by J. S. Law
‘I mean everyone knew Ben had the Old Man’s ear, so no one messed with him.’
Dan’s legs were starting to hurt from squatting, so she sat down on the deck and leaned back against a warm metal cabinet.
‘How long were you guys together?’
‘Couple of years.’
‘Did the Old Man know?’
‘I think so. Ben told him most things. We used to joke about how we was like two sweets what got stuck together in the packet – you know, when you take one, but it’s stuck with another, so you get two? Well, that was Ben and me.’
Above them, the Old Man’s voice could be heard, suddenly loud as the ship’s office door was opened.
Ryan stopped.
They both sat in silence, waiting.
When the voice died away again, Dan spoke. ‘Ryan, was Ben any different these past few weeks? Did anything change?’
She watched as Ryan stiffened at the way the topic had changed so quickly. She’d made it too obvious that she was asking him a question for her investigation, not for her own interest.
‘Why d’you wanna know?’
‘I really liked Ben. I just wanted to know how he’d been.’
Ryan eyed her suspiciously but seemed to lack the will to meet her gaze for more than a few seconds. ‘He’d been a bit awkward the past few days,’ he said slowly. ‘But who hasn’t since you came along? Ben said you was investigating a killing and the boys are nervous about it. We all know you rozzers are experts at fitting people up.’
Dan smiled, ignoring the vehemence of the comment. ‘I’m here to find out why Whisky killed himself, a suicide, nothing else,’ she said, trying to skirt around his statement. ‘The exact opposite of “fitting you up”.’
‘But you’re looking into a killing too, aren’t you?’
He was watching her carefully, trying to read her reaction.
‘It’s just a rumour,’ she said, lying with a smile. ‘I’ve heard better ones started in the Naafi queue, if I’m honest. Why do you ask, though? Did it upset Ben when he heard that?’
Ryan sighed. ‘I don’t know. Everything’s been shit this trip, ’specially since you turned up.’
Dan caught the edge to the remark as clearly as if Ryan had directly told her to pack up her gear and leave. Despite this civil conversation, when it came down to it, it was clear that there was no one who wanted Dan to remain on board Tenacity; from the Old Man down to the sailor that worked in the communications office, they all wanted her to leave. But that hadn’t always been the case.
‘I’ve got to go to the comms shack. Got a periscope run in a bit and I need to prep the signals and get ready for the broadcast.’
He got up and picked up his iPad, his finger catching the screen, which came to life showing a picture of Ben smiling and raising a half-full glass of beer towards the camera.
‘Where did you get that?’ asked Dan, looking at the expensive leather case and the device within it as Ryan powered it off.
‘Ben,’ he replied. ‘He’s got one like it, but brown. This one’s blue, for a blue-eyed boy; looks black, though, don’t it?’
‘It’s just really nice. I’d love one. I bet they cost a fortune, though – you submariners and all your extra cash,’ said Dan, trying to pass the comment as a joke.
‘I don’t think they was that much,’ mumbled Ryan, and stepped over Dan to get to the ladder.
‘Ryan,’ Dan paused. ‘I’m sorry for your loss. I liked Ben, I really did.’
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘You got to get out now. You shouldn’t be down here.’
‘Maybe I could just stay for a little while?’ she asked. ‘Just to take some time to think.’
He shook his head; there was no doubt that she was going to have to leave.
‘Why is it out of bounds anyway?’ she asked as innocently as she was able.
‘We store secret files from ops in the lock box at the end.’ He pointed to a long metal trunk that was partially hidden by the bags he’d been lying on. It was sealed with an old-style safe combination. ‘So we keep people out to make it a secure compartment, but we can’t actually lock it because of the fire risk.’
‘You think it will stay a secret?’ she asked, looking at the exposed metal of the trunk. ‘That I was down here? I was only looking for somewhere quiet to read and be alone, like you were.’
He nodded but didn’t reply, and climbed up the ladder and out of the AMS. ‘I’ll help you put the stuff back that you moved,’ he half-whispered, as he turned and waited for her to climb out.
Chapter 25
Tuesday Morning (Early Hours) – 30th September 2014
There would be no interviews for the rest of the day, no value in speaking to people so soon after Ben Roach’s death, and Dan knew that she would need the time. She settled back on her bed for a while, took some painkillers, and readied herself for the migraine to arrive. When it did, after shielding her eyes with the sleeve of a shirt for a few hours, she relented to the overwhelming heat and climbed into bed properly. She was exhausted, nauseous and hating every minute of being trapped in the continuous luminosity of the bomb-shop’s ever-present fluorescent lighting. Pulling the white sheet over herself, she draped a clean, damp sock over her eyes and tried to drift off to sleep.
‘Danny …’
The lights were off.
That was what caused her eyes to open so suddenly; the lights were never switched off in the bomb-shop.
She was breathing hard, her skin greasy with a sheen of sweat, and she had no idea what time it was or how long she’d slept for. The headache had retreated a bit, leaving only a shallow footprint of where it had once been.
Dan blinked and tried to focus. She couldn’t. She tried to turn over, to roll off the bunk so she could find the light. She couldn’t move.
That was when her eyes really opened, wide.
Her body tensed in panic, like pressure building up beneath a crack in the earth’s crust.
‘It’s the nightmare, it’s just the nightmare,’ she began whispering under her breath. ‘Take back control. It’s all about control.’
She stopped trying to move and forced herself to relax back, her heart pounding as she tried to control her breathing, to stop herself from shaking, and let her mind drift out of the dream.
‘This is a nightmare,’ she whispered again, trying to reconcile that it was her own mind doing this to her, in the same way that it had done many times before.
This felt real though, immediate.
In the pitch darkness she became aware of the confines of the submarine, as though the walls were creeping forward, unseen, pressed inwards by the sea, fitting in close around her like a tailored coffin.
Her head was still able to move a small amount as she tried to look around. She began to turn from side to side, but with the lights out, this compartment, deep below the surface of the sea, was in a state of darkness, the likes of which she had not felt for a very long time.
Dan felt a surge of terror rise within her, powered by the sure knowledge that she was about to lose control, but she needed that control, needed to force her mind to free her, to let her wake up. It was then, as that thought passed through her mind, that she realised the truth.
She was awake.
Her mouth opened and she drew in air, ready to scream. Her body tensed for a fight, but the pain hit her like a sharp hammer blow to the ribs. The air was exorcised from her, making a noise, not unlike the venting of the high-pressure systems on board, as the content of her lungs was forced out.
She tried to double over, gasping for breath, but couldn’t, as she felt bonds pull tight around her wrists and ankles. The pain made her feel sick, tears instantly blooming in her eyes, and her body convulsed. She tried to recover from the blow, tried to suck in some air despite the excruciating pain in her ribs. Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly, like a fish out of water, as she tried, and failed, to draw in some oxygen.
She thought that she could see him. It could have been
her eyes adjusting to the blackness, or her mind filling in the blanks, but she could make out a shape near to her, a shadow cast without light, silhouetted against the dark.
A breath entered her lungs as suddenly as the strike had ejected it. It was as though her throat had been blocked and was suddenly free and, in that instant, Dan knew she had to fight again. Her arms were stretched out above her head and she tried to pull them down towards her chest, to cover herself with them, but couldn’t. Arching her back up and off the mattress, she slammed her body down and tried to rip her hands free, as though she were swinging an axe with all her might.
She couldn’t do it, couldn’t free herself; the bonds were too strong and tight, and her wrists burned as they reached their limit of travel.
A small red light, on one of the many control panels mounted at the end of the bomb-shop, cycled on. This tiny light source, a candle in a cavern, allowed her to see his outline.
He was there, crouched over next to her bunk. A dark shape, touching her legs, his hands moving slowly in circles leaving a sickening warmth everywhere they travelled, slithering over her legs, moving up past her thighs, but not touching her there.
She dry-retched as his hands paused on her abdomen. She needed to scream, but her throat was constricting and she wasn’t sure she could. She tried again to fight off whatever was holding her. Gritting her teeth and in abject terror, she wrenched her body upwards again, arching her back first and then forcing her bum down into the mattress and drawing her knees up towards her chest. She heard a ripping sound; something had given way, a bond was coming free.
It gave her hope and she prepared to jerk her body once more.
He hit her again, the one that was touching her, delivering two sharp, hard blows to the bottom of her ribcage in painfully quick repetition, like an urgent visitor demanding her attention.
Dan collapsed down onto the bed, her throat blocked again and her eyes blinking as she tried desperately not to pass out. Lights flashed and stars drifted across her vision as she fought for breath. She knew she was going to black out; either the pain would do it, or the lack of oxygen.
‘Don’t do that again.’
The voice was muffled, deep and rasping; she recognised the sound of someone speaking to her while wearing an EBS mask.
Blind panic had fully taken over now and her body was unable to gather the breath that it needed. Every time she tried to breathe in, her chest would convulse, her abdomen would tighten and the pain in her ribs would sear throughout her body. She was shutting down, she could feel it, wanted it. Her mind was going to take her away from this and protect her.
The shape climbed on top of her, straddling her close in the restricted space between her mattress and the missiles that were stowed above it. The weight of his body pressed onto her thighs, controlling her legs, and his hands touched her again, finding the small dents next to her hipbones, investigating them with his fingers. His touch moved slowly up her body, only the thin cotton sheet separating his flesh from hers as his fingers followed the lines of her ribcage and paused near to her breasts.
‘Are they hard?’ he asked, his fingers starting to trace around the outside of her nipples, but not touching them.
His touch lingered and then began to move up towards her chin.
Dan threw her head back and then forward again, initially not fighting to escape, just to breathe, but when she realised that she could, that the movement was free, she did it again, this time trying to head-butt the bastard, maybe to get close enough to his hands or face to bite.
Her head was dragged backwards, a hard tube across her throat pulling back at an impossible angle, dragging her back onto the mattress and controlling her, like a choke chain on a dog.
The figure that was straddling her reached towards her throat and allowed each hand to spread in a separate direction across the bottom of her face like a blooming butterfly. Only his thumbs lingered on the centre of her throat, lightly teasing her windpipe.
Dan convulsed again. It felt like her body could breathe out, releasing the precious air, but couldn’t take any in, as though she was wearing an invisible EBS mask of her own.
‘Relax,’ breathed the voice, extending the word as though he were singing it to her. ‘Just relax.’ He reached a finger beneath the rubber hose that had been pulled tight around her neck and pulled at it, persuading it to loosen until there was enough slack for air to pass.
Suddenly Dan was able to take in a huge gasp of air and she filled her lungs, the relief tangible.
As she did, as the air entered her lungs, his hands tightened around her neck, the thumbs pushing slowly into the centre of her throat and the fingers tightening to trap it there.
The pressure of his grip increased slowly until Dan felt her eyes go wide and begin to bulge. She felt as though her chest, cheeks and eyes might explode. Her jaw opened so wide that it might dislocate. Then the stars came back, drifting across her vision, and, without warning, she began to relax.
‘You’re causing problems,’ said the voice, muffled and deep through the mask. ‘You’re alone and causing problems somewhere you don’t understand. You’re not part of this world and you’re not welcome.’
The hands were moving again, away from her neck, the hose seeming to pull a little tighter to take up the slack as he touched her chin, moving his fingers around her jaw and neck. Then they roamed away, back down towards her chest.
Dan felt her whole body tense as he cupped her breasts, lifting the sheet and sliding his hand under her bra. ‘Come on, Dan, get hard for me,’ he said. ‘I’m getting hard for you.’
The beginning of a scream left Dan’s mouth and the figure let go with one hand and slapped her across the face to silence her.
‘Who do you think is going to come?’
He slapped her again and Dan saw the lightning as, once again, consciousness started to drift away.
Her eyes closed.
‘Oh no,’ said the voice. ‘You can’t sleep yet, we’re not done.’
She felt her face being gently slapped as he coaxed her back to full consciousness.
Another voice spoke up, higher pitched, almost incoherent, hers. ‘Please?’
He laughed at her, the sound grating like static through the mask.
‘Tomorrow you’re going to tell everyone that you want to get off this submarine. You’re going to explain that there’s nothing to investigate and that you want to leave as soon as possible. It’s bad luck having women at sea. Did you know that?’
Dan felt like she was flitting between conscious terror and peaceful sleep.
‘Answer me,’ he said. ‘I want you to answer me.’
She felt another slap, lighter than the others, controlled.
‘OK,’ she whispered.
He shuffled down the bed, more pain shooting through her body as he leaned hard against her knees, pushing against them the wrong way.
She could see him moving and suddenly felt no weight at all; he had climbed off her, but was still there.
‘Shhhh,’ he whispered, his face close to hers, the hard rubber of the mask pressing into her cheek. ‘You’re alone here, but you won’t be for much longer.’
Dan couldn’t answer; her thoughts flitted between precious air and precious sleep.
‘Do you see? I can do anything to you,’ he said, speaking more quickly now, pushing his mask harder and harder against her face with every word.
‘Your rank won’t protect you; your warrant card won’t protect you,’ he continued, the rate and pressure of his speech building like a train gathering speed. ‘You’re completely exposed and I can come see you any time I want to, here, or when we’re home.’
Dan screamed.
This time, there was no slap to stop it. Instead, she felt something cover her face, press against it, fit and form around it.
‘I told you not to scream. I told you to be quiet.’
Dan recognised the form of an EBS mask as it was forced against her face. She
recognised the feeling of the rubber, framing her cheekbones and cupping underneath her chin as she tried to breathe. The mask was pushed against her. She could see his fingers in the dim glow, gloved fingers, like a spider on the visor as he thrust the mask onto her face and held it there.
‘You’re alone,’ she heard him say as she neared suffocation. ‘You know that nasty things happen to stuck-up whores; you’ve seen, haven’t you? If you try to share what happened on our date tonight, or if you’re still here on Tenacity in twenty-four hours, then there’s going to be another horrible extermination.’
Dan felt the panic again. The mask was sucking tighter and tighter to her face as it allowed air out but permitted none to enter. She heard the figure chuckle, snorting through his own mask.
‘You’re alone and I can get to you anywhere you try to go.’ They were the last words that she heard.
Chapter 26
Friday Evening – 21st December 2012
Dan could hear her dad shouting in the background and her stepmum trying to hush him.
‘He says he misses you,’ said her sister, pausing to listen some more. ‘And you should’ve just come home tonight; he says he’d have come and collected you from the airport.’
Charlie covered the mouthpiece. ‘All right, Dad, why don’t you just come talk to her yourself?’
Dan laughed. ‘Charlie, Charlie!’ she shouted, trying to draw her sister back.
‘Sorry,’ said Charlie. ‘He’s trying to get me to say some joke-insult thing to you about the navy, you know how he does.’
Dan laughed again. ‘Tell him I’ll sit and listen to some of his stories of Royal Marine heroics and valour when I’m back tomorrow,’ she said. ‘And once you’ve said that, just make sure there’ll be plenty of wine for me; God knows I’ll need it.’
‘Dad, I’m not saying any more. Leave me be to talk to Dan.’
There were some protests, but they faded and Dan knew her sister was walking into a different room.
‘I swear he’s getting worse, you know,’ Charlie said as the background noise disappeared completely. ‘He made Simon listen to about three hours of the Cockleshell Heroes the other day.’
