by Dawn Brookes
The speaker introduced himself as Mishka Orlov, a lecturer from the University of Pennsylvania, specialising in the history of art, and in particular, Russian artists. He was a natural orator who held the audience’s attention for forty-five minutes; even Asimov looked as though he was enjoying himself, laughing at Mishka’s jokes and listening intently. After a fifteen minute question time at the end of his talk, Mishka managed a quick plug of his latest book, with the same title as the talk, holding up a copy. He had several copies with him – books he offered to sign. Otherwise, the book was on sale in Coral Bookshop on deck five. Almost everyone attending bought a copy at $49.00 each, and a crew member was on site to swipe their onboard payment cards.
Rachel and Thomas left. “Where would you like to lunch?” Thomas asked.
“Are you happy with the grill? I feel like taking on some fat after my exertions last night.”
“Suits me, let’s go.” Thomas took her arm, and they headed up to deck fourteen.
Once they’d stocked up with food, they found a table and chatted while they ate.
“He was a surprisingly good speaker – I thought the talk would be dry,” remarked Thomas.
“I only attended to meet up with you, but I really enjoyed it,” agreed Rachel. “If I imagined I might ever open a page of his book, he would have tempted me to buy one too.”
“Yes, his talk did the selling for him, didn’t it? I gather Lucretia loves that sort of thing. She drags Mr Asimov around all the art galleries. He’s bought her a few special pieces too, apparently.”
“Looks like a man in love, and she has a good influence on him,” said Rachel. “It’s a shame he can’t lose that scowl.”
“Men with money don’t have to pretend, I guess,” replied Thomas. “He doesn’t seem to care whether people like him, and I hear he has a foul temper. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was involved in some dirty dealings. Boris doesn’t seem to like him at all, and the rest of the group are on the payroll in one way or another, from what I can gather.”
“What about the women?”
“Wives, girlfriends or paid escorts – just having a good time at Asimov’s expense. He has money to burn.”
“Are you any wiser on where Sergei fits in?”
“Sergei Markov? I still can’t work it out, other than his shared business interests with Mr Asimov – he isn’t on the payroll and keeps himself to himself. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was some sort of covert business manager or negotiator. He has some health problems too, from what I understand – he’s diabetic. One of the nurse’s has to keep supplying him with insulin, which is annoying the doctor.”
“What makes you think he’s a covert business manager?”
“No particular reason, except he and Mr Asimov have private meetings that not even Lucretia attends.”
“How do you know?”
“Because they use my room when they want to talk in private.”
“That is interesting,” said Rachel.
They finished eating and Rachel studied Thomas. Deciding to trust him, she took her phone out of her handbag and scrolled through to the photos she had taken the night before.
“Thomas, do you read Russian as well as speak the language?”
“I’m familiar with the alphabet so can make out most words, why?”
“Take a look at the writing on this picture. Can you make out what it says?” Rachel handed him the phone.
Thomas used two fingers to enlarge the photo to help him focus and took reading glasses out of his shirt pocket. “Let me see, the first word is easy. It says me. Okay, the next word is with, then Bianca. I take it the writing is off the back of a photo?”
“Carry on,” prompted Rachel.
Thomas looked at the photo again. “And is the next word, then a capital B, followed by o, r, i… OMG, it says Boris! Do you have the photo?”
Rachel, not sure how much she trusted Thomas, evaded the question. “What does the rest say?”
“Hm, it’s a place name. Oh, that’s easy, it says St Petersburg 1999.”
Rachel put her hand out for the phone and, scrolling to the photo, she zoomed in on the second man. Yes, it could be Boris Stanislav, but it was hard to be certain. Taking the plunge, she passed the phone back to Thomas.
“What do you think of this?” she said.
“The man on the right looks familiar. It might be Boris Stanislav, but it’s quite faded, and the beard and moustache make it difficult to say. I’m not sure. Boris is a common name in Russia. Where did you get the photo and why is it important?” Thomas looked as if he was enjoying himself.
“I can’t tell you that, Thomas.” He looked deflated. “But you could do something for me, if you don’t mind.”
His eyes lit up. “Ooh, yes please. I love a bit of detective work.”
“Can you get to speak with Boris? I’m sure he’s hiding something, and the issue with the minders makes me suspect Asimov is having him watched. It might be nothing.”
“I’ll try. He likes cards, so I can take him to the casino tonight and see what I can find out. I’ll ply him with drinks.” Thomas rubbed his hands together, excited.
“Be careful, Thomas. I’m not sure what’s going on, but it might be dangerous. Whatever you do, keep it natural. Also, try to get some information about his family. He has a wife and two sons, but does he have a sister or brother, and are they married?”
“You think that’s Boris in the photo, don’t you?”
“I’m not certain.”
Thomas looked at his watch. “Time to go, I’m afraid. Golf simulation with some of the ladies!” He rolled his eyes.
Rachel smiled at him. “Make sure you flirt madly.”
He laughed as he walked away.
Rachel hoped she had done the right thing involving him, but he was her closest link to the group, and the only one she could trust. Natalia was the other one who might help, but it was best to proceed cautiously. Another idea was developing in her head, but it would take some careful planning and she might need help.
Chapter 31
Guilt weighed heavily on Sarah’s mind. She was not happy at concealing her foray into Jefgeny’s room last night, and now Rachel had been assaulted. Worry for her friend whipped her head into a frenzy.
What if she puts herself in danger again?
There was only one thing for it and that was to see Waverley herself and confess. If it meant losing her job, so be it. At least Rachel would be safe.
The initial euphoria over Graham’s theory had worn off. Although there might be some truth in it, for her it made no sense. It was ludicrous to envisage a drug smuggling cartel operating in secret below decks. Also, knowing Rachel would not stop and might end up dead worried her silly.
Two bodies are quite enough for one cruise.
Resigning herself to her fate, she finished morning surgery on autopilot.
Bernard popped his head through the door. “Hey, have you finished? We can go get lunch if you’re free?”
“That would be good. Will anyone else be coming? I can’t face eating with Lauren today.”
“Nope, just you and me. Lauren’s gone with Graham to read the riot act to the Russian guy who keeps mislaying his insulin. Alex is finishing up, then going for a sleep after being up all night again, and Gwen is catching up with paperwork and billing.”
“In that case, let’s go.” She powered down the computer.
“Can we eat in the officers’ dining room? You never know when we’ll get to eat a proper meal again. You’re on call tonight.” They usually ate in the buffet, but occasionally indulged in a bigger meal at lunchtime to stock up in case they missed an evening meal.
“That’s fine. I just need to sign out the glue I used to fix a laceration before we go.”
The storage room where they kept supplies and medicines locked away was neat as ever. Sarah filled in the logbook. “Looks like Lauren’s been busy. She’s signed out more meds than any of us.”
“Might have been from the cardiac arrest – she did all the paperwork. And the poor girl has to keep supplying the Russian guy with insulin.”
“Oh yes, I forgot about that. The cardiac arrest seems an age ago, but it was only yesterday, wasn’t it?”
“I know what you mean. Come on, Sarah. I’m starving.”
Sarah closed the book. “You’re always starving. Be careful – your wife won’t recognise you if the Michelin Man comes home.”
“The Michelin Man?”
Sarah explained about an advert for tyres and the accompanying round Michelin Man, trademarked by a tyre company. “You need to spend time in the UK.”
“And when might I do that? My whole life’s spent on this ship, and in between I need to get home to see my family.”
“I tell you what, let’s see if we can swing it to take a day off when we dock in Southampton and do the London trip. I would love to show you round London.”
“Wow, Nurse Bradshaw, you’re on. It’s a date.”
“Better not mention it to Lauren, or I might find cyanide in my tea!”
Bernard nudged her as they made their way to the officers’ dining room for lunch. “Hopefully she got the message loud and clear,” he muttered.
Sarah enjoyed eating in the officers’ dining room sometimes because it was waiter service with a full menu, not dissimilar to the one the passengers chose from. During her nursing training, she’d learned not to let stress affect her appetite or she would have starved long ago, stress being a nurse’s lot.
One of the waiters, an Indian man called Rai, bantered with Bernard for a little while before taking their order. It always amazed her how many people Bernard knew on board; he had a gift for remembering names.
“I’ll have pâté followed by a rack of lamb,” said Bernard.
“And for you, miss?” asked Rai.
“Shrimp cocktail and chicken with basil, please.”
Bernard poured them both some water. “What’s on your mind, Sarah? I can tell you’re worried about something.”
“I’m concerned about Rachel more than anything. She seems to attract trouble these days.”
“She sure does. Someone told me about the attack last night, but she’s alright now, isn’t she?”
“Hopefully,” said Sarah. “It’s been a depressing few days with the two deaths; I’ll be glad to get to New York.”
“Three deaths, more like, as your Mr Popov is probably shark bait somewhere.”
“Bernard, that’s horrible! Anyway, Rachel’s not sure he is. She’s convinced he’s somewhere on board and hiding. Graham’s now thinking along those lines too.”
“So you’re worried Rachel will get herself in some sticky situation again?”
Sarah nodded.
“She’s a big girl, and from what I understand of last night, she can take care of herself. Don’t worry, she’ll probably get to the bottom of it like a young Miss Marple and then tell the chief of security whodunit.”
Sarah laughed. “You’ve heard of Miss Marple then?”
“Oh yes, my wife loves those books, reads them all the time. We watched the series together on satellite television. We’re not completely backward in the Philippines, you know.”
“I never thought you were.” She was about to apologise when she noticed the teasing glint in his eye. “How does your wife put up with you?”
“Why do you think she sends me away to work?”
They finished their meal and Bernard returned to the medical centre to collect the on-call bag for the afternoon. Sarah accompanied him, putting off her visit to Waverley’s office for a while.
When they arrived back, Gwen was not in her office. There were sounds of a commotion coming from the infirmary. Walking in, they found Graham, Gwen and Lauren treating a young woman. Alex arrived almost immediately afterwards.
“What happened?” he asked, looking concerned.
“She collapsed in the casino,” said Graham. “It doesn’t appear to be anything serious, but she looks anaemic. Working too hard, I suspect.”
“It’s Eva Sipka, the girlfriend of the missing crewman. She’s twelve weeks pregnant,” said Alex.
“Oh,” said Graham. “There’s no blood loss and no abdominal pain, but perhaps we’ll keep her in overnight just to be on the safe side.”
Sarah groaned. “That’s the end of my afternoon off.”
“I’ll look after her,” Lauren piped up, looking gooey eyed at Alex.
Talk about Jekyll and Hyde!
“Thank you, Lauren. You get some rest, Sarah,” said Alex kindly.
“Okay, I’m not complaining. I’ll be back later to collect the on-call kit.”
Sarah left the medical centre, pondering the weird girl that was Lauren. One minute she’s Cruella Deville, the next minute, Florence blooming Nightingale. I really can’t work her out. I expect there’s some ulterior motive. She must fancy Alex now Bernard’s out of bounds – astonishing.
Sarah approached Waverley’s office, half hoping he wouldn’t be there, but he was. She knocked on the door. He looked up from his desk and beckoned her in, looking weary.
“Nurse Bradshaw. What can I do for you – is Rachel alright?”
“I assume so, I haven’t seen her since this morning. Has Dr Bentley been to see you?”
“Yes, he has.” His tone sharpened. “He told me his ridiculous drug smuggling theory, and quite honestly, it’s inconceivable we could have criminal activity of that level going on under our noses. Our security is rigorous, it’s not possible. I’m sorry to disappoint, but I don’t accept for one minute this is the case. I do wish people would stop playing amateur detective and leave me to get on with my work. I don’t tell him how to do his job, do I?”
Sarah suspected this would not be a good time to confess her crime or she could end up sharing a cell with Ray Tansley.
“Oh well, if you’re sure.”
“Was that what you were here about?”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your work.”
Sarah headed towards the door and Waverley followed her. “Look, Nurse Bradshaw – Sarah – I’m sorry for being short. It’s been a long day and I still have a missing man who may or may not be on board. I’m going to speak to his girlfriend, despite what Rachel Prince might say. It’s time to put this case to bed.”
“I’m sorry, but Eva Sipka’s taken ill. She passed out at work and is in the infirmary,” said Sarah.
“GREAT! That’s all I need. How long will she be there?”
“At least overnight,” Sarah answered and walked away, sighing. She had a funny feeling Waverley’s day was not going to get any better.
Oh well, at least I still have a job for now.
Chapter 32
On her way to Waverley’s office, Rachel saw Sarah walking towards her.
“Hi, where are you heading?” asked Sarah.
“I’m going to see Waverley to discuss Jefgeny Popov.”
“Not a good time – you’re likely to get your head bitten off, even if you are a passenger. I’ve just been, but before I got the chance to confess about last night, he read me the riot act and told me in no uncertain terms to leave any investigating to him. He’s annoyed about Graham getting involved.”
“Blast, that’s not what I wanted to hear.”
“He’s tired and stressed by all the trouble he’s had to deal with. He’ll calm down later. Why don’t we get afternoon tea and then you can walk me back to the medical centre?”
“That sounds like a great idea.” Rachel linked arms with Sarah and they made their way to their favourite haunt, Creams.
After ordering, Rachel explained what she’d found out from Thomas over lunch: how it seemed that Boris was related to or friends with Jefgeny.
“Do you think it is your Boris?”
“He’s not my Boris, but I’m pretty sure it is. It would explain why Jefgeny tried to speak to him that first day when they met in the corridor. If it is, it also suggest
s that Jefgeny might be hiding from Boris or Sergei Markov, because he’s the other one that spoke to Jefgeny.”
“We don’t seem to be getting very far, and the drug idea seems far-fetched. Despite what Graham believes – and Waverley didn’t hold truck with Graham’s theory, by the way – the most likely explanation is still that Jefgeny killed his friend and is hiding or dead.”
“But how did he inject him, and what is the connection to the Russian group?” asked Rachel.
“I don’t know. Perhaps the injection mark is not that at all, or maybe Erik took an overdose.”
“Possible, but no suicide note? It doesn’t make sense.”
“None of it makes sense, Rachel. I just want it to end so I don’t have to worry about you roaming around on your own, putting yourself in danger.”
“It’s okay, I’m not on my own. I’ve got a recruit.”
“Who? Don’t tell me – Thomas?”
Rachel smiled at the concerned look on Sarah’s face. “I’ll be fine, and Thomas is only going to do a bit of listening in for me – nothing dangerous.”
“I hope you’re right, because if Waverley gets wind of this, we will both be in the doghouse. He’s verging on apoplexy. The sooner we own up to what we did last night, the better.”
“You said he’s not in the mood for listening, so we’ll just have to get on with it for now.”
Sarah didn’t look reassured, but at least she accepted things as they were.
They finished their tea, and Rachel walked Sarah back to the medical centre. When they got back, Bernard came rushing out to meet them.
“I’m glad you’re here, Sarah. Lauren has gone missing and Graham’s called me to help with a sick passenger on deck eleven. Alex is due any minute to check on Eva Sipka and Gwen’s in her office, doing paperwork.”
Sarah was livid. “I don’t suppose you’ve told Gwen that Lauren is AWOL?”
He shook his head. “I daren’t, she’ll go mad.” He turned and hurried away with the emergency case in tow.
Rachel looked concerned. “What’s Eva Sipka doing here?”
