do.”
The lift was full of other passengers, so they spoke no more. Thomas was almost in tears – she wasn’t sure what state he would be in when they arrived.
As soon as they got to deck fifteen, Rachel caught sight of Sarah, Graham, Alex and Bernard heading briskly towards them and the lifts with a stretcher. She assumed Nikolai’s body was being transported down to the morgue.
“Make way, please,” Dr Bentley called out to curious bystanders gathering in the corridor as the stretcher rushed past. Rachel recognised an IV bag being held in the air by Sarah as they raced towards the lift and realised what was happening.
“He’s not dead.” She gripped Thomas’s arm, seeing he looked like he might pass out, and mouthed to Sarah that she would follow her down later. “Come on, Thomas. We need to find out what happened. Let the medical team do their job.”
Rachel frog-marched Thomas towards a crowd of Russians gathered outside the stateroom she assumed belonged to Nikolai.
“Miss Prince, what brings you here?” Vladimir looked unhappy.
“I was with Thomas when he got the urgent call and came to ask if there is anything I can do.”
“As you see, it seems to be under control. Mr Stepanov has taken ill, and the doctors have taken him to the infirmary.”
A distraught voice sobbed out, “Taken ill? I thought he was dead.”
Rachel noticed an elegantly dressed long-haired brunette sitting on a chair inside the stateroom, being comforted by two other women, one of whom was Asimov’s woman, the famous opera singer.
Rachel took the opportunity to follow Thomas into the room. He walked towards the hysterical woman and took her hand, having regained control of himself, so Rachel could take in the scene before her.
The room was littered with miscellaneous empty wrappers tossed on the floor, left behind by the medical staff. Nikolai’s suit hung over a chair where he had seemingly placed it neatly to dress for the evening. His shirt lay on the floor. She picked it up and noticed someone had cut it in half.
“The doctor cut it.” The crying woman sounded more coherent. “They needed to put drip up. They got ready to do CPR.”
Rachel nodded and put the shirt on the chair, noticing as she did so a pill bottle under the bed, which she picked up.
“I’ll call down to the medical centre and ask how he is,” she said.
“You can use phone in our room,” Asimov’s girlfriend said.
Rachel slipped the pill bottle into her clutch bag and followed the woman out of the room. “We haven’t been introduced,” said Rachel. “My name is Rachel; I’m sorry about your friend.”
“I’m Lucretia. Thank you for being sorry, but Nikolai Stepanov is no friend of mine. He works for Boris.” They entered her stateroom where Asimov sat on a sofa, wearing headphones. A vodka bottle alongside a half empty glass lay on the table. He smiled when Lucretia entered the room, but frowned on seeing Rachel.
“Rachel will call infirmary to find out how is Nikolai.”
“Okay, the phone is there.” In his usual abrupt manner, he nodded towards a phone on a desk.
As Rachel picked up the phone, the couple started a conversation in Russian and Asimov embraced Lucretia, speaking softly into her ear.
At least he can be nice, thought Rachel.
Gwen answered the phone and Rachel cautiously explained about the empty tablet bottle she’d found on the floor, checking Asimov wasn’t listening. She needn’t have worried – he and Lucretia had moved into the bedroom and were having a hushed conversation.
“What are the tablets called?” asked Gwen.
Rachel took the bottle out of her bag and was dismayed at being unable to make out the name due to the writing being in Russian.
Oh well, nothing else for it.
“Mr Asimov, would you mind telling me the name of these tablets, please? The label’s in Russian.”
Lucretia came into the room, followed by Asimov. “Where did you find this?” she asked.
“I found it on the floor in Nikolai’s room. I wanted to tell the doctors in case he’s overdosed by accident.”
Lucretia took the bottle and her face blushed scarlet. “I’m not sure what you call them in English.”
She handed the bottle to Asimov. With a big grin on
his face, he looked at Rachel.
“I believe you call them Viagra in your country. They are for—”
“Thank you, I realise what they are for.” Rachel spoke into the phone. “Apparently, they are Viagra.”
Gwen chuckled at the other end. “I heard! I’ll ask Dr Bentley to check – not your usual overdose tablets, but they can cause heart symptoms in large doses.”
Rachel put the phone down and looked at Lucretia, avoiding any eye contact with Asimov, who was still chuntering in Russian, finding his own jokes very amusing.
“Thank you for allowing me to use the phone. Nikolai is unconscious, but stable. They’re not sure what’s wrong with him. If he doesn’t improve, they will consider medical evacuation.”
“Good riddance,” muttered Asimov, drawing a glare from Lucretia.
“I’m sorry for Vladimir’s ignorance. Nikolai is not well liked, but we hope he improves and we are relieved that the worst has not happened.”
Rachel admired the way Lucretia held herself and wondered what on earth she saw in Vladimir Asimov – except, of course, his being a billionaire.
Each to their own, she thought as she left the stateroom, grimacing to herself at the idea of what an overdose of Viagra might do to a person.
Chapter 19
“CODE BLUE, 1512. Repeat, CODE BLUE, 1512.”
Sarah was just changing into formal uniform after finishing a hectic surgery when the radio bellowed out the alert. Bernard was on call, but must need help. With a deep sigh and adrenaline pumping, she quickly changed back into her passenger deck uniform and raced upstairs to deck fifteen.
I hope it’s not one of the Russians, but she knew intuitively that it would be.
