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Authors: Jeffrey Ashford

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BOOK: Damned by Logic
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Detective Chief Superintendent Abbotts read the email on the computer screen in front of him and, with a sigh of exasperation, looked up at the man standing in front of him. ‘This suffers from more possibles than a politician's promise. I quote: “Further information suggests mule may collect diamonds on cruise ship
Helios
, which sailed from UK on the fourth of June, from one of the ports on the North African coast. Her name is possibly Melanie Caine, Carne, Crane or Crone.'”

Abbotts send the email to print with a decisive click of the mouse and put the resulting sheet of paper down on the desk in front of him. ‘And perhaps she will turn out to be a hippy who calls himself Mick ... Did you see the telly programme about illegal diamond mining in Sierra Leone?' he asked, his thoughts rapidly moving on.

‘No, sir,' the detective inspector replied. He was patiently standing in front of his super's desk, waiting for orders, having been summoned into his office just moments before.

‘The workforce are virtually slaves.' Abbotts leaned back in his chair. ‘Bust the smuggling and maybe some of those poor sods will have the chance to return to freedom. But what's the chance, when the only evidence is at half-cock?'

‘I suppose with a bit of luck, it might provide a lead,' the detective answered hopefully.

‘Buy a lottery ticket and I might become a millionaire ... Make what you can of it, will you?' He did not bother to specify what enquiries were to be carried out. Only those whose standards matched his worked under his direct command at county HQ.

The detective inspector made his way down to his office, which was smaller and noticeably less well furnished. He sat down at his own desk and considered what enquiries he should initiate. Contact the company which ran the MV
Helios
and determine if any passenger was named Caine, Crane, Crone or something similar ... He shook the mouse on his desk to bring his PC back to life and set about writing his first email of many.

There were those who thought the
Helios
beautiful and welcomed the onboard pleasures which made the time spent at sea less boring: the shops in the large atrium; theatrical shows with long-legged dancers; the cinema in which newly released films were shown; deck games and competitions hosted by jolly-hockey-stick crew members; clay pigeon shooting. And, according to the cruise company's website, a whole host of other activities, too numerous to mention.

There were others who remembered when liners were graceful, seaworthy ships, not ill-proportioned, floating hotels which might founder in a force ten gale. But, this particular ship was almost completely full to capacity, so the shareholders were certainly not complaining about the profits that were being made on this cruise.

MV
Helios
was a day's steaming from Gibraltar when the public address system announced that in about an hour, they would sight a windjammer, a view rarely enjoyed, even by those fortunate enough to sail regularly with the Rex Cruising Company.

Ansell, along with most of the other passengers, stood by the starboard rails on the boat deck – boats were swung inboard two decks below, tradition dictated the name.

Someone came and stood beside him.

‘Is she in sight yet?' the newcomer asked.

‘I can't see it.'

‘She, not it.'

He turned to face a woman in her twenties. Not catwalk, haughtily beautiful, but second-glance attractive. Blonde, wavy hair, long in the current fashion, dark brown eyes, shapely eyelashes, retroussé nose, flawless skin, generous, welcoming lips. Her colourful dress discreetly indicated a shapely body.

‘I wonder how close to ... her we'll get,' he answered, a smile playing on his lips, surprised that this young woman was being so friendly to him.

‘Steam close.'

Her corrections amused him. ‘Steam in a motor vessel?'

‘You would motor towards her?'

A feisty woman.

‘We'll keep to leeward of her in order not to steal her wind, so we'll probably be reasonably close,' she continued knowingly.

‘You sound seamanlike.'

‘My brother had a six-metre dinghy and bullied me into crewing her.'

‘You didn't enjoy it?'

‘When it was sunny and there was only a moderate breeze, it was fun. But, a strong wind, a choppy sea, my brother imagining himself rounding The Horn, me wet to the skin, the fun suddenly palled.'

‘Suffering is said to be half the pleasure of sailing.'

‘You've obviously done very little.'

‘None at all,' he admitted.

‘Try it and learn how much pleasure the suffering gives you ... Do you know how long we'll be in Gibraltar?'

‘Half a day.'

‘And in Palma?'

‘I'm not certain.'

‘I'm wondering if it'll be worth landing there.' It almost sounded like an invitation to spend the time with her. Ansell dismissed the possibility.

‘Depends on your tastes. If you like a mixture of the new and the old, quality and quantity, a market which offers fish whose authenticity it's difficult to accept, it is.'

‘You obviously know the place?'

‘I lived in a village outside Palma for quite a time.'

There was another announcement from the loudspeakers. ‘The windjammer is now just visible five degrees on the port bow. We will be abeam of her in just under fifteen minutes.'

As did almost all the other passengers, he stared out to port.

‘You're being too impatient,' she said. ‘She'll be visible from the bridge quite some time before down here.'

‘How is a landlubber to know that?'

‘I won't comment in case I offend you.'

There were excited voices as a smudge on the horizon became masts, sails, hull.
Helios
altered course to close.

‘A four-masted barque,' she said, as she used a hand to shade her eyes from the sun.

‘Barque? When they said windjammer, I thought she'd be a full-size sailing boat.'

‘Ship. A barque isn't named from her size, but her sails. Square-rigged for'd, fore-and-aft at the stern. She's maybe three thousand tons.'

They drew abeam; passengers waved, a greeting poorly returned, perhaps because of contempt for those who sailed in luxury. As the minutes passed, the hull, the sails, and finally the mastheads slipped below the horizon.

‘How my brother would have liked to see her,' she said.

‘You have no video camera, essential equipment for a tourist?'

‘I've never taken a film which hasn't been out of focus.'

He looked at his watch. ‘May I offer you a drink?' he ventured. She was still being friendly, so what did he have to lose?

‘With pleasure.'

They walked aft to the Bar Orpheus which provided a semicircular view of sky and sea, the latter split by their wake.

‘What would you like?' he asked, as they sat at one of the tables.

‘A daiquiri, please.'

‘I'll join you.' He called the bar steward over and gave the order.

There were two small china bowls on the table; cocktail biscuits were in one, peanuts in the other. She chose a biscuit, nibbled. ‘Did you live for long near Palma?'

‘For something over six months.'

‘Recently?'

‘A few years ago. When I was young enough to believe that a good degree in English would enable me to write a novel which would have the critics thumbing through Roget's
Thesaurus
for ever more words of praise.'

‘And it didn't or they didn't?'

‘Publishers aren't as thick as writers like to believe them to be. The script was regularly returned until I accepted it was unpublishable.'

‘So then?'

‘I presumed I wouldn't enjoy starving and should find a job. Having a slight facility with words and accepting that the more absurd the claim, the more readily it will be received, I went into public relations.'

‘Something you still do?'

‘That I'm doing now.'

‘On a Mediterranean cruise?'

‘My firm has the Rex Cruising Company on its books. I was told to project an advertising campaign which would wow the stay-at-homes. I was provided with a berth to heighten my appreciation of the wonderful pleasures the company's ships offered: the advantage of one-class only, the chance to enjoy new, long-lasting friendships, the haute cuisine meals ... And so on.'

‘You find that an easy task?'

‘Not too difficult since I have a fertile imagination and a talent for hypocrisy.'

The bar steward brought them their drinks, apologized for the time taken due to the need to draw more limes from Stores.

Ansell raised his glass. ‘To health, happiness, and wealth.'

‘It's absurd!'

‘Which of the last two?'

‘We're chatting away and don't know each other's names.'

‘Easily overcome. David Ansell, twenty-eight, married.'

‘Melanie Caine, slightly over twenty-one, divorced.'

‘Let's drink to Melanie and David on their introduction.' He raised his glass and met her eyes as she too joined her glass to his.

They drank. She put down her glass. ‘Is your wife aboard?'

‘At home.'

‘She dislikes the sea?'

‘My company watches the cents, so I was provided with one bunk in a double cabin.'

There was another public announcement. ‘Tonight, there will be a dance, beginning at twenty-two hundred hours. For those who have not yet gained their sea-legs, that is ten o'clock this evening. We hope the girls will wear their most gorgeous gowns and there will be an award to the wearer of the one that the judges most admire. Bruce and Hazel who, you will remember, appeared in
Strictly Come Dancing
, will be giving an exhibition of the tango and samba so you'll learn how to wiggle seductively. Later, they will judge which couple are the best dancers and the lucky pair will win a special prize.'

‘A good P.R. address?' she asked lightly.

‘A shambles.'

‘Why?'

‘The assumption that listeners will not know or be able to work out what time twenty-two hundred hours is; that the mainly elderly passengers can remember how to wiggle.'

She gave a smile and then looked at her watch. ‘I'd better go and spruce up for dinner.'

‘Are you going to the dance?'

‘Probably not. It can be dull if one doesn't know anyone.'

‘They'll make it a jolly affair with lots of Paul Joneses.'

‘Very unlikely when no one under eighty knows what that is.'

‘Then may I offer myself to try to stave off boredom?' Ansell asked tentatively, doubting so young and attractive a woman would want to spend time with him.

She smiled. ‘It's a case of, I thought you'd never ask.'

‘D'you know what I'd like to do now?' she asked as they waited for the main crush of people to leave the ballroom.

‘Soak your feet in warm, soft water.'

‘You didn't tread on them once. I want to go out on deck and enjoy the beauty of a moonbeam across water.'

They went up to the top deck which provided an unobstructed view of the moonlight across the sea. She linked her arm with his as they reached the after teak handrail.

‘Up to expectations?' he asked after a couple of minutes.

‘Magical. Who said that to enjoy beauty too long was to lose one's love of the life we lead.'

‘I've no idea.'

‘You should have if you're going to write the great novel.'

‘An ambition buried when I finally decided Dickens wouldn't be getting off his pedestal.'

‘I'm feeling tired, David, so I think I'll make for bed.'

‘Surely bunk?'

She laughed, squeezed his arm, released hers. ‘My task now is to navigate my way down to my cabin amidst the maze of alleyways and cross-alleyways.'

They went below to E deck and cabin thirty-five. She unlocked the door. ‘I'm lucky and have this to myself. The intended cabin companion fell ill so her misfortune became my fortune. So much more comfortable to be on my own.'

Without conscious thought and to his annoyance, a question slipped into his mind.

Was she merely expressing the average person's reluctance to share sleeping space with a stranger? When the band had played old-fashioned music to please the majority of passengers, she had nestled against him and he had become aware of the swell of her breasts and the brush of her thighs.

‘Sweet dreams, Taffy.'

‘Taffy?'

She smiled, went into the cabin, closed the door.

TWO

T
hey were thirty-six hours in Naples. Melanie demanded they be proper tourists and join the tour of Pompeii even though their guide would be the redhead crew member whose jokes they found to be even more dismal than those of others in Entertainment.

After a time viewing the ruins, the guide brought them to a halt. ‘As I explained earlier, we are now in a semi-restricted area. Are any of you ladies under age?'

There were a few giggles.

On the first villa they entered, there were explicit murals on one wall. Most women allowed themselves disapproving glances, Melanie studied a mural depicting couples in various and sometimes complicated positions. ‘D'you think the man on the right is double-jointed?' she asked.

When Ansell didn't quickly answer, she turned to face him. ‘I've embarrassed you?'

‘You mistake surprise for embarrassment.'

‘Surprised I asked?'

‘That you seem not to know that only a handful of mammals, not including man, have bones in the object in question.'

‘I learn something new every day.'

‘For once, ignorance might be condoned.'

Melanie laughed. A nearby, elderly woman looked disapprovingly at her. She murmured, ‘I've just shocked the old biddy over there. Very improper to be amused by sex.'

BOOK: Damned by Logic
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