Ghost Writer(69)

“I made my official objection to civilians being involved. Unofficially, I can't see any reason why Mrs. Kirby shouldn't be one of the team.”

Once we were in the ready room, I was treated to back slaps and handshakes on my performance from Mike and the émil Gagnan divers, all of whom had been watching my dive on video. Mike gave me a hug and his uncle appeared behind him, smiling wistfully.

“Mike, can I have a private word with you when I'm done here?”

He nodded. He helped me clean and stow my gear. No one objected. I had already proven I could do it.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Do you think the wardroom will be busy? I could go for a hot chocolate right now. I better let Gravell know first.”

“Still playing bodyguard?”

I tried to think of a snappy answer to that, but couldn't. I let it go, contenting myself with an eye roll that only Naire Senior caught.

The wardroom was busy, mostly because people followed me there. Dora, Reuben, and Lil were there to congratulate me. Mary Lou, Tracy, and Jamal were conspicuously absent. The command staff went to Franchot's office to discuss matters, but several off-duty crew members passed through to pat my back, figuratively if not literally.

Mike shrugged.

“Not a quiet place to talk. Is it urgent?”

“No. It can wait.”

Gravell, who was sticking to me like something too uncomplimentary to mention, leaned in to me and spoke sotto voce.

“You could interview the team going to the station one by one. I'll see if you can use ops.”

“Good idea.”

“I'd like to talk to you first,” he added.

I nodded. The feeling was mutual. I had a bad feeling about that leaky hose, and I wanted to share it with someone who was at least as paranoid as I was becoming.

Gravell helped me set things up, or vice versa. Tomorrow morning the documentary crew would return in time for the expedition. They wouldn't be making the dive, but they'd be able to tape what was going on topside while Tim and a couple of the émil Gagnan divers, would be our onsite videographers. Today, Gravell was going to be my cameraman. Tim was kept out of the loop with the help of Alex, who insisted on a pre-dive meeting with the documentary crew.

“Why do I get the impression that you want to talk about ghosts?” Gravell asked, while we were waiting for Mike.

“Why do I get the impression you are a mind reader?”

“Not minds. Just body language, tone of voice, the way you were looking just beyond Mike Naire when you were talking to him.”

“His uncle helped me study last night.”

Gravell looked up as if much needed patience might shower down upon him.

“I thought you were going to call me if the crew returned.”

“They didn't. Just Naire. I can handle one ghost at a time.”

The deck was consulted this time. I gave him a light punch on the arm.

“Don't dis Naire. He's the one that warned me about the hose.”

I didn't mention that he was also the one who had fiddled with the equipment to test my knowledge and make sure I was paying attention.

“Tell me about that.”

I outlined the situation as best I could. The bottom line was the divers would have checked the equipment earlier. Franchot's reaction made it clear that my checking the equipment was just part of the test. In any case, if he wanted to test my knowledge, he wouldn't have damaged the hose.

“It was less than a pin prick almost invisible. But, under pressure, it would have cut short the dive or worse.”

“Killed you?”

“Not likely. Stop me from diving tomorrow, maybe. But why?”

Gravell watched me fuss with papers. I was nervous and he knew it, and I knew he knew it which made me more nervous. I set aside the papers and folded my hands in my lap.

A smile twitched on Gravell’s face.

I smiled in response. It was always best to keep a sense of humour about things. After all, if someone did manage to kill me, I could come back and haunt Gravell…or maybe the captain…or both.

“Jen?”

It was Mike Naire.

“Showtime,” muttered Gravell, going behind the camera.

“Come and sit down, Mike. This is just a follow-up interview. I want to talk to you about your impressions when we were on the station and anything you feel you've learned about your uncle, Joe Naire.”

His uncle appeared when I spoke his name. I smiled in spite of myself.

“Ready, Chief Gravell?”

“Ready, Madame Kirby.”

I took a deep breath and put on my game face.

“Okay, let's start with your impressions of the station.”

“Spooky. Except for the smell, it was like the crew might return any minute.”

“What about the smell?” I asked.

His nose wrinkled with distaste. “Dank, metallic, like an iron grave which I guess is apt. Sometimes I thought I could smell blood, but it was probably my imagination.”

“Tell me about your Uncle Joe's berth.”

“He had photos of me and my aunt, and one of my mother holding me as a baby. I never knew that one existed. He didn't have them up like some of the others. He kept them in a little album under his pillow. I've printed off copies from the scans. I'll carry them with me tomorrow and put them under his pillow.”