“That’s not how it should be done,” Jim said.
“You don’t think it’s worth crushing a few bad apples for the greater good?”
Jim’s first reaction was to say no, but then he thought back to each of those volunteers sent away. He’d sacrificed them for the greater good. What was so wrong with doing the same with Faust and the troublemakers? Hadn’t he already set a precedent in his own mind as to what was acceptable?
“You know it is,” Graves said as though he could read Jim’s mind.
Jim sat down and sighed. “So what do you have in mind?”
“I suggest that you accidentally leave the brig unattended one night, the key at hand, and my boys will remove Frank to a safe place, and Faust… to a not-so-safe place.”
Jim mulled it over. Letting Frank out seemed crazy, considering the guy attempted to murder him. “I need some answers and assurances,” Jim said.
“That’s fair enough. What you got in mind?”
“I need to know what was behind Frank’s assassination attempt. If you’re saying this American figure isn’t real and you didn’t order the hit, then why the hell did Frank try to put a gaff hook into my back?”
“Okay,” Graves said, leaning forward, clasping his hands together, locking his fingers and tapping his thumbs. “Here’s the deal. We spring Frank to somewhere safe where we can all have a chat. I’ll make sure we get the truth out of him. Then we deal with Faust.”
“If I agree to this, I want Faust removed my way.”
Graves shrugged. “Sure, no skin off my nose. You say how, and it’ll be done. But not until Frank’s handed over.” Graves unclasped his hands and held out his right hand, palm open. “We got a deal?”
“Deal,” Jim said, shaking his hand.
As though timed to strike the deal, a flash of lightning lit up the dark skies outside through the porthole, freeze-framing Graves’ satisfied grin.
Chapter 9
Eva took a sip from her flask and washed down the starchy potato soup. She admired the ingenuity of the men and women who had managed to dredge for dirt and make it suitable for growing vegetables. They had found boxes of seeds on one of the container ships. So far, they’d managed to grow potatoes, tomatoes, and in the hull of a shipwrecked trawler they’d even grown mushrooms. Made a nice change from fish. Although from now on she’d take great delight in eating the pan-fried shark steak.
Danny finished his meal and sat on the bed with his head buried in a comic.
Ade sat opposite Eva, his long arms resting on the dining table. “He’s not coming,” he said.
“He’ll come, just relax.”
Duncan was one of the few people she had learned she could rely on. He was the rock of that place. Hardly ever fazed or fussed, he just got on with things, full of optimism. She could really do with a dose of that right now.
She squeezed the flotation ball attached to the key, wondering where on this floating city it would take her. The key was thick and strong with a square edge. Modern-looking, she thought. Perhaps a safe or some expensive padlock. If anyone knew where the key would fit, it was Duncan. He’d been here since day one, along with Jim, building the flotilla, capturing boats that drifted by, pulling them in with ropes and hooks.
“Hey, you wanted to see me?”
She saw his great beard before his face as Duncan leaned in through the door.
“I’ve got something for you, Dan,” Duncan said, walking across the cabin until he towered over the boy. He passed him a small cardboard box. Danny opened the lid. The succulent, spicy smell of barbecued gull wafted around the room, making her potato soup suddenly seem unfulfilling.
“Wow, thanks, Duncan,” Danny said, grabbing the meat and biting a section off the breast. Grease dripped down his chin as he devoured the meat.
“Sorry I didn’t get back to you in time before you left. You scared the hell out of me,” Duncan said. “Here, take this. If you ever go for a walk, stay in touch.” He handed Danny a two-way radio. “You know how to use one of these?”
Danny nodded.
“Good lad, keep it on channel 19, okay?”
Duncan turned to face Eva and Ade, sitting at the head of the dining table, dwarfing it with his great chest and thick arms. “So,” he said, his voice low, “what’s this all about? Aren’t you supposed to be working on the desalinators with Stanic, Ade?”
The South African nodded. “I’m on my way, man, but we needed to speak to you first. We found something. We need your expertise.”
Duncan’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Oh?”
Eva opened her hand and showed him the key. “We need to know what this is for. Do you recognise it?”
Duncan took the key, examined it closely, and ran his fingers across the surface. “Where’d you get this?”
Ade was about to say something when Eva cut him off, “I found it. It’s not really important where or how. I just need to know if you know what it is and where it might belong.”
Duncan breathed out long and slow before inhaling noisily and letting out another long breath. “I don’t know how you got hold of this, but I know exactly what it is and exactly where it goes.”
Eva waited, but he didn’t follow up.
“Well,” Ade prompted, “what is it, man?”
Staring at Eva with that intense look of his, Duncan said, “It opens the sub.”
It was Eva’s turn to show surprise. She wasn’t expecting that. “Are you sure? The submarine, as in the nuclear sub, the one here under the flotilla. The one that no one’s been into since the day it arrived?”
“Yeah, the very same.”
“No way, man, it can’t be,” Ade said, grinning with surprise and confusion, then lowering his voice. “Why would the kid’s old man want to go in there, eh? I heard the reactor got damaged when it ran aground. Isn’t it full of radiation by now?”
Eva took the key back before Duncan refused to give it back. He looked irritated.
“Duncan, I need a favour from you,” Eva said.
“No, that’s not going to happen.”
“You didn’t even let me ask you.”
“I know what you want, and there’s no way Jim would allow it.”
“I’m sure you could think of something.”
“You want me to betray my own father?”
“If it means bringing Jean’s killer to justice, yes.”
“Why don’t I just ask him first?”
“He’ll say no.”
“He might not.”
Ade was looking confused, his head turning from Eva to Duncan like he was watching a tennis match.
“Jim doesn’t need to know. You’re wearing your big-boy pants now, Dunc. You don’t need his permission. Besides, you’re doing this as a personal favour to me. The woman who helped you out of a few issues lately. You remember the rigging problem? Who was it who climbed up there in a shitty storm and fixed it before it came away and damaged your little sweetheart’s yacht?”
“She wasn’t, and isn’t, my sweetheart,” Duncan said. “You volunteered to fix it anyway. I didn’t make you do it against your wishes.”
“Don’t matter, Dunc. We’re still buds, right? Buds help each other out. You might do things differently back in England, but in America, we help each other, stand up for one another. Think of Jean. Think of Danny.”
“You sure this has something to do with Jean’s death?” Duncan asked with a whisper.
“It might do, but I won’t know unless you do me this favour.”
Having had enough, unable to read between the lines, Ade butted in. “What are you guys talking about? What is it you want, Eva?”
“Scuba gear,” Duncan said.
“And you’re gonna get it for me, aren’t you, Duncan?” Eva
gave him the sweetest smile she could manage.
Shaking his head and sighing, Duncan stood up. “Okay, I’ll do it, but if you damage it, you’re the ones to speak to my dad. He’ll hit the roof. We’ve got only three sets left and not a lot of air in the tanks. I won’t take the rap for this, you understand?”
“It’s all right, Dunc. We won’t need a lot of air to get to the sub and back.”
“Fine, it’ll have to be later tonight. I won’t be able to get it out of the storage during the day, too many people about, and I’ll need the key from Dad. He won’t just give it to me.”
“Call Ade on the two-way when you have it. I want to go first thing in the morning and see what Mike was up to.”
Eva couldn’t imagine what Mike would be doing going to and from the sub. It meant he had his own scuba gear. But why the sub at all? It had been shut up for the last two years. It was then she started to get that sense that something bad was going on. Encrypted documents, memory sticks, murders, and now a US nuclear sub. Plus the stuff with Frank.
Bad mojo, she thought. This is swimming in bad mojo.
***
Eva woke from her nap and stepped toward the kitchen area. She stubbed her toe against the edge of a cabinet, swore loudly, then remembered Danny and swore under her breath. The room was in darkness. She’d napped for longer than expected, the exhaustion and emotional ride of the last few days sapping her energy.
Her watch face glowed in the dark and said it was just gone 8:00 p.m.
She wondered if Duncan had got the key from Jim yet. She stumbled across to the kitchenette, groping for the kettle, remembered they didn’t have any generated power and moved to the dining room area, where Mike and Jean kept a stock of kindling to light the small wood-burning stove.
As she was feeding the pieces of driftwood in, she called out for Danny. No answer. Her eyes adapted to the dark, and she noticed he wasn’t in his bed. Dropping the kindling to the floor, she rushed to her nightstand and picked up her two-way.
“Danny, this is Eva, are you getting this?”
No answer, just static. Her heart raced. He was supposed to have stayed with her until she took him back to the Bravo. She pressed the button again. “Danny, this is Eva. Where are you?”
“Eva, this is Stanic. I saw Danny go past the Slice of Life a few moments ago, heading for the fish-maze.”
“Thanks, I’m on my way. If you see him, tell him to use his radio and call me.”
“Will do. Wrap up warm; the storm’s nasty out there tonight. Wouldn’t want another going-over.”
“Roger that,” she said.
The ship swayed heavily, buffeted by the waves as they were squeezed through the gap between the Orizaba and the Alonsa. If Danny got too close, a wave could…
No, she banished the thought, put on her wet-weather suit, and rushed out of her cabin. She had an idea of where he might be heading.
As she left the safety of the cruise liner, ducking through the ragged aperture in the hull, the wind nearly blew her onto her back as it gusted, picking up power through the narrow confines of the floating city. She always thought “city” was too grand. It was more like a shantytown.
She jumped across onto the main section of the flotilla and took a short cut. Instead of going through the container ships and then the maze, she jumped over the railing of a ferry until she landed on a small fishing boat.
The smaller craft lined the edge of the flotilla as it faced the Orizaba. Bow to stern, they created a buffer, allowing people on fishing duty to easily reach deeper waters without going too far. Especially when line fishing or net casting. She clambered from one boat to the next, all the while bracing herself each time a wave crashed against the boats, drenching her in a wall of spray.
On the final boat, she moved to the edge and looked up. A great anchor chain hung from the bow of the Bravo until it disappeared into the roiling sea beneath, its rusted iron bleeding a dark orange trail down its battleship-grey skin.
The beam of her flashlight caught the reflective yellow of a fisherman’s coat.
“Danny!”
A head appeared over the edge. “Eva?”
“Stay where you are.”
Eva leaned forward to grab the chain. Using the huge links as foot and handholds, she quickly ascended until she reached the railing. She pulled herself up and over, slipping on the deck as she landed awkwardly, blown off course by a gust of wind.
Her hood covered her face. She pushed it up and saw Danny, swamped inside his dad’s coat, running to her.
“You’ve got to stop going out on your own,” Eva said. “Where’s your radio?”
He shrugged, hanging his head. “I’m sorry.”
She pulled him close, shielding him from the storm.
“It’s okay. You’re safe. Let’s get you inside.”
Even though she shook with a mixture of fear and anger, she couldn’t take it out on him. He knew what he did was wrong, but the poor kid was grieving, wasn’t thinking straight.
Eva started to lead Danny to the bridge when something in the distance, just beyond the Orizaba, caught her attention. Thinking it was distant lightning, she paid it no attention, but then Danny pulled on her hand.
“Look, Eva, he’s come back. I knew he would!”
“What?”
Eva turned. There, riding the waves and coming toward the flotilla, was the Tracer. Mike was indeed coming back.
Chapter 10
A curious energy manifested within the Bravo. Crew members were shouting, their voices echoing against the metal walls. Jim sat up in his bunk and poked his head out of his cabin.
“What’s the problem?” he asked Jason, one of the young kids who worked in Jim’s crew.
“He’s back. We’ve finally got one back.” The kid beamed a grin of amazement.
“Wait, what?”
“Mike’s back. The Tracer’s coming.”
Jason rushed off as three other crew dashed down the narrow corridor.
Shit. That was not supposed to happen.
Jim ducked back inside his cabin. His chest tightened. He tried to think of what to do. He considered radioing the others to find out why they had returned Mike, but then he thought about what Mike would say. He’d surely expose Jim’s lies and secrets. He had to get there first.
Taking a swig of the watered-down rum from his flask, he stepped out and headed for the upper deck, putting on his waterproof suit as he went.
When he got to the deck, Eva and Danny were standing at the edge, accompanied by five crew and a gathering of twenty or so flotilla citizens.
Still a hundred and fifty feet or so away, the Tracer rode up and down the waves, inching ever closer, its lights bouncing around in the dark.
Lightning lit up the dark clouds off in the distance beyond the Orizaba.
Rain lashed at an oblique angle, freezing Jim’s face.
“Okay, everyone, clear the deck, I’m bringing him in.” He pushed his way through the group of onlookers, trying to ignore the tumult of questions, rumours, and gossip. He looked to his right, over the fish-maze and the container ship, and across to the Alonsa.
It seemed everyone had heard the news and had come out of their cabins to see if it were true.
Jim lowered a rope ladder to the line of fishing vessels bordering the port side. As he descended the last rung and landed on the deck of a fishing boat, he noticed Eva readying to follow him.
“Eva, stay there,” he shouted. He had to yell to make himself heard over the sound of the waves and the wind and the rain. “I’ll need you to tie us up when I bring him in. And make sure Danny doesn’t do anything stupid.”
A rumble of thunder swallowed Eva’s words, but she remained on deck.
Jim ducked into the fishin
g boat’s wheelhouse and turned the key. The diesel engines spluttered and came to life. Most of these boats had had their fuel siphoned and stored to ration it for as long as possible, but they always left a few gallons in for emergency uses.
Pushing the throttle lever halfway and spinning the wheel, Jim turned away and headed north, pushing the thirty-foot boat against the tide, increasing the throttle as he crested each wave, gaining speed as he rushed down the other side so that he had the momentum to ride up the next wave. It reminded him of when he had taken Duncan to Coney Island one summer and ridden the roller coaster.
That was the last summer with Morag, his wife, Duncan’s mother.
As Jim got closer to the Tracer’s position, he couldn’t help but feel numb, the appearance of his wife’s ghost memory draining him of motivation, but he reminded himself that she would have wanted him to carry on, even if it were only for Duncan’s sake.
A few minutes later Jim was approaching the starboard side of the Mike’s boat. Although the main lights were on, he couldn’t see Mike at the wheel. He pulled his boat up to its side and, tying off the wheel, cut the engines and ran onto the deck, grabbing a rope as he went. Waiting for the right moment, when the two boats got close enough, he looped the rope around the bollards of both boats, lashing them together.
He repeated the procedure twice more.
“Mike, you in there?” he called out, leaning over to see into the cabin. No one stirred.
He waited for a calm moment between waves and climbed aboard, entering the cabin. Mike was there, lying beneath an old tarp, his face swollen and feverish.
Jim stood back, poking him with a foot. “Mike, you hear me?” He couldn’t tell if Mike was still alive, the movement of the boats making it hard to tell if his chest was rising and falling.
Mike opened his lids, revealing milky white eyes, like an advanced form of cataracts. He blinked, and those terrible eyes turned to regard Jim. Mike’s lips were badly cracked and bloated. They quivered as he spoke wheezing, incoherent words.
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