by Dawn Brookes
“Maybe he hadn’t eaten enough,” replied Rachel. “These cruises are becoming a bit too Agatha Christie for my liking.”
“I know what you mean, but I’m hoping the only murder taking place will be that of Erik Marinov. Although that’s one too many, it wouldn’t be the first time a falling out among crew has ended up in a death. Rare, but not unheard of.”
Rachel chewed over the events of the past two days, unable to take it all in. When they got to Sarah’s room, they flopped into chairs and ate. Rachel hadn’t realised just how hungry she was until that moment. Her friend looked shattered.
Sarah confirmed Nikolai had stabilised and what had happened with the rather eccentric Lauren.
“Serves her right she’s been given the night shift.”
“Ooh, that’s not like you. She’s really got under your skin, hasn’t she?”
“I’m sorry, Rachel, but first, she would have taken advantage of Bernard when he’s a married man, and then she swans into the medical centre after ignoring a code blue and enjoying an evening with the officers without a care in the world. Finally, when I did feel sorry for her and offered support following her rocketing from Gwen, what does she do? Bites my head off and tells me what an experienced nurse she is! I’ve a good mind to call the hospital where she trained and ask if she bought her qualification. I bet the Africans were glad to get rid of the weirdo.”
Rachel laughed out loud following this rant. “I have to give it to her – I’ve never known anyone wind you up like this. Look, you’re exhausted. You’ve only been back two days and have hardly slept. Get some sleep – we can catch up tomorrow.”
“Actually, if you wouldn’t mind, that would be great. I can’t keep my eyes open much longer. Is there anything you need to tell me?”
“No, nothing that can’t wait another day. It looks like the events of tonight are unrelated to your missing crewman.” Rachel looked at her watch and realised it was after midnight. “I’ll stop by the casino and catch a word with Jefgeny’s girlfriend.”
Sarah yawned. “Good idea.”
Rachel got up to leave and Sarah dragged herself up and walked her to the door where they hugged.
“Catch you tomorrow, then,” said Rachel.
After her meal, Rachel had got a second wind and made her way to the casino. She ordered a martini and lemonade, and asked the barman, “Can you tell me if Eva Sipka is working this evening?”
“Yes, she is on the roulette table.”
Someone else ordered a drink, giving Rachel the opportunity to take a seat on a barstool with a good view of the roulette table. She took her phone out of her handbag and pretended to look at it. Carlos would be proud of me, but she knew he would more than likely be worried she was putting herself in danger. These thoughts did nothing for her concentration.
Arguing with herself that the facts pointed to a murder/suicide eased her conscience. It was time to focus on the woman at the roulette table.
Eva was tall, mid-twenties with long, shiny blonde hair. Although her face was pretty, her flint-like eyes showed a rugged determination. Rachel thought she looked prettier in real life than in the photo Waverley had shown her.
Rachel snapped a few photos with her mobile phone and studied them in close-up. This did not appear to be a woman grieving for the father of her child – if she was pregnant. In fact, Eva Sipka radiated happiness, joking with passengers gambling at her table, and with her colleagues. It could have been an act, but Rachel didn’t detect any sign of loss.
That woman knows where Jefgeny is.
Chapter 21
“Did you do this?”
Boris looked visibly shaken as he followed Vladimir into his room after the captain’s dinner, which had gone well considering the events prior to it. Now Vladimir had to deal with this irritating man instead of dancing with his beautiful Lucretia.
“Lulu, my darling, would you mind giving me a few minutes?” He scowled at Boris, took him by the arm and frog-marched him to his own room. “Please keep your voice down, you idiot. Lucretia knows nothing of our deal.” He spat the words out while Boris fiddled with his swipe card.
“I will have nothing to do with murder.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Vladimir. “Why would I want to murder your PA? Anyway, he’s not dead, is he?”
“Don’t make out you don’t understand why I’m asking. I told you he was blackmailing me. You were aware he wanted twenty thousand euros in return for silence.”
“And I told you I would deal with him later,” Vladimir barked.
“Exactly, but I didn’t realise that meant attempted murder.”
“I don’t go around murdering people! I meant I would pay him and ensure he gets posted somewhere out of harm’s way on our return to Russia. Siberia, perhaps.” Vladimir chuckled.
“And that’s it? I’m meant to accept you had nothing to do with this?”
Vladimir didn’t like being challenged. Trying not to lose control and wishing he had not agreed to help his friend transport documents from the US, he glared at Boris. He had always known there would be risks with an unreliable pawn. Boris was likely to panic and give the game away at any moment, and his sudden belligerence annoyed Vladimir.
“You can believe what you like, but as far as I am aware, Nikolai is ill – unless, of course, you had anything to do with it. After all, it’s you he is blackmailing.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Boris reddened again. Sweating, he loosened his tie and slumped down in a chair.
At least the idiot had quietened down. “Did you tell anyone else?”
“No, only you. Did you?”
“No, the only people who know about it are you, me and Sergei, who is trustworthy.”
“What about your minders? They heard the conversation.”
“My minders are well paid – they have no reason to tell anyone else. Look, this is an unfortunate illness. The doctor told me over dinner it was most likely drugs or a heart attack. It is convenient, yes?”
“It would have been more convenient if he’d died,” blustered Boris, “but I still want nothing to do with that kind of thing. Just my luck he survived.”
Boris put his head in his hands. He looked upset but appeared satisfied with Vladimir’s answer.
“Everything will be alright.”
“I guess so. I’m worried about breaking the law, that’s all – this is a one-off job. You do get that, don’t you?”
“Yes, yes,” replied Vladimir. At least, until the next time.
He smiled to himself as he left the room.
Day 3
Chapter 22
The ship’s soporific rocking motion soothed Sarah to sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. She was in a deep slumber, dreaming of surfing off the coast of Hawaii. The waves enveloped her multi-coloured surfboard, along with that of a handsome black-haired hunk. The rise and fall of their surfboards made her feel alive. They were laughing as they approached a monster wave. As they were climbing it, finally nearing the top, her companion became separated from his board and disappeared under the water.
He cried out, “CODE BLUE, INFIRMARY!”
She woke up sweating in a panic before realising it was a dream.
“I REPEAT, CODE BLUE – INFIRMARY.” The radio bellowing on her bedside table was not a dream.
Oh no!
She quickly climbed into her scrubs, taking a gulp of water before diving out of the room towards the infirmary. She rushed through the doors to see Bernard performing CPR while Alex stood at the head of the bed. Having intubated Nikolai Stepanov, he was delivering respirations in between Bernard’s cardiac massage. Graham injected adrenaline directly into the patient’s heart and other drugs through the IV tube. Gwen was drawing up and passing drugs as Graham barked out instructions.
This scene had played out a thousand times before in hospital casualty departments, but it was a first for Sarah on the Coral Queen. She took in the situation in a matter o
f seconds before leaping into action, adrenaline and muscle memory taking over.
Sarah ran towards the bed and took over from Bernard, who looked whacked. Cardiac massage was draining, and he looked like he’d been doing it for a while. Lauren was at the foot of the bed, writing down the drugs used on a chart.
“How long?” she asked Bernard.
“CLEAR!” Graham shouted. They all stepped back from the bed and Graham released a defibrillator shock. Nikolai’s body jerked as the voltage shot through him, but it made no difference to the heart monitor that continued in a straight line.
“Forty-five minutes. Lauren put out the call; me and Alex were first on scene. Graham and Gwen have been here a while too. He’s only had one shockable rhythm, and that was it, but—” Bernard spoke quietly as if Nikolai might hear, “he’s not coming round.”
Graham had obviously come to the same conclusion as he shook his head and stood back from the bed. “Stop what you’re doing, folks.” He looked at his watch. “Time of death 04.17. We’ll need more blood, fluid and swabs for post-mortem and toxicology, Alex. They’ll be tested when we hit New York.”
Alex nodded and began the process of extracting blood from Nikolai’s collapsed veins, along with fluid from the eyes. Lauren recorded time of death on the chart while Gwen removed the leads and tubes from the dead man. This was the first time someone had died in the infirmary and the team looked low, the atmosphere was gloomy. Quiet descended as each person processed the death and performed their various jobs like automatons.
“I’m going to order some coffee from the kitchen,” said Gwen. After finishing their tasks and covering the body, they all followed after her, except for Bernard and Sarah.
“We’ll move him,” said Bernard.
Sarah and Bernard cleaned up the corpse of Nikolai Stepanov and wheeled him through to the morgue.
“I don’t like this room,” said Sarah. She looked at the six metal doors, each drawer comfortably capable of housing a body until they reached port. In spite of knowing that large cruise ships were required to have a morgue on board, she wasn’t happy at the amount of use this one was getting.
“I would think it strange if you did,” said Bernard, trying to cheer her up. As soon as they had put the body away in a refrigerated container, he winked at her. “I hope that’s the last one – we only have four drawers left.”
Sarah thumped his arm playfully, which made them both laugh. They made their way to the office to join the others for coffee.
“I’m really sorry, Gwen, I must have been in a deep sleep.”
“Don’t worry. We knew you’d been up all night on Saturday – I asked them not to call you at first, but I thought you’d want to know, so I put the call out.”
Sarah smiled in appreciation, but noticed Lauren giving her a stony stare. “Thank you,” she said to Gwen. Glaring back at Lauren, she added, “That was very thoughtful.”
Now you’re being childish, she rebuked herself.
“Okay, perhaps now the crisis is over, Lauren can tell us what happened,” said Graham as he took a swig of coffee.
All eyes turned towards Lauren. “Everything was quiet, his obs were stable until he woke up and started thrashing about. I tried to calm him down and tell him what had happened, but then he fell back on the bed. I only just managed to stop him falling out. He’d pulled off the monitor leads, so I didn’t see his vitals. I tried to rouse him, checked his pulse and airway. There was nothing, so I dialled the emergency through and started to resuscitate. Bernard arrived first, we tried to bring him round. Alex came next, then the rest of you, except for Sarah, who was asleep.”
Sarah rolled her eyes at Bernard, who smirked.
“So we don’t have a recording of his rhythm before he arrested?” asked Graham.
“No – sorry, sir, I didn’t have time to put the leads back until Bernard arrived.” Suddenly she started to cry. “We’re all going to die! It’s Novichok – I’ve been reading about it on the news. I’m certain this is it, and he coughed all over me before he died.”
Graham gawped at her, astonished. “Of course it’s not Novichok. The symptoms of a nerve agent death are completely different to what happened here. My dear girl, Russians don’t carry nerve agents around like smarties.”
“I think perhaps you should go to bed, Lauren,” said Gwen, calmly. “You’ve had a difficult induction into cruise ship life. I can assure you this is far from normal. I concur with Dr Bentley. This. Is. Definitely. Not a nerve agent death, and I must insist that you do not repeat such thoughts to anyone on board ship. We do not want unsubstantiated rumours spreading like wildfire, causing alarm. Are we clear?”
Lauren nodded, wiping her eyes, whimpering.
Alex patted her on the shoulder. “Come on, I’ll walk with you. It’s most likely a tragic heart attack. You’ll feel much better in the morning. It’s been a stressful night for all of us.”
Lauren heaved herself out of the chair slowly and walked off with Alex.
“Don’t take her for a drink,” Sarah muttered sarcastically under her breath, but the twinkle in Gwen’s eye revealed she’d heard.
“How extraordinary!” Graham was still processing the outburst. “Perhaps working in Africa has warped her vision. I’ve never heard anything so absurd.”
“We’d better keep a closer eye on her,” said Gwen to Sarah and Bernard.
“Perhaps she’s suffering from stress,” said Bernard.
“I suppose it could be PTSD,” said Graham. “No signs of it until now, though.”
“Maybe she’s got an over-active imagination,” added Sarah. Unable to understand why she couldn’t feel any sympathy towards Lauren, she didn’t say any more.
“I’d better go and inform the captain we’ve had a second death. He’s not going to be happy about it. I’ll let Mr Stanislav and the tour guide know in the morning. Would you mind hunting out the next of kin, Gwen?”
“Already done, he has a brother in Moscow. I’ve emailed you the name and number.”
“Thank you. Goodnight all. See you in a few hours.”
After Graham had gone, Sarah poured another cup of coffee for herself, Gwen and Bernard. “I don’t want to sound neurotic, but we are treating this as a natural death, aren’t we?”
“I was wondering the same thing,” said Gwen. “It’s the Rachel influence.”
“I refuse to work with a bunch of paranoid nurses.” Bernard laughed. “One is quite enough.”
“You’re right. It was either a heart attack, or an overdose,” said Gwen. “There’re certainly no nerve agents on board this ship, and our Russian friends are enjoying a nice holiday the same as all the other passengers. Perhaps we’re all jittery over the death of Erik Marinov. I don’t imagine the two deaths are linked, but I can’t help be sad about the tragic deaths of two young men on our watch.”
Sarah looked at the time; it was 6am. She excused herself and decided to go and see Rachel for breakfast and fill her in on the night’s activities.
Chapter 23
Getting out of the shower, Rachel heard knocking. She grabbed a towel robe and looked through the spyhole. Mario arrived with a pot of coffee just as she opened the door to let Sarah in.
“You’re up early! I thought you’d sleep in this morning.”
“Yes, I thought I’d keep up with the Princes and join you for breakfast. Is that okay, Mario?”
“Yes, ma’am. I will bring breakfast for two. Would you like cooked as well as cereal and toast?”
“Yes, I would please – I’m famished,” replied Sarah.
“Me too, Mario, please,” said Rachel.
Mario left and Rachel moved over to the settee and poured coffee for two. Sarah still looked weary.
“He died,” Sarah whispered.
“I assume you mean Nikolai Stepanov?” answered Rachel, frowning. “What happened?”
“Suspected heart attack, but it could have been an overdose. Toxicology tests can’t take place until we
reach New York. Oh Rachel, it’s so sad – he was only forty-eight.”
“He looked even younger than that, I would have put him in his thirties,” said Rachel. “I assume that this one is natural causes?”
“Everything points that way. Lauren says he woke and thrashed about before collapsing so it sounds like it. Afterwards the silly girl became hysterical, suggesting it was Novichok because she’d read about it in the news.”
“A slight overreaction then?”
“Not half! As if we don’t have enough to deal with without having a paranoid drama queen nobody likes. Rachel, that girl’s unhinged.”
“If it’s any consolation, nobody seemed to like Nikolai either. I certainly didn’t, but wouldn’t wish him dead.”
“Well, let’s hope that’s all the deaths on this particular sailing. Gwen’s blaming you,” Sarah said, laughing.
Rachel laughed too. “I was wondering that myself.”
“I’m not superstitious, but I do hope there’s not a third, although if Jefgeny is dead that would make it three, wouldn’t it?”
“Maybe; I’m not sure Jefgeny is dead.”
“What makes you say that?”
Mario knocked at the door and came in with a trolley laden with food. “You ladies looked hungry,” he explained. “I’ve brought fresh coffee too.”
“Thank you so much, Mario. We’ll enjoy this. How is Mr Asimov? I met his girlfriend last night.”
“She is nice lady,” he replied. “They have early visitors this morning. Dr Bentley is in Mr Asimov’s room along with Mr Stanislav and tour guide, Thomas. I am about to take coffee and tea there now. Bon appétit, ladies.”
“Thank you,” said Sarah and Rachel in unison.
