Day Four (17 page)

The crowd rippled with laughter. Helen felt a creeping sensation trickling over her skin. She knew what was coming. ‘And know this, the physical body isn’t something we need to worry about when we cross over. Now . . . I’m getting . . . Forgive me here, but I feel like I need to sing. My voice isn’t the best, but the man who’s stepping forward, he wants me to sing it. “She was right next door, and such a strong persuader . . .”’ Celine paused. ‘Does that mean anything to anyone?’

A hand gripped Helen’s heart, and for a second, she was certain she was going to be sick. Calm down, she told herself. They were clever, psychics and mediums. They were adept at cold reading and con games.

‘No one? I’m getting it really strong now. And you know, I feel like I want to cough.’ A low laugh. ‘I quit smoking years ago, but I tell you, right now I’m feeling a strong need.’

Helen stood up stiffly. ‘I’ll see you later, Maddie,’ she heard herself say.

Maddie looked up. ‘You okay?’

‘I just need to get some air.’

Helen hurried out, bashing her shin on the edge of a table in her haste. She barely felt it.

‘Helen? Where you going?’ Annabeth’s voice trailed after her.

Wiping the tears from her eyes – not sure if they were from shock, fury or sorrow, Helen ran. She bolted past the casino and the closed black doors of the Sandman Lounge, her gaunt reflection in the glass momentarily startling her. There was no way Celine could have known that song. She must have been in their suite, perhaps she’d looked her up on Facebook – there was a picture of Robert Cray on her wall, from the last time she and Graham had seen him play live in London years ago. That was it. She began to relax. Cheap tricks.

By the time she reached the Verandah deck, her breathing had steadied, but she composed herself before she entered the suite. The last thing she wanted to do was worry Elise. ‘Elise?’

Elise’s bed was empty, the sheets and pillows in disarray.

‘Elise?’

A strangled cry came from the bathroom. Helen yanked open the door. Elise was lying on the floor, her skirt rucked up. ‘I’m not feeling so good, Helen. My head hurts. I think, I think I’m . . .’

The Angel of Mercy

The man was now out for the count, but Jesse knew he’d have to monitor him closely. Christ, what a scene that had been. Adrenalin still tingled in his bloodstream from when he and Bin had been hustled up to the man’s cabin to sedate him. They’d found him curled in the corner of his stateroom, screaming every time one of them came near. It had taken two security guards to hold him down while they waited for the sedative to take effect.

And it wasn’t just the new arrival who was concerning Jesse. Alfonso was still borderline catatonic – he’d barely reacted when the hysterical passenger had been brought into the treatment room. Jesse couldn’t get a word out of him. The burn pad would do its job – Jesse would only need to change it tomorrow at the earliest (and please God they were out of this situation then) – but Alfonso had barely touched the yoghurt and banana Martha had brought him earlier, and nor had he used the commode they’d set up in the small bathroom. Short of flying in a psychologist, there wasn’t much else Jesse could do.

A psychotic passenger, a dead girl, the norovirus, and an engineer who was borderline catatonic.
How much more shit can we add to the pile?

Martha banged her way into the treatment room, and threw her gloves into the bin. ‘We’ve got another one, Jesse.’

‘Noro?’

‘Noro.’

‘How many now?’

‘Six in total. Three crew and three passengers. I’m worried about this one. Patient is overweight and elderly. She’s weak. Her friend found her collapsed on the floor of the bathroom.’

‘You want to bring her down here?’

‘No. It’s always best if we keep any cases quarantined in their cabins.’

‘You want me to go check on her?’

‘You’ve got enough on your plate.’ She flapped a hand at the psychotic. ‘How’s your man doing?’

‘The midazolam is working, thank Christ.’

‘We know what caused it? He got a history of psychosis?’

‘We don’t know yet. Security is trying to track down his wife.’

‘Any injuries?’

‘I’ve only had a chance to do a superficial examination. Bruising on his upper thighs and wrists, contusion on his forehead. Probably sustained during the struggle. Took two security guys to restrain him.’

‘Shite. And Bin?’

‘He’s dealing with the steward the guy attacked before we brought him down here. Nothing serious, but she’s understandably traumatised.’

Martha looked him up and down. ‘You found time to rest?’

‘Nope.’ He was surviving on cold coffee and endless cans of Coke, the jittery caffeine high just about keeping the exhaustion at bay. ‘Should I tell the captain we should go to red alert?’ There weren’t enough cases of noro – yet – to warrant it, but better safe than sorry, especially considering the situation with the propulsion system. He’d put in a request to meet with the captain yesterday, but so far it had been ignored.

Martha leaned against the gurney. ‘That’ll go down well on top of everything else. But I think we should suggest it. At the very least the passengers should be instructed to use the hand-sanitisers.’

Yeah, right, Jesse thought. In all his time on the ship, he had never once seen anyone using them. ‘How long can this go on for?’

‘God knows.’

‘You heard anything more?’

‘No. Communications are still down.’

‘I’m worried about the morgue. With no power, we could have a problem there.’

‘Don’t worry about that. It’s below the water line. It’ll stay cool enough.’

For now
.

There was a knock on the door and a man in white officer’s garb stepped in hesitantly. Like the majority of the crew on the bridge, he looked like a stereotype of a good-looking Italian, crisp white uniform and smooth dark hair; effortlessly attractive. The officers tended to make Jesse feel hopelessly inadequate. ‘Excuse? May I visit with Alfonso?’

‘He’s sleeping. You should not be in here.’

‘I am sorry.’ The man’s eyes strayed to Alfonso, who was lying perfectly still, his eyes closed. ‘I knock on the outside door, but no one came.’

Jesse exchanged glances with Martha, who gave him an ‘up to you’ shrug.

What would it hurt? Perhaps the man would get Alfonso to talk. ‘Go ahead.’

Martha gave Jesse a supportive smile, and left the room
.

The officer strode over to Alfonso’s bedside and let loose a barrage of Italian. Jesse’s Italian basically boiled down to
Nessun Dorma
and the odd bit of slang he’d picked up, so he had no clue what the man was saying, but whatever it was didn’t seem to be helping.

The officer – Baci, according to his name badge – turned to Jesse. ‘Why is Alfonso not awake? What is wrong with him? I see the arm, but there is something else?’

‘He’s been sleeping most of the time. It’s possible he’s having a reaction to the pain meds. Is he a good friend of yours?’

‘He helped me get on the ships. We are from the same area. He is like a father to me. But I am worried. We need him to do his job. He has worked in the control room for five years. Nobody knows the engine and generators like Alfonso.’

‘Do you know what the issue is?’

An exaggerated shrug. ‘The redundancy did not work as it should. Now the ship is run only from the two emergency generators. There is no power.’

‘But you can fix it, right?’ Jesse didn’t see why not. He’d been given a tour of the ship when he first started – although he wasn’t allowed to go down into the thumping depths of the engine room – but he’d seen the workshops, the areas full of spare parts.

‘Maybe. I do not know. I work on the bridge. Third officer.’ He said something else to Alfonso in a slightly more strident tone of voice, but still the engineer showed no reaction. ‘I can try wake him up?’

‘You can try.’

‘Alfonso!’ Baci shook his shoulder with more force than Jesse would have liked. But then Alfonso’s eyes flickered and he jerked, letting out a strangled cry. Fear – there was pure fear in his eyes.

‘Tell him we just want to help him,’ Jesse said. ‘Ask him if he is in any pain.’

Baci softened his voice, Alfonso appeared to look right through him, and then, finally he seemed to see him and take in his surroundings. Baci asked him a question, and Alfonso responded in a low, shaky voice. They conversed for several minutes, Alfonso’s eyes darting around the room. Baci appeared to be getting more and more agitated by Alfonso’s responses.

‘What is he saying?’ Jesse broke in.

Baci turned to face him. ‘I do not know how to say this.’

‘Can you at least try?’

‘He says that he saw the devil.’

‘The what?’

‘He was there when the fire started.’

‘The devil was in the generator room?’

A shrug. ‘
Si
. He calls him the dark man.’

‘Right. Um . . . Is this normal for him?’

‘No. He is a religious man, but he is not . . .’ Baci waved his hand around his head.

‘Delusional?’

‘
Si
.’

‘Can you ask him if he is in any pain?’

‘He can speak English.’

‘
Ja
. But he’s not speaking to us at all.’

Alfonso said something else.

‘He says the dark man is here with us now.’

Jesse looked around. ‘You think he means the other patient?’

‘I do not know.’

Abruptly, Alfonso turned onto his side and shut his eyes. Baci tried to elicit a response from him for the next couple of minutes, but Alfonso was silent.

‘You will take care of him?’

‘Of course.’

‘I will come see him again soon.’ Baci smoothed his hair with both of his hands. ‘This is not good. I must get back.’

Jesse followed him out. ‘When are we going to get some answers?’

‘
Scusi
?’

‘When are we going to be back online? At the very least I need to inform off-ship support.’

‘You have spoken with the captain?’

‘I have tried to speak with the captain.’

‘He is very busy.’

Jissus
. ‘Listen, can you ask him to get hold of me as a matter of urgency?’

‘I will do what I can. I am only the third officer on the bridge, so I do not have much authority.’

‘I need to meet with him.’

‘I will do what I can,’ Baci repeated.

Jesse was aware he was haranguing the poor guy – Martha, who was writing reports at the desk was watching him with interest – but short of going up to the bridge and hammering on the door, he wasn’t sure what else to do. ‘Do you at least know where we are?’

‘
Scusi
?’

‘In the sea. We’ve been drifting. You know where we are?’

‘We can use manual navigation.’

‘And have we drifted off course? Is that why no one has found us?’

‘We are drifting, but we can track how fast and far we are moving.’

‘And?’

‘I must go back to the bridge.’

Jesse let him go.

‘Did he get Alfonso to talk?’ Martha asked.

‘
Ja
. A little.’

‘And what did he say?’

‘Only that the devil is on the ship.’

‘I could have told him that. But seriously, now, what did he say?’

‘I’m being serious. He said the devil started the fire.’

‘Jaysus.’

He downed the dregs of his latest caffeine fix and tried not to think about the delicious escape valve hiding behind the pharmacy door. He must look like shit. He needed to shave. He needed to shower. His whites were rumpled and grubby and stained with last night’s hastily consumed cold curry.

He returned to the treatment room. Alfonso’s eyes were shut once more, his breathing slow and regular. The psychotic was still out for the count. Jesse eyed the third empty bed. It looked inviting. He could curl up on it, and by the time he woke, they could be back in Miami and all this would be over. He shut his eyes tightly and saw stars popping and dancing in his lids.

Raised voices floated through the door from the reception area, and seconds later Martha poked her head through the door. ‘Gary Johansson’s wife is here. She wants to see him.’

‘Whose wife?’

‘Your man, there.’

A high-pitched howl penetrated the room. ‘Where is he? I wanna see him!’ A woman with short dark hair, shorter shorts and a bad attitude burst into the room.

‘Ma’am,’ Martha said to her. ‘I told you to wait out there.’

‘Where is he?’ A tired-looking security guard hovered behind her. He wasn’t one of the guys Jesse had encountered when he was called to the girl’s cabin. This one – Pran – was young, with a patchy moustache.