Ghost Writer(64)

“Some are trilingual, but not all of them are comfortable in English and some of us are limited in what we can share with your team. Besides, it’s fitting. You know who émil Gagnan was, right?”

I nodded. I’d looked it up. “He was Jacques Cousteau’s partner in the invention of scuba gear.”

“Apropos, n’est pas?”

He gave me a thoughtful look, head cocked to one side.

“Why don't I walk you to your cabin? You can get comfortable and I’ll go do the same. Later we can go for that coffee.”

Automatically, I agreed. It took a couple of minutes for suspicion to strike.

“It's your watch until Gravell returns, right?”

He started. “How did you know he was on the Nottawasaga?”

“He’s not here.”

His bark of laughter echoed in the passageway. “Yes. You're on my watch right now. Although I don't think he'd be too happy if I watched you too closely.”

That was an interesting thought to dwell on. I decided to set it aside until I had more time to enjoy it.



I returned to the Nottawasaga after dinner. Dora complained, but all my clothes were over there, and I had diving class with Welland and Cross in the morning.

“Ready for your walk?” Gravell asked, once we had reported to the Deck Officer.

I sighed.

“Do you still have chocolate?”

He nodded.

“Okay. I'm ready.”

He started off at a brisk walk and then started to run. Running and I don't get along well, but I made the effort to keep up. When we running the inside gangways and ladders, rivulets of sweat ran down my back and between my breasts. When we had a stretch outside, the cold breeze turned the sweat to ice water. Face flushed, calves aching, I started falling behind. Gravell slowed and we fell back into a brisk walk, which we maintained until we reached my cabin.

“I'll be back with tea and chocolate. You'll need something to keep you going while you study.”

I nodded, not having enough breath to comment. Once I was inside, I leaned on the closed hatch thinking that I should have asked for coffee. I closed my eyes and heaved a sigh. Even if I had found my voice in time to make the request, Gravell would probably have ignored it. He didn't seem to approve of coffee after noon.

A shiver passed through me. Opening my eyes, I found that the gang had returned. Margolo was in the forefront, hands on hips, giving me a charming smile that didn't reach his eyes. His eyes were troubled. All of them looked troubled.

The pages of the diving manual ruffled. I could feel the deck vibrate and my knees buckle. Shore stepped forward, reaching out for me. Perhaps he meant to steady me, but he only succeeded in sending a deathly chill through me.

“Give me a break. I'm working on it.”

I took a couple of deep breaths and straightened my knees.

“Remember, if you make me pass out again, I won't be able to help you.”

They faded away.

Shakily, I found the bed and sat on the edge, head between my knees. When the nausea passed, I took stock.

I had plenty of studying to do, but my tablet beckoned. I still had letters to read, photographs to examine, gaps to fill. I started by calling up anything related to Margolo. There wasn't a lot. He didn't keep a journal or write letters he couldn't mail. All the references were in other people's documents.

In what seemed like a few minutes after I started reading, Gravell announced himself with a knock on the door. I looked up as he entered and received a scowl.

“What happened?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You are still in the clothes you were running in and you are, if that's possible, even sweatier than when I left you.”

I pulled at my t-shirt and made a eww face. Closing my tablet, I pushed it to one side and invited Gravell to put his burden down. He had arrived with a thermos and a couple of cups. Unlike me, he was showered and in fresh clothes. In his case, a hooded sweat shirt and matching shorts. I hoped that the pocket of his hoody held chocolate.

“I had another visitation from the crew. It threw me a bit.”

I grabbed my nightshirt from under my pillow and headed to the shower.

“I'll be quick.”

He stood back as I passed him, lending credence to the adage that you could smell fear. In my case it stank.

I took a little longer than I intended. The hot water felt wonderful, and I was determined to be thoroughly clean and smelling only of my vanilla shower gel. Once out of the water, I towel-dried, dressed, and was finger combing my hair as I emerged.

Gravell stopped mid-pace when I entered the room. His stern expression had evolved to grim.

“You should have called me.”

“You were coming back. And I wasn't in danger. It's just that they are a bit overwhelming. It's a physiological response. I break out into a sweat and feel light-headed.”

“And can pass out and hit your head on the way down.”

“But I didn't. I was okay.”

He grabbed me by the shoulders hard and for a moment I thought he might shake me. If not shake me, he might kiss me. Then he regained control, released his grip, and let one hand slide down my arm as if smoothing my sleeve. The other hand glided down my back then applied pressure, guiding me to the chair I had recently vacated.