Ghost Writer(30)

Yup, I was definitely getting over being mad at Gravell. I’m not sure what won me over the most, that he brought me coffee, or that he praised my son. Probably the coffee.

Dora was a bit more cynical. “Don’t get too warm and fuzzy with him. He’s still a spook.”

I shivered. It was like someone had opened the door and let in a cold draft. I didn’t see anything, but it occurred to me that if a ghost was in the room, he might find Dora’s statement amusing. The thought made me smile, but I also pulled my coffee closer to my chest, trying to spread the warmth.

“She’s chilled,” Dora said, directing herself to the doctor.

“Maybe it was too soon for her to be out of bed.”

“I’m okay! I’ll be even better if you two stop talking about me like I’m not here.”

Dora turned to me, taking in my outfit. She could be a bit oblivious about such things. “No wonder you’re cold. You only have a t-shirt on. Silly.”

Before I could defend my wardrobe choices, a bell was rung and we were called to the table.



I was led to the seat at Captain Campbell’s right. Dora was ushered to the seat on his left. Tim, who was the only member of the documentary crew present, pulled out the chair for Dr. Leland with uncharacteristic gallantry. He took the seat beside her.

The captain, doctor, and Gravell went for my seat at the same time. Tim gave me a knowing smirk. The captain won by virtue of rank. Dr. Stern then took the seat beside me for medical reasons, he said.

Other officers guided the other researchers to their places. Left to their own devices, I think the team would have lined up along Dora’s side of the table. The Us versus Them seating was avoided. Lieutenant Redding, the only dinner guest from the Scranton, was placed at the far end of the table, about as far away from me as possible, which was fine with me. I wondered if he had brought Marines with him this time. I looked around. No Marines. Maybe they weren't invited to the party.

Dr. Stern patted my hand. Someone had asked me a question. How was I?

I smiled apologetically at the speaker, a lieutenant sitting next to Tim. “I'm a bit tired, still a bit spacey. Mostly I'm thankful to be in the warmth and light.”

Tim gave a knowing nod. “It was a near thing for a while. But all's well that ends well.”

I looked over to Captain Campbell. His expression was bland. It was hard to tell what he was thinking.

Not so, Dora. “Well? You call that ending well? All our work and the Americans want to sink the station. If nothing else, you should be upset for the sake of the documentary.”

Chastised, Tim shut up and Redding took up the gauntlet.

“The documentary isn’t worth it if someone else dies, right Captain Campbell?”

The captain said nothing, one way or the other.

Dora replied, “The crew of the émil Gagnan is willing to try.”

“With all due respect ma'am…”

Captain Campbell cleared his throat noisily. Redding’s mouth snapped shut. “For the benefit of our civilian guests, I should point out that controversial topics are barred at the table until after the meal.”

On cue, the soup—crab bisque—was served. This was followed by a garden salad, before a roast of beef was brought the sideboard to be carved and distributed. I didn't think I was hungry until I was faced by a slice of tender, medium rare beef, roast vegetables, and Yorkshire pudding. If Doc had let me, I would have gone for seconds. He warned me to save room for the crème brulée.

Once the plates were removed and the coffee served, Dora immediately started arguing her case. Reuben and Mike added their mite, Reuben with the relentlessness of a courtroom lawyer and Mike with the pragmatism of a mechanic. In the opposite corner, Redding and a couple of the Nottawasaga officers pointed out the dangers of raising the station again.

Captain Campbell intervened. “Perhaps, we would better spend our time making the most of the information gathered so far.”

It was plain that Redding was not pleased by this suggestion. I don’t think any of our team was anxious to share information either. It was one of the Nottawasaga officers that broke the ice.

“We know the engine room had been shut down. The nuclear piles were properly damped. There is no evidence of residual radiation.”

“Nothing we could detect,” said Redding.

Mike made a derisive snort. “Interesting, that we almost got blown up, but everyone was clear of engineering when it exploded. No military casualties.”

Reuben raised a hand. “You're forgetting Petty Officer Parker was killed. Also, there were some injuries in C&C when the controls shorted. Just because the Navy wants to scuttle the station now, a decision I plan to fight, doesn't mean that they rigged the explosions.”

A Canadian officer spoke up. “I heard they found something and that's what triggered the bombs.”

Captain Campbell held up a hand. “Let’s not indulge in hearsay, Mr. Jones.”

Mr. Jones, who was a woman, blushed and pursed her lips as if she wanted to defend herself, but knew better than to contradict the captain.

“I think CIA operatives planted the bombs,” said Jamal.

Tim put the damper on this time. “Let's not go there without proof. That kind of thing happens in movies. We need to keep this real.”