by J. S. Law
Natasha nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I thought he might have.” She looked Natasha up and down. “But we’ll be keeping you way too busy to be mixing with the likes of Mark Coker.”
9
Monday, February 2
Defiance was bigger than any of the ships that Dan had sailed on previously, much bigger, several thousand tons more, and the form factor was different, too. Where traditional ships had a hull and a superstructure with walkways running all around the outside so that sailors could go from the very front to the rear without entering the ship’s superstructure, Defiance had smooth sides, the hull continuing upward and merging into the external bulkheads.
The shape meant there were few pronounced angles, the form factor being designed to confuse enemy radar, and it made the Royal Navy’s new Type 45 destroyer look modern, intimidating, and secretive.
The commanding officer, Commander Ward, was on the flight deck as Dan and John arrived. He waved down at them, then waited, still talking to the sentry and quartermaster as they walked up the long gangway to the ship’s flight deck.
Dan saluted before she stepped down onto the deck and looked around.
“Lieutenant Lewis,” he said, stepping forward, accepting her salute, and then offering her his hand. “It’s good to see you, thank you very much for coming down so quickly.”
Dan shook his hand.
He reached out and shook John’s hand, a broad smile on his face.
The two men exchanged some words as Dan watched, but she tuned the sound out.
John was smiling, genuine and open, speaking to yet another person who knew him and liked him.
It seemed as though when she and John walked into any setting, they started from different points and needed to follow different routes to get to the same place.
John was always already halfway there, instantly respected. The way he looked, spoke, and acted, the way he held himself, all courted respect and, more than that, demanded that he be taken seriously.
Dan felt she had to earn all of these things time and time again. She looked at the commanding officer now and wondered how much of this greeting might be a former friendship and how much was because Commander Ward was simply seeing someone who looked like him, a form he recognized—a tall, broad man, someone easy to trust and easy to listen to.
Commander Ward was shaking his head now though, his expression turning grave. “I’m really quite worried,” he was saying. “And I’m very hopeful it’s not your main area of expertise that we’re going to be calling on here,” he said, referring to Dan’s Loss of Life credentials. “But it just doesn’t feel right at all. Her bike’s still on the jetty, no one saw her go, and we’ve looked everywhere and phoned everyone we can.”
Commander Ward had guided them away from the quartermaster and the armed sentry as he spoke, and they were on the seaward side of the flight deck now, only John and Dan within earshot.
“What bothers me most is that if she wanted to go AWOL,” he said, “then why go from here? She could have gone home once we’d piped leave and just not come back in on Monday morning. She’s got plenty of leave outstanding, too, so if she needed to get away, she could have. I’ve actually been pushing quite hard for the ship’s company to use up their leave in this next refit period, as we’ve been deployed a lot and so too much is just being carried over from one leave year into the next.”
He looked from John to Dan.
“It’s the act of her sneaking out that bothers me. She’s young, fairly new to the ship and it just…” He looked at Dan with his eyebrows slightly raised, an expectant look on his face as though waiting for her to deliver an answer to the problem.
“Okay, sir,” said Dan. “Let me have a chat with the people that saw her last, and we’ll see what we can do.”
Commander Ward nodded.
“You know, sir,” said John, “ninety-nine times out of a hundred, we know how this ends.”
Commander Ward nodded. “Yes, John, of course I know you’re right. I know she’s probably safe and sound somewhere and she’ll come back when she’s ready.”
He started to walk back toward the ship’s citadel, gesturing for Dan and John to do the same.
The main hangar door was open, the Merlin helicopter that would usually be put to bed in there long since departed back to the air station at Culdrose for maintenance.
He passed through the hangar and entered the ship using a bulkhead door on the port side, pulling on a large metal lever to open the watertight door.
The single handle operated multiple thick metal locking bars to let the heavy door to the citadel swing open into the hangar.
He stepped through, holding the door until Dan had her hand on it, and then moved inside the ship’s superstructure.
A long walkway ran ahead of her and there were pipes running down the walls and along the deck heads. Firefighting equipment was everywhere and the green linoleum flooring was marked with black scuffs from the soles of sailors’ protective boots.
The last time Dan had been to sea was on board the submarine HMS Tenacity, and the space around her now hammered home how comparatively cramped and confined that had been. If Tenacity had felt close and claustrophobic, then this felt large and eerie, as though there were too many places you could go where no one might find you, or even hear you.
They moved along 1-deck, heading toward the front of the ship to drop down onto 2-deck and the area that housed the officers’ cabins.
Commander Ward and John were talking, but Dan struggled to focus on what they were saying. It was her first time on board one of these ships, and she took in all the surroundings. But her mind kept jumping back to the file in her desk, to the fact that if you could hide significant quantities of narcotics on a tiny cramped submarine, then who knew what could be done with a vast floating superstructure like this? Surely, the larger the ship, the fewer people would need to know, as there’d be less chance of discovery. That might make it worth it.
On board Tenacity, only the Old Man, the submarine’s captain, had had his own cabin, and that was small, a fraction of the space afforded to officers and senior rates on Defiance.
Dan had seen that many cabins had pictures hanging on the walls and enough desk space for family photographs and trinkets from home. It looked to be a far more humane environment, not the hard function of the submarine, but a place where people might actually want to live.
“SA Moore’s divisional officer is the deputy logistics officer,” said Commander Ward over his shoulder as they walked along, passing a few more cabin doors. “Lieutenant Sarah Cox. She’s been with us for well over a year, almost two in fact, and was here when Moore arrived around four months ago, so she knows her quite well. She’s on board at the moment and should be…” He paused outside a cabin door.
The door was open just a crack, light coming from inside, and the sound of quiet music.
Commander Ward knocked, waiting to hear a reply before he called out that it was him, and then opened the door fully.
“Here she is. Sarah, please, meet Lieutenant Dan Lewis and Master at Arms John Granger, both from the Special Investigation Branch; they’re here to talk about SA Moore.”
Sarah Cox stood up, shutting down her laptop screen and killing the music as she did. She nodded a greeting to Commander Ward before she offered her hand to Dan first and then to John, introducing herself as she did.
“Thank you both for coming down,” she said, her accent posh in a way that Dan hadn’t quite expected, almost faux posh, as though she were teasing someone from a wealthy background.
She was tall, maybe even a full foot taller than Dan, but Sarah was also broad-shouldered, making her look imposing, and she had the air and confidence of someone who’d been raised with money.
There was camera equipment stacked underneath her desk, and on the desk was a large portrait photograph of a man whom Dan felt she recognized; Cox was sketching the picture onto a large pad using charcoals. The
re were a lot of completed sketches on the walls, some in pastels and some in pencil, and they were excellent, really excellent.
Dan looked at the picture of the man on the desk again, partially re-created on the sketchpad beneath it. She admired the strokes and shading.
“My father,” Cox said, in answer to Dan’s lingering look.
Dan nodded and smiled.
“They’re all really fantastic,” said Dan, looking at Sarah Cox and then at the other pictures. “You’re very talented.”
“I mainly do family and friends,” said Sarah. “I sometimes get asked to sketch or photograph them, sometimes I just do it for practice or fun. This one’s for Daddy’s birthday.”
“Well, you’ve got a real eye for it.”
“I’m a people watcher,” admitted Cox with a resigned smile.
“I need to go,” said Commander Ward, “but I leave you both in good hands, and John, please call on me before you leave. Just to let me know what you think and what we’re going to do.”
He made to leave, then turned. “I’ve kept everyone on board at the moment, though I appreciate days have passed, but I’ve stopped short of recalling those already gone on leave…”
He looked at Dan, the question as to whether he could let his ship’s company go home for the night clearly implied.
“I think we can let people go home soon,” said Dan, looking at her watch, “but if you could just hold off for a short while, as I’ll want to talk to a few of them, people that SA Moore knew best, and anyone who saw her on Friday. Can you let me know the list of names soonest?”
Commander Ward nodded. “Good, that’s fine. I think Sarah’s already identified who they are. I’ll make sure they stay.”
The room had one chair next to the desk that Cox had been using and another, a folding chair, resting against the wall.
Sarah pulled it out and offered it to Dan, gesturing to her bed, currently made up as a couch, for John to sit.
“I’ll be all right standing,” said John, moving into the corner next to the door to give them space.
Sarah sat down and Dan opened the chair and did the same.
“You did well to catch that abuser,” said Sarah.
“I’m sorry?”
“I saw the article in the papers. What you did up at that shop in the middle of nowhere. You did really well. The paper said you might have saved the woman’s life.”
Dan didn’t know what to say.
“They said he put her in a fridge, in a shop his parents owned? The place sounds absolutely awful.”
“I can’t really discuss it,” said Dan, “but suffice to say, it’s somewhere I’ll never go again, physically, or in my memories, if I can help it.”
Sarah nodded in understanding.
Dan pointed to another picture of Sarah Cox, standing on the deck of a white-hulled yacht.
“Is that Port Solent?” she asked, changing the subject as she looked at the background and tried to recognize the landmarks.
“It is. I’m keeping the yacht there while I’m Portsmouth based.”
“Nice,” said John. “On a lieutenant’s wage, too? Do you not eat?”
Sarah Cox turned away and flushed crimson. “I do eat, but I guess you already know who my family are?”
Dan raised both eyebrows, surprised at the response.
“I honestly don’t,” said Dan.
“If you don’t, then I’m sure you’d have found out soon enough. Everyone does. My grandfather was the First Sea Lord, and my father made vice.”
“Vice Admiral Bobby Cox,” said John from behind Dan. “I knew I recognized him from your picture. I knew him when he commanded HMS Gloucester. Good man.”
Dan looked at the picture on Cox’s desk and realized why the man had seemed familiar to her.
Cox looked resigned.
“Yes. They were both great men, everybody says so, all the time.”
“Tough footsteps to follow?” asked Dan, thinking about the respect her own father, the retired major “Taz” Lewis, commanded within the Armed Forces, the Royal Marines particularly, and understanding something of the pressures that it could bring.
“You have no idea. I didn’t even want to join the navy. I got a first in law from Cambridge, and of course I love art, photography, and cinema. I wanted to join my uncle’s law firm and specialize in privacy law, use that to fund me until I might be able to make some money from the creative arts, but my father and Grandpa were adamant. In the end they bribed me. If I did an eight-year commission in the navy, ‘see the world and grow up a bit’”—she made air quotes as she said this—“then they’ll support me while I spend two years sailing around the world and building up a portfolio to sell, and after that, if I want to, my uncle will still take me on at the firm.”
John whistled. “Sweet deal if you can get it.”
“It is,” laughed Cox, “and I wish I’d never told a soul. I let it out once, to one person, and the whole fleet knew within about thirty minutes.”
“It’s always a secret as long as you only tell one person at a time, eh?” said John.
“So the saying goes, Master. But despite what everyone thinks, I seriously doubt anyone would turn down an opportunity like that, and I’m certainly not going to. I know Dad and Grandpa really hoped I’d get bitten by the navy bug and that I’d love it so much I’d never leave. They really thought I would, but in truth, I can’t wait to get out. I’ve less than a year left, and regardless of what either of them says afterward, I’m holding them to their word.”
“I don’t blame you,” said Dan, unable to think about her own future, wondering whether John had been right, whether she’d been bitten by the navy bug, was infected and just didn’t know it.
She looked at Cox, thought about how she stood out physically, about the self-deprecation in her confession, about being defined by something beyond your control, about being different from so many of those around you.
“Are you looking for crew?” Dan smiled and turned to look at John. “I reckon I could cope with a few years sailing round the world. I’d be happy to mix your paints and cart easels around to wherever you want them.”
Sarah smiled again. “Going solo, I’m afraid, but I’ll keep you in mind.”
Dan laughed, then sat up a bit in her chair. “So, I understand you saw SA Moore at around ten thirty on Friday, is that right?”
Sarah nodded. “I did, yes. We had a meeting.”
“How was she?”
Sarah shrugged and at the same time shook her head, as though she were apologizing in advance for how little she was going to tell them.
“She was fine, really fine. We had a normal divisional meeting,” she said. “We spoke about how she was getting on, how the last deployment had gone for her. That kind of thing. Catching up, really.”
Dan was still looking around the room, taking in the trinkets and pictures, the expensive-looking photography equipment.
The sheer quantity of photographs and drawings of family, home, and treasured things all made sense to Dan now, seemed obvious: this was the refuge of a woman who was where she didn’t want to be, doing something she didn’t want to do.
“So she never mentioned anything about being unhappy, stressed about work, about home life…?”
Sarah was already shaking her head. “No, not at all. It was a good meeting, positive. She’s a young one, only just eighteen, and so I do chat with her more than I perhaps would with the more experienced sailors. The last deployment was her first since she joined the navy, and she knew we were coming back in for some prolonged maintenance afterward, so she had time before we started deploying again; she was happy enough. And I did ask if anything was going on. She wouldn’t have to tell me, of course, but Tasha often did talk to me.”
“Tasha being Natasha Moore?”
“Yes, she’s called Tasha on board, or just Tash.”
Dan looked at Sarah and said nothing.
“I don’t call her that in one-to-o
nes, of course,” said Cox, “but we have to get along. There’s only thirteen girls on board Defiance and so we do have to make it work professionally, and often socially, too.”
Dan nodded. She got that, remembered her own situation on board ships well enough to know how isolated you could feel and how much you craved some female company, if you craved company at all.
“You guys are only just back in Portsmouth. Did anything happen on this deployment that might’ve been a stress raiser for SA Moore?”
Sarah shook her head again. Until this moment, she’d seemed strong and businesslike, but now she suddenly looked teary, as though she might cry. She was silent for a moment as she breathed and recovered herself.
“Were you and Tasha quite close?” asked Dan, deliberately using the girl’s nickname.
“Not really,” said Sarah after a moment. “I just hate that she was in here a few days ago. We were chatting, ate some biscuits, had a brew. If something was wrong, she could’ve spoken to me then, couldn’t she?”
“She could, but we need to ask some questions, and it seems like you’re best placed to answer them.”
Dan’s eyes met John’s and she knew that he would pick up on what she wanted him to do.
This was where he would step in, asking the direct questions, some that might seem insensitive and intrusive. He would do this instead of Dan, leaving her to maintain a relationship with Cox that she might need to draw on later.
“I need to know a little bit about SA Moore,” John said immediately. “Was she seeing anyone on board?”
“No, I don’t think so. She’d been recently engaged when she joined us, but she ended that a while ago. It wasn’t amicable, I don’t think, but it seemed to be very much in her past. They did try to be friends, I think, but it didn’t work out. I know that Tasha actually had to get a different e-mail address to stop him from contacting her on board.”
“That sounds stressful,” said Dan.
