Ghost Writer(43)

“Back off, or I drop it.”

The cold receded. A cool, fresh breeze blew away the cloying feeling, the nausea and the claustrophobia. It almost blew the book out of my hand. I pulled it back and pocketed it. Minton appeared before me, frantically beckoning me away from the rail.

“I get your point. If that's how you were perceiving reality, no wonder you were paranoid. Regardless, if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I'll destroy the journal. You need my help more than I need yours.”

Gravell stepped out of the shadows. “Please tell me you are not speaking to me.”

“Oh shit,” I sighed.

I leaned back and the top cable gave way. I lost my balance and started to fall. The middle cable seemed to snap.

Time slowed.

I still had a hand on the post. I just had to hold on. This was easier said than done. My palms were slick from fear and my grasp was awkward. I tried to dig my heels into the deck. I tested the strength of the third cable with one ankle. It held. I tried to pull myself to safety.

Cold suffused my body. Dread? No, Minton. This time there was no nausea, just a tugging sensation at my ankles, a pulling at my knees. My feet were flat against the deck, and I had enough leverage to halt my outward momentum, but not enough strength, even with Minton's help, to pull myself back from the brink.

Gravell grabbed me by the shirt front and pulled me to safety. Instinctively I grabbed him. A moment later, his arm was around my waist. My cheek was pressed against his chest. I could hear his heart beat gradually slow as his rush of adrenaline receded. Minton receded. Time resumed its normal course. I started to shake.

“What happened?”

“Something caused the cables to slip their anchors.”

“Accident?”

I looked up. Gravell shook his head. “Can you stand on your own now?” he asked.

I probably could. Did I want to? No way!

Suck it up, Kirby, I told myself. What would your son say if he knew you practically fainted against an NCO? He'd be aghast.

I straightened up, steadying myself with a hand on Gravell’s chest. He arm loosened its hold and dropped as I pushed myself away.

“So,” I said, my voice steadier than my knees, which still threatened to buckle, “if it isn't an accident, is it attempted murder?”

“There are other possibilities. That one is the most likely. Would you like a cup of tea, Madame Kirby?”

His voice was calm, as if this sort of thing happened every day. It didn't happen to me every day. To the best of my knowledge, no one had ever tried killing me before. “No. I want a coffee and a stiff drink.”

He didn't argue. He checked the sabotaged hardware and made a call. Soon a couple of petty officers joined us. One had a rifle and flak vest. The other brought a couple tool boxes. The first one he opened was an evidence kit.

“Ma'am, we'll need to take your prints, for elimination purposes.”

I nodded.

He had a fingerprint scanner, a gadget my father would have killed for when he was a cop. As soon as he was done, Gravell led me to the captain's wardroom. The table was already laid for breakfast. He cleared one end of the table. A seaman showed up with a carafe of coffee and three mugs.

“Three?” I asked.

“The captain will be joining us shortly. He's bringing the stiff drink. Before he gets here, do you want to tell me who you were talking to, Madame Kirby?”

I wrapped my hands around an empty mug. He took the hint and poured the coffee. I sipped it, burning my tongue. I caught him wincing in sympathy.

“You saved my life. I owe you.”

“You owe me nothing. You can trust me.”

“You don't trust me,” I countered, anger rising again.

He sighed and shook his head. “What happened in Communications had nothing to do with me not trusting you.”

The fatigue in his voice softened my anger a little.

“That was between Captain Campbell and me. This ship is under his command, but I have been assigned to the mission as an intelligence officer. I need to be kept in the loop. Besides, if I had known, I could have simplified things immensely.”

My eyes narrowed. “How?”

He reached into a pocket and pulled out the phone he had given me. The last time I was aware of it, I was clutching it as I collapsed retching.

“I cleaned it up while you were showering. You can call your father back now, if you like. Or check in with Dr. Leland. I would rather you didn't tell them that someone might be trying to kill you. Not until we solve that mystery.”

I stared at him. “You gave me a phone that I could use to call off-ship?”

“It's a phone,” he said shrugging. “I thought you'd know what it was for.”

I started to laugh and I must admit, there was a manic edge to my laughter. I almost died under the sea. I almost died falling into the sea. I was walking around in the Twilight Zone with a ghost of questionable sanity. Then this great looking spy-guy gives me a phone and trusts me to use it without compromising national security.

“Madame Kirby?”

“I'm sorry. This has been a very strange day. A very strange week.”

Gravell’s eyes narrowed. “Now, we're on borrowed time. Who were you talking to?”

Damn. I hoped he had forgotten that question. “It's a long story.” The door opened. “Which I'll save for later.”