Ghost Writer(31)

Jamal, who had been encouraged by Tim before, was surprised by the rebuke. So was I, but I thought better of Tim for not taking the flashy angle.

I let the conversation go on without me. I heard the discussion, only half-listening. The other half of my attention was elsewhere.



There is a theory that we take in far more information than we can process at the time, yet all that information is stored. Many psychic experiences can be explained away by this discrepancy between perception and processed information.

At that moment, I was back in the galley, moments before the explosion, seeing things I had perceived, but not noticed. It was neat and clean, just like the living quarters had been. In my vision, or hallucination, when I saw the crew sitting around arguing and then saw their quarters, there was the normal clutter that accumulates over time. Before the explosion, despite having sunk, nothing was out of place. It was almost as pristine as it had appeared in my dreams, before the blood started flowing. What little shifting of materiel there had been seemed to have happened when the base was pulled up or so the faint dust patterns suggested. Before being abandoned, the place had been cleaned up.



They were still talking about the explosions and what could have caused them. Redding was pushing the notion that it was a malfunction of the security systems. Jamal was still convinced it was sabotage, though he shifted to blaming a foreign agency. Dora leaned towards a single human agent, the result of sociopathic or psychopathic behaviour.

“There were three explosions,” I said, cutting through the babble of conversation.

A murmur of confirmation travelled in a wave across the table.

“Three separate, but not equal, explosions,” I said.

Mr. Jones spoke up. “According to the evidence we have, the explosion in engineering was comparable to the one in the galley. Without someone to halt the flow, it flooded a storage compartment.”

“No flour and oatmeal there,” said the swarthy officer beside Jones.

“Could it have been a malfunctioning scuttling charge, Mr. Hassan?” Jones asked him.

“Malfunctions aren't likely. One explosion might have been a malfunction, but two? Besides, a nuclear vessel is not scuttled like that. And what about the short in the command controls. It seems a bit of a stretch for three accidents to happen simultaneously.”

Everything tidied away, I thought. Too tidy.

“Why rig explosives in the galley?”

Everyone looked at me.

“Why the galley?” I repeated

Captain Campbell shrugged. “Any ideas, Mr. Hassan? Mr. Jones?”

They looked at each other in silent consultation. Just guessing, but I think Hassan was a senior engineering officer and Jones his subordinate, possibly one with expertise in a relevant area. In any case, Hassan nodded to Jones and she answered the question.

“The galley was near the outer hull. This would be so if there was a fire and the automatic fire controls were not sufficient, the compartment could be flooded.”

“Where did you get this information?” asked Redding.

“Safety systems are my specialty.”

Bingo, I thought.

“It also fits the evidence we have of the explosion. The same thing would apply to the engineering compartments. Those are the two areas most vulnerable to fire. Of course, as safety measures go, flooding the compartment is last ditch. Even then the navy had reliable chemical suppression systems.”

Mike leaned forward. “Does that mean that the galley and engineering could be flooded, sinking the base, without seriously damaging the rest of the station?”

“That’s how I would scuttle the station.”

Hassan gave Jones a solemn, but approving nod. “Commander Redding may be able to confirm this. Or he may not. I am just thankful no one was in engineering at the time. To die, trapped in a flooding compartment is every sailor’s nightmare.”

I gave a full-body shiver and felt a bit nauseous. I had come close to dying that way. My coffee was cold, and I wasn’t sure I could stomach it anyway. I pushed it away and tried to concentrate on Redding’s response.

“That makes my point, doesn't it? It was a security protocol. In case of emergency, sink the base without seriously damaging it, right?”

Jones shook her head. “An ad hoc measure, maybe. As a security measure, the galley isn't the logical choice for a second charge. weapons’ control, which is at the opposite end to the flooded engineering compartment, would have made a better choice.”

“Maybe that was rigged too, but it didn't go off,” Mike said.

At that moment I felt a warm weight fall on my shoulders. Chief Gravell had given up his jacket to drape it around me. At that point, I realized that I hadn’t seen him at the table. A moment later, he disappeared again.

I turned my attention back to the verbal skirmish between Mike and Redding.

“Whether you blame an ancient conspiracy or malfunctioning equipment, the vessel isn't safe.”

“Or maybe, the scuttling charges were set by someone aboard the Scranton. They had access to the station before we were allowed aboard.”

Hassan interjected, shaking his head. “If that was the case, it would be more likely that the charges would have been set to go off before you boarded. Apart from endangering human life, if there was something to hide, why risk the possibility that you might find it during your investigation?”